by Morgan Rice
“Why didn’t you—” he began.
But she cut him off, leaning back and raising a finger.
“Later,” she said. “For now, I have urgent business.”
She cried again, and he looked into her face, wondering, then reached out and held her chin.
“Tell me,” he said. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She paused for a long time, looking down, then finally she looked up and met his eyes.
“I killed one of them today,” she said, her voice deadly serious.
Darius saw the seriousness in her eyes and knew this was no joke. His stomach dropped, realizing.
She nodded back, confirming it.
“They tried to harm my brother,” she explained. “I couldn’t stand by. Not anymore. Not today.”
She broke into tears.
“Now the Empire will come for me,” she said. “For all of us.”
Now Darius understood why she had sought him out; he pulled her to him, and she held him and cried over his shoulder as he held her tight. He felt sympathy for her, as well as compassion—and most of all, a newfound sense of respect. He admired her actions.
He pulled her back and looked at her meaningfully.
“What you have done,” he said, “was an act of honor. Of courage. An act that even men were afraid to do. You should not feel shame—you should feel pride. You saved your brother’s life. You saved all of our lives. We might all die. But now, thanks to you, we will all die with vengeance, with honor in our lives.”
She looked at him, and she wiped away her tears and he could see he had comforted her; yet her face flashed with concern.
“I don’t know why I came to you first,” she said. “I guess I thought…that you would understand. You among all of them.”
He clasped her hands.
“I do understand,” he said. “More than I could say.”
“I must tell them now,” she said. “I must tell all the elders.”
Darius took her hand in his and looked at her meaningfully.
“I vow by the sun and the stars, by the moon and the earth below it. No harm shall befall you while I live.”
She looked into his eyes, and he could feel her love for him, a love spanning centuries. She embraced him, leaning in close and whispered into his ear, the very words he had been longing to hear:
“I love you.”
CHAPTER TWENY TWO
Thorgrin, joined by his Legion brothers, walked slowly, cautiously, through the land of the dead, blinked, and wondered what had happened. He felt as if he had lost all sense of time, as if he had been down here for weeks, perhaps even an entire moon cycle, walking through a strange vortex of time and space as he marched through the endless tunnels in the land of the dead. He knew it was not possible to be marching for so many days, yet he felt so weary, his eyes so heavy. Had that much time really passed?
He blinked several times, peering through the reddish vapor that came and went in these massive caves, and looked over to see his companions looking equally disoriented. It was as if they were all finally just now stepping out of the fog, back into the present time. Thor remembered the riverkeeper’s warning: a few steps in this land can last many moons.
“What has happened to us?” Elden asked the question on all of their minds.
“Have we been marching all this time?” O’Connor asked.
“And yet it feels as if we’ve just entered the tunnel,” Reece said.
Thor looked all around, taking in the surroundings, thinking the same thing himself. He was immediately on guard, squeezing his fist around the hilt of his sword, as he felt a cold draft cling to his skin. Creepy noises filled the gargantuan cave, echoing out of nowhere in this place of blackness. The only thing to light their way were the sporadic fires shooting up from the ground, every twenty feet or so, flaming along the sides of the cave. Occasional geysers of fire shot up, some of them sparking, others slowly bubbling. More so than any place he’d ever been, this place felt like a place of darkness and gloom and death. Thor felt that they had entered another dimension, a place where no human was supposed to travel. He began to wonder if they had made a very big mistake in coming here.
“Guwayne!” Thor shouted.
His voice echoed off the cave walls, returning to him again and again, as if mocking him. He looked about, stopping, listening, hoping for any sound of his child. A baby’s cry. Anything.
There came nothing but cruel silence in response. Then, after a long pause, the sounds picked up again—the distant drips and squeals and fluttering of wings, the myriad hidden creatures in the darkness. There also came the distant sounds of hisses, of soft moans, of chains rattling. Endless moans and cries echoed in the air, the sounds of souls in anguish.
“What is this place?” Indra asked, her voice gloomy.
“Hell,” Matus answered.
“Or one of the Twelve Hells,” Elden added.
Thor walked carefully, avoiding small pools of fire, and he felt a deepening sense of apprehension as he heard a distant roar and rumble of some sort of creature.
“If everyone is dead, what is that?” Matus asked. “What are the rules down here?”
Thorgrin stepped forward, gripping his hilt, and shook his head.
“There are no rules,” Reece said. “We left the rules in the land above.”
“The only rules here are told by the edge of your sword,” Thor said, drawing his sword with a distinctive ring. The others followed, all holding their weapons, all on edge. Reece held a mace, Matus a flail, Elden a sword, O’Connor his bow, Conven his sword, and Indra her sling.
“I don’t think these will be of much help,” Reece said. “After all, these creatures have already been killed.”
“But we haven’t,” Indra said. “Not yet, at least.”
They continued marching toward the sounds, deeper and deeper into the cave, the sounds getting louder as they felt themselves enveloped in this other world.
“GUWAYNE!” Thor shouted again.
Again, his voice echoed, this time followed by mocking laughter coming from somewhere deep inside, bouncing off the walls. There came a dripping sound, and Thor looked up to see small drops of lava dripping from the ceiling, sporadic drops, like rain, hissing as they landed.
“OW!” O’Connor shouted and jumped.
Thor saw him jump out of the way and wipe a smoldering flame off his sleeve, slapping it out. They all banded together more closely and hurried down the center, where there was less dripping.
“They said no one leaves,” Matus said. “Maybe we will die sooner than we think.”
“Not here,” Reece said. “As crazy as it sounds, I don’t want to die in the land of the dead. I want to die above ground.”
Conven stepped forward, looking relaxed, as if he were comfortable here.
“It might just save us a trip,” he said.
They marched and marched, the red vapor rising and disappearing, Thor peered into the darkness, some portions of the cave lit by greater flames than others. He looked everywhere for Guwayne.
Yet everywhere he went, there were no sign of him.
Thor heard a sudden rattling, and he looked over and was shocked at what he saw. At first he couldn’t process it. But then, the mist cleared and it came clearly into view. He was not seeing things.
There, but a few feet away, Gareth, Reece’s brother, appeared out of the darkness. Chained to the wall with iron shackles about his neck, he stared out at them with a gaunt face and hollow cheeks. His arms and legs were shackled by silver shackles, and he had a dagger protruding from his chest.
He smiled at them, blood dripping from his mouth as he did.
“Gareth,” Reece gasped, stepping forward, holding his sword out before him.
“My brother,” Gareth said to him.
“You are no brother to me,” Reece said.
“Do you recognize this dagger in my chest?” Gareth asked. “It is the one I used to murder Father. It has b
een plunged back into me. For all eternity. Would you take it out for me?”
Reece backed up in horror, staring at his brother, horrified.
Slowly, Reece backed away. He turned, and Thor could see the fear in his face, and then he continued down the tunnel.
The others joined him, all turning their backs on Gareth, leaving him there, chained to the wall, doomed to live out his hell for eternity.
“Please!” Gareth wailed behind them, sounding desperate. “Please free me! Please come back! I’m sorry! Do you hear me, brother? I am sorry I killed Father!”
They marched and marched, and Thor could see the ashen look on Reece’s face. He looked shaken.
“I had never thought to see my brother again,” Reece said softly as they continued walking.
Thor looked all around and had a new respect for this place; he wondered what might come next.
They passed small caves, recessed into the walls, similar to the one from which Gareth had emerged, and as they did, they were all on guard, wondering who else they might encounter.
There came another rattling of chains, this one more violent, and out of the darkness of one of the small caves there came a figure lunging toward them. They all jumped back and braced themselves, Thor raising his sword, ready to strike.
But the man was stopped by his shackles before he could reach them. He snarled, reaching out at them.
“Come closer,” he shrieked, “and I will introduce you to hell!”
Thor looked at the man, horribly disfigured, missing an eye, his face burned and covered in seeping wounds that seemed fresh, and Thor realized, with horror, who it was: McCloud.
“You are the one who attacked Gwendolyn,” Thor said, as it all rushed back to him as if it were yesterday. “I had always wished I was there to kill you first. Now I have my chance.”
Thor scowled and stepped forward and stabbed McCloud through the heart.
But McCloud stood there, still smiling at him as blood poured through his mouth, looking unfazed.
Thor looked down and saw there were already several swords piercing McCloud’s torso.
“Kill me,” McCloud said. “You would do me a great favor and end this hell that I’m in.”
Thor looked back in wonder, and he realized at that moment that there was justice in the world. McCloud had hurt countless others, and now he was suffering, in his own private hell. And he would suffer forever.
“No,” Thor said, retracting his sword. “I won’t spare you from any hell.”
They kept walking, McCloud’s shouts assailing them as they went. Thor was even more on edge now, peering into the darkness, as one by one, figures emerged from caves on both sides of the tunnel, all shackled.
Thor passed men he recognized, men he had killed on the battlefield, most of them foreign enemies. They all seemed to want to try to reach him, to attack, but their shackles held them just out of reach.
Suddenly Matus jumped back; Thor turned and saws his dead father and brothers from the Upper Isles emerge, reaching out for him.
“You let us down, Matus,” his father said. “You betrayed us for the mainland of the Ring. You turned your back on family.”
Matus shook his head as he stared back.
“You were never my family,” he replied. “In blood only. Not in honor.”
Reece walked forward, right up to Matus’s father, who glowered back at him. He still had the stab wound from where Reece had killed him.
“You killed me,” he said to Reece.
“And because of you, the woman I was set to marry is dead,” Reece replied. “You killed Selese.”
“I would kill her again,” he said, “and I would gladly kill you!”
He lunged forward for Reece, but he was stopped by his chains.
Reece just stood there and scowled at him.
“I would kill you every day if I could,” Reece said, feeling fresh agony for Selese’s death. “You stole away from me the person I loved most.”
“Why don’t you stay down here with us,” Matus’s brother said to Reece, “and then you can.”
Thor turned and led Reece away, yanking him along.
“Come on,” he said to Reece. “They’re not worth our time.”
They all kept marching, passing an endless parade of ghosts. Thor saw all the men he’d killed in battle, faces he hadn’t seen in ages, as they walked deeper and deeper into this unholy place.
Thor suddenly felt a chill pervade his system, and he knew, he just knew, that some evil being was lurking in a cave up ahead, obscured behind a cloud of vapor.
Slowly, the figured emerged, stepping forward as the vapor passed, and Thor stopped short, shocked.
“And where is it you march, my son?” came the dark, guttural voice.
Thorgrin’s hair stood on end as he recognized that voice, that voice that had caused him such heartbreak, that had caused him endless nightmares. Thor braced himself.
It can’t be.
Thor was horrified to see walking out of the blackness, chained by six shackles, his true father.
Andronicus.
Andronicus was stopped by his shackles, and Thor slowly approached, standing before him, staring him back in his face. Andronicus’s entire body was covered in wounds, much as Thor had last seen him on the battlefield.
Andronicus grinned back cruelly, seemingly invincible.
“You hated me in life. Will you hate me in death, too?” Andronicus asked.
“I will hate you always,” Thor replied, shaking inside.
Andronicus smiled.
“That is good. Your hate will keep me alive. It will keep us connected.”
Thor pondered his words, and he realized his father was right. The hatred he felt for Andronicus made him think of him every day; it kept them connected in some strange way. He realized in that moment that he would like to be truly free of him. And that to do so, he would have to let go of his hatred.
“You are nothing to me now,” Thorgrin said. “You’re not a father. You never were. You’re not a foe. You’re just another corpse in the land of the dead.”
“Yet I live on,” Andronicus said, “in your dreams. You have killed me. But not truly. To be rid of me, you would have to conquer yourself. And you are not strong enough for that.”
Thor felt a fresh wave of anger.
“I’m stronger than you, Father,” Thor said. “I am alive, up above, and you are dead, trapped down here.”
“Are you, who dreams of me, truly alive?” Andronicus asked, smiling. “Which one of us is trapped by the other?”
Andronicus leaned back and laughed, louder and louder, a grating noise, his laugh echoing off the walls. Thor looked back at him with hatred; he wanted to kill him, to send him to hell. But he was already in hell. Thor realized it was himself he needed to free.
Thorgrin felt a hand on his shoulder now, and he turned to see Reece, returning the favor, pulling him away.
“He’s not worth it,” Reece said. “He’s just another ghost.”
Thor let himself be pulled away, and they all continued walking, Andronicus’s laugh echoing in Thor’s ears as they continued to weave their way through the endless cave of horrors.
*
They marched and marched, for what felt like moons, twisting and turning their way through endless tunnels, forking more than once, getting endlessly lost in this maze beneath the earth. Thor felt as if they had crossed a desert of blackness, as if he had been marching his entire life.
Finally, they reached what appeared to be the end of the cave. Thor paused, puzzled, as did the others, staring at a wall of solid black rock. Had they reached a dead end?
“Look!” O’Connor said. “Down below.”
Thor looked down, and he saw, on the ground at the end of the cave, a wide hole in the earth, a tunnel sloping straight down into the blackness.
Thor walked up to the precipice with the others and looked down; the tunnel seemed to disappear into the earth’s core. A warm dr
aft rose up from it, smelling like sulfur. Thor heard a moaning sound echoing deep below.
Thor looked at the others, who all stared back, apprehension in their eyes. He could tell none of them wanted to enter the tunnel, to go sliding straight down into the blackness. He was not sure he did, either. And yet what choice did they have? Had they made a wrong turn somewhere?
As they stood there debating, suddenly, there came a horrific shriek behind them, one that sent the hairs standing on the back of Thor’s neck. It was like the roar of a lion.
Thor turned and was horrified to see, standing there, facing them, the most grotesque monster he had ever seen. It towered over them, three times Thorgrin’s size, and twice as wide. He looked like a giant, but its skin was bright red and scaly, and in place of fingers it had three long claws. It had hooves for feet and a tall, skinny head, with three eyes at the top and a face that was entirely made up of its mouth. Its mouth was huge, with jagged yellow teeth each half a foot long, and its entire body rippled with scales and muscles, like armor.
“It looks like something that escaped from hell,” O’Connor said.
“Or that wants to send us there,” Indra said.
The creature threw its head back and roared; then it stepped forward and swiped at them.
Thorgrin jumped out of the way just in time, the beast missing him by inches.
But O’Connor was not so lucky. He screamed out as the beast’s long yellow claws slashed him, leaving three slash marks across his bicep, sending him flying through the air and tumbling to the stone. O’Connor, to his credit, rolled as he hit the ground, and, despite his pain, grasped his bow and fired off an arrow.
The beast was too fast; it merely reached up and snatched the arrow from midair. It held it up, examined it, and chewed it, swallowing it as if it were a snack. It leaned back and roared again.
Thor broke into action. He charged forward, raised his sword high with both hands, and brought it down on the beast’s foot. With all his might he plunged down, piercing through the skin, through its armor, and down into the bedrock, pinning it to the ground.
