A Land Of Fire (Book 12) (5 page)

Thor and Mycoples fought and fought,
each covered in wounds, bleeding, exhausted.

And yet, still, dozens more dragons
remained.

As Thor held up his bracelet, he felt
the power ebbing—indeed, he felt the power ebbing from himself. He was
powerful, he knew, but not powerful enough yet; he knew he could not sustain
the fight until the very end.

Thor looked up to see huge wings in his
face, followed by long sharp talons, and he watched helplessly as they
punctured Mycoples’s throat. Thor held on for dear life as the dragon grabbed
hold of Mycoples, clamped its jaws down on her tail, and swung her around and
threw her.

Thor hung on as he and Mycoples went
spinning through the air; Mycoples tumbled end over end, and they plummeted
down for the ocean, out of control.

They landed in the water, Thor still holding
on, and the two of them plunged beneath the surface. Thor flailed underwater,
until finally their momentum stopped. Mycoples turned and swam up, heading for
sunlight.

As they surfaced, Thor breathed deep,
gasping for air, treading the frigid waters as he still clung to Mycoples. The
two bobbed in the water, and as they did, Thor looked to the side and saw a
sight he would never forget: floating in the water, not far from him, eyes
open, dead, was a dragon he had come to love: Ralibar.

Mycoples spotted him at the same time,
and as she did, something overcame her, something Thor had never seen: she
shrieked a great wail of grief and raised her wings high, extending them all
the way. Her entire body shuddered as she let out a horrific howl, shaking the
universe. Thor saw her eyes change, glowing all different colors, until finally
they were shining yellow and white.

Mycoples turned, a different dragon, and
looked up at the host of dragons coming down for them. Something within her,
Thor realized, had snapped. Her mourning had morphed into rage, and had given
her a power unlike any Thor had ever seen. She was a dragon possessed.

Mycoples raced up to the sky, wounds
bleeding and not caring. Thor felt a new burst of energy as well, and a desire
for vengeance. Ralibar had been a close friend, had sacrificed his life for all
of them, and Thor felt determined to set wrongs right.

As they raced toward them, Thor leapt
off of Mycoples and landed on the nose of the closest dragon, hugging it as he
leaned around and grabbed at its jaws, clamping them shut. Thor summoned
whatever power he had left within him, and he spun the dragon around in the
air, then threw it with all his might. The dragon went flying, taking out two
more dragons in the air, and all three went soaring down to the ocean below.

Mycoples whirled around and caught Thor
as he fell, and he landed on her back as she raced for the dragons that
remained. She met their roars with hers, biting stronger, flying faster,
cutting deeper than they. The more they wounded her, the less she seemed to
notice. She was a whirlwind of destruction, as was Thor, and by the time she
and Thor were done, Thor realized there were no more dragons left in the sky to
greet them: all of them had dropped down from the sky to the ocean, maimed or
killed.

Thor found himself flying alone with
Mycoples high in the air, circling the fallen dragons below, taking stock. The
two of them breathed hard, dripping blood. Thor knew that Mycoples was
breathing her dying breaths—he could see it as blood dripped from her mouth,
each breath a gasp, a death pain.

“No, my friend,” Thor said, holding back
tears. “You cannot die.”

My time has come
, Thor heard her
say.
At least I have died with dignity.

“No,” Thor insisted. “You must not die!”

Mycoples breathed blood, and the
flapping of her wings weakened as she began to dip down toward the ocean.

There is one last fight left in me
, Mycoples said.
And I want my final moment to be one of valor.

Mycoples looked up, and Thor followed
her gaze to see Romulus’s fleet of ships stretching across the horizon.

Thor nodded gravely. He knew what
Mycoples wanted. She wanted to greet her death in one last great battle.

Thor, badly wounded, breathing hard,
feeling as if he would not make it either, wanted to go down that way, too. He
wondered now if his mother’s prophecies were true. She told him that he could
alter his own destiny. Had he altered it? he wondered. Would he die now?

“Then let us go, my friend,” Thorgrin
said.

Mycoples let out a great shriek, and
together, the two of them dove down, taking aim for Romulus’s fleet.

Thor felt the wind and the clouds racing
through his hair and face as he let out a great battle cry. Mycoples shrieked
to match his rage, and they dove down low, and Mycoples opened her great jaws and
breathed down fire on one ship after another.

Soon, a wall of flame spread across the
seas, set one ship after another aflame. Tens of thousands of ships lay before
them, but Mycoples would not stop, opening her jaws, unrolling cloud after
cloud of flame. The flames stretched as if they were one continuous wall, as
the screams of men rose up below.

Mycoples’s flames began to weaken, and
soon she breathed, and little fire emerged. Thor knew that she was dying
beneath him. She flew lower and lower, too weak to breathe fire. But she was
not too weak to use her body as a weapon, and in place of breathing fire, she
dropped down toward the ships, aiming her hardened scales into them, like a
meteor racing down from the sky.

Thor braced himself and held on with all
his might as she dove right into the ships, the sound of cracking wood filling
the air. She flew into one ship after another, back and forth, destroying the
fleet. Thor held on as pieces of wood smashed into him from every direction.

Finally, Mycoples could go no further.
She stopped in the center of the fleet, bobbing in the water, having destroyed
many of the ships, yet still surrounded by thousands more. Thor bobbed on her
back as she lay floating, breathing weakly.

The remaining ships turned on them. Soon
the skies grew black, and Thor heard a whizzing sound. He looked up and saw a
rainbow of arrows arching his way. Suddenly, he was overcome with horrific
pain, pierced with the arrows, with nowhere to hide. Mycoples, too, was pierced
by them, and they began to sink beneath the waves, two great heroes having
fought the battle of their lives. They had destroyed the dragons and much of
the Empire fleet. They had done more than an entire army could have done.

But now there was nothing left, they
could die. As Thor was pierced by arrow after arrow, sinking lower and lower,
he knew there was nothing left to do but prepare to die.

Alistair looked down to find herself
standing on a skywalk, and as she looked past it, down far below, she saw the
ocean crashing into rocks, the sound filling her ears. A strong gale of wind
knocked her off balance, and Alistair looked up and, as she had in so many
dreams in her life, she saw a castle perched on a cliff, heralded by a shining
gold door. Standing before it was a single figure, a silhouette, hands held out
to her as if to embrace her—yet Alistair could not see her face.

“My daughter,” the woman said.

She tried to take a step toward her, but
her legs were stuck, and she looked down to see she was shackled to the ground.
Try as she did, Alistair was unable to move.

She reached her hands out to her mother
and cried desperately: “Mother, save me!”

Suddenly Alistair felt her world
slipping past her, felt herself plummeting, and she looked down to see the skywalk
collapsing beneath her. She fell, shackles dangling behind her, and went
hurtling down toward the ocean, taking an entire section of the skywalk with
her.

Alistair went numb as her body sank into
the ice-cold ocean, still shackled. She felt herself sinking, and she looked up
to see the daylight above become more and more faint.

Alistair opened her eyes to find herself
sitting in a small, stone cell, in a place she did not recognize. Before her
sat a single figure, and she dimly recognized him: Erec’s father. He grimaced
down at her.

“You have murdered my son,” he said.
“Why?”

“I did not!” she protested weakly.

He frowned.

“You shall be sentenced to death,” he
added.

“I did not murder Erec!” Alistair
protested. She stood and tried to rush to him, but once again she found herself
shackled to the wall.

There appeared behind Erec’s father a
dozen guards, dressed in all black armor, wearing formidable faceplates, the
sound of their jingling spurs filling the room. They approached and reached out
and grabbed Alistair, yanking her, pulling her from the wall. Yet her ankles
were still shackled, and they stretched her body more and more.

“No!” Alistair shrieked, being torn
apart.

Alistair woke, covered in a cold sweat,
and looked all around, trying to figure out where she was. She was disoriented;
she did not recognize the small, dim cell she sat in, the ancient stone walls,
the metal bars on the windows. She spun around, trying to walk, and she heard a
rattling and looked down to see her ankles were shackled to the wall. She tried
to shake them loose but she could not, the cold iron cutting into her ankles.

Alistair took stock and realized that
she was in a small holding cell partly beneath ground, the only light source
coming from the small window cut into the stone, blocked by iron bars. There
came a distant cheer, and Alistair, curious, made her way to the window, as
much as the shackles allowed, and leaned forward and looked through, trying to
get a glimpse of daylight, and to see where she was.

Alistair saw a huge crowd gathered—and
at its head stood Bowyer, smug, triumphant.

“That sorcerer Queen tried to murder her
husband-to-be!” Bowyer boomed to the crowd. “She approached me with a plot to
kill Erec and to marry me instead. But her plans were foiled!”

An indignant cheer arose from the crowd,
and Bowyer waited for them to calm. He raised his palms and spoke again.

“You can all rest easy now knowing that
the Southern Isles shall not be under Alistair’s rule, or under any other rule
but my own. Now that Erec lies dying, it is I, Bowyer, who will protect you, I,
the next-best champion of the games.”

There came a huge shout of approval, and
the crowd started to chant:

“King Bowyer, King Bowyer!”

Alistair watched the scene in horror.
Everything was happening so quickly around her, she could hardly process it
all. This monster, Bowyer, just the sight of him filled her with rage. This
very same man who had tried to murder her beloved was right there, before her
eyes, claiming to be innocent, and trying to blame her. Worst of all, he would
be named King. Would there be no justice?

Yet what happened to her didn’t bother
her nearly as much as the thought of Erec wallowing in his sickbed, still
needing her healing. She knew that if she did not complete the healing on him
soon, he would die here. She didn’t care if she wallowed away in this dungeon
forever for a crime she did not commit—she just wanted to make sure that Erec
was healed.

The door to her cell suddenly slammed
open, and Alistair wheeled to see a large group of people march in. At their
center was Dauphine, flanked by Erec’s brother, Strom, and his mother. Behind
them were several royal guards.

Alistair stood up to greet them, but her
shackles dug into her ankles, rattling, sending a piercing pain through her
shins.

“Is Erec okay?” Alistair asked,
desperate. “Please tell me. Does he live?”

“How dare you ask if he is alive,”
Dauphine snapped.

Alistair turned to Erec’s mother, hoping
for her mercy.

“Please, just let me know that he
lives,” she pleaded, her heart breaking inside.

His mother nodded back gravely, looking
at her with disappointment.

“He does,” she said weakly. “Though he
lies gravely ill.”

“Bring me to him!” Alistair insisted.
“Please. I must heal him!”

“
Bring you to him?
” Dauphine
echoed. “The temerity. You are not going anywhere near my brother—in fact, you
are not going anywhere at all. We just came to take one last look at you before
your execution.”

Alistair’s heart fell.

“Execution?” she asked. “Is there no
judge or jury on this island? Is there no system of justice?”

“
Justice?
” Dauphine said,
stepping forward, red-faced. “
You
dare ask for justice? We found the
bloody sword in your hand, our dying brother in your arms, and you dare to
speak of justice? Justice has been served.”

“But I tell you, I did not kill him!”
Alistair pleaded.

“That’s right,” Dauphine said, her voice
dripping with sarcasm, “a magical mystery man entered the room and killed him,
then disappeared and placed a weapon in your hands.”

“It was not a mystery man,” Alistair
insisted. “It was Bowyer. I saw with my own eyes. He killed Erec.”

Dauphine grimaced.

“Bowyer showed us the scroll that you
penned to him. You pleaded for his hand in marriage and planned to kill Erec
and marry him instead. You are a sick woman. Was not having my brother and
having the Queenship enough for you?”

Dauphine handed Alistair the scroll, and
Alistair’s heart sank as she read:

Once Erec is
dead, we shall spend our lives together.

“But that is not my hand!” Alistair
protested. “The scroll is forged!”

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Dauphine said.
“I’m sure you have a convenient explanation for everything.”

“I penned no such scroll!” Alistair
insisted. “Don’t you hear yourselves? This makes no sense. Why would I murder
Erec? I love him with all my soul. We were nearly wed.”

“And thank the heavens you were not,”
Dauphine said.

“You must believe me!” Alistair
insisted, turning to Erec’s mother. “Bowyer tried to kill Erec. He wants the
kingship. I want nothing of being Queen. I never have.”

“Don’t you worry,” Dauphine said. “You
shall never be. In fact, you shall not even live. We here on the Southern Isles
serve justice quickly. Tomorrow, you shall be executed.”

Alistair shook her head, realizing they
could not be reasoned with. She sighed, her heart heavy.

“Is that why you’ve come?” she asked
weakly. “To tell me that?”

Dauphine sneered back in the silence,
and Alistair could feel the hatred in her gaze.

“No,” Dauphine finally replied, after a
long, heavy silence. “It was to pronounce your sentence to you, and to take one
long last look at your face before you are sent to hell. You will be made to
suffer, the same way our brother was made to suffer.”

Suddenly, Dauphine reddened, lunged
forward, reached out her fingernails, and grabbed Alistair’s hair. It happened
so quickly, Alistair had no time to react. Dauphine let out a guttural scream
as she scratched Alistair’s face. Alistair raised her hands to block herself,
as others stepped forward to pull Dauphine off.

“Let go of me!” Dauphine yelled. “I want
to kill her now!”

“Justice will be served tomorrow,” Strom
said.

“Lead her out of here,” Erec’s mother
commanded.

Guards stepped forward and yanked
Dauphine from the room as she kicked and screamed in protest. Strom joined
them, and soon the room was completely empty except for Alistair and Erec’s
mother. She stopped at the door, slowly turned, and faced Alistair. Alistair
searched her face for any trace left of kindness and compassion.

“Please, you must believe me,” Alistair
said earnestly. “I don’t care what the others think of me. But I do care about
you. You were kind to me from the moment you met me. You know how much I love
your son. You know I could never have done this.”

Erec’s mother examined her, and as her
eyes watered, she seemed to vacillate.

“That is why you stayed behind, isn’t
it?” Alistair pressed. “That is why you’ve lingered. Because you want to
believe me. Because you know I am right.”

After a long silence, his mother finally
nodded. As if coming to a decision, she took several steps toward her. Alistair
could see that Erec’s mother really did believe her, and she was elated.

His mother rushed forward and embraced
her, and Alistair hugged her back and cried over her shoulder. Erec’s mother
cried, too, and finally, she stepped back.

“You must listen to me,” Alistair said
urgently. “I care not for what happens to me, or what others think of me. But
Erec—I must get to him.
Now
. He is dying. I’ve only partially healed
him, and I need to finish. If I do not, he will die.”

His mother looked her up and down, as if
finally realizing she was speaking the truth.

“After all that’s happened,” she said,
“all you care about is my son. I can see now that you really do care for
him—and that you could never have done this.”

“Of course not,” Alistair said. “I’ve
been set up by that barbarian, Bowyer.”

“I will get you to Erec,” she said. “It
may cost us our lives, but if so, we will die trying. Follow me.”

His mother unlocked her shackles, and
Alistair quickly followed her out the cell, into the dungeons, and on their way
to risk it all for Erec.