Morgan Rice - Night of the Bold

A clap like thunder emanated from it, and a shockwave spread below. It spread through the ranks and destroyed thousands of men of the Pandesian army within moments. She struck again and again, decimating all she saw before her, unleashing an unstoppable wave of fury and destruction. She pushed the Pandesians further and further south, far away from the Gulch, forcing them to turn and flee all the way back for their homeland.

Kyra finally circled around. She could finish off the army some other time. What was most pressing was her father, who lay there in the Gulch, flat on his back. Perhaps there was still time to save him.

“DOWN, THEON!” she urged.

Theon dove down and landed beside her father, atop a wide, flat boulder in the center of the Gulch. Kyra dismounted and rushed to her father’s side.

She knelt beside him, wracked with sobs as she picked him up in her arms. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He was alive – barely.

“Father!” she wept, tears gushing down her cheeks, unable to contain her grief.

She picked him up in her arms, laid him on Theon’s back, then climbed up and held him. They took off, flying back to the northern side of the Gulch, to the safety of his men. If there was any chance of saving him, this was the only way.

Kyra knelt at her father’s side, surrounded by hundreds of his men, all crowding in close, all looking down at Duncan on his deathbed. He was very weak, his eyes barely open, as he lay on the rock, safe amongst his men, on this side of the Gulch. The free side.

In the distance Kyra could hear the Pandesian army, still smarting from their defeat, from the closing of the Gulch. It sounded like they were rallying, preparing for another attack, to try to find a way around the Gulch – or through it. Perhaps. But for now at least, for the first time since this nightmare had begun, Escalon was safe.

And yet, Kyra did not feel safe. She did not feel relieved. Instead, she felt a deep, overwhelming sadness. She knelt there, looking down at her father, watching his life force ebb away, and it pained her to no end. What she thought would never happen was happening. Her father, the greatest, strongest man she had ever known, was dying. All the healers had said his time had come.

Her eyes welled with tears as she looked down, cradling his head in her hands. If only she’d arrived sooner, she thought. Even a few minutes. If only she had broken free from Marda sooner. If only there had been anything she could have done to save his life. She felt as if she had let him down.

She wiped away her tears and willed her father not to die.

“Father,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I have failed you.”

She waited in the interminable silence. Finally, Duncan reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it firmly. He smiled weakly, his eyes barely open.

“Kyra,” he said. His voice sounded so muted, so distant, not like the father she had loved and known, had looked up to her entire life.

She looked down, listening.

“I want you to know something,” he added.

She leaned closer, struggling to hear his voice.

“You have made me proud. Prouder than I could have ever hoped to be as a father. Prouder than my sons.” He paused, trying to speak. “More importantly, I want you to know how much I love you.”

Kyra could not hold back her tears as her father struggled to breathe, to speak.

“ You , Kyra,” he finally added. “You, of all my children, are the one. Tell your mother…”

His voice trailed off, and Kyra’s heart pounded with curiosity and regret, as she felt all her emotions overwhelming her. He could not die. Not now. She willed for him not to die.

“What, Father?” she cried. “Tell her what? What should I tell my mother? Who is my mother? Who am I?”

Duncan laid his head back down, closed his eyes, and uttered his final words.

“Tell her…” he concluded, “…I am sorry.”

With that, Duncan’s eyes closed.

Dead.

Kyra let out a wail of grief. She leaned back and looked to the skies, cursing this day. Life was too cruel. Was there not already enough death in the world to spare this one man?

Kyra suddenly felt utterly alone, more alone than she had ever felt in the universe. She felt like an orphan. It didn’t seem natural not to have a parent. It didn’t seem fair. How could her father be taken away from her, especially now, after such a victory? On the verge of achieving complete freedom? On the verge of achieving everything he had ever hoped and dreamed of, their entire lives?

Kyra wailed with grief as she leaned over him, hugging his dead body, crying out again and again.

“No, Father, no!”

She wanted to bring him back. To hug him. To tell him how much she loved him. She had imagined celebrating with him, had imagined him always being there to watch her become a great warrior, to see how proud of her he would be. To meet her own children one day. What did she have to live for with her father dead? Whose approval did she have left to win?

Kyra knew at that moment that a part of her had died with him – and that she would never, ever, be the same again.

Merk and Lorna navigated the ship deeper into the Bay of Ur, the black skies lit eerily by the red twinkling stars and by the glow of Pandesian ships aflame. As they sailed their hull bumped against the endless cadavers of Pandesian soldiers floating in the waters, a soft yet eerie sound. Lorna’s mist still hung in the air, but it was beginning to burn off, and slowly, they were losing their cover. Their time was scarce now.

Merk looked over at Lorna and saw her exhaustion, could see from her eyes the toll it had taken on her. With each passing moment their ship would become more visible, and already Merk could hear the Pandesian horns, the shouts of soldiers preparing to rally and fight back.

“Where do we sail, my lady?” Merk asked, feeling an increasing sense of panic. With each passing moment, with each body they passed, they were sailing deeper into the heart of the enemy. They had managed to commandeer a ship – yet they were still surrounded, and vastly outnumbered. It was only a matter of time until the other Pandesian ships discovered that they were the enemy.

Lorna looked out and studied the waters calmly, expressionless, clearly seeing into worlds that Merk would never understand. There followed a long silence in which there came nothing but the gentle splashing of water – and cadavers – against the hull.

Finally, she raised a finger and pointed.

“There.”

Merk struggled to follow her gaze, peering into the night and mist until finally he spotted something. It was another ship, and his heart leapt with joy to see it was being sailed by one of theirs. At the helm he recognized Duncan’s commander, Seavig, the ship filled with his men. Merk watched as Seavig sailed right for a Pandesian ship, one of the few not aflame, and let out a great battle cry. Without warning, his men leapt from one ship to the other, drawing swords and charging.

Shouts and clangs rang out as they fought man to man, and Merk realized with a jolt that Seavig was trying to take another ship. Merk marveled at their courage, at their recklessness in thinking they could defeat this entire Pandesian fleet. He watched dozens of Pandesians fall, and yet saw many of Seavig’s men fall, too. More horns sounded, and Pandesian ships rallied, turning for Seavig’s ship. Merk watched, wide-eyed, as in the distance the Pandesians raised cannons. He knew that if he did not do something quick, Seavig and his men would be wiped out for good.

Merk rushed to the cannon on his own ship, pushed it with all his might, and aimed it for the distant Pandesian ship. He lit a torch and raised it, and looked to Lorna.