Morgan Rice: A Grant of Arms

At least the boat was out of control. Huge waves tossed it about, rolling in the seas, the storm that she summoned powerful even beyond her dreams. The boat got sucked in on strong tides and listed its way closer and closer to the Isle of Mist. Mycoples watched it loom closer on the horizon.

The Empire soldiers screamed as they tried to gain control. But they could not. More than one slipped right off the side of the deck, screaming as they plunged to their deaths in the foaming, raging red waters of the sea of blood. More than one monster surfaced, swallowing the men whole.

The boat entered the crashing waves as it neared the shore of the Isle of Mist, a shore comprised of jagged rocks and a narrow strip of sand. The Empire men frantically tried to steer the ship, to avoid the rocks. Somehow, they managed to steer the ship just to the right of them, and they rode one huge, last wave up onto the sandy beach.

It was bad luck for Mycoples. She had wanted them to smash into the rocks, wanted the boat to be destroyed. Now, the boat, while turned on its side and lodged on the beach, was still intact, and half the Empire soldiers along with it.

As they beached, Mycoples, tangled in her net, went flying out of the boat and onto the sand. It was a big drop, and the impact hurt, and she struggled frantically to break free.

Yet no matter what she did, the Akron held her in place.

The Empire soldiers, rallying, jumped off the boat, onto shore. They seemed intent not just on saving their lives, but still on torturing her. More than one jumped out with a long spear in hand, and ran for her. They began poking her through the net, hurting her. Even with the howling storm, even being washed up on shore, they still could not stop assaulting her. Her plan had worked only partially: she was still their prisoner. She saw more and more spears coming for her, and she knew that they blamed her. She knew that soon, she would be dead.

There came a sudden roar from high up in the sky, one loud enough to shake the entire island. The Empire men stopped, frozen, and looked to the sky, terrified.

But Mycoples was not terrified. She recognized that sound. She would recognize it anywhere. It was the roar of a dragon. It was one of her own.

Ralibar.

Mycoples heart soared. Ralibar must have smelled the scent of man, and he was coming to see who had arrived.

Mycoples did not know where that left her. Ralibar was a lone and bitter recluse, territorial, and he hated all other dragons. He was rumored to have killed more than one dragon who had dared breach his territory. He might kill these Empire men; but he might kill her, too.

Mycoples was helpless either way. Either way, she seemed destined to die here. At least this way, the Empire men would die, too. At least she would have vengeance. And at least she would die at the hand of another dragon instead of a human.

Mycoples’ heart swelled with anticipation as she heard another roar and looked up and saw Ralibar appear, bursting through the clouds, swooping down in fury. He was large—much larger than she had imagined—and he looked ancient, his red scales faded and cracked with age, and had huge, glowing green eyes that she would never forget. His face furrowed into a scowl as he zeroed in on the Empire men.

The Empire soldiers turned and screamed and tried to flee, to run back to their ship.

But it was too late for them. Those who had been fortunate enough to make shore were soon to meet another, much more horrible fate.

Ralibar swooped down, open his great jaws, and breathed fire.

Flames spread through the sky, engulfing the men and igniting the ship. The men shrieked, burned alive. For those he missed, Ralibar swooped down with his huge claws, as thick as a tree trunk, and swiped them in half where they stood. Soon, the beach ran red with blood.

Ralibar’s rage was still not satisfied: he dove down, picked up the remnant of the flaming ship with his huge claws, flew at top speed, carrying it through the air, and smashed it into the wall of the cliff.

With a great crash the ship splintered in a million flaming pieces and rained down all around Mycoples.

Mycoples was thrilled. She lay there, stuck inside the Akron net, on the beach, the waves crashing all around her, the last one alive. She looked up at Ralibar, and watched as he turned and set his eyes on her. He paused, hovering there, breathing, black soot coming out of his nostrils, as if debating.

He then let out a screech, and dove down right for her.

Mycoples closed her eyes and braced herself for what was to come. At least she should be happy she saw the Empire men dead, that she had made it this far. At least now, she could die with dignity.

Mycoples heard a whooshing noise, and felt the air rush by as Ralibar dove down for her. She opened her eyes to see him stopped on the beach before her, hovering, flapping his wings. He screeched and arched his back, and she braced herself.

But no blow ever came. She opened her eyes with surprise to see him reach up with his claw and, instead, slice her net.

Mycoples stared back, shocked. Her net was open.

Mycoples leaned back and flapped her wings and arched her back. She was shocked to be free; she had almost forgotten what it felt like. She was even more shocked to realize that Ralibar had freed her, and that he had not killed her, after all.

Ralibar landed on the beach, a few feet away, and stared back at her. She looked into his ancient green eyes, and saw an expression she had never expected to see. It was curiosity. But more than that, there were something else. Like compassion.

Silently, they spoke to each other. Mycoples thanked him, arched her neck and screeched, letting him known her intentions. She was going to fight back, against the Empire. She would fly back immediately, across the ocean, and find a way back into the Ring. She would find a way back through the Shield, find a way to get back to her master, to Thorgrin. He needed her. And that was all that mattered to her.

Ralibar arched back his neck and shrieked, too.

Mycoples took off, into the air, her great wings flapping, and as she did, she heard a great screech behind her. She turned to see Ralibar taking off, catching up to her. She was shocked: he wanted to join her. To help her. Ralibar. The loner. For some reason, he had taken a liking to her.

Mycoples welcomed the company. She flapped her great wings, flying higher and higher, aiming east, for the Ring, for Thorgrin. She sensed he was in mortal danger. And she would do whatever she could to save his life.

Selese charged with Illepra, the two of them riding with all they had, at the point of exhaustion, not even pausing to rest their horses. They charged down the final stretch of barren landscape until finally, the tall pillars heralding the Eastern Crossing came in sight.

The journey had taken much out of Selese, more than she could have ever imagined; if it weren’t for the thought of losing Reece, she didn’t know if she would have been able to press on. She had become stronger and tougher than she had ever imagined, and now that she saw the Eastern Crossing, saw that it was real, she was determined to find Reece, whatever it took. She only prayed that he was here.

As they neared it, Selese was awestruck: the magnificent Eastern Crossing, the one she had heard of since she was a child. Of the four crossings bridging the Canyon, the Eastern Crossing was the longest. Being situated on the McCloud side of the Ring, Selese had never been here, and being from a small town, she had never seen anything so big and intimidating in her life. The bridge crossed the Canyon, and it seemed to stretch forever, to another world.

The Canyon itself left her speechless. She had never seen anything in nature remotely like it. A vast chasm in the earth, filled with swirling mists of every color. Selese felt a magical energy coming off it. She marveled that anything so big and beautiful could exist in the world.