RISE OF THE VALIANT (KINGS AND SORCERERS--BOOK #2)

by Morgan Rice

  He stared a shark in the face as it began to descend right for him, jaws wide open, and he knew that here, on this river, he had finally met a foe he would not defeat. Here, amidst these currents, his end had come.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kyra sat in the cave before the crackling fire, leaned back against the warm rock wall and breathed deep, finally relaxed. Finally, they were dry, warm, out of the wind and rain, her belly was full, and she was able to feel her hands and feet again. Her muscles ached, slowly coming back to themselves. The cave was filled with the smells of roasting chickens, and the fire in this small space emitted more warmth than she had expected. For the first time, she felt she could let her guard down.

  Beside her, Dierdre leaned back, too, also full, content, while Leo, his head in her lap, was already snoring. At the entrance to the cave, just outside, in the night, Andor stood guard with Dierdre’s mare, each tied up and happily munching on their sacks of feed, the rain having finally stopped. Kyra had tried to get Andor to come inside and rest, but he had no interest.

  Kyra closed her eyes for a moment, exhausted, having been awake for she did not know how many days, and she reflected. After they’d left that tavern they had crossed the River Tanis and had entered Whitewood, another forest, although this one filled with beautiful white trees and leaves and having a more peaceful energy. The Wood of the West, Dierdre had called it. Kyra had been so relieved to be out of the darkness of the Wood of Thorns, and to now, at least, have the ocean in hearing distance. It would be her guide, she knew, all the way to Ur.

  They had continued in Whitewood until Leo had spotted this cave, and Kyra thanked God for it. She did not know how much longer they all could have gone on without a rest, a chance to dry off, to eat. She had just meant to stay for a few minutes, but they all, once settled, felt so rested here, on the soft earthen floor, the fire crackling at their feet, that they all settled in. Kyra realized the wisdom in staying put: she did not see the point of continuing on at night, and with everyone so exhausted.

  Kyra closed her eyes and let herself drift off into her thoughts. She thought first of her father, wondering where he was now. Had he made it south? Did he reach Esephus? Was he in combat right now? Was he thinking of her? Did he care about her? And most of all: would he be proud of her?

  And what of Aidan? Was he all alone in Volis?

  Kyra, eyes heavy, so tired, let them close for just a moment. She was drifting in and out of sleep, when a sudden noise awakened her. She opened her eyes and was shocked to see that dawn had broken. She could not believe she had slept that long.

  She realized the source of the sound: Leo. He stood beside her, snarling, hair rising on his back, protective of her, staring at the entrance to the cave.

  Immediately, Kyra sat up, heart pounding, on guard.

  “Leo, what is it, boy?” she asked.

  But he ignored her, instead creeping toward the entrance, his hair stiffening as his snarling became more vicious. Kyra sat bolt upright, gripping her staff, listening. But she could not hear a thing.

  Kyra wondered what could be lurking outside, how long she had slept. She stood and poked Dierdre with her staff, until Dierdre woke and sat up, too. They both watched Leo as he crept toward the entrance.

  “LEO!” Kyra cried.

  There suddenly came a horrific snarling noise, followed by a stampede of hooves and a great cloud of dust racing past the cave. Kyra and Dierdre raced for the entrance as another stampede came, Kyra wondering what on earth that was.

  Kyra reached the entrance, Andor snarling, too, and looked out and saw several deer running past the cave. She realized, with dread, that they were fleeing something. Something bigger.

  Kyra turned to her right and spotted, about a hundred yards away, a pack of beasts running her way. At first she thought she was seeing things, yet the coming cloud of dust and thunderous noise told her it was no illusion. The creatures were each the size of a small rhino, with a black hide adorned with yellow stripes and two slim horns at the tip of their nose that ran straight up, a good ten feet. There were six of them, and they all charged right for them, their eyes glowing red, filled with fury.

  “Hornhogs!” Dierdre cried out. “They must have smelled our food!”

  Dierdre quickly mounted her horse while Kyra mounted Andor—and they all took off, Leo beside them, heading into the wood, hoping to outrun them.

  As she rode, Kyra scratched by branches still wet from the long rain, she marveled at how different the wood was on this side of the river. The trees were all white, the branches white, the leaves white, quite beautiful, the world glistening as they rode, catching her eye even as she rode for her life. They rode south, using the River Tanis as a guide, hearing its gushing as they went. Kyra had hoped to wake rested and refreshed, but now she was startled, still unsure if she were awake or having a terrible dream.

  Kyra checked back over her shoulder, hoping the hornhogs would be out of sight, especially given Andor’s speed—yet was dismayed to see they were not. They were, in fact, closer. They were incredibly fast creatures, especially for their size, and they bore down right for them, like hornets on a trail.

  Kyra kicked Andor, but it was no use. Andor was faster than Dierdre’s mare, and Kyra gained some distance on her—yet even so, he was not fast enough to outrun the beasts. Kyra realized she could not let too much distant come between her and her friend.

  No sooner had she had the thought when suddenly Kyra heard a cry, followed by a horse’s shriek and a rumble. She looked back and was horrified to see the lead hornhog, faster than the others, had caught up to Dierdre and her mare. It pounced, piercing the mare with its long horns, then sank its fangs into the mare’s back.

  The mare went tumbling down, and Kyra was horrified to see her friend go down, too. She flew off the mare and rolled into the wood, while the hornhog, preoccupied, attacked the mare, tearing it to shreds as it shrieked. Kyra knew it was only a matter of time until it set its sights on Dierdre.

  The pack soon caught up, all of them distracted as they pounced on the mare and tore it to bits.

  Kyra could not let her friend wallow there. She turned Andor around and charged for Dierdre, Leo at her side. She rode up beside her, reached down, grabbed her hand, and yanked her up. Dierdre sat behind her and they all turned and took off, while the hornhogs, preoccupied, continued to devour their kill, fighting over the pieces of the horse.

  Kyra tore through Whitewood at a gallop, and Kyra was sure, given Andor’s blazing speed, that they would soon put a great distance between them.

  But her heart dropped as she heard a familiar sound behind her: a hornhog broke away from the pack, its face covered in blood, and hunted them down, still not satisfied.

  The creature bore down them, and Leo, snarling, suddenly stopped, turned and charged.

  “LEO!” Kyra shrieked.

  But Leo would not be deterred. He leapt into the air and met it head on, sinking his fangs into the hornhog’s throat, catching it off guard and driving it to the ground, despite its size.

  Kyra watched in shock, so proud of Leo’s courage, but was amazed to see that, for the first time, her wolf’s razor sharp fangs were unable to puncture a creature’s hide, as thick as it was. The hornhog merely rolled on its back and threw Leo, who went flying onto his back. The hornhog then charged for the prone wolf.

  Kyra, horrified, saw that it was about to kill Leo, and that she would not reach him in time.

  “NO!” Kyra shrieked.

  Her reflexes kicked in. Without thinking, she grabbed her bow, placed an arrow, raised it, and took aim.

  Her heart slammed as she watched the arrow sail through the air, praying that it hit its mark, with barely time to take aim.

  The arrow hit the hornhog in its eye, a powerful shot that would have felled any other beast.

  But not this one. The hornhog shrieked in agony and, furious, turned away from Leo and set its sights, instead, on her. It reached up with its paw and mere
ly snapped the arrow in two, then snarled at her, death in its eyes. At least Leo’s life had been spared.

  It charged and Kyra had no time to reload another arrow; it was too close, and too fast, and she knew that in but a moment it would tear her apart.

  There came a vicious snarl, even more vicious than that of the hornhog, and Kyra suddenly felt Andor lunge beneath her. Andor snarled, lowered its horns, and charged with a ferocity unlike any Kyra had ever seen. As it bucked, it was all Kyra could do just to hang on.

  A moment later there came a tremendous impact as the two creatures met, like the world shaking beneath her. Andor’s horns gored the hornhog in the side, and the hornhog shrieked in true despair. Kyra was shocked to witness Andor lift the immense creature high in the air, impaled on its horns, overhead, as if displaying a trophy of his kill.

  Andor threw it, and it flew through the wood and landed with a thud, lifeless.

  Whistling at Leo to follow, Kyra kicked Andor, and the group of them turned and took off at a gallop, running back through the wood, Kyra trying to get as much distance as she could from the rest of the pack, knowing this was a battle she did not want to fight—and a battle they all could not win. She hoped and prayed that the hornhogs were gorged, and that with one of their own dead, maybe they would think twice about pursuing any further.

  She was wrong. Kyra heard a familiar sound behind her, and her heart dropped as she soon realized the rest of the pack was after them. Relentless, they chased them down through the rustling leaves, all as determined as ever. The death of one of their own only seemed to embolden them. These tenacious creatures did not seem as if they would ever quit.

  Given their numbers, Kyra knew their situation was desperate: there was no way Andor and Leo could defeat all of them at once. She felt a sudden panic as she knew they would all die by these creatures’ hands.

  “We won’t make it!” Dierdre cried out, fear in her voice, as she looked back at the pack, snarling and closing in.

  Kyra wracked her brain, thinking hard as they galloped, realizing they needed another way—and fast. She closed her eyes and focused, forcing herself to tune in, to draw on all her faculties to save them. Despite the chaos all around them, she grew very quiet inside.

  Kyra suddenly began to hear a noise, one she had not heard before. She opened her eyes as she focused on the sound of gushing water, and she remembered: the River Tanis. They were heading parallel to it, and it was hardly a hundred yards to their left. She suddenly had an idea.

  “The river!” she shouted to Dierdre, remembering all those flat, wooden rafts she’d seen tied up along its shores. “We can take the river!”

  Kyra suddenly pulled Andor’s reins, making a sharp left, heading toward the water; as she did, the hornhogs, but feet behind them, leapt through the air and missed, falling flat on their faces on the ground. The sharp turn bought them some time.

  Kyra dug her heels into Andor and they galloped at full speed, as the sound of water grew louder. She raced past branches, weaving in and out of trees, scratched and no longer caring, breathing hard, hearing the pack behind them and knowing their time was limited.

  Come on, she thought, urging the river to appear. Come on!

  They finally burst out of the wood, into a clearing, and there, before them, the river lay in sight, hardly thirty yards away.

  “What about Andor?” Dierdre cried out as they neared.

  Kyra set her sights on a wide, flat boat, tied up at its shore and realized it would serve their needs.

  “That will hold us all!” she cried back, pointing.

  Kyra yanked Andor to a stop near the shoreline, and they all dismounted immediately. Kyra hit the ground running and raced for the shore, jumping onto the wildly rocking boat, Leo at her side, Dierdre beside her. She made room for Andor, yanking on his reins, but she was shocked as she felt him resist.

  Andor stood on shore and refused to follow, bucking like crazy, and Kyra wondered what it could be. At first she thought that perhaps he feared water. But then Andor gave her a meaningful look and she suddenly understood: he was not afraid. He meant to stay behind and guard their rear, to fight the hornhogs to the death, alone, so that they could all escape without him.

  Kyra was overwhelmed by his loyalty, but she could not leave him behind.

  “No, Andor!” Kyra cried.

  She went to get back off the boat and get him.

  But Andor suddenly lowered his head and used his sharp horns to sever the rope. Kyra felt the boat jerk out from under her and immediately it was carried away by the rough tides, drifting quickly away from shore.

  Kyra stood at the edge of the boat and watched, helpless, as Andor turned around, on shore, and faced off against the pack. She saw one of the hornhogs race past him, and was amazed to watch it leap into the water, swimming as fast as it ran, and treading right for their boat. She was shocked to see these hornhogs could swim, and she suddenly realized: Andor knew. He knew that if he didn’t stay behind, they could all be attacked in the water. He was sacrificing for them all.

  As the hornhog approached, Leo snarled, snapping at the water as he stood at the edge of the boat. Kyra raised her bow, took aim, and fired, aiming right for its open mouth.

  The arrow lodged itself in its open mouth, and the hornhog sucked in water and flailed as it drowned.

  Kyra looked back to shore and saw Andor charge boldly for the pack, even though he was outnumbered. He must have known he could not win—and yet he did not care. It was as if fear did not exist within him. She was in awe of him; he was like a great warrior charging alone against an army.

  Kyra could not stand the sight of him fighting alone—especially on their behalf. It went against everything inside her.

  “ANDOR!” Kyra shrieked.

  “It’s too late,” Dierdre said, placing a hand on her arm, as their boat drifted farther and farther from shore, the rapids more violent. “There is nothing we can do.”

  But Kyra refused to accept that. She could not allow her friend, her partner in battle, to be left behind.

  Without thinking, Kyra let her impulses take over. She rushed forward and leapt off the boat, into the raging river, instantly submerged in the freezing waters.

  Kyra tried to swim, desperate to reach shore, to reach Andor—but the rapids were just too intense. She could not make it upstream; she could not even catch her breath.

  “KYRA!” Dierdre yelled, as Leo whined at the boat’s edge.

  A moment later, Kyra found herself flailing, sinking—and realizing, after all that, she would die by drowning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Aidan tossed and turned as he dreamt troubled dreams. He saw his father gushing downriver, drowning in rapids; he saw another river and his sister, Kyra, flailing as she tumbled down over waterfalls; he saw the entire Pandesian army invading Escalon, setting it aflame; and he saw an army of dragons swooping low, breathing fire over Escalon and burning it to a crisp. The flames of the dragons met the flames of the Pandesians, and soon Escalon was nothing but one giant conflagration. Aidan saw himself caught in the middle of it, shrieking, burned alive.

  Aidan woke with a start, gasping, breathing hard, wanting to cry out; yet some part of him stopped himself, warning him to stay silent. He felt himself moving, bumping, and felt hard wood behind his head. He twisted, supremely uncomfortable, and tried to figure out where he was.

  Disoriented, Aidan looked about, felt a clump of hay in his hand, and noticed hay in his mouth. He spit it out and as he heard the clatter of horses and felt another bump, it all came rushing back to him: the wagon.

  Aidan remembered he had been crammed back here, hiding beneath the straw, riding south for what felt like days—though he knew it could not have been that long. He felt the hunger gnawing in his stomach, felt the cold in his bones, and realized he had fallen asleep somewhere along the way. The dreams had seemed so real it took him a moment to collect himself, and as he began to sit up, he checked himself, realizing not to sit
too high so as to remain undetected. The last thing he’d want would be to lose his only ride out here, far from home, in the midst of the Wood of Thorns. There remained a long way to go, he knew, until he reached his father and his men—wherever they were.

  Aidan pondered the dreams, trying to shake them off but unable to. His heart pounded as he considered it all. Was his father in danger? Was Kyra? Was Pandesia attacking? Were the dragons coming to kill them all? He felt more of an urgency to reach his father than ever.

  Aidan leaned back and looked up at the sky, relieved to see it was still night, giving him more cover from being detected. The sky jostled by as they rode, the millions of stars far away, and he wondered about them, as he often did. Aidan had studied astronomy—along with philosophy, history, reading and writing—as had his siblings, all of them so fortunate, he knew, to have been given a rare education typically reserved for the royal family. He was lucky the weak king’s historian had fled Andros to stay with his father in Volis.

  His tutor had drilled him for years about the star systems, and as Aidan studied them he recognized the Four Points, and the Seven Daggers; he saw which way they were turned and he took comfort in realizing he was indeed heading south—though also a bit west. That could only mean one thing: they were heading to Andros. Exactly as Aidan had hoped.

  Aidan knew his father was heading south, but was still unsure where. The capital had been his first guess. After all, wouldn’t his father want to go to the capital first, to win the old king’s support? And was that not south? That was where Aidan would find him, he decided. Andros.

  The last time Aidan had been to the capital he had been too young to remember. He imagined himself entering it now, on the back of this wagon, dismounting and taking it all in, the greatest city in Escalon, a sight, he knew, which would not disappoint. He would enter it boldly, fearlessly, make his presence known and demand to know where his father was. He would be taken right to him, and would arrive as a welcome hero.