Morgan Rice - Night of the Bold

Kolva stood atop the rubble, swinging his staff, knocking out trolls two, three, four at a time, while Leo snarled viciously at his feet, and Andor trampled trolls behind him, all of them tearing apart trolls on all sides. Alec could not understand what he was doing there. It was as if he were guarding the pile of rubble. Was this where Alec was meant to go?

Despite his confusion, Alec let the sword lead him; it practically pulled him and he ran by and in a blur he saw the chaos all around him, saw thousands of trolls pouring in every second. He saw Alva’s arms shaking as he held his staff, barely able to hold his fissure any longer. He saw trees dropped, bridges erected, the fissure overrun by more and more trolls. Soon, he could tell, Alva and Kolva, the last thing keeping the trolls at bay, would be overrun for good.

Alec ran for the rubble, so close now – when suddenly he felt a yank, and felt a surge of pain as his arm was clawed. He cried out and spun to find a grotesque troll bearing down on him. Without thinking, Alec spun and slashed the troll across the chest, letting the sword lead him, then drove it into his heart, killing him. The sword cut through him as if he weren’t even there.

Another troll lunged for Alec from the other direction, and he ducked, letting it fly over him, then slashed its back, killing it.

Alec ran, breathing hard, stumbling over the mounds of rubble, dodging trolls, until finally he was at Kolva’s side. He fought back to back with him, each slashing back trolls, Alec with his sword, Kolva with his staff.

Kolva glanced down at the weapon in Alec’s hand. His eyes widened with reverence.

“The sword,” he gasped.

Alec looked back, wondering.

“You know where it belongs?” Alec asked.

“The secret chamber,” Kolva replied. “Deep beneath the earth. Kyle awaits you below. You must go now. Hurry!”

As Kolva uttered the words, Alec immediately knew them to be true, and his mission snapped into focus. He looked down at the pile of rubble beneath his feet, and he saw the opening not far away, leading down into the earth. It was the final resting place of the Sword. And the only way, he realized, to save Escalon.

Alec prepared to go, but Kolva reached out and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He gave him a somber look.

“The chamber,” he said, “when you restore the sword, it will swallow it whole. And you with it. Whatever’s left of this tower will be no more. There will be no return.”

Alec stood there, pondering Kyle’s words. The ultimate sacrifice, he realized, was not only returning the sword, but sacrificing himself. A quest awaited him, and it was a quest for martyrs. One for the man who was willing to end his life for the sake of Escalon.

As Alec felt the sword hum in his hand, he knew what he had to do.

“Then time is short,” he replied.

With those words, Alec ran and leapt through the hole.

His stomach dropped as he plummeted into a world of blackness. He landed hard, stumbled, found his feet, and immediately set off at a run in the darkness, his way lit only by a distant torch. He followed a maze of corridors, allowing the sword to lead him, until finally he reached the end, an open, glowing door before him.

And before it, a single figure.

Kyle.

Kyle turned and looked at him, awe in his face.

“The ancient chamber,” Kyle breathed.

Alec felt the sword burning, red-hot, in his palms, and he knew.

“This is my mission now,” Alec said. “You have done your job well. Surface. And serve Escalon as best you can.”

Kyle stared back, concern and admiration in his face. He stepped forward and they clasped arms solemnly.

“Escalon shall always remember you,” Kyle said.

And with that, he turned and hurried back through the corridors, leaving Alec utterly alone.

Alec knew he was meant to be here, and knew he was meant to be alone. His breathing shallow, he stepped into the chamber, knowing this would be the last room he ever stepped in.

The chamber was bright, aglow with torches, and as he entered, the sword was positively vibrating in his hand. This place, the absolute silence, the stillness in the air, felt sacrosanct. He stepped in deeper and looked around. In the center was a round, granite altar. And in its very center was a slit, a scabbard embedded in the stone. It was the same size and shape of the sword. He knew at once that that was where the sword was meant to live. Forever. It would finish the sword. And it would finish Escalon.

Alec stepped forward, his heart pounding, knowing these were his final moments alive. He felt a great sense of tragedy, of sadness – yet also of purpose, of honor. Hearing the shouts above, he knew it was time. Time to end this war. To restore the Flames. To send the trolls back to Marda. Forever.

Alec stepped close and uttered his final words.

“Dierdre,” he said. “I love you.”

Alec raised the sword high with both hands and plunged it down into the slit in the earth.

The sword turn red-hot, aglow, and Alec stepped away, its power too intense. Flames shot up from the rock, there came the sound of stone scraping stone, and suddenly, the entire world began to quake.

Rubble began collapsing all around him. And his final thought, as his world turned black, as massive boulders collapsed atop him, was: Escalon, I have served you.

Alva stood before the fissure, holding his staff before him, and he could feel his power waning. His arms shook from the hours of effort, and yet still the trolls came, thousands and thousands more, a never-ending river of monsters. Alva knew time was of the essence, now more than ever, and yet, his powers had reached their end. He could not hold them back much longer. The fate of Escalon no longer rested on him, but now, on the Unfinished Sword. If Kyle and Kolva and Alec could restore it in time, then they’d have a chance. If not, all was lost.

Alva struggled with all he had, and yet despite all his efforts, he could no longer hold up his arms. They lowered by themselves, his staff dimming, and as they dropped, he watched with horror as the fissure began to seal again.

There came a great roar as thousands of trolls, invigorated, jumped over the closing fissure, charging right for him. At the same time, the trolls overwhelmed Kyle and Kolva on the rubble of the tower, swarming them from all sides. Their battle, he knew, was lost.

There came yet another shout, and Alva spun and was horrified to see Vesuvius himself appear, surprising him, charging him from behind as he led thousands more trolls. Vesuvius had clearly circled around and waited for the perfect moment to attack. In that moment, Alva knew his life, after centuries on this planet, was over. He could no longer withstand an attack by an entire nation of trolls on his own.

Alva wielded his staff as the first wave of trolls came, stepping forward and slashing. With a great cracking noise he knocked a dozen of them back in a single blow. He spun and swung again, and felled more.

Yet still they came, thousands upon thousands, snarling, eyes red, filled with bloodlust. Even Kyle and Kolva could not hold them back anymore – they deflected deadly blows with their staffs, but then they stumbled and fell, overwhelmed. At the same time, Vesuvius broke through the ranks, rushing forward and setting his sights on Alva. Alva watched as Vesuvius raised his immense halberd high and lowered it for his head.

Alva raised his staff, turned it sideways, and blocked it – yet as he did, he heard the sickening noise of his staff cracking in two. Alva stared at the broken shards in disbelief. That which could not be broken had been broken. That could only mean one thing: the heart and soul of Escalon was broken, too. There was no hope left for any of them.