A feast of dragons sr-3

by Morgan Rice

  She screeched again, soaring in circles.

  As the large group of Legion members converged on the cave, Thor turned and led the way. The world became black as they entered it, long icicles hanging from the ceiling, the sound of water dripping, of bats fluttering. As they walked inside, deeper and deeper, their voices reverberated, the whispers of Legion members on-edge. The only thing illuminating the cave was a sparkling light, not too far from the entrance, of a single object.

  As the mist cleared, Thor finally saw what it was-and they all gasped.

  There, sticking up from the ground, was the golden scepter. About three feet long, it shined and sparkled, casting off a light so bright it lit up most of the cave through the mist. All the legion members stopped in their tracks, clearly in awe. Thor could feel an intense energy radiating off of it, even from here.

  “You saw it first,” Reese said to Thor. “You take it. Bring it back for the Legion.”

  Thor stepped forward, the others following close behind, and knew he should feel relieved. They had found it. Now they could return. But for some reason, as he headed deeper into the cave, he felt more and more on edge. His senses kicked in, and some part of him he didn’t understand screamed to him that they were heading deeper into danger.

  But with all the boys watching him, he could hardly turn back. He walked forward, reached out, and grabbed the scepter. He felt an electric thrill race through him as he clasped it. It was the most beautiful and powerful thing he had ever touched.

  They all turned, hurried out from the cave, the boys crowding around Thor, getting a good look at it. There was relief in the air: their mission was over. Now they could go home. As one, the group shuffled outside the cave, prepared to leave this place.

  But the moment they all stepped outside, their world changed. Out of nowhere, a horrific roar rose up, and as they all looked up, Thor saw the most terrifying sight of his life.

  The dragon. It raised its head above the canyon, and glared down at them, and Thor had to wonder if this was real or just a nightmare. He had never seen a real dragon before-and he never thought he would live to see one. It was the largest and most terrifying thing he’d ever laid eyes upon. As it raised its long neck, its huge head towering over them, it blocked out the sun, casting a shadow over them all. Just one of its scales was bigger than Thor-and it was covered in thousands of them, reddish-green. It raised its two front legs, each as big as fifty men, and Thor could see its huge claws, three on each foot, reaching out to the heavens, each as sharp as a sword and as long as a tree.

  Most terrifying of all, though, was its face, with its long, extended narrow jaw, and behind its open mouth, its rows and rows of teeth, each as large as a house, sharper than any weapon he had ever seen.

  It threw its head back and roared, and the sound was enough to split a man in two.

  Every single Legion member raised his hands to his ears, and Thor did the same, still clutching the scepter. The ground shook, and Thor felt as if his head would explode. Krohn whined and snarled.

  When the dragon finished its roar, it lowered its head, pulled back its throat, opened its mouth and breathed.

  Fire came hailing down like a tornado, singing the side of the canyon wall. As the dragon moved its neck, the fire spread-and that was when Thor heard the screams.

  Several Legion members screamed out in horrific pain as Thor watched them get burned alive. Thor watched helplessly, before turning and sprinting with the rest of the boys, running for their lives.

  The dragon lowered a leg, and as its foot met the ground, it left another canyon-sized hole, shaking the earth so much that Thor and the Legion members were thrown into the air, a good ten feet. Thor landed hard on his side, and rolled several times.

  Thor scurried to his feet and looked up, and saw the dragon getting closer as the rest of the boys ran. Some of the older boys broke into action. One of them, who had carried with him a long rope and grappling hook, distributed the ropes to several others, and soon, the group ran in circles around it, looping the ropes around its legs, trying to trip it up.

  It was a valiant effort, and the boys moved quickly and fearlessly, managed to wrap the rope tightly around its legs twice, to Thor’s surprise. They expected the dragon to trip and fall as it took its next step.

  But they were all horrified as the dragon merely looked down, noticed the rope, and snapped it like it didn’t exist. Then it raised a foot and brought it down, crushing several of the older boys into the earth as it did. It swiped with its claws and sliced other boys in half.

  Thor watched in horror as O’Connor got hit in the swipe; he missed its claw, but the dragon’s foot still sent O’Connor flying through the air and smashing into the canyon wall. Thor prayed he wasn’t dead.

  The other boys began to flee again, all their options exhausted, and Thor knew he had to do something quickly. At this rate, they would all be dead in minutes. There was no way out of this canyon, and the dragon had them trapped.

  As everyone around him continued to run, Thor mustered his courage, and stopped. He stood there, in the center of the canyon floor, and turned and faced the dragon. His heart was pounding, and he knew this might mean his death-but he had to do this.

  Thor tried to muster everything that Argon had taught him, tried to summon his spiritual power, whatever power he had. If he had any innate power, he knew that now was the time to draw on it. Now was the time he needed it most.

  The dragon suddenly stopped and focused on Thor. It threw back its head and roared, as if furious at being challenged, and in that moment Thor wished that he had ran with the others.

  As he stood there alone, facing the dragon, Thor raised one palm, determined to use whatever supernatural powers he had to combat the beast.

  Please, God. Please.

  The dragon pulled back its throat, opened its mouth, and shot flames right down at Thor.

  Thor kept his palm out, hoping and praying that this would work.

  As the flames came down, showering down all around him, Thor was stunned to see that his palm created an energy shield around him. The flames harmlessly parted ways around his hand, leaving him safe.

  The other boys stopped and watched.

  The dragon was enraged. It lifted a foot and brought it down, preparing to crush Thor.

  But Thor kept his palm out, and as the foot came down, he was able to use his energy force to stop it with his hand, the foot hovering in mid-air several feet above Thor.

  Thor could feel the energy of the beast, feel its strength, its intense desire to kill him. Thor’s entire body was shaking as he used all he had to keep it at bay. But he could not hold it back much longer.

  Finally, Thor, unable to hold it any longer, released the energy shield and ran. As he did, the foot came crashing down, missing him by feet, plunging into the earth.

  The dragon roared, enraged.

  The other Legion members stopped and watched, in awe.

  The dragon, madder than ever, charged Thor. It dove right for him, opening its rows of teeth, aiming to swallow him whole.

  Thor felt a heat rising within himself, and he summoned his energy again. This time he used it to jump-higher than he ever had-and as the dragon ducked down, Thor leapt over its head and landed on its back.

  Thor grabbed onto its scales, hanging on for dear life as the dragon bucked. It was like riding a mountain. Thor could sense the dragon’s energy and it was the most powerful thing he had ever felt. Thor used his power to try to direct the dragon’s energy. He implanted the image in the dragon’s mind of flying away.

  And that was exactly what the dragon did.

  The dragon suddenly lifted up and flew out of the canyon. Thor controlled its mind as it continued to fly, farther and farther away. Thor hung on for dear life, the wind and the mist whipping his face as they climbed higher and higher, flew faster and faster. Soon, the ground was just a speck below them.

  Thor directed the dragon to turn over the sea, and they conti
nued to fly. Thor whispered to the dragon to dip down, close to the shore, praying that it would.

  It did. As soon as they flew over the shore, Thor took the opportunity. He held his breath and jumped off the dragon’s back, hurling through the air, hoping he made it.

  He landed in the waves, chest deep in the churning sea. He surfaced, gasping, and turned to watch as the dragon flew away, over the sea, farther and farther away.

  With Thor’s last ounce of strength, he waded to the shore, and collapsed on the sand, unable to move another inch. He was still clutching the scepter. He could not believe it.

  He had made it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Andronicus sat on his throne, surrounded by a dozen servant girls, chained naked to the floor, fanning him, placing fruit into his mouth, as he leaned back with a smile and watched the festivities unfold before him. In the circular floor of his massive throne room, the night’s games were beginning.

  Spread throughout the room were hundreds of Andronicus’ closest followers, contingents that had arrived to pay homage from every corner of the Empire, wearing every possible color. They feasted, dancing, drinking, drugging in this room, as they had night after night. There was a never-ending stream of dignitaries who wanted to pay tribute to him. If they did not, he would have his armies crush them in an instant. And these games, the center of the night’s festivities, were a nice complement to a long day of drinking and feasting.

  The first game of the night was always the most exciting, and this promised to be no exception. They had found a massive Spokebull, with three horns, a jaw twice as wide, eight sets of long fangs, and they had paired it against a Livara-a massive, lion-like creature with four sets of wings. In the ring, the Spokebull charged the Livara, roaring, and the Livara charged back. It promised to be a good matchup.

  The two creatures, each enraged, met in the middle, snarling, each sinking its fangs into the other’s hide. They hit the ground and rolled, and the room became filled with the sounds of their vicious snarls. Within moments, blood and saliva was spraying all over the room. Andronicus smiled wide, thrilled as some of the blood sprayed through the gate and hit him in the face. Inspired, he reached over, slipped one hand around one of the naked girls, and pulled her up onto his lap. Before she knew what was happening, he extended his huge fangs, and plunged them into her throat.

  She shrieked as he drank her blood, feeling the hot liquid gush down his throat, holding her tight until she finally stopped writhing. Finally, she slumped there, dead, in his arms, and he wiped the back of his mouth, and let her lie there. There were few things he enjoyed more than holding a freshly-dead corpse in his lap. This was turning out to be a great night, indeed.

  An agonizing howl rang out, and the crowd jumped to its feet, roaring, as one of the animals got the best of the other. Andronicus stood himself, and looked down to see that the spoke-bull had won, piercing the Livara’s chest with his third horn. It stood over it, snorting, tapping its foot.

  The crowd cheered as an attendant opened the gate, preparing for the next bout.

  As he did, though, something went wrong: the spoke-bull, enraged, charged right for the attendant. The man could not get out of the way quickly enough, and the animal gouged him with its horns, piercing his stomach and sending him up high over his head, pinning him to the cage of the arena. Instead of rushing to help him, the crowd screamed in delight, as the attendant hung there in agony. No one came to his help; on the contrary, they all enjoyed it.

  Three more attendants rushed in, holding spears, and they kept the beast at bay as they went to rescue their co-worker. The beast charged them, biting their spears and breaking them-until finally another attendant stepped forward with a huge double axe, and in one clean swoop, chopped off its head. Its corpse fell to the side, blood gushing everywhere, and the crowd roared in excitement.

  Several more attendants rushed in to clean up the bloody mess, and a door opened from another end of the arena and two more animals were led in for the next round. They were identical. They looked like rhinoceroses, but were three times the size, and one was led to each end of the ring, grunting and snarling, barely able to be contained by four attendants with ropes.

  As the cadavers were pulled out and the gate barely closed, a whistle sounded, and the two animals were released from their ropes. Without hesitating, they charged each other, ramming heads as they met in the middle. There was an awful crash as their heads met, their hides as hard as iron, shaking the entire room.

  The crowd cheered in delight.

  Andronicus slowly sat back down, still holding the fresh corpse in his lap, reveling in the games. They were going even better tonight than he had expected, and his spirits had not been this high in he did not know how long.

  “My liege, forgive me,” came a voice.

  Andronicus turned to see one of his messengers standing beside them, whispering in his ear.

  “Forgive my interruption, master, but I bring important news.”

  “Speak it then,” Andronicus snarled, still looking straight ahead, trying to ignore the man. Andronicus had a sinking feeling that whatever it was would interrupt his mood. And he did not want it interrupted.

  “News has spread that the McCloud army has invaded the other half of the Ring. Our spies tell us that the MacGil’s kingdom may be overrun within days, and that the McClouds will control the Ring.”

  Andronicus slowly nodded, taking in the information with a seething rage that he did not show-then he reached over, grabbed the messenger with both hands, stood, and hoisted him across the room with a superhuman strength. The messenger, a small, frail man from the Hinterlands, went flying through the air, shrieking, and the crowd watched, transfixed, as he cleared the fence to the arena and landed inside with the wild animals.

  The two animals, startled, took a break from smashing into each other and turned towards the messenger. Together, they charged him, and the messenger turned and ran, screaming, trying to flee. But there was nowhere for him to go. As he climbed the wall, trying to get out, one of the animals pierced his back with its thick horn, pinning him to the cage.

  The messenger shrieked, blood gushing from his mouth, grasping the wall with his fingernails as he died.

  The crowd rose to its feet, screaming in delight.

  Andronicus pondered the news. It had put him in a very bad mood, indeed. That McCloud king had defied him, had not accepted his offer, had not acceded to his wishes to let him cross the canyon, to attack the MacGils together. That McCloud king was more hard-headed than Andronicus had anticipated. He was out of Andronicus’s reach. And Andronicus hated things he could not control.

  Andronicus had expected a moment like this. The Ring had been nothing but a thorn in his side, in the side of the entire Empire-the only free territory left in it, for as long as his ancestors could remember. He was determined to change that. He had conquered virtually every corner of the Empire, and his victory could not be complete without invading the Ring, making the entire land subservient to his will.

  Andronicus had a backup scenario in mind for news such as this, and now it was time to employ it.

  He suddenly rose, the entire room dropping to its knees and bowing down as he did, and threw off the lifeless corpse, now cold, of the young girl. He marched across the room, as hundreds of his followers bowed low to the ground, and was followed his entourage of loyal advisors. The advisors knew better than to question where he was going, knowing to obediently follow until he told them otherwise.

  Andronicus left the chamber, and his men followed close as he entered the corridors of his castle.

  Andronicus marched, fuming with rage, deep into the bowels of his castle, working his way down towards the torture chambers. The corridors were shaped in wide circles, and he went around and around, the walls lined with torches, until finally he reached a square, metal door, iron spikes protruding from it. At the sight of him, three attendants hurried to yank it open, bowing their heads low.
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br />   Andronicus marched in, his men close behind.

  In the chamber stood two prisoners, members of the McCloud kingdom, men they had captured years ago off of one of the McCloud ships. Andronicus examined the men, chained against the opposite wall, hands and feet bound, and decided that they looked ripe. They had kept these men chained here for years, starving them, torturing them once a day, breaking them utterly, completely, for a moment such as this. For a moment when McCloud had defied him. Now it was time for Andronicus to use them, to extract the information he had been needing to know for a lifetime. He only one had shot at this, and he needed to get it right.

  Andronicus stepped forward, grabbed a long, sharp hook off the wall, came up close to one of the men, and held the hook under his chin. He began to lift it, under the most tender and fragile part of his vocal cords, until the point pierced the skin.

  The man’s eyes flooded with tears, and he shrieked out in agony.

  “What is it that you want?” the man shrieked.

  Andronicus smiled down at him.

  “The Canyon,” he growled, slowly. “You have one chance to give me the answer. How do we breach it. What is its secret? What is the energy shield? Who controls it?”

  The man blinked several times, sweating.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I swear it-”

  Andronicus was not in the mood: he lifted the weapon high and the man shrieked in agony as it severed his throat, then his head. A moment later, his head rolled off his body, onto the floor.

  Andronicus turned and looked at the other prisoner, chained to the opposite wall, the other McCloud. The man blinked several times, staring; he started moaning and shaking as Andronicus approached with the hook.

  “Please!” the man squealed, “please, don’t kill me! Please, I beg you!”