by Morgan Rice
The white elephant slowed and veered off, doing a tour, slowly circling the arena, taking in the cries of adulation from the crowd—while the black one continued to charge for them. Darius held his breath as it came bearing down and seemed to set its sights on Raj.
Darius stood in its path, blocking Raj.
“Let me die,” Raj called out, his voice weak. “Save yourself!”
“NEVER!” Darius yelled back, over the din of the elephant.
Darius stood there, protecting his friend, sword held high, knowing he was going to die but that at least he would die protecting his brother. Darius prepared for his death, flashing before him all the people he’d known and loved. He especially found himself thinking of Loti.
As the elephant got closer, Darius raised his sword, knowing it was futile but needing to go down, at least, as a warrior—and as he braced himself for death, something strange happened. As Darius watched, the elephant suddenly slowed, and then swayed, as if it were sick. Its huge eyes rolled up in its head, and it suddenly fell sideways, shaking the ground as it landed with a crash. Its momentum carried it forward, and it went skidding along the ground, like an unstoppable mountain of dirt sliding right for him. It slid so fast, and there was no time to run. Darius was sure he would soon be buried by this avalanche.
But Darius stood his ground, determined to protect his friend, whatever might come.
The elephant slid closer and closer, then finally, amazingly, it stopped, just a few feet away from Darius, frozen, dead.
The crowd let out an astonished gasp, clearly all puzzled as to what had happened. Darius, too, was baffled. Something, clearly, had killed the elephant, and yet no weapon had touched it. Was it sickness?
Darius saw foam coming from its mouth, and he wondered if it was poisoned. But by whom? And why? Had someone been looking out for him? Who was there left here in the city of Volusia that would care about him?
Darius had no time to figure it out; its rider had been thrown when it fell, and now he gained his feet and charged for Darius. Darius barely had time to react as the soldier hurled a spear at him, dodging at the last moment as it whirled by his head.
A moment later the soldier was on him, lowering his head and tackling Darius down to the ground. Darius was shocked the at the weight of this Empire soldier, in his all-black armor; it felt as if a mountain of steel had landed on top of him.
Darius tried to break free, but the soldier held him tight, constraining his arms. Darius felt as if the life were being crushed out of him, and wondered if he could break free—when suddenly, the soldier’s eyes burst open.
Darius heard the rattling of chains, and he looked up to see Raj on top of the soldier, wrapping his chains about his throat from behind. Raj used whatever life energy he had left in him, and squeezed and squeezed, until finally the soldier got off of Darius.
Darius rolled out from under him and quickly grabbed his sword. He turned back to see the soldier now lying atop Raj, who was on his back, still squeezing the chain but losing strength. The soldier would soon break free.
Darius ran forward, raising his sword high, and stabbed the soldier in the heart.
Finally, he stopped moving.
An elephant’s trumpet sounded, and Darius turned to see the other elephant turning and bearing down on them. This one, clearly, had not been poisoned, and Darius was shocked at how fast something so big could move, as it charged, the earth quaking with each step.
As its shade began to cover Darius, Darius knew he would not be so lucky a second time. Whatever had saved him the first time was no longer at his disposal. Now he would have no choice but to fight this monumental beast.
As Darius braced himself, he heard a sudden shout, followed by a rattling of chains, and he turned and was shocked to see Drok charging for Raj, death in his eyes. Darius could not understand what was happening.
He turned and ran and blocked Drok’s path, standing between him and Raj.
“What do you hope to gain?” Darius called out, baffled. “Even if you kill us both, you will not be the victor. You will still have to kill the elephant—and you cannot do that alone! You need us!”
“Fool!” Drok yelled back. “We’re already dead here. There is no chance to win—there never has been. But before I die, I want to see you both dead first!”
Darius scowled.
“If you want to kill him,” Darius said, “you’ll have to get through me!”
“Don’t worry!” Drok called out. “You’ll be next!”
Drok lunged with his sword and Darius blocked it with his shield, and swung back. Drok blocked Darius’s blow, and back and forth they went, well-matched, driving each other back and forth, as far as their shackles would allow.
Drok reached down and yanked on the chains, and Darius stumbled forward, right toward him, off balance. Drok then brought down his sword, and Darius dodged it just in time. Darius then swung for his back, but Drok wheeled and blocked it. Neither could gain an edge.
Darius heard a thundering coming toward them, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the sky blacken and the elephant bearing down. He knew he needed to turn his attention to the elephant, but Drok would just not break away.
Darius knew he had to make a risky move. He saw an opening, lunged forward, and tackled Drok, dropping his weapons and driving him down to the ground.
At the same moment, the elephant lowered its tusk for them and just missed Darius. But Darius heard a sickening cry, heard the sound of tusk impacting flesh, and he looked back to see, with horror, that the elephant had impaled Raj. Its tusk went though one end and out the other.
Raj shrieked as he was lifted up into the air, and as the elephant lifted him higher and higher, Darius felt a tug at his chains, then felt himself suddenly being hoisted high into the air. It took Drok along with them, the three of them dangling high in the air, a good twenty feet above ground, as the elephant took off. The crowd went wild.
Darius felt as if every bone in his body was going to break as he bounced up and down, dangling in the air upside down, his chain snagged over the elephant’s tusk—until finally, gratefully, the elephant tired of them and threw them.
Darius, Raj, and Drok, all still chained together, went flying and all landed on the ground with a thud, Darius feeling as if his ribs broke as he did.
The crowd roared in delight, and the elephant thundered away to the far end of the arena, taking a victory lap before circling back for more.
Darius opened one his eyes as he forced himself to his hands and knees, face covered in dirt, and looked over to see his friend Raj lying there, but a few feet away, blood dripping from his mouth and eyes wide opened.
Dead.
Darius’s breath caught in his throat at the sight, feeling as if a part of him had died, too.
But he had no time to process it; he heard a shuffling, and he looked over to see Drok scrambling to his feet and charging. Drok let out a guttural scream as he landed on top of Darius, pinning him down, trying to choke him to death.
Darius felt his strong hands around his throat, slamming his head into the dirt, and he felt himself losing air. He was amazed that Drok could still have so much energy left, and still have so much hatred reserved for him.
Darius managed to reach up and grab his wrists, and then finally to spin on top of him and pin him down. Drok, though, rolled again, and pinned Darius down.
Back and forth they rolled, wrestling, each covered in dirt and blood, each with no energy left, except energy enough to kill each other. They were each beyond exhausted, and they each knew the elephant was bearing down on them again—and yet each cared for nothing but killing each other.
The elephant thundered and the ground shook as Darius felt the beast approaching. He knew he was but a moment away from death, unable to untangle himself from Drok—and he accepted it.
And then Drok, his palms slick with sweat, momentarily lost his grip on Darius and slipped; as he did, Darius took advantage, grabbed Drok,
rolled, and with one last heave, he managed to throw him.
Drok landed a few feet away, to his side—and right in the path of the charging elephant. The elephant’s huge foot came down and landed on Drok, crushing him to death. The last thing Darius saw was Drok raising his hands in protest, his screams muffled, as the elephant flattened him.
The crowd roared as the elephant ran past, and Darius, breathing hard, covered in wounds, amazed he was alive, slowly gained his feet. Still chained to the others, he could not run. And as the elephant circled and came back, Darius knew he was facing his final death charge.
Suddenly, Darius heard the sound of a small iron gate opening, followed by the barking of a wild dog. The crowd shouted in surprise, and Darius turned and was amazed to see a wild dog enter the arena, racing across it, charging for him. He was even more amazed to realize he recognized it: it was his dog. Dray.
Darius’s heart lifted to see his dear friend alive again, as baffled as he was. He realized at once that someone must have found him, must have set him loose here when Darius needed him. Someone in the Empire was looking out for him. But who?
As Dray neared, Darius spotted a sole weapon tied about his neck, and as the dog reached him, he reached down and snatched it and realized what it was: his old, beloved sling, its leather grip well-worn, fitting perfectly in his hand. Tied to it was his canvas pouch, filled with smooth stones.
Darius wanted to hug Dray—but there was no time for a reunion. The elephant was bearing down on them, and Dray suddenly charged, sprinting out across the arena, fearlessly, to meet the elephant.
The crowd went wild at the sight, this small dog barking and attacking an elephant. The elephant, though, was enraged, and charged with fury for Dray.
Dray, much smaller and quicker, waited until the last moment, then turned away, leading the elephant away from Darius, clearly trying to save his master. It worked. The elephant changed course, chasing after Dray instead—no matter how much its rider tried to direct it otherwise.
Darius saw his moment of opportunity. He placed a perfectly round rock in the slingshot reached back, and as the elephant turned, exposing the soldier’s side, about thirty feet away, he hurled.
Darius watched the rock go flying through the air, praying his aim was still true.
Darius breathed a sigh of relief to see the rock hit the soldier in his temple, a distinctive clang ringing out as it hit his helmet. Darius watched the rider go tumbling down off the elephant’s back and landing on his neck, breaking it with a sickening crack.
He lay there on the arena floor, dead.
The crowd roared in shock.
The elephant, masterless, suddenly turned away from chasing Dray. Directionless, enraged, it instead turned right for the rows of spectators. It ran right for the arena walls, built low to the ground, jumped up onto the crowds, trumpeting in fury.
The citizens could not get out of the way fast enough, and screams arose as it trampled dozens at a time. Chaos ensued as people ran in every direction, trying to get to higher rows. The elephant stomped them mercilessly, and dozens of bodies fell into the arena, dead.
The elephant, finally having enough, turned and set its sights back on Darius. For some reason, it bore down right for him, charging with fury, still wanting him dead.
Dray ran forward, nipping at its heels, trying to make it turn away—but this time it would not be dissuaded. It kept charging right for Darius, like death itself bearing down on him.
Darius, heart pounding, placed another rock, took aim, closed his eyes, and prayed to God. He knew the shot would have to be perfect.
Please, God. If I am deserving of anything in my lifetime, allow me to make this shot. Just one more shot. Allow me to die a victor.
Darius opened his eyes and the world slowed as he saw the elephant coming at him in slow motion. He leaned back, and with all he had, he hurled.
Darius watched as the single stone sailed through the sky, seeming to go slower than anything he had thrown his life. And then, a moment later, he watched in disbelief as the stone entered the elephant’s eye.
The elephant shrieked as the stone lodged itself, deeper and deeper, driving all the way back to its brain. It kept charging, and for a moment, Darius wondered if it would fall.
Then, suddenly, finally, it stumbled and fell.
It fell head over heels, coming at him, and Darius ducked, bracing himself, expecting to die.
But somehow, it tumbled and rolled right over him, airborne just enough to miss him as it skirted over his head.
It landed behind him, on its back.
Dead.
For a moment, the arena was silent, all frozen in shock.
And then, suddenly, there came a wild cheer.
Darius was the last man standing.
Somehow, despite all odds, he had won.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Thorgrin flew through the air at full speed, his head racing through the clouds, not understanding what was happening. He looked down and realized he was riding on the back of a dragon, and was elated to see it was his old friend, Mycoples. He did not understand how she got here—or how she was even alive. As he flew on her back, racing through the skies, he felt alive again.
“Mycoples!” he called out, leaning down to hug her. “My old friend. How did you return to me?”
She purred, arched her neck, and raced faster, and Thor wondered where she was going. He did not care—as long as he was riding her, all felt right in the world again.
Thor suddenly heard a baby cry, and he looked down and was shocked to see, below, in Mycoples’s claws, Guwayne. She held him gingerly, wrapped up in her talons, and as he cried he opened his eyes and Thor saw they were piercing blue. Thor felt overwhelmed by his connection to his son.
“Guwayne!” he called out.
Mycoples suddenly dipped down, beneath the clouds, lower and lower, and as she did, Thor saw looming beneath them the great expanse of ocean. A series of rocky cliffs, formations of rock, jutted up in the water, spread out from each other, dotting the ocean like great jagged boulders dropped down from the sky, like steppingstones to another world, shining beneath the light of a sole sun. The skies turned dark, despite the sun, and as they dove closer, Thorgrin sensed somehow that this had become the Isle of Light. Ragon’s isle.
Thor heard Guwayne scream and he looked down and his heart fell to see that Mycoples had released his baby. Guwayne dropped from her talons and Thor watched, horrified, as he fell through the air, soaring right for the Isle of Light.
“GUWAYNE!” Thor shrieked.
Thor woke screaming. He looked everywhere in the blackness, sunlight streaming in through narrow slats, and wondered where he was. A cold sweat ran down the back of his neck as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.
It had felt so real. It took him several moments, breathing hard in the blackness, to realize it had just been a dream. An endless nightmare. He looked everywhere for Guwayne and realized he was not here, and felt a sense of relief. At least he had not fallen through the sky.
Yet, still, it nagged at him, as it had felt like more than a dream: it had felt like a message. But what? What were his dreams trying to tell him?
“Thorgrin?” came a voice.
Thor looked over and saw in the blackness, on the far side of the hold, was Angel, staring back. Thor realized he was on the ship, beneath the deck, as Angel came over to him and placed a wet compress on his forehead.
“You were dreaming,” she said. “You were talking in your sleep. Something about Guwayne and a dragon.”
“Angel,” Thor said, giving her a hug, getting his bearings, remembering. “Where are we?”
He looked over and saw that dawn was breaking, and realized he had slept the whole night—for the first time in he did not know how long.
“We’ve been sailing all night,” she said. “I hear a great deal of commotion up above. I think we’re nearing the entrance to the Empire.”
Thor, remembering, jumped up i
mmediately and raced across the hold, throwing open the wooden latch and hurrying up the steps two at a time—Angel right behind him.
Thor emerged into a beautiful sunrise, the golden suns washing over everything with a soft muted orange, and as he came up, he saw Reece, Selese, Elden, Indra, O’Connor, and Matus standing at the bow. They sailed alongside Erec and Alistair’s ships, and Thor saw his sister and brother-in-law standing alert at the bow, too, along with Strom and all their men. They were all transfixed, looking straight ahead, and Thor turned to look, too.
Land. It took Thor’s breath away to see it, after all this time, and his heart soared with relief. It was a land unlike any he had ever seen, and immediately he knew they had reached the Empire’s shores.
Thor felt their boat slowing, the tides changing beneath them, and he looked out to see the ocean blending its way into the mouth of a river. The river, he saw, snaked its way and disappeared into the horizon.
“The River Volusia!” Erec called out, as Thor walked to the bow. “It flows all the way through the heart of the Empire. It will take us all the way north, to the city of Volusia.”
Thor paused, looking out at the Empire, knowing that Gwen, the love of his life, was out there somewhere, and needed him. On the one hand, his heart beat with anticipation to see her again; yet on the other hand, he felt overwhelmed with guilt: how could he face her without Guwayne?
There came a distance screech, high in the air, and Thor turned and watched the skies, searching, remembering his dream. It was no ordinary screech. It was the screech of a dragon—and the second it rang out, he knew it was meant only for him.
Sure enough, there emerged from the skies a lone dragon, circling high above, and Thor’s heart lifted to see it was Lycoples. It was uncanny to see her now, at all times, here at this crossroads, when he was unsure what to do—and after such a vivid dream. It felt as if his dream had become reality.
All the men on the ships stopped and looked up in terror, as Lycoples swooped down for them.
