by Morgan Rice
They all continued running, picking up their pace, and as they did, there came a horrendous crash from far behind them, enough to make Gwen jump. It echoed and boomed off the walls, and it sounded as if the metal doors had been not only bashed in, but destroyed.
Worse, this was soon followed by a cheer—the cheer of thousands of soldiers out for blood, inside the tunnel.
Gwen’s heart dropped; she knew they had broken through. Already, they were closing in fast. She could hear their voices, too close. They, after all, had a professional army, had horses. Gwen, on the other hand, had a huge, unwieldy crowd of civilians, moving along too slowly despite her best efforts.
As they turned another corner, Gwen strained to see into blackness—but still, there was nothing but more tunnel.
“We must stand and fight!” Koldo cried out, reaching for his sword, determination in his face.
But Gwen was equally determined; she had been in evacuations before.
“No!” she countered. “If we fight, we shall all die in here. Behind us is certain death. Up ahead lies the only path to freedom.”
Koldo looked hesitant, deliberating.
“You are a leader now, Koldo,” she added. “You must decide as your father would—not as a warrior would. These people are yours. They are your responsibility. They don’t have the luxury of valorous decisions. You must think of the general good. We must not stop.”
She could see Koldo would consent, though unhappily. Behind them, the Empire voices grew louder.
“I shall give it one more bend in the tunnel,” he said. “If the exit does not appear, then we shall turn and face them. And we will die as men—not as dogs with our backs to them.”
Gwendolyn ran with the group, her heart pounding in her mouth, praying that as they made the turn there would be a change in the tunnel, something, any sign of hope, up ahead. She knew if they stopped and fought the Empire, they would all die down here, trapped underground. She did not mind dying—but she hated to see all these innocents die, and she felt a responsibility to them.
Gwen was all for valor; and yet, she knew great leaders had to pick their battles. As a Queen, she had been in that position many a time. Koldo might be a great commander, but he had never before had to think as a ruler. And being a ruler, sometimes, was humbling.
They turned the corner, Gwen gasping for air, her lungs killing her, not sure how much further she could go on, and as they did, her heart lifted with relief to see, in the distance, a shaft of light. Up ahead there was a small opening in the tunnel, leading back up to the desert floor. It was but a hundred yards away.
Koldo looked at her, and she could see the relief on his face, too. He nodded at her in respect.
“A wise decision, my lady,” he admitted.
With the cacophony of the Empire growing ever louder behind them, they ran for their lives, all of them picking up the pace for the final stretch, and soon they reached the exit. Gwen stepped aside with the other warriors and let the women and children pass, followed by all the citizens.
When everyone had passed through Gwen prepared to leave—when Koldo raised a hand and gestured.
Gwen looked up and followed his finger and saw, high up on the wall, a huge iron wheel, rusted with age.
“Before we go,” Koldo said, “why don’t we leave them a little parting present?”
Gwen looked at him questioningly.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked.
She heard a shout and looked back over her shoulder and her heart dropped to see the Empire army turn the corner, now in sight and racing right for them.
“The tunnel lies beneath the lakes,” he said, “and that wheel opens the valves.”
He looked at her with a serious expression.
“We can flood this place,” he added.
Gwen looked up at the wheel in awe.
“It will not keep them back forever,” he said, “but it will buy us time.”
Gwendolyn nodded in approval, and as she did, their men broke into action. They followed Koldo’s lead as a dozen of their best warriors, including Koldo’s brothers and Kendrick, jumped for the wheel, yanking at its rusted iron crank.
They pulled with all their might, and at first nothing happened.
Gwen turned and looked with apprehension at the army closing in on them, now less than a hundred yards away, then turned and looked back to the tunnel exit. A part of her wanted them all to leave it be and dash to freedom—but another part knew they had to do this to assure their safety.
The man yanked again, straining and groaning with the effort—and this time there came a creaking noise, and Gwen’s heart leapt to see the wheel start to move. At first it moved a few inches—then a lot more.
The men gave one huge pull, shouting, and suddenly the wheel spun in a full circle.
There came the sound of a steel valve opening, followed by rushing water, and Gwen turned and watched, amazed, as water began pouring out from pipes on either side of the cave.
The men pulled and turned the wheel, spinning it in several circles, and water suddenly came gushing in, flooding the tunnel.
It swooshed and swelled in every direction, and Gwen yanked on Koldo’s and Kendrick’s arms, realizing their exit would soon be blocked.
“IT’S ENOUGH!” she cried.
They all turned and ran with her as they scrambled to get up and out of the tunnel, barely making it through the exit as the water level rose, and as more valves opened and more water gushed through.
Outside, in the safety of the Waste with all the other survivors, Gwen stopped with the warriors at the entrance to the tunnel and looked behind her one last time. Inside, water gushed like a river through the tunnel, and the Empire soldiers stopped, faces frozen in fear, and turned to flee. But it was too late. Their shrieks rose up, echoing, as they were swallowed by the water like a tide.
Gwen turned and looked at Koldo, Kendrick, and the others, and they looked back at her, all sharing a look of satisfaction as they turned, mounted their horses with the others, and all began the journey away from here, away from the Ridge, and somewhere north, toward freedom.
*
Gwendolyn kicked her horse, urging it to go faster, excited at the sight before her as she crossed with the great throng through the Waste. They had been riding all day, and now, before them, was the sight that Koldo had promised would come: there, on the horizon, were the Crystal Lakes, the pools of water that branched out to the all the rivers of the Empire. It was a vast body of water, nearly translucent, shining, reflecting the desert suns, and now, finally, it lay several hundred yards away. She was so grateful it did; she did not know how much longer this throng could have tolerated the Waste.
Gwen was in awe at how meticulously the King had planned this escape route from the Ridge, prepared for a contingency like this. She looked out and saw all the ships on the horizon, hidden at the shores behind the branches of willow trees, and she realized that the King had planned for it all. He knew it would not be enough for his people to only exit the tunnel into Waste. He knew that, in the event of an invasion, his people would have to flee somewhere far away, across the Empire. And those dozens of ships at the water’s edge represented their lifeline, their ticket out.
Gwendolyn looked out at the sight with relief; they would finally have a way out of here, back out of the Empire, away from the Ridge. They would have ships and rivers that led to open water, to the open sea, to a chance for freedom. She could not help but think of Argon’s master’s words, of her leading this people back to the Ring, and her heart quickened at the thought. It was all happening. It felt surreal.
And the idea of embarking on a journey to return home, after all this time, made her ecstatic. It filled her with a new sense of purpose—especially if it meant a chance to be reunited with Thorgrin and Guwayne again.
They all came to a stop beneath the grove of trees beside the ships, they and their horses all winded. The suns hung low in the sky, now, and
Gwen watched the hundreds of people dismounting, kneeling at the water, rinsing their faces and necks, drinking, and making their way to the ships, in awe.
The ships remained concealed, as the King must have planned in his wisdom, perfectly sheltered behind trees and in large caves filled with water. Unless one knew they were there, they would never be found. There were dozens of ships, enough to transport all of these people. Gwen could feel the King looking down, and she was in awe at his foresight.
Gwen glanced back over her shoulder, out at the great Waste, and she thought of the thousands of Empire soldiers somewhere out there, surely pursuing them. For now all was empty and still, but she wondered how long it would be until they all caught up. She knew there wasn’t much time.
“Do you think the flood killed them all?” she asked Koldo, who came up beside her.
He shook his head, glancing back gravely.
“Those valves only run so long,” he said. “The first wave of water will kill the frontline. But the rest will make it through soon enough. They are probably halfway across the Waste by now.”
“But they have no ships,” Ludvig said, stepping up beside them.
Koldo gave him a look.
“The Empire’s unstoppable,” he replied. “They will find a way. They have one million men; they have tools. They can build ships.”
He sighed and studied the landscape.
“They are perhaps half a day behind us. With a day without wind, without our sails at full mast, they can catch us.”
“Then there’s no time to waste,” Kendrick said, joining them and walking for the ships. They all fell in beside him.
“Let us each take command of a different ship,” Koldo suggested, looking at Gwen and Kendrick and Ludvig and Kaden. “We need strong leaders on each one.”
They all agreed and they broke up, each heading in different directions as they boarded the sailing ships, each large enough to hold perhaps a hundred men. As Gwen reached hers, Steffen beside her and Krohn at her heels, she reached up, grabbed hold of the long rope ladder dangling down, and pulled herself up. As she reached the top, she turned, and Steffen reached up and handed Krohn to her, and soon they were both up over the rail and onto the deck.
They were followed by dozens of soldiers and citizens of the Ridge, all filling up the ships, one at a time. They all pitched in, realizing the urgency, each of them setting to work to immediately raise sails or grab oars. They were all wordlessly a fine-tuned machine, each united in their desire to flee as far from the Empire as possible, each of them determined to find a new shore, to make another life.
“And where shall we go now?” came a voice.
Gwen turned and looked over to see a citizen of the Ridge, a woman holding a small child, looking back at her with a hopeful face. She saw behind her a small crowd, all looking to her with hope, for answers. Gwen felt a great responsibility to lead them well.
She glanced over at the other ships, and she saw Koldo and the others looking to her, too, all falling silent. Gwen knew the time had come to tell them.
“We sail to the Ring!” she announced definitively, the sound of authority carrying in her voice impressing even her. It was her father’s voice.
She could see the look of surprise in their faces—especially in those of Kendrick, Brandt, and Atme, of her people.
“It was your father’s wish,” Gwendolyn said to Koldo, “for me to lead your people to safety. The Ring is the only place I know.”
“But it is destroyed!” Brandt called out.
Gwen shook her head.
“It can be rebuilt,” she replied. “The Empire has vacated. It is ours for the taking.”
“But the Shield is down!” Atme called.
Gwen sighed.
“It will not be easy,” she said. “But it has been prophesied. The Ring, one day, will rise again.”
Gwen wished, more than ever, that Argon were here now, with her, to explain. But as usual, he was nowhere to be found.
“There is a sacred Ring,” she continued. “The Sorcerer’s Ring. Thorgrin even now quests for it. We must sail forth. If he finds it in time, he shall meet us there, and can help us restore the Ring.”
“And if your prophecy is wrong?” Ludvig asked. “If Thor does not find this Ring?”
Gwendolyn felt a heavy silence as they all looked to her.
“It is a leap of faith we must take,” she said. “Yet life is always a leap of faith.”
They all fell silent, realizing the challenges that lay ahead, and Koldo nodded back, gravely.
“I respect the Queen’s decision!” he called out, and Gwen appreciated his using that title. It made her fell as if she were, indeed, a Queen again. And if they were returning to the Ring, perhaps, indeed, she was.
The people, satisfied, all continued on, breaking back into motion, hoisting sails and shoving off. Soon their ship was moving, Gwen feeling the currents catching, carrying it. She looked back and saw, with relief, the shoreline of the Waste grow further and further.
Gwendolyn made her way to the bow of the ship, looking out at the waters ahead, thrilled to feel motion beneath her, the gentle rising and falling of the ship, and as she did, her new people congregated around her hopefully. She felt like a messiah, leading her people for a new horizon, a new home, for a place to finally be free.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Thorgrin cut through the air on the back of Lycoples, returning from the Land of the Ring, and feeling the power radiating off of the Sorcerer’s Ring as he wore it on his finger, clutching the dragon’s scales. Thor felt like a different person since wearing it, like a bigger version of himself, stronger, more powerful—able to do anything. He felt the energy of the Ring throbbing on his finger, and was in awe of the bright light that it cast off. He had never encountered an object more powerful in his life. Wearing it felt all-consuming, as if he were lost in its universe.
He also felt empowered, as he if understood for the first time what it meant to be alive. He knew that the ring represented a great victory, the culmination of all the tests and trials and training he’d ever had, all the obstacles he’d overcome, all the setbacks he had not backed down from. It was more than a ring of power: it was a ring of destiny. A ring of completion.
Thorgrin raced through the skies, knowing that anything was possible now. He knew that any foes that had been too strong, any places too dark, he now had the power to confront. And his trials were not yet done. They were, in fact, just beginning.
The Sorcerer’s Ring, he realized, demanded a price: it demanded the best of whoever wore it, demanded them to climb to ever higher heights, face ever greater foes, greater trials. For Thorgrin, he knew that meant facing his worst enemy, facing the one place that had defeated him, the one place he’d had to flee: the Land of Blood. It meant returning, facing the Blood Lord again, trying once again to save Guwayne. It meant returning to the place of his defeat, and having the courage to confront it one more time, now that he was a different person.
And if he lived, Thor knew the Ring would then demand of him one more sacred responsibility: to return to the Ring itself, to the land of its birth, to fight to take it back, to save Gwendolyn and the exiles. He felt the Sorcerer’s Ring calling him there, demanding it of him.
But first he had to save Guwayne.
“Faster, Lycoples!” Thorgrin called out to his friend, his heart pounding with anticipation as the horizon began to shift.
Lycoples, empowered by the presence of the Ring, flew faster than Thorgrin could remember, and she lowered her head, Thor gripping her scales, and burst through the clouds. Up ahead, Thor saw the landscape change: the bright skies overhead came to an abrupt end as they met the waterfalls of blood, the chilling entrance to the Land of Blood.
Thor felt a moment of apprehension, recalling his past failures in this place. He remembered what it was like to enter a world too strong for him, to be besieged by bouts of madness, by a seductress. It was a place of darkness that knew n
o bounds, a place he had not been strong enough to face.
But that was the old Thorgrin. Now, having passed his final tests, and wearing the Sorcerer’s Ring, he was stronger. It was time to put himself to the test, to face his demons. And most importantly, his son lay beyond that wall—he could not abandon him. He would retrieve him, or die trying.
Lycoples screeched as they approached the waterfalls of blood, hesitant, and Thorgrin recalled her being unable to enter before. But this time, he knew, it would be different. This time, they had the Ring.
“Onward, Lycoples,” Thor whispered. “You are untouchable now.”
Thor held out his hand with the Ring on it, and as he did, an aura of red light slowly spread and encased them, like a bubble.
Lycoples stretched out her great wings and screeched, and Thor could sense her hesitation; but she trusted him, lowered her head, and flew forward in faith.
Thor felt himself encased in blood as they both entered the waterfalls. They were immersed in the deafening waters gushing down, splashing all around them. But the aura spread over them, and the water bounced off of it harmlessly, keeping them safe and dry, flying through it as they would a cloud.
Soon, they emerged on the other side, to Thor’s relief.
Lycoples screeched with joy, with victory, as they did, bursting out into the Land of Blood. It was a stark contrast. Here, the clouds hung low, were thick and heavy, black, ominous. There was no sun to speak of, and the land below was grim, covered in ash, as Thor remembered it. Thor felt himself tensing up at the sight of it, remembering all that had happened—but he forced himself to fly on.
They flew over the sea of blood, racing by landscapes of dead trees, of dried lava, the entire land looking charred and desolate, as if nothing could live here. They flew and flew, so fast Thor could hardly catch his breath, covering more ground in a minute than they had in days with the ship. Down below, every now and again, Thor spotted a lone monster on the landscape, looking up and roaring at them, and he knew that if they were down there, it would like nothing more than to tear them to shreds.
