Morgan Rice: A Sky of Spells

Romulus leaned over and spoke in her ear, a deep, throaty sound which set her hairs on edge.

“It won’t be long now, my dear,” he said.

She had to think quickly. Luanda was no slave; she was the firstborn daughter of a king. Royal blood ran in her, the blood of warriors, and she feared no one. She would do anything she had to to fight any adversary; even someone as grotesque and powerful as Romulus.

Luanda summoned all of her remaining strength and in one quick motion, she craned back her neck, leaned forward and sank her teeth into Romulus’ throat. She bit down with all her might, squeezing harder and harder, until his blood squirted out all over her face and he shrieked, dropping her.

Luanda scurried to her knees, turned and took off, sprinting back across the bridge for her homeland.

She heard his footsteps bearing down on her. He was much faster than she’d imagined and as she glanced back, she saw him bearing down on her with a look of pure rage.

She looked ahead and saw the mainland of the Ring before her, only twenty feet away, and she ran even harder.

Just steps away, Luanda suddenly felt an awful pain in her spine, as Romulus dove forward and dug his elbow down on her back. She felt as if he’d crushed her as she collapsed, face-first, onto the dirt.

A moment later, Romulus was on top of her. He spun her around and punched her in the face. He hit her so hard, her entire body flipped, and she landed back in the dirt. The pain resonated throughout her jaw, her entire face, as she lay there, barely conscious.

Luanda felt herself being hoisted high over Romulus’ head, and she watched with terror as he charged for the edge of the bridge, preparing to cast her over. He screamed as he stood there, holding her high overhead, preparing to throw her.

Luanda looked over, down at the steep drop, and knew her life was about to end.

But Romulus held her there, frozen, at the precipice, arms shaking, and apparently, thought better of it. As her life hung in the balance, it seemed Romulus debated. Clearly, he wanted to throw her over the edge in his fit of rage—yet he could not. He needed her for to fulfill his purpose.

Finally, he lowered her, and wrapped his arms around her even tighter, nearly squeezing the life out of her. He then hurried back across the Canyon, heading back towards his people.

This time, Luanda just hung there limply, reeling from the pain, nothing more she could do. She had tried—and she had failed. Now all she could do was watch her fate approach her, step-by-step, as she was carried across the Canyon, swirling mists rising up and enveloping her, then disappearing just as quickly. Luanda felt as if she were being taken to some other planet, to some place from which she would never return.

Finally, they reached the far side of the Canyon, and as Romulus took his final step, the cloak around his shoulders vibrated with a great noise, glowing a luminescent red. Romulus dropped Luanda on the ground, like an old potato, and she hit the ground hard, banging her head, and lay there.

Romulus’s soldiers stood there, at the edge of the bridge, staring out, all of them clearly afraid to step forward and test whether the Shield was truly down.

Romulus, fed up, grabbed a soldier, hoisted him high overhead and threw him onto the bridge, right into the invisible wall that was once the Shield. The soldier raised his hands and screamed, bracing himself for a certain death as he expected to disintegrate.

But this time, something different happened. The soldier went flying through the air, landed on the bridge, and rolled and rolled. The crowd watched in silence as he rolled to a stop—alive.

The soldier turned and sat up and looked back at all of them, the most shocked of all. He had made it. Which could only mean one thing: the Shield was down.

Romulus’ army let out a great roar, and as one they all charged. They swarmed onto it, racing for the Ring. Luanda cowered, trying to stay out of the way as they all stampeded past her, like a herd of elephants, heading for her homeland. She watched with dread.

Her country as she knew it was finished.

Reece stood at the edge of the lava pit, looking down in utter disbelief as the ground shook violently beneath him. He could hardly process what he had just done, his muscles still aching from releasing the boulder, from casting the Destiny Sword into the pit.

He had just destroyed the most powerful weapon in the Ring, the weapon of legend, the sword of his ancestors for generations, the weapon of the Chosen One, the only weapon holding up the Shield. He had hurled it down into a pit of molten fire and with his own eyes had watched it melt, flare up in a great ball of red, then disappear into nothingness.

Gone forever.

The ground had begun shaking since, and it had not stopped. Reece struggled to balance, as did the others, as he backed away from the edge. He felt as if the world were crumbling around him. What had he done? Had he destroyed the Shield? The Ring? Had he made the biggest mistake of his life?

Reece reassured himself by telling himself he had no choice. The boulder and the Sword were simply too heavy for them all to carry out of here—much less to climb the walls with—or to outrun these violent savages. He had been in a desperate situation, and it had called for desperate measures.

Their desperate situation had not changed yet. Reece heard a great screaming all around him, and a sound arose of a thousand of these creatures, chattering their teeth in an unnerving way and laughing and snarling at the same time. It sounded like an army of jackals. Clearly, Reece had angered them; he had taken away their precious object, and now they all seemed resigned to make him pay.

As bad as the situation had been moments before, now it was even worse. Reece spotted the others—Elden, Indra, O’Connor, Conven, Krog and Serna—all looking down in horror at the lava pit, then turning and looking around in desperation. Thousands of Faws were closing in from every direction. Reece had managed to spare the Sword, but he had not thought past that, had not thought through how to get himself and the others out of danger. They were still completely surrounded, with no way of getting out.

Reece was determined to find a way out, and with the burden of the Sword off their heads, at least now they could move quickly.

Reece drew his sword, and it cut through the air with a distinctive ring. Why sit back and wait for these creatures to attack? At least he would go down fighting.

“CHARGE!” Reece screamed to the others.

They all drew their weapons and rallied behind him, following as he sprinted away from the edge of the lava pit and right into the thick crowd of Faws, swinging his sword every which way, killing them left and right. Beside him, Elden raised his axe and chopped off two heads at a time, while O’Connor drew his bow and fired on the run, taking out all those in his path. Indra rushed forward and with her short sword, stabbed two in the heart, while Conven drew both of his swords and, screaming like a madman, charged forward, swinging wildly and killing Faws in every direction. Serna wielded his mace, and Krog his spear, protecting their rear flank.

They were a unified fighting machine, fighting as one, fighting for their lives, cutting their way through the thick crowd as they desperately tried to escape. Reece led them up a small hill, aiming for the high ground.

They slipped as they went, the ground still shaking, the slope steep, muddy. They lost some momentum, and several Faws jumped onto Reece, clawing and biting him. He spun and punched them; they were persistent and clung to him, but he managed to throw them off, kicking them back, then stabbing them before they could attack again. Cut and bruised, Reece kept fighting, as they all did, all fighting for their lives to climb the hill and escape from this place.