The Rise of Greg

by Chris Rylander

  “I literally got back just an hour or two ago,” I said. “I only spoke to Dunmor for a few minutes to debrief him on the new powers of the Bloodletter.”

  “Yeah, Ari told me about that,” Eagan said, nodding. “Anyway, yeah. Over half the Council will be taking up arms alongside the rest of you. On the rear flanks, mind you, but we’re still likely to see combat. Even Dunmor is suiting up. He insists he’s no more or less important than anyone else qualified to fight.”

  “You don’t agree with him?”

  “Well, I admire his humility,” Eagan said. “But I also can’t deny it would prove complicated, chaotic, and possibly structurally fatal to suddenly lose half our government in one single battle.”

  “To be fair, there will be nothing to preserve or save if we lose the battle outright,” I countered with a slight smile.

  Eagan nodded and laughed nervously.

  “Yeah, that’s why my gear is ready,” he said, staring at the armor for a second longer, before facing me again. “So what happened to Stoney? Ari said he’s still there? In the Hidden Forest?”

  I nodded.

  Traveling quickly by magic, Ari and I had managed to stop by Bigfoot John’s cave before leaving the enchanted realm. I’d insisted it was worth the time to check on Stoney. Since he couldn’t travel via magic like we could, he had to stay behind regardless, but I’d at least needed to see him before I left. In case—well, in case I never made it back.

  “He was still unconscious when we last saw him,” I said, and Eagan made a face. “Don’t worry, though,” I added quickly. “He’s in good hands. Bigfoot John is taking care of him. He assured me he was going to be okay. I’m planning to head back there to get him at some point, after this war is over. Well, assuming we win, that is. I have to go back to the Hidden Forest anyway, because I made a promise to some trees at the entrance. And Dwarves don’t break promises.”

  “You made a promise to . . . some trees?” Eagan asked, eyebrows arched.

  “Long story,” I said with a grin.

  Eagan nodded and glanced at his armor again. Unlike Glam, he didn’t offer me any brash assurances that we would win. He thought much more like a Dwarf. Much more like me. We knew nothing was assured at this point, except that lots of people and creatures were going to die, regardless of who won.

  “Thank you for stopping by, Greg,” Eagan said, standing up. “I wish we could sit here all night and talk about the war instead of actually fighting it, but that’s not an option. I have to get ready now; I’m due to meet with the Council soon, one final session before the battle.”

  I sighed and nodded as I stood up.

  We hugged again, but this time it was quicker, with a lot of dude-back-slaps, as if we were trying to beat each other’s tears back into our heads.

  “Thanks for everything, Eagan,” I said. And then, not knowing where the confidence was coming from, I added: “You’re going to make a great Council Alderman someday. I know it.”

  “And you’re going to be a great hero tonight,” he shot back with a playful smile, knowing full well how much I never wanted that for myself. “Because you’ll have to be.”

  * * *

  Ari and Lake met up with me in the hallway near my room a short time later.

  “Thanks for meeting us,” Ari said.

  “Thy parental constituents lest requested ye chamber privacy,” Lake added.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Works better for me, anyway. I have to talk to my dad before it all starts . . .”

  They both nodded solemnly as we all sighed.

  The full moon was nearing its optimal position in the night sky. It would all begin less than an hour from now.

  “Where are the NOLA Dwarves? And Tiki?” I asked. “I haven’t seen them.”

  “They chose to be outside and camp with the NOLA faction army,” Ari explained. “They want to be with their own families for the battle.”

  “Tis nobler than thyne expectations, nary be it for ye Dwarf,” Lake said.

  I nodded in agreement—that did sound like a Dwarven thing to do.

  “Well, thanks for being my friends all these months,” I said. “For welcoming me into your group like you did. And for saving my life so many times along the way.”

  “Greg, stop it,” Ari said, wiping her eyes. “This isn’t goodbye.”

  “Thy do’eth describe accurate portrayals yonder events past,” Lake joked. “Thee oweth thyne companions thy existence!”

  “Well, I’ll gladly return the favor tonight as many times as I can,” I said to him.

  Lake laughed and nodded, then gave me a friendly pat on the arm, before turning and walking away.

  “I asked him to give us a moment alone earlier,” Ari explained. “I just wanted to . . . well, um . . .”

  I stood there uncomfortably. I assumed she was just struggling, like, to get out her true feelings. Since this could be the last time we’d ever speak to each other.

  “I know,” I finally said. “This is pretty heavy . . .”

  “No, that’s not what . . .” Ari said, then stopped again to collect herself. “It is heavy, but that’s not what I’m trying to say. Greg, I’m worried about you.”

  “Huh?”

  “You and the Bloodletter,” she said. “I don’t think it was wrong for us to go get it. We need it for this fight. Clearly.” She motioned toward the west, where the massive, overwhelming army was mobilizing for their attack. “But what I saw in the San Francisco Bay was . . . well, it was awesome. And powerful. And inspiring.”

  “Okaaay . . .” I said, not seeing the problem.

  “But it was also scary, Greg. I mean, the way . . . the way you so easily slaughtered all those Drenchers without hesitating was . . .”

  “I was trying to save you!” I said defensively.

  “I know!” she said. “I know, and I will be forever grateful. That’s not what I mean. It’s just, it looked like it wasn’t even a decision you made. It was automatic, like you were simply taking a breath. I just worry about what that ax does to you. At the end of all this, I just want you to remain you. It’s almost not worth winning this war if we have to become something we’re not to do it.

  “I know we need the Bloodletter, and we need you to wield it. But be careful, is all I’m saying. We need you to be a hero tonight, but . . . well, the slaughter, the power, the death, it all looked too easy back there. I’m actually less worried about losing tonight than winning. If we lose, then we’ll be dead and we won’t know any better. But if we win, that’s what worries me. You know, specifically what will happen to you afterward . . .”

  My initial instinct was to launch into my own defensive, abrasive soliloquy on how I’m pretty much our only hope.

  The Bloodletter even egged me on.

  I told you not to save this one, he said. Look how ungrateful! She doesn’t want you to be powerful! I mean, what kind of friend is she?

  But I fought that urge, because I knew the truth. The real answer to his question was: a great friend.

  I took a deep breath and nodded.

  “I appreciate your concern,” I said. “And I promise I will do my best to only use the ax when necessary. To only harness the power for the right reasons. And when it’s all over, I will put it away for good.”

  Ari smiled and nodded, but something in her eyes told me she wasn’t fully convinced.

  I opened my mouth to say more, but she stopped me.

  “Can we just spend this last minute together in silence?”

  I nodded, and then suddenly she was hugging me there in the hotel hallway.

  We just stood in silence, embracing for nearly a minute. It was quiet. Peaceful. By the end, I was openly crying, and I knew she was, too.

  * * *

  My dad was alone in our room, just sitting at the desk, staring out the wind
ow at the armies below.

  He would not be joining the battle due to his condition.*

  “I can’t believe it’s come to this,” he said quietly.

  “Me either,” I said, sitting down next to him on the window ledge. “I really thought we’d find a way to avoid a huge battle where thousands will die.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this . . .”

  I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to me directly or just speaking in general. Either way, this was the most solemn and defeated I’d ever seen my dad. His usual hopefulness, his usual brazen willingness to dive in to anything, sure of failure or otherwise, was gone. He seemed just a shadow, a glimmer of what he once was.

  “I’m sorry I never found the ingredients for the potion,” I said, referring to the brew that I knew could cure him.

  I had intended to look for them in the Hidden Forest, but our mission had just gone wrong in so many ways. And I’d been determined not to make my usual mistakes, not to let my own self-interest interfere with the larger goal. And so I ultimately had spent very little time looking for them.

  My dad either hadn’t heard me, or didn’t care, or was about to have another episode, because he didn’t respond. He just sat there, still staring out the window at our armies mobilizing below, forming into their ranks.

  As I sat there, looking at my dad, I was surprised at how bitter and angry I was getting. He had always said magic was the answer. Magic would bring us peace. But now magic was back, and we were about to wage the most epic and bloody battle ever fought on American soil (at least since Separate Earth times).

  “How could you have wanted magic back, Dad?” I asked suddenly, the bitterness in my own voice surprising me. “It’s going to—it already has led to so many deaths. Why did you want it back?”

  He hung his head for a second. Then finally looked up at me for the first time since I’d entered. His eyes were red and sunken and lost.

  “I was probably wrong all along,” he said flatly, dashing my hope that he’d have some clever reply that could restore my faith in our future. “But sometimes hope is all you have. You have to believe in it, even when logic tells you otherwise. I just never wanted to let go; I had to believe I was right because the alternative was too bleak.”

  I breathed in sharply, unable to stay angry with him, but also unable to find any of that hope he’d held on to for so many decades in his life.

  “Dad, I . . .” But no words came.

  We sat in silence for a few seconds.

  “A Kernel of Truth for you, then!” he eventually said, his eyes empty as another fit set in. I groaned. “If you want to scare the dog, rubber dinosaur hand puppets work best. But if you want to scare the dinosaur, then—”

  WHOOOP! WHOOP! WHOOOOP!

  His words were drowned out by the sound of the hotel fire alarm blaring in the rooms and hallways. It was near deafening, but my dad droned on as if nothing was happening.

  But something was happening.

  The Battle of Naperville was about to begin.

  CHAPTER 45

  A Final Moment with My Former Best Friend

  I threw on my armor (only a helmet, a breastplate, and forearm guards), grabbed the Rune Bloodletter, and headed to the roof to get a better sense of how the battle was going to play out.

  Since I had arrived at the Hotel Arista so close to the start of the battle, Commander Blackarmor hadn’t assigned me a particular squad or division. Rather, while looking at me dubiously, she’d simply said: “Just help out in any way you can, Greg.”

  I figured I’d get a better sense of how to do that by seeing the battlefield from above. I wanted to identify where I’d be most needed before simply dashing out into the chaotic fray.

  Once on the roof, my breath caught in my throat.

  The sights and sounds of hundreds of thousands of soldiers mobilizing on both sides—even stretching past my line of sight on the western horizon—was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

  Thousands of Dragons, Wyverns, Sirens, and other flying creatures clouded the dark sky, blotting out the stars to the west.

  “It would be pretty if it weren’t so scary,” a voice said behind me.

  Edwin grinned humorlessly, decked out in full Elven armor (which was a lot lighter and sleeker than ours, with fancy carvings and designs all over it).

  “It still is,” I said, turning back to the battlefield. “Pretty, I mean.”

  “I suppose it is,” he agreed. “It’s almost bootifully scary.”

  I couldn’t even force a laugh at his bad pun during a time like this, but I did manage an exaggerated eye roll.

  “If we win,” I said, “we need to promise we won’t start fighting each other right afterward.”

  “Well, let’s just focus on the immediate task at hand first,” Edwin said. “Afterward is when I’ll figure out how to beat you.”

  I shot him a dirty look.

  “Okay, bad joke,” he admitted. “Of course I don’t want to keep fighting with Dwarves. And now with the amulet out of the picture, I can’t even implement my plan, which perhaps would have been the biggest source of conflict between our two sides anyway.”

  “It was a bad plan,” I said.

  “Whatever, dude. It doesn’t matter anymore. Honestly, I have no idea what the future holds for us after this. It will be tricky, and tense, but after what’s about to happen here, I’m sure both of our armies will be tired of fighting. At least for a while. Hopefully.”

  I nodded. “Maybe we can even go back to being best friends in the end.”

  Edwin laughed, but it sounded genuine and hopeful, and not cynically bitter.

  “If sentient talking fart boogers named Blob can be a thing in this new world, then anything is possible,” he said. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back to my command post and speak to the generals directing my armies. But with this thing now in my hands . . .” He paused to pat the hilt of the Sword of Anduril on his belt. “I’ll be joining the fray before too long. Maybe I’ll even see you out there.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Goodbye, buddy.”

  He put an armored hand on my shoulder, gave it a few pats, then turned and headed back toward the door.

  My hand was still resting on the Bloodletter’s handle, as it leaned up against the short wall on the roof.

  It hummed with power and anticipation.

  I’m so excited for this, the Bloodletter whispered in my head. We’re going to decimate that army. You and I. Together.

  The Rune Bloodletter was clearly very powerful, unimaginably so. There was no denying it. But I still didn’t know exactly what that meant. Or what it could fully do. Regardless, the siege had begun, and so for now the only thing to do was fight. Even though all I had ever wanted was to reject this destiny. Reject this notion that I was the Bloodletter’s Chosen One, the Dwarf long foretold to take possession of the powerful ax and restore our race to glory. That because of my bloodline I was supposed to be some heroic and brave warrior.

  I had done nearly everything I could to avoid this ending.

  To avoid battles, and fighting, and war, and the Bloodletter. But I had failed miserably. Which, if you’re still with me this far, you can’t really be surprised by.

  But I never could have just walked away. Or, I could have, but I never would have. All along the way, someone had needed help. Some mission for the greater good had presented itself, and each time my friends and I had been the only ones to rise to the challenge (more or less).

  So here I was again.

  The war was starting, and I had two choices:

  Sit back and pretend a war wasn’t happening and watch my friends and family perish

  Get out there and help my friends and family win the war

  The way I saw it, there really was no choice at all.

  B
elow me, maybe half a mile away, along the now desolate and unused Interstate 88, armies collided. Orcs crashed into Dwarves. An ocean of Goblins swarmed a small squad of Elves. Manticores, Centaurs, and giant lizard thingies I didn’t recognize charged through whole divisions of our soldiers. Fire burst forth from the mouths of several dragons swooping past overhead. Only a Dwarven spell, casting a frost cloud over a division of troops, saved them from getting burned alive.

  I grabbed my helmet from the ledge and put it on.

  Lifted the Bloodletter with two hands.

  Let’s get to work, Greggdroule.

  I nodded and leaped from the roof of the Hotel Arista. My wind spell easily caught me and carried me right into the center of the battlefield.

  CHAPTER 46

  The Battle of Naperville

  As I soared toward the action, I magically summoned several bolts of lightning as easily as flipping a light switch.

  Three jagged spiderwebs of blue light crackled across the sky and connected with several Dragons. Their sizzling, lifeless forms fell, trailing smoke, back to the earth. As my wind spell carried me gently to the ground, I threw my ax up toward a whole squad of Sirens flying overhead, searching the battlefield for victims. Guided partially by my spell and partially by its own powerful magical will, the Rune Bloodletter swooped through the sky and felled the entire right flank of Sirens, before returning to me just as I leaped onto the shoulders of an unsuspecting Orc.

  “URRgHHH?” the Orc cried out, as the bodies of dozens of Sirens fell like winged rain.

  I didn’t speak Orcish, but I hoped his last word was at least meaningful, and not just a surprised exclamation.

  As he fell, I hopped down and took on the rest of the squad of Orcs by myself (fourteen in total), and easily won, the Bloodletter screaming with glee the entire time.

  Next I ran into an entire division of Goblins, over three hundred in all. They swarmed me. But a few spells and a full display of the Rune Bloodletter’s power later, I was the last one standing.