A Kingdom Rises

by J. D. Rinehart

  He hit the ground hard, instinctively rolling to absorb the impact. Regaining his feet, he immediately checked that his pack was still strapped securely to his back. To his relief, he could still feel the curved metal edges of the three crowns through the rough material.

  They’re safe! But am I?

  He peered into the slowly clearing dust. His first concern was Kalia. He’d seen her thrown clear from the manticore’s back when the wyverns had struck. Now she’d vanished.

  I’m losing everyone. First Ossilius and Pip. Now my mother!

  Something huge slammed into his shoulders, sending him flying. He turned his tumble into a somersault, spinning over the head of a nearby sand-warrior and landing nimbly on his feet. He whirled, only to see the enemy soldier smashed to dust by the very thing that had struck him.

  The manticore!

  It didn’t look much like a manticore anymore. Wingless, and lacking a head and tail, it was little more than a slablike body on legs. Yet the double-headed worm jutting from its back was probing the air with obvious eagerness. It sniffed at Gulph and a pair of tooth-lined jaws gaped wide, releasing a burning stench.

  Gulph brandished his sword.

  “Come on, if you dare!” he yelled.

  The monster lunged toward the sound of his voice, twin mouths snapping and spitting. Gulph held his ground, waiting until the last moment before leaping aside. He slashed its flank as it bounded past. Slow to react, the manticore barreled into a line of sand-warriors.

  Gulph ducked behind a chunk of diamond. The monster might be crippled, but he feared it would soon get the better of him.

  Air whooshed as a thorrod flew low over his head. It was Theeta, carrying Tarlan toward one of the peculiar flying wings that had detached itself from the manticore’s body. Tarlan’s sword sliced through the huge flapping membrane, breaking it into tiny pieces. Each fragment instantly transformed into a sand-bat. Swarming, they fell snapping onto Theeta’s wings.

  Gulph leaped on top of the crystal shard he’d been hiding behind, the sharp edges scratching his legs. He no longer cared if he was seen—Tarlan was in trouble! He picked up a handful of diamond shards and began hurling them at the bats.

  “Leave my brother alone!” he shouted.

  Some of his missiles hit their targets, exploding the unlucky bats into powder. The rest disrupted the swarm, allowing Theeta to pull herself free and gain valuable altitude. As she did so, one of the wyverns swooped down and used its great red claws to tear into the confused enemy flock.

  “Thanks, Gulph!” Tarlan shouted, clinging to Theeta’s back and swinging his sword through the few remaining sand-bats.

  Gulph turned his attention back to the ground, and almost immediately spotted Elodie. She was surrounded by sand-warriors. Yelling as he ran, he cut his way through the enemy ranks to join her. Back-to-back, they parried the blows raining down from the towering soldiers.

  “Here we are again!” gasped Elodie, driving her sword into the belly of a sand-warrior.

  “Did you see what happened to Mother?” Gulph yelled, beating back another.

  “No! You?”

  “No!”

  They circled around each other, valiantly fending off their attackers. But with each blow he struck, Gulph felt his hopes draining away. They’d survived one battle only to be swallowed up by another.

  Outnumbered again. Only this time there really is no chance of escape.

  A warrior appeared from nowhere and hefted its sword over Gulph’s head. It was standing close enough for Gulph to see every tiny grain of sand in its body. Muscles of sand bulged. Tiny beetles popped clear of the soldier’s coarse red skin, then buried themselves again.

  Gulph began to raise his own sword in defense. The sand-warrior’s massive fist closed around its blade. A mouth gaped in its eyeless head, ready to swallow him.

  As the hilt of the sword slipped through his fingers, Gulph found himself staring death in the face.

  “FOR CELESTIS!”

  The cry seemed to come from far, far away, as if in a dream.

  Hearing it, the sand-warrior faltered, its sword hanging in midswing. Its mouth closed and its fist opened, releasing Gulph’s sword, which Gulph caught deftly.

  The sand-warrior turned toward the sound of the voice. The soldiers around it turned too, their blank faces creasing with puzzlement, or fear, or both.

  The voice rang out again, louder now.

  “FOR IDILLIAM!”

  Gulph could hear the sound of running feet. Boots thudded on the hard ground, crunched in the splinters of broken crystal. More voices took up the cry.

  “FOR TORONIA! FOR THE PROPHECY!”

  The line of sand-warriors parted down the middle, half the enemy troops circling back to the main gate and the rest taking up defensive positions in the middle of the courtyard. Through the gap that had opened up, Gulph saw a wave of human soldiers rushing up a ramp from some lower level of the citadel. They wore a motley mix of bronze and leather armor, and carried crystal swords and shields.

  Leading them was a tall, gray-haired man he knew all too well.

  “Ossilius!” Gulph yelled, leaping joyfully into the air.

  “No quarter!” Ossilius roared. “Kill them all!”

  He cut down three sand-warriors with a single blow. As he brought his sword round for another strike, a small figure lunged past him and felled another. It was Pip.

  “Pip!” Gulph’s heart had stopped in his chest. Now it seemed to swell like a hot, happy sun. “Pip! I’m here!”

  Behind his oldest friend, racing to battle along with the combined forces of Celestis and Idilliam, were the rest of the Tangletree Players.

  Gulph’s heart started up again, not just beating now but positively thundering at the sight of his friends, alive after all.

  He turned to Elodie. She grinned back at him. He grabbed her hand.

  “Come on!” he said.

  They sprinted between the lines of sand-warriors, hacking them down as they went. By the time they reached Ossilius, the grizzled old Captain of the Guard had brought down a dozen more of the enemy. With short, sharp commands, he instructed the newly arrived army to spread out and drive back the hordes of sand-warriors. Slowly but surely, the tide of the battle was turning.

  Gulph skidded to a halt in a loose pile of sand. He licked his lips and raised his sword, ready for the red grains to re-form, for more sand-warriors to rise up around him.

  But the sand just lay there.

  “Vicerin’s been gone too long,” said Elodie. “He’s not bringing them back to life.”

  “Your mother’s magic is helping too!” said Ossilius, holding up his crystal blade in triumph. A magical aura surrounded its blade. “It seems Kalia’s potion is good for more than just the undead! All our blades are soaked in it!”

  Gulph grasped his old friend’s arm. “I thought you were dead.”

  Ossilius wiped sweat from his face and smiled down at him. “Do you think I would allow myself to die before seeing you on the throne, Gulph?”

  Gulph laughed. “There’s really no stopping you, is there?”

  “We all have to stop sometime, Gulph. But I plan to keep going for a long time yet to come!”

  Before Gulph could respond to that, Pip threw her arms around his neck.

  “I knew you’d come back!” She laughed. “I knew it!”

  “Let me guess,” said Elodie. “You must be Pip.”

  Pip flushed. “And you must be Princess Elodie.” She gave an uncertain little bob of a curtsy.

  Gulph hugged Pip back joyfully. “When the wyverns tore down the city, I thought you’d all been crushed. How did you survive?”

  Pip pried herself loose. Her face was pink with excitement. “After you left, Ossilius took us deep underground, all the way back to Celestis. We’ve been training there ever since. Then, when the city rose again—”

  A sand-warrior broke through the front line and rushed at them. Ossilius ducked calmly beneath its swi
nging battle-ax and chopped it in half. The enemy soldier collapsed in an instant, the sand cascading over the ground as if emptied from a giant hourglass.

  “I knew you would come here,” Ossilius said. “The throne room calls you.”

  “Yes,” said Elodie. “We’ve got to get there, right away.”

  “I am proud to open the way to it!” Ossilius bowed low, then held up his shield. Gulph saw a familiar symbol etched into the crystal: the three-pronged crest of Trident. “And I am proud to take up the fight that my son, Fessan, began!”

  Gulph exchanged a glance with Elodie. His sister’s face had turned pale. Feeling suddenly sick, he remembered what she’d told him about Fessan’s execution. How could he possibly break such dreadful news? Yet Ossilius had to be told.

  “About your son,” Gulph said hesitantly. “He’s . . .”

  “Fessan will join us soon!” Ossilius’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. “The prophecy will bring us together again—I am sure of it!”

  With that, Ossilius plunged back into battle. It will have to wait, thought Gulph, watching in awe as he led one group of Celestians against a column of sand-warriors, then leaped onto a crystal outcrop to shout directions to another. A man dressed in the uniform of the Idilliam army ran up to consult him, and then Ossilius was off again, racing through the battle to direct yet another assault.

  “He might be an old man,” Gulph said to Elodie, “but on the battlefield he’s unbeatable.”

  “Now I know where Fessan got it from,” his sister replied sadly.

  Theeta flew in low over their heads, knocking aside a line of sand-warriors that had been creeping toward them.

  “Thanks, Theeta!” called Gulph.

  “Your friends came just in time!” Tarlan called down from the thorrod’s back. “I’m glad they’re safe. And I’m glad they’re good with their swords!”

  His teeth flashed in a grin. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, his smile faded. He cocked his head as if he were listening.

  “What is it?” said Gulph, suddenly alarmed.

  Tarlan was staring into the distance. His look of shock deepened with every breath. His eyes grew wide.

  “Tarlan!” The tremor in Elodie’s voice betrayed her concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Gradually Tarlan’s smile returned.

  Unable to bear the suspense, Gulph leaped on top of a block of crystal. Elodie followed him. Looking out over the heads of the battling soldiers, Gulph saw a fresh wave of people pouring in through the main gate.

  Reinforcements! But from where?

  The new arrivals were dressed in winter furs. Leading them was a thickset, bearded man wearing a heavy bearskin. His broadsword glinted in the multicolored light of the aerial storm.

  “Captain Leom!” Tarlan and Elodie shouted his name at the same time, grinning widely. Gulph thought his brother and sister had never looked more alike than in that moment.

  “Tarlan—are these your friends from the mountains?” he asked.

  “Leom is a friend to us all,” Elodie replied. Her hands were clasped tight to her chest.

  Theeta bucked in the air as a wayward sand lance flew past her head. Tarlan calmed her, then shouted to the man in the bearskin, “You came!”

  “We set out from the fortress days ago,” Leom roared back. “And now that the chasm is filled in, it is easy to get across.”

  The fur-clad soldier led his army across the courtyard toward them, hacking at sand-warriors as he came. “We were at the Toronian border when we saw the crystal city rise out of the ground. We knew the final battle must be at hand. So, here we are!”

  “And you are most welcome!” That was Ossilius. Like Gulph and Elodie, he’d found a high spot from which he could look over the whole battle. “Quickly now—I need two squads in the south quarter, and three beneath the tower!”

  “It is already done!” Leom barked back, relaying the orders to his troops. Clusters of sand-warriors fell as the mountain folk pushed forward, driving the enemy within range of Ossilius’s waiting army, whose crystal swords brought them down one after the other.

  “Now they’re the ones who are outnumbered!” Elodie held up a crystal sword. It glowed just like the one Ossilius had been carrying.

  “Where did you get that?” he said with a grin.

  “Ossilius, of course!” she answered. “As long as we’ve got these, they don’t stand a—”

  “Gulph! Help me!”

  He recognized Pip’s voice instantly. But where was she? He spun round, frantically scanning the courtyard, but all he could see were soldiers sparring amid blocks of crystal and heaps of sand.

  “Where are you?” Gulph was starting to panic.

  “There!” cried Elodie, pointing toward the base of the tower.

  The horribly mutated manticore was there, crouched over something on the ground. The two-headed worm on its back reared up, ready to strike.

  Trapped beneath one of the manticore’s paws, struggling in vain to free herself, was Pip.

  “Leave her alone!” Gulph raced over the sand-covered ground. The way was littered with sharp chunks of crystal. Some of these he hurdled, others he used like ramps, running up them and turning his momentum into flips and somersaults that carried him high over the heads of the remaining sand-warriors.

  He reached the manticore just as the worm struck at Pip. With difficulty, she fended it off with her upraised arms. Without slowing, he ran his sword into one of its hind legs. Screeching in pain, the manticore whipped round, yanking Gulph’s sword from his hand.

  It was useless anyway, Gulph thought. If only I had one of Mother’s blades!

  The manticore’s damaged leg was already starting to rebuild itself. Turning its attention from Pip, the worm struck out at Gulph. Diving beneath the monster’s legs, he rolled through a prickly carpet of crystal splinters, stopping only when his shoulder fetched up against the tower wall.

  “Pip!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet. “Grab your sword!”

  Still trapped beneath the manticore’s foot, his friend clawed uselessly at the sand. Her crystal sword lay in the shadows, glowing faintly, far out of reach. Gulph lunged for it. The worm came round again, its twin sets of teeth gnashing in Gulph’s face, driving him back. One of the sets of jaws gaped around his head. There was nowhere to run. He raised his arms, knowing they wouldn’t protect him.

  “Leave my brother alone!”

  Elodie’s voice rang out clear and true. Her glowing crystal sword came down, chopping straight through one of the writhing necks of the worm and sending the head tumbling across the ground. The second head struck at her like a snake. She ducked just in time to avoid being decapitated.

  “Get her!” Elodie yelled, waving her free hand toward Pip. “Before it can . . .”

  But the fallen head of the worm had already re-formed itself. Like a hideous tumor, it wrapped itself around one of the manticore’s feet, then swarmed up its body and reattached itself to the waving neck.

  Gulph stared at Elodie’s crystal blade in dismay.

  Even Kalia’s magic isn’t strong enough against this monster!

  “Two heads!” Elodie shouted, waving her sword in the air as she circled the re-formed manticore. She flashed a determined glance at Gulph, fixing him with her gaze. “Two blades!”

  Gulph thought he understood. But he had no sword.

  “Gulph! I can’t . . . breathe . . . !” The manticore’s paw was planted heavily on Pip’s chest, crushing her beneath its weight. Her fingers clawed weakly at the sand.

  The manticore’s legs weaved back and forth in front of Gulph, a set of constantly shifting barriers between him and Pip’s crystal sword. Gulph jumped forward, only to be knocked bodily aside by one of the manticore’s massive legs.

  There’s no way through!

  “Gulph . . .” Pip’s eyelids fluttered closed.

  “Hurry, Gulph!” screamed Elodie.

  The manticore’s legs weaved back and forth, ba
ck and forth.

  Like a dance.

  And so it was. A dance. A performance. And like any performance, it was all about rhythm, all about timing.

  It’s just one more show of acrobatics for the crowd. Only this time I’m not doing it for applause. I’m doing it to save my friend’s life.

  The manticore shifted its weight, tracking Elodie as she continued to circle it. Left foreleg, rear hind leg, left hind leg, all the while keeping the bulk of its weight pressed down on poor Pip.

  Left foreleg . . . rear hind leg . . .

  And there between them . . .

  A gap!

  Gulph threw himself into the narrow space between the manticore’s enormous legs. One huge paw lifted, allowing Gulph to roll beneath its tangle of twisted claws. Now he tumbled to the side, landing on the balls of his feet and immediately flipping forward as the next gap opened up. One set of claws slashed the air to his left, another to his right. Gulph found the sweet, still space between the two and shot through it like an arrow.

  For a single, short breath, he was flying directly over Pip. Her eyes flickered open, gazing up at him as his body made an arc above her, his arms and legs bunched, his entire body turning about its perfectly balanced center.

  Looking down into Pip’s face, he saw her silently mouth his name.

  He hit the ground on his shoulder, rolled for the final time, and came up in a crouch. He threw out his right hand. It came to rest exactly where he’d known it would—on the hilt of Pip’s sword.

  Gulph’s fingers closed. He stood up. He felt tall. His back felt straight. The manticore spun before him like a monstrous carousel. Elodie appeared from behind it, sprinting toward Gulph with her own sword outstretched. She dug in her heels, sliding through the sand to come to a halt directly beside him. Gulph brandished his sword. His sister brandished hers. They were like reflections in a mirror.

  The worm’s two heads came down. Two swords came up, their crystal blades slicing clean through the manticore’s paired necks.

  The heads burst apart, showering Gulph and Elodie with sand. A wave rolled down the worm and into the manticore’s body. Sand exploded, and a pulse of sound rolled across the courtyard. In all directions, sand-warriors froze in their tracks, then disintegrated. For an instant, the entire courtyard turned the color of blood.