Morgan Rice - Night of the Bold

Ra scowled and suddenly charged, slashing down at her with his great sword, groaning as he lowered it for her head. She held her ground, fearless, raising the Staff of Truth, confident in her powers.

Kyra blocked his blow amidst a great clang and shower of sparks, managing to stop his sword in midair. She then stepped forward, filled with the certainty of her own powers, and kicked him in the chest.

She watched as the great Ra went flying back, airborne, thirty feet. He landed hard on his back and went sliding across the bridge.

Ra lay there and looked up, wide-eyed, clearly stunned.

Kyra approached and he stood, wiped blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, and grimaced. He raised his sword and, letting out a fierce battle cry, charged once again.

This time Ra slashed back and forth, again and again, the blade whistling through the air, lunging for her.

Kyra forced herself to remain calm. She sidestepped as one blow smashed into the side of the bridge, strong enough to take out a chunk of it. He slashed again, a blow strong enough to cut three men in half, and again she dodged and the sword took out another chunk of bridge.

Kyra, more focused than she had ever been, finally understood what it meant to be in the moment. Feeling the power of her ancestors course through her, the power passed down to her in her bloodline through her mother, she swung the Staff of Truth in between his blows and smashed him across the jaw.

A cracking noise split the air as the blow sent Ra flying back a good twenty feet, until he smashed against the stone railing of the bridge. He lay there in a heap, unmoving.

Kyra walked over to him, seeing the power slowly ebbing from him, seeing his look of hubris slowly morph to one of uncertainty. It was a magical thing to watch. And it gave her satisfaction. For her people.

For her father.

Indeed, she felt her father’s spirit looking down, coursing through her.

Kyra leaned over, grabbed his chest, and pulled him up. He grimaced down at her as she held him up high overhead with one hand, feeling more powerful than ever. She looked deep into his eyes, the soulless black eyes of her foe, of the man she would vanquish.

“For my father,” she said calmly.

Kyra threw him, sending him sliding forty feet across the bridge, smashing into the rail on the far side.

Ra crawled to his hands and knees, coughing up blood, then finally stumbled to his feet. He looked unsure as he raised his sword and pathetically charged for her.

“No one can kill the Great and Holy Ra!” he shouted. “NO ONE!”

He charged this time with both hands holding the sword high overhead, aiming for her head, to kill her once and for all. Kyra did not wait. She charged forward with all she had, racing to greet him before he could her. As she ran forward with lightning speed, she let out a great battle cry herself, feeling the power of the world course through her. She raced forward and lunged the Staff of Truth through his chest. The Staff of Truth magically sharpened at its tip, as if anticipating her needs and morphing to suit her. Ra shrieked as it punctured him, and went out the other side.

Ra fell to his knees and dropped his weapon, gushing blood. He looked up at Kyra with eyes wide in shock.

“You…have…killed…what…could…not…be…killed,” he struggled to say.

And then he dropped face first to the ground.

Dead.

Kyra felt a rush of satisfaction, as she felt her father’s spirit shining down on her, avenged. She felt Escalon, avenged. She felt her mother smiling down with pride, felt her destiny fulfilled. The ruler of the vast Pandesian Empire, of most the world, was dead at her hands. She had become the warrior they had always dreamt she would be; she had become the leader of Escalon, cutting off the head of the great Empire.

Yet Kyra had little time to reflect on her victory. A million of his men still marched for the gate, while behind her Anvin and his men fought off what remained of the Pandesian army inside Escalon, and Theon fought for his survival.

A rumble like thunder shook the earth, and Kyra spun to see one of the four beasts dive down and smash into the earth right beside Theon, grabbing Theon’s tail with its claws and hurling him. Her heart dropped to watch Theon spin end over end through the air. He landed on hard rock, tumbling in a great cloud of dust.

The other three beasts followed, close on Theon’s tails. Yet Kyra watched with pride as Theon spun, jumped to his feet, and sank his teeth into one beast’s throat as it lunged to finish him off. Theon caught the beast by surprise, unwilling to let go. The beast writhed every which way, trying to shake Theon off, but was unable to. Theon held on for dear life, even as he was smashed into rock on either side, and finally the massive beast stopped writhing, limp.

Dead.

No sooner had it died than the three others pounced on Theon’s back. Kyra’s heart slammed; she knew that if she didn’t do something soon he would die.

Kyra sprinted across the bridge and as she reached the far side, cracked one of the beasts across the back with the Staff of Truth. She felt the vibration of the staff course up and down her arms as a white light shot forth from it, and she heard the crack reverberate. The creature shrieked and spun for her, and as it did, she cracked it across the face.

She felt the definitive power of the blow. It suddenly stiffened and dropped to its side, dead.

Another beast jumped off Theon’s back, snarled, and lunged for her, coming at her with lightning speed. The Staff of Truth hummed in her hand, and, listening to it, she raised it and threw it.

The stuff buzzed through the air like a spear and pierced the beast’s chest, all the way through and out the other side. It landed face-first in the dirt and slid all the way up to Kyra’s feet, dead.

The fourth and final beast jumped off of Theon and turned for Kyra, but as it flew for her, Theon rose from the ground, leapt into the air behind it, and dropped onto its back. Theon held on for dear life as the creature let out an awful roar, writhing like mad, trying to throw him off but unable. Theon finally managed to slam it down to the ground, pinning it down, wrestling with it, refusing to let go.

The creature rolled, but Theon rolled with it. The two of them rolled, again and again, until finally they neared the edge of the cliff, the roaring waters far below where the Sea of Sorrow met the Sea of Tears. As they rolled one final time, Theon reached up with his talons and dug them into the beast’s throat.

The beast shrieked, blood gushing down its scales, and Theon raised it by its throat and threw it.

The creature plummeted through the air, flailing, until it impacted with the sharp rocks below and splashed into the waters, dead. The waters turned red with its blood, and within moments it was swarmed by red sharks.

Kyra breathed deep with relief. She had never been so proud of Theon. She knew that his father, Theos, was looking down with pride, too, at his son. Theon, after all, was the last dragon standing. He had become, as the prophecies had predicted, the King of the Dragons.

Kyra summoned her staff and it came flying through the air and landed in her palm. She turned and looked back out at Anvin and the men, battling what remained of Ra’s army, still outnumbering her father’s men greatly, with their thousands of soldiers who remained inside of Escalon. Kyra knew she had to help them.

Kyra took off at a sprint. She raised the staff and slashed down through the air as she ran, and it hit the ground with a great cracking noise. A rippling reverberated through the ground as white light emanated from the staff and spread through the Pandesian camp. Kyra watched as several hundred soldiers fell, their cries rising up through the air, the white light destroying them.