Morgan Rice - Night of the Bold

One of them clamped down on Theon’s tail and jerked his head, and as he did, Theon was thrown through the skies. Kyra felt her stomach dropping, her world spinning out of control as Theon plummeted head over heels through the air. Kyra held on as long as she could, knowing she needed to be close to the ground before she fell.

Finally, she fell, shrieking as she descended through the air, praying she was not so high that the fall would kill her.

She hit the ground with a thud, realizing, luckily, that she had been only twenty feet above when she lost her grip. She landed on the bridge, feeling a cracking in her ribs, and she lay there, winded. A moment later Theon crashed, smashing into the ground on the far side of the bridge, desperately wounded, trying to flap his wings but unable.

The four creatures peered down and began to dive for him, to finish him off.

At the same time Kyra heard a dark chanting, and she forced herself to lift her head, and looked out to see Magon standing on the far side of the bridge, raising both arms, emitting an awful noise. As he did, Kyra sensed motion behind him, and her heart stopped to see the Fields of Ore were changing. The blackened fields were bubbling, rising up, as if the stones themselves were coming alive. She watched in horror as a sea of blackened monsters suddenly emerged from the rock, standing tall. They marched across the Fields of Ore, heading for the Bridge of Sorrows, preparing to enter Escalon. The sorcerer was raising an army of the dead.

Kyra slowly rose to her feet, her entire body aching, forcing herself up, using the Staff of Truth to prop her. She stood there and faced off against Ra, against his sorcerer, while their army of the dead approached.

Ra stepped forward and smiled.

“Finally,” he said to her, “our time has come.”

Lorna watched with admiration and concern as Merk boarded the Pandesian ship and attacked its men. She watched with pride as he moved their cannon before they fired, saving Seavig, giving them the chance they needed to finish securing the chain, to close off the harbor. It was heroic and selfless, and Lorna had not realized that Merk had it in him. He had made amends, in that moment, for past wrongs, for a life poorly led. She felt true love for him.

She had wanted to join him, to be by his side, yet she could not, still busy as she was in keeping her palms to the sky, in creating the mist to obscure the Pandesian fleet. It was Merk’s fight, and he was on his own. It was his struggle for redemption.

She watched as, finally, in that last moment, he had found it. Lorna looked away as Merk was killed, encircled and stabbed by the Pandesians. She had felt it herself, in every ounce of her body, like a knife entering her own gut.

She cried out in despair.

Finished with her mist, Lorna saw that Seavig, safely in the harbor, no longer needed her. She was finally free to turn to Merk. She steered her ship for the Pandesian ship where she knew Merk lay dead. She sailed through an ocean full of Pandesian ships, many on fire all around her, others covered in mist, and others still splintering, falling apart as they sailed into the spiked chains. A sickening cracking noise filled the air, along with the screams of thousands of dying men. It was a night of hell for the Pandesians, and a night of epic victory for Escalon.

Yet still a few ships remained, including this one on which Merk lay dead. As her boat touched its hull, Lorna ran forward, leapt into the air, and used her powers to lift herself, to bridge the ten-foot gap easily. She landed like a cat on the Pandesian ship, to the amazed stares of all the soldiers.

Lorna strutted slowly, proudly, down the center of the deck, unafraid as soldiers turned toward her and stared, unsure whether to welcome or kill her. There she was, a woman alone walking down their ship, unafraid, looking like an apparition. The soldiers stared at each other, clearly baffled, unsure what to make of her.

Finally one of them raised his sword high and charged her.

Lorna merely flicked her palm and summoned her power, and his sword stopped in mid-air. She waved her wrist, and the soldier and sword went flying sideways through the air, overboard, splashing into the waters below.

The soldiers all now charged her. They drew swords, wielded maces, came at her with everything they had. The result was the same for them all: their blows were stopped by the invisible shield she spun around herself. Flicking her wrist, she sent men flying up into the air and over the sides of the ship, into the sea.

As she walked, calm, unfazed, she created a path of destruction. Soon the ship was emptied of Pandesians, all floating in the waters below, being eaten by sharks.

Lorna looked out to the horizon and saw the remainder of the Pandesian fleet in the ocean, hundreds of ships still anchored there, able to stop themselves before reaching the spiked chains. She reached back with her palms, threw them forward, and huge, white balls of light flew through the air like boulders. They lit up the night as they flew far out to sea, finally landing in the waters with a great crash.

Enormous waves arose and lifted the remaining Pandesian ships, sending them surging toward the harbor, toward Seavig’s spiked chains. Whatever ships had survived were soon destroyed.

Lorna breathed easy for the first time. The sea was finally free of Pandesian ships.

Lorna hurried to the bow, finally reaching Merk, kneeling by his side. There he lay, prone, eyes open wide to the sky. Frozen.

Dead.

Blood leaked from the wound in his stomach, and her heart broke at the sight of him. This scarred man, who had managed to redeem himself, to become a fine man in the final moments of his life, now lay there, dead before his time. It was as if his true personality had always been waiting for its chance to emerge.

“Merk,” she said softly, crying.

Lorna placed one hand on his stomach, and the other over his eyes, closing them. She felt a tremendous heat burning in her palms, and as she closed her eyes, she could feel his spirit leaving him, hovering, overlooking them both.

“Stay here with me,” she said to his spirit. “Let us start a new life together. I am ready now. And I am not ready to lose you.”

Lorna closed her eyes and began to feel Merk’s energy coursing through her with fervor. She could feel Merk’s soul struggling, debating if he wanted to stay. He was a tired soul, one who had lived a life of anguish, and his spirit hovered in the balance. It was a decision only he could make.

She watched his eyes flutter, hoping they would open. She had no idea if they would.

Alec sprinted across the peninsula of Ur, the Unfinished Sword urging him on, showing him which way to go. He knew he was running headlong into danger, and he did not care. He felt his destiny before him, the destiny of Escalon hanging in the balance, and today was the day, he knew, that would define his life.

Seeing Dierdre back there, together with his best friend, Marco, had done something to him. In some ways, it had made him lose his will to live. Though he barely knew her, he had loved Dierdre more than he could say, more than he had ever loved anyone, more than he had even realized until now. He had loved Marco as a friend, too. Seeing the two of them together, seeing how much they loved each other, was like a double knife in his heart. He had thought all this time that when he returned to her, she would be awaiting him. No matter what happened to him, it was all going to be worth it as long as he was reunited with her again.

But seeing that she no longer loved him, it robbed him of his will to live.

Alec sprinted across the barren, windswept peninsula, running for the mountain of rubble in the distance that was once the Tower of Ur. He looked out and saw Alva in the distance, holding out his staff, creating a fissure in the earth in which hundreds of vicious trolls fell. Yet he also saw dozens more trolls breaking through, charging the rubble – and atop it, he saw a lone figure, a man he immediately recognized as Kolva, fighting them all off heroically. The Unfinished Sword hummed in his hand, and Alec knew immediately that that was where he was needed.