The Battle for Urth

by Lee Bacon

  Then the monster lunges at me. I stumble backward, tripping over a crate and landing hard on my back. With a groan, I raise my head. And that’s when I see the ogre coming in for a belly flop right on top of me.

  I clench my eyes shut, expecting the worst. I’m about to be crushed. Or eaten. Or both. But none of that happens. And when I open my eyes again, I find the ogre lying beside me. Unmoving. And the knife that was in my hand—the knife I used to alter my dress…

  It’s now buried in the monster’s chest.

  The ogre undergoes a strange transformation right in front of me. Its eyes turn into dull glass. Its thick skin softens into plain gray fabric. The thing’s body begins to shrink—from a ten-foot monster into something that’s barely bigger than me.

  The ogre has gone back to its old form. An oversized stuffed animal with cotton poking out of its seams and loose wiring in its ears.

  Poking my head out of the van, I cast a shaky glance in both directions. The inside of the castle is a hive of activity. Ogres stacking crates of guns. Armored guards assembling new foot soldiers out of scrap metal. Weird creations just waiting to be turned evil by the Sorceress.

  Near the center of the room is a long wooden table of computers. Wires snake past tablets and laptops. A group of fairies looks to be in charge of the digital command center. They tap keyboards and survey Google Maps, hissing high-pitched orders into phones that are twice their size.

  Luckily, the minions are all too busy with their tasks to notice me. I creep across the chamber, keeping close to the wall. Past a couple of flaming torches and a leering stone gargoyle. I take cover behind a velvet curtain when I catch an extremely unwelcome sight.

  The Sorceress.

  She’s even more beautiful and more horrible than I remember. She drifts down the stairs, her black dress trailing behind her.

  She points a pale finger at a suit of armor. “Go to the kitchen and fetch some food for the prince. We must keep him alive. At least until we get what we want from his parents.”

  The guard nods and clanks away. Five minutes later it returns with a tray of food. The armor starts up the stairs. I follow it.

  The stairway twists up and up and up. I trail the metallic footsteps higher into the shadowy tower.

  When the clanging steps come to a stop, I pause next to a narrow window and peer around the corner. The guard stoops in front of a locked door, jangling a set of keys. My eyes land on one key in particular. A huge golden key that’s much larger than all the others. It dangles from the brass ring, gleaming in the dim light.

  I wonder what lock that opens.

  All of a sudden, a sound of flapping wings jostles my attention. Whirling around, I spot a bird coming in for a landing on the windowsill.

  A crow.

  The black bird opens its beak and lets out a series of caws that sound a whole lot like it’s laughing at me. I flick a hand in its direction, hoping to shoo it away, but the crow won’t budge. Instead, it watches me with a gleam of amusement in its dark eyes. And the next time it opens its beak, the thing speaks.

  “Well, well,” it says in a harsh voice. “Did you come to visit Mr. Prince? You know, he asked about you. Too bad you won’t live to see him.”

  I take another swing, but the crow jabs at my hand with its sharp beak. Then it flaps into the stairway, its loud cries echoing throughout the tower.

  “There’s an intruder in the castle! An intruder trying to take our hostage!”

  So much for the element of surprise.

  The guard above me is the first to respond. It drops the set of keys and rushes in my direction. Its banging armor sounds like a washing machine falling down the stairs. CLANG! SQUINK! BONK! And suddenly, it’s directly above me.

  Right about now, I could really use the knife. But I stupidly left it back in the police van, buried in the ogre’s chest. And so all I can do is stumble backward as the guard raises its sword. I scramble down another step and the long blade smacks the stone wall where I just was. Sparks fly. The guard makes another lunge. This time, I duck and the sword clashes with the wall above me.

  The only thing keeping me alive is the confined spiral staircase. The guard’s armor is too bulky. Its sword is too long. It can’t maneuver enough to take a clean swipe at me. It clatters after me, stomping and slashing. But I’m smaller. I can move more easily. Crouching and scuttling, I’m able to dodge the guard’s attacks.

  Then I hear the sound of other footsteps. Something enormous is clomping up the stairs.

  I whirl sideways just in time to see another ogre. Its massive body takes up the entire stairway. With a deafening growl, the creature takes a swing. I flatten myself against the wall. Its humongous gray fist blurs right past me and instead slams into the guard. The armor explodes into a dozen pieces.

  The ogre bellows with rage. “RRAAARRR! LITTLE GIRL TRICKED ME! YOU’LL PAY FER THAT!”

  Before the creature can begin its next attack, I bolt up the steps. The stairway behind me is an echo chamber of terrifying noises. Giant feet pummeling stone, furious roars. It sounds like an entire army of monsters is behind me.

  It doesn’t take long to reach the top of the stairway. The only escape is the wooden door. But that’s closed—and locked.

  The keys that the guard dropped are still lying on the floor. I grab them, but there are too many. I’ll never find the right key in time. I glance up at the exact moment that the ogre lunges for me. But in the tight stairway, the monster’s even clumsier than usual. Its foot snags the top step. It tumbles forward, and—

  KA-BLAAAM!

  Looks like I won’t need the key after all. The door shatters and the ogre plunges into Prince Fred’s room like a wrecking ball.

  Growing up in the Royal Palace, I often imagined situations like this. A hostage, kept captive in the enemy’s tower. A valiant hero storming the castle. In my imagination, of course, I was always the hero. The brave prince who rescues the damsel in distress. Now the scenario has finally come to life.

  Except I’m the one being rescued.

  A tremor jolts the turret. The wooden door bursts apart and an ogre comes barreling into the room.

  The monster appears surprised. As if it had not planned on breaking through the door at all. A second later, its dark eyes land upon me and its features shift into a more familiar expression.

  Uh-oh. Now the ogre looks hungry.

  My insides twist into a knot of fear. It’s never a pleasant experience to be trapped inside a very small room with a very large ogre. But it’s considerably worse when the ogre is looking at you like you’re its lunch.

  “SNACK TIME!” says the ogre. “I’M STARVING!”

  My shackles rattle behind me. “You can’t eat me,” I remind the ogre. “I’m a hostage. The Sorceress wants me alive.”

  “JUST ONE LEG. SHE PROB’LY WON’T EVEN NOTICE.”

  “I promise you—she will!”

  But the ogre ignores my plea. It lumbers forward, slobber dripping down its chin. I scramble backward, chains clattering, until my back is pressed against the wall. There’s nowhere else to go.

  The monster grasps my ankle with its enormous gray hand. I flail and kick, but the ogre’s grip only tightens. Gritting my teeth, I await the jolt of pain. But it never comes. Instead, a pink blur bolts across the room.

  I can’t believe my eyes. It’s Kara. Wearing a pink ball gown that’s been roughly slashed apart at the knees. On her head is a crooked white wig. And in her hands—a sword. A glint of silver as she raises the weapon above her head…

  And then plunges it into the ogre’s back.

  The monster releases its grip on my leg and collapses to the floor. But its death scene is more of a transformation. The ogre’s entire body shrinks, becoming what it was before. A lifeless piece of decoration with gray cloth for skin and glass beads for eyes. Nothing more.

  I glance up at Kara. “I certainly am glad to see you again!”

  “Me too,” she says. “Are you okay?”
>
  “For the most part. Except for being chained to the wall.”

  “I might have something for that!” Kara lifts a brass key ring. One of the many keys is much larger than the rest. A golden key that’s nearly as long as my hand. Far too big to unlock my restraint. I can only hope one of the others does the trick.

  “Where did you get those?” I inquire.

  “Guard dropped them outside your door.”

  The keys jingle as Kara crosses the room. She hunches beside me to try out one of the keys. There’s a heavy clank of metal against metal. Wrong key. And there are at least a dozen more on the ring, not counting the oversized golden key.

  As Kara tries out one after the other, I cast a curious look at her strange clothing. From the waist up, she looks ready for a fancy ball. Pink satin, fine lace, silken ribbons. But the bottom of the dress is another story. Someone has altered the gown in a most brutal fashion. And her wig? It sits lopsidedly on her head. Tufts of her brown hair poke out the sides.

  “Might I ask…,” I begin. “How’d you end up dressed like that?”

  Kara tries to jam another key into the lock—without success. “I changed outfits on the way over. Then I did a little redesign in the back of a police van.”

  “Police van?”

  “It’s kind of a long story. If we survive this, I’ll tell you all about it.”

  My eyes land on the ogre—or what’s left of it, anyway. The silver blade stands at an angle from its back. “Where’d you get the sword?”

  “One of the guards tried to attack me with it. Right before it got punched by Mr. Ogre. I grabbed it off the stairs. And I’m guessing I got here just in time. That ogre was about to treat your leg like a basket of chicken wings.”

  I have at least a thousand more questions, but they’ll have to wait. A great commotion echoes beyond the shattered door. It sounds as if an entire army is rushing up the stairs.

  I turn a nervous glance back in Kara’s direction. “If you could hurry it up with that lock, I would most appreciate it.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can.” She rattles one key, then the next, muttering to herself, “Please, please, pl—”

  CLICK!

  The restraints around my wrists loosen. As I rise to a standing position, the chains clank to the floor. A rush of relief floods me. So this is what the damsel in distress feels like when she’s rescued by the dashing knight.

  It’s not the way I imagined this situation playing out, but I’ll take it.

  “We need to get to the stairway,” Kara says. “It’s a tight space. They’ll only be able to attack us one at a time.”

  Every instinct in my body resists the thought of running toward the enemies. Not when we’re so badly outnumbered. But Kara’s right. If we wait in the turret, we’ll be ambushed in seconds. Within a cramped spiral staircase, on the other hand—well…

  Our chances of survival are still pretty grim. But at least they’re slightly better.

  Kara glances at the sword in the ogre’s back. “Do you want to—?”

  “You take it,” I say quickly. “You clearly know how to use the thing.”

  There’s no time for argument. Kara grabs the sword and I follow her to the stairs. A few steps down, we pass a scattered heap of armor. The remains of the guard that attacked her on the way up. I reach down and grab a silver breastplate. I have a feeling the broad steel piece might prove useful soon enough.

  We twist down several more steps. Terrifying sounds thunder in the confined space. Pounding footsteps, crashing armor, furious roars. But we keep moving. Forward. Down. Our only way to escape.

  We don’t stop until the first of them appears below us. I exchange a steady glance with Kara. Then we prepare for battle.

  An entire horde of magical monsters is waiting patiently in a single-file line just to attack us.

  If they get to Prince Fred, maybe they’ll take him captive again. But in my case, they won’t go to all that trouble. They’ll just kill me.

  The first one we meet is a guard. The suit of armor lunges with its sword. A deadly glint of silver. I flatten myself against the wall and the blade sparks against stone. Before it can recover, I take a swing at its head.

  SHIIINK!

  The guard’s metal helmet pops off its shoulders and bounces down the steps like a volleyball. But that doesn’t stop the fight. The headless suit of armor thrusts the sword again. I’m off balance, unable to defend myself. Luckily, Prince Fred is there. Before the sword reaches me, he dives between us. He’s gripping a big silver chunk of armor. The guard’s sword clanks against the armor like a shield.

  Fred’s next move comes a split second later. He bashes the steel plate against the guard’s arm, knocking its sword loose—with its arm still attached. I chop off the guard’s legs with two quick slices.

  The guard—or what’s left of it—collapses to the ground. But there are plenty more where that came from.

  Fred and I are preparing our next attack when the dim stairway turns into a light show. A flurry of glowing orbs bounces through the air, casting crazy shadows against the stone walls. It takes another moment for my brain to catch up with what I’m seeing.

  Fairies.

  The winged creatures are small enough to cut to the front of the line. They buzz around us like evil hummingbirds. Kicking, pulling, poking. And that’s not all. The crow has joined the battle. The same crow that alerted the whole castle that I’m here. It must’ve flapped in through the window. Black wings flailing, sharp beak stabbing.

  All of a sudden, the fight’s coming at us from both directions. I’m faced with the guards in front of us. And Fred has no choice but to hold off the fairies and the crow behind us. He swings his armor like a giant metal flyswatter, smacking a fairy into the wall.

  As soon as it hits the floor, the fairy undergoes the same change that happened to the ogres: from living creature to cheap restaurant decoration. The fairy’s glow fades to nothing. Its skin transforms into hard papier-mâché.

  But there are more. Lots of them. The crow and the fairies from one side, the guards from the other. I manage to dismantle a few more suits of armor. But when I see my newest opponent, a shocked breath escapes my lungs.

  It’s some kind of…mutant minion.

  The thing’s about the size of a guard, and moves with the same clunky gestures. But that’s where the comparisons end. Instead of armor, this dude’s made out of stuff you’d find at the landfill. A broken microwave for a head. Torso made out of a spare tire. Arms and legs composed of rusty pipes.

  If it doesn’t bash my head in, I’ll at least need a tetanus shot.

  I saw creations like this down in the main hall. Scraps of metal and junky appliances, stitched together into humanlike forms that would make Dr. Frankenstein proud. Seeing them now is like a window into the Sorceress’s evil plan. The stuff she found in Legendtopia—the ogres and armor and fairies…that’s only the beginning. Her ambitions are much bigger than that. And to make them a reality, she’s bringing in reinforcements from outside. Piles of junk and broken technology. Anything that can be scrapped together to expand her minion army. All with the goal of taking over the world.

  And now, here they are. The first wave of mutant minions.

  I lunge with the sword. The blade embeds deep inside the minion’s spare tire stomach. The monster twists, yanking the sword’s hilt out of my hands. I grasp for my weapon. Instead, I get smacked by a steel pipe.

  Pain blazes through half my body. I duck just in time to avoid the next assault. A metallic crash explodes by my ear. Scrambling on the steps, I nearly trip over scraps of armor. The stairway is littered with the dismantled remains of the guards we’ve already fought. I grab the first thing I can get my hands on. A steel boot. Swinging, I slam the minion with all my strength.

  WHAM! Right in its stupid microwave face.

  With another hit, I knock the thing’s head off. It stumbles backward. When I notice it teetering on the edge of a step, I kick t
he minion in its spare tire belly. This sends it tumbling down the stairs, crashing into the line of other mutant minions beneath it.

  It’s like watching a junk pile fight itself. Old television sets crashing into toaster ovens, lawn mower parts smacking fax machines. The devastation clears a path down the twisting stairway.

  “Nice work!” Prince Fred calls to me from a few steps up.

  It looks like he’s taken care of his share of enemies, too. Papier-mâché fairies are littered around his feet. The crow flaps away, whimpering in pain.

  Fred points down the steps. “We should make haste. Before they recover.”

  I drop the boot and grab a better weapon. A sword. Prince Fred grips a sword of his own in one hand, with the steel shield in his other.

  “Let’s go!”

  We scramble down the spiraling stairs until we reach a door. I twist the handle. Locked. Good thing I still have the set of keys. The huge golden key glimmers in the dim stairwell. Just looking at it, I can tell it’s way too big for the lock. And so I try the rest, one after the other. On the fourth attempt, the handle turns and the door swings open.

  We rush inside. I use the same key to lock the door behind us. The lock slides into place just as the mutant minions clatter back up the stairway on the other side of the door.

  Prince Fred and I turn. For the first time, I look across the room we just entered.

  We’ve made a terrible mistake.

  We’re inside a massive chamber, looking down from a second-story balcony. A set of stairs descends below us. The vaulted ceiling soars far above, held aloft by dark, twisted columns. Flickering torches line the walls. In one corner dozens of boxes are stacked atop one another, each stamped with the same large letters:

  But it’s what I see at the other end of the room that stops me cold.

  The dragon.

  It’s the same monstrous creature that we encountered yesterday. The lump of fabric that the Sorceress transformed into a scale-covered, fire-breathing dragon. Except the beast has grown quite a bit since then. Even curled up on the floor, it’s taller and longer than Kara’s house. A row of huge, pointed talons poke out from beneath the dragon’s leathery wings. I shiver to imagine the destruction it could wreak.