Morgan Rice - Night of the Bold

Rowing for he did not know how long, losing track of time as he watched the changing of the stars, Alec finally sat up, alert. There, up ahead, he saw it. Ships were ablaze.

Alec soon found himself navigating amidst a burning Pandesian fleet, amazed at the size and scope of the fires, wondering what battle had happened here. He looked about in confusion as Pandesian horns sounded through the night, echoing in the fog; he marveled as he watched Pandesians battling each other, as if trying to get away from an invisible enemy. He wondered what had happened here, and he wondered why the sword burned hotter in his palm as it led him closer and closer to shore.

Finally, Alec spotted a single ship in the distance, and he sensed that was his destination. The sword was pulling at him, demanding he go there.

Alec rowed until he reached the hull of the Pandesian ship, and when he did, he leapt from the dinghy, grabbed the dangling rope and pulled himself up. Soon he was up over the rail, and as he landed on the deck, he did so at a run, the sword in hand, the weapon practically pulling him where he needed to go. He knew that doing so could mean his death, that he was throwing himself into the arms of the enemy, yet he trusted the sword.

Alec spotted soldiers up ahead, and he charged, raised the sword, and let out a battle cry. There was a mob of Pandesians, crowding around somebody, and as Alec charged, the mob turned and stared at him, shocked; as they parted ways, they revealed who was on deck.

To Alec’s shock, he saw his old friend Marco lying there, along with the girl he loved, Dierdre.

He could not have been more surprised to see them – yet he did not pause. He could see in an instant that his friends were in danger. They lay prone on the deck, the Pandesians surrounding them, about to kill them.

Alec pulled back the Unfinished Sword, lunged into the crowd, and slashed. The sword emitted an odd humming noise as it sliced through three men at once, so fast that it cut them in half before they could even raise their swords. Alec then spun and slashed at another soldier’s sword, and it sliced the metal in half; he then swung around and, with the hilt, knocked the man clear off the railing.

Alec spun again and again, cutting through the mob of soldiers, moving in a blur, the sword commanding him as if it were an extension of his arm. He swung and spun and slashed, untouchable, the sword humming through the air like a living thing. Men fell all around him, their cries ringing out, more than one knocked back over the rail, splashing into the depths.

Within moments Alec looked around and realized he was the last man standing there in the quiet. He breathed hard, taking it all in, amazed. He had killed them all. Dozens of dead soldiers lay on the deck – and he had hardly even realized what he was doing.

Alec looked up, remembering Marco and Dierdre. They rose to their feet, staring back at him with wonder and gratitude.

“Alec,” Marco called out. He stepped forward and embraced his old friend, while Alec, slowly snapping out of it, embraced him back.

Yet even as he did, Alec felt numb. He turned and looked into Dierdre’s eyes, and as their eyes locked, he saw something. It was an expression of love. But not for Alec. For Marco.

Immediately, he understood. Dierdre loved his friend now. Not him.

In his moment of realization, Alec felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut. He felt betrayed – by her, by him, by the world.

Dierdre stepped forward, tears in her eyes.

“I thought you were dead,” she tried to explain. “You left us all.”

Alec shook his head.

“I never left,” he corrected. “I was fighting on another front.”

“But…you did not tell us,” she said, now seeming unsure.

“There was no time,” he replied.

“Whatever it was, it is good to see you back, my friend,” Marco said cheerfully, not realizing. “I missed you.”

Yet there was no joy in Alec’s heart now. Only sadness. Remorse. Betrayal.

He and Dierdre locked eyes, and he could begin to see the sadness and regret in her eyes, too. Slowly, he felt his world spinning out from under him. Seeing Dierdre again had been the only thing keeping him alive. Alec had never anticipated this, and seeing her here, in love with his best friend, was more than he could handle. He wanted to run, to be anywhere but here.

“You are safe now,” Alec said, his voice dark, joyless. “The soldiers are dead. The ship is yours.”

“What do you mean?” Marco asked, confused, holding out a hand as Alec stepped to move away. “Are you leaving us? You just arrived.”

Alec could not bring himself to respond. His love for Dierdre overwhelmed him, as did his sense that he had lost his best friend. Without another word, he hurried for the rail.

“Where are you going?” Dierdre asked, rushing forward. He could hear the concern in her voice. That, at least, was something.

He turned and stared back at her, his eyes willing up.

“I must leave for the Tower of Ur,” he said.

Her eyes widened.

“The tower is overrun with trolls,” she said. “To go there would be to go to your death.”

He looked back, unswayed.

“I am already dead.”

Without another word he turned and leapt over the edge, into the dinghy, determined to never lay eyes on her again. He would like, actually, to die a lonely death. After tonight, life for him held nothing in it.

As he rowed, cutting through the waters, distancing himself from the ship, a single cry, a shriek, cut through the darkness.

“Alec!”

It was Dierdre, calling his name. She was crying as she called it. He could hear the sadness in her voice. It was a cry of love, of loss, of what could have been. He wanted more than anything to look back, to see her face one last time.

But he did not dare. Instead, he rowed and looked ahead, saying goodbye, in his mind, to her forever.

Kavos charged for the legion of Pandesian soldiers who blocked his way to the mountains of Kos, not stopping for anything, ready to fight to the death. How dare these Pandesians invade his homeland, dare to think they could defeat him on his own territory? Those mountains of Kos belonged to his people; they always had. And no invading enemy had ever managed to conquer them. After all, they were now in the land of ice and snow, the land which had stood apart in Escalon for thousands of years. It took a certain type of man to survive in a land of ice and snow – and the men of Kos had it coursing in their blood.

Kavos looked up and knew they had to reach those mountains if they were to have any chance of outrunning the Pandesian army pursuing from behind. These soldiers in his way had to be destroyed immediately.

“MEN OF KOS, CHARGE!” he yelled.

A triumphant battle cry sounded behind him as he and his hundred men tripled their speed, lowering their heads, preparing to battle the much greater force of Pandesians. Although outnumbered ten to one, they did not slow or hesitate.

Their fearlessness clearly caught the Pandesians off guard. They seemed shocked to see these warriors of Kos increase their speed instead of stopping and surrendering.

Kos felt ire rise up within him as he extracted a spear and leaned forward and hurled it. It whistled as it flew through the air, a thing of beauty, camouflaged with the snow and ice. It found its target in the chest of the Pandesian commander, and he grasped it with both hands with a look of pain and shock, as he dropped off the side of his horse, dead.

Kavos let out a great battle cry as he drew his sword, increased his speed, and threw himself into a group of soldiers. He slashed one across the chest, spun and stabbed another, then, in a surprise move, he leapt from his horse and knocked two more soldiers off of theirs.