Rise of the Valiant (25 page)

Kyra clutched
her horse’s mane as they galloped through Whitewood, the wind in her hair, two
girls seated on the horse behind her, and surrounded by the girls she and
Dierdre had freed, all of them riding, Leo at their heels. Kyra felt a great
sense of satisfaction as she saw all of their faces, so thrilled to be free, so
thrilled to be alive. She had rescued them from a dark future, and that meant
more than anything to them.

Finally, Kyra
had a horse beneath her, the final stretch before her, and a sense of optimism,
a sense that her long quest would soon be over—and that she was actually going
to make it. They all rode together, a unified force, all of them invigorated.
They galloped, as they had for hours, and Kyra took a deep breath, filled with
a rush of excitement as they burst out of the shimmering leaves of Whitewood
and into the open plains. The huge sky stretched before her and Kyra felt as if
the world had been unveiled. After so many days of being trapped in the dark
woods, she felt a sense of freedom and exhilaration as she had never before.

The gorgeous
countryside of Ur opened up before her, and it was a place unlike any she had
ever seen. There were magnificent rolling hills, covered in orange and purple
flowers, this part of Escalon much warmer than Volis. The late afternoon sun
shone down, illuminating it all in a scarlet light, making this land look as if
it had been forged by the hand of God.

Kyra kicked her
horse and egged him on faster, invigorated. They hadn’t stopped for hours, none
of them wanting a break, all wanting to escape the woods, to escape their dark
past, and to look to the future. Kyra rode up and down hills, breathing in the
Ur air, feeling as if a whole new life were opening up before her.

Hours more
passed when, finally, they crested a hill higher than the rest and they call
came to a stop at its peak. They paused atop a wide plateau, on which stood a
tall, wooden beam with arrows pointing in four directions. Kyra saw well-worn
paths leading from the hill in all directions, and she knew they had reached a
crossroads.

She studied the
horizon, while Dierdre came up beside her.

“That road leads
to Ur,” Dierdre pointed. “My city.”

Kyra followed
her glance and saw on the horizon the outlines of a magnificent, sprawling
city, its spires and domes and parapets shining in the sun; just beyond it was
the faint outline of what appeared to be the sea, light reflecting off of it
and illuminating the city. At the entrance to the city there sat a temple,
following the tradition of many of Escalon’s western cities, with an arch cut
through its center to allow travelers to pass in and out. It was crowned by a
steeple, higher than any she’d ever seen, and she studied it in awe, amazed a
temple could rise that high. Ur, the city of legend, the stronghold of the
west, the gate to the open sea, the sea through which all commerce flowed in
and out of Escalon.

Dierdre turned
and pointed to the road leading the opposite direction.

“Perhaps a day’s
ride north lies the peninsula of Ur,” she explained. “That way lies the tower
you seek.”

Kyra studied the
contours of the land, the long skinny peninsula jutting out into the ocean, so
far that she could not see where it ended, disappearing in a cloud of mist.
Kyra knew that somewhere out there, beyond the mist, lay her destination. Her
uncle. Her quest. She looked down and saw one of the roads forking towards it,
a road less traveled—and she felt her destiny calling her.

At her heels Leo
whined, as if he sensed it, too.

Kyra turned to
look at Dierdre, and for a moment, she felt a pang of sadness. Their journey
together had come to an end. Kyra hadn’t realized how accustomed she had grown
to Dierdre’s presence; she had become a true friend, like the sister she’d
never had. And as she looked out at the faces of all these other girls, hope in
their eyes, freedom before them, she felt reluctant to leave them, too. But she
knew her calling awaited her, and it lay in the opposite direction.

“I shall miss
you, my friend,” Kyra said.

She saw anxiety etched
across Dierdre’s face, too.

“Shall we not
see each other again?” Dierdre asked.

Kyra was
wondering the same thing, but did not know the answer.

“When I finish
my training,” Kyra replied, “I vowed to my father to return and help our
people.”

“I shall help
our people, too,” Dierdre replied. “I shall rally men, perhaps, do whatever I
can to help the cause. When two people’s paths are meant to cross, nothing can
keep them apart. I believe we shall meet again. Somewhere, somehow.”

“We shall.”

Dierdre reached
out and they clasped arms, looking each other in the eye. Both of them had
aged, both had grown stronger, since they had met.

Kyra dismounted,
to everyone’s look of surprise, and handed the reins to Dierdre.

“You have many
girls here to take care of,” Kyra said, seeing the girls tripled up on the
horses. “You shall need this horse more than I.”

“Then how will
you reach the tower?” one of the girls asked.

Kyra turned and
looked.

“It is hardly a
day’s hike,” she said. “And I have Leo. I would like to walk. I have my staff
and my bow, and I fear nothing.”

Kyra saw the
look of respect in all of their eyes, and the look of gratitude, as two girls,
tripled up on a horse, dismounted and mounted hers.

“I never met
anyone like you,” Dierdre said. “I had always thought that bravery was reserved
for men. But now I see it can be for us, too. You have given me a greater gift
than you can ever know—and for that I can’t thank you enough.”

Kyra’s eyes
welled as she looked over these brave girls who had a second chance at life.

“Take care of
these girls,” Kyra adjured her. “If they want protection, give it to them—but
if they want to learn to fight, give that to them, too. If you shelter a
warrior, you save their body, but kill their spirit. And these girls all have
great spirit.”

Kyra watched as
the girls all rode away, galloping down the hillside, into the setting sun and
toward the shining city of Ur. She watched them go for a long time, leaving a
cloud of dust in their trail. Dierdre turned back, once, and looked for her,
raising a single fist high in the air—and Kyra raised her fist back.

Then, just like
that, they were over the hill, gone from sight, nothing left but the distant
rumble and vibrations of their travel.

Leo whined
beside her, as if sad to see Dierdre go, and Kyra turned, took her staff and
began to hike. She marched down the hillside in the opposite direction, heading
northwest, toward the peninsula of Ur, and somewhere beyond that mist, toward
the tower.

As she marched
through a field, a million thoughts raced through her mind. She pondered her
destination, the tower, her uncle. She thought of the training she would
receive, the powers she would gain, what she would come to know about herself.
She thought of all the secrets awaiting her. Her mother’s identity. Her
destiny. It made her nervous, but also excited.

It was
overwhelming to even consider it, and her heart beat faster at the thought.
More terrifying than any foe out there, more terrifying than the idea of not
completing her quest, was the idea of completing it, of finding out about
herself, of getting to the bottom of the riddle that had plagued her her whole
life: who was she?

*

Kyra hiked for
hours, excited, determined, feeling each step take her closer to the end of her
quest, and the beginning of her new life. She hardly felt the burning in her
legs as she ascended and descended the gently rolling hills and she did not
even think of pausing until, hours later, she crested a hill and reached a
broad plateau. She leaned against her staff and took in the vista, and the
sight was startling: the whole peninsula of Ur was laid out before her, the
ocean now visible in the distance, its waves already audible. A mist blew in
and out, still obscuring the tower, but she knew that it was close.

She stood there,
taking in the sight, feeling as if she were seeing her future unfold before
her—when suddenly, she heard a distant noise and detected motion out of the
corner of her eye. She wheeled, gripping her staff, on guard.

As Kyra saw the
sight before her she blinked several times, hardly comprehending what her eyes
were showing her. She suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion as she watched the
creature approach, walking slowly up the hill, his head down, covered in
wounds, looking exhausted, but still marching on—all the while keeping his eyes
fixed proudly on her. As he came closer, Leo did not snarl as he once had;
instead, he whined in excitement. And in pride.

Kyra could
hardly breathe. She stood upright, her mouth agape, hardly believing what she
saw. She had never been so happily surprised in her life. There, approaching
her, having crossed Escalon all by himself to find her, was her loyal friend:
Andor.

Kyra’s eyes
welled up at the sight of him. She was overjoyed, speechless. He had survived.
And he had found her.

Kyra rushed
forward and hugged Andor, throwing her arms around his neck. At first, proud,
wild, and determined not to show emotions, he jerked away. But then he leaned
his head into her chest and she kissed his mane several times and hugged him tight,
tears rolling down her face, overwhelmed at his loyalty. She had been so
heartbroken to leave him behind, as if she had left a piece of herself back
there, and seeing him here, alive, made her feel whole again.

Leo, too, came
up and rubbed against his leg, and Andor made a snorting noise, stomping, but
not pulling away. Those two finally had reached some sort of peace.

“You killed them
all by yourself, didn’t you?” Kyra asked in admiration, seeing his hide covered
in blood.

Andor grunted as
if in response, and Kyra’s heart broke as she examined his wounds. She could
not believe that he had single-handedly killed all of those hornhogs, that he
had made it all the way here with his injuries. She knew, after this, that they
would be together for life.

“We have to get
you fixed up,” she said.

Andor snorted,
as if in defiance, and instead he lowered his body, gesturing for her to ride.
She was in awe at his strength.

Kyra mounted,
and vowed to never leave his side again.

“We shall be
together forever now,” she said. “Nothing shall ever get between us again.”

He neighed and
reared, as if in response.

Kyra turned and
looked north and west, towards the tower, somewhere at the end of the
peninsula, and with Andor beneath here, she felt her heart pounding with excitement.
Now, she would be there in hours.

“Our destiny
awaits us, Andor. Take us there!”

Without another
word he took off at a gallop, Leo at their side, the three of them cutting
through the countryside of Ur—and riding headlong into their destiny.

Alec trekked
across the Plain of Thorns, Marco beside him, the gray landscape and endless
rolling thorn bushes matching his somber mood. The sky was gray, the earth was
gray, the thorn bushes, filling the landscape as far as he could see, were
gray, scratching at him as he walked. Marco weaved his way between them, but
Alec no longer cared; he let himself be scratched. In fact, he welcomed the
pain. Having just come from burying his family, it was the only thing that made
him feel alive.

They had hiked
from Soli through these desolate plains, the most direct way, Marco had said,
to Ur and avoid detection by Pandesia. Alec, though, was barely cognizant of
where he was as he went. With each step there flashed through his mind images
of his brother, his dying words, his plea for vengeance.
Vengeance
. That
was the only thing that kept him going.

Alec put one
foot before the other, feeling as if he had been walking for years. He was
grateful for Marco’s companionship, who had allowed him his silence, who gave
him his space to grieve, and who had given him a purpose to go on living.

The wind
whistled through and another thorn bush whirled by and stuck to Alec’s leg;
Alec felt the blood trickle down, but he didn’t care. Marco, though, leaned
over and kicked it with his boot, sending it rolling away, and Alec felt the
thorns dislodge from his leg. He watched it roll, skidding across the hard,
baked earth, and turned to see a landscape filled with rolling thorn bushes,
looking like a sea of creatures coming alive. He could no longer imagine grass,
trees; it was as if the world had ended.

Alec felt a
sudden hand on his chest and he came to a stop, as did Marco beside him. He
looked down and was surprised to see, a step before them, a drop-off, a steep
decline into a valley. As he looked out, in the distance he saw an entirely new
landscape. There, before them, was a valley of rolling hills, lush with green,
dotted with grazing sheep. And beyond that lay something he could hardly
fathom. He brushed the dust from his eyes and blinked against the rays of the
setting sun, and he saw the outline of a vast and beautiful city, its spires
and domes and parapets rising into the sky. Beyond this city was the outline of
an ocean, and Alec knew this was someplace special. The sight yanked him from
his reverie.

“My home,” Marco
said, standing beside him, looking out and sighing. “I hate my family,” he
continued, “but I love my city.”

Alec saw Marco
studying the city with what appeared to be a mix of emotions.

“I had planned
to never return to Ur,” Alec said. “But life has a way of changing our plans.
At least it’s a place I know. More importantly, I have friends there—friends
who are like my real family. Friends who will give up their lives to fight
Pandesia.”

Alec nodded, feeling
a new sense of resolve, reminded of his purpose.

“I should like
to meet your friends,” Alec said.

Marco smiled
wide as he turned and nodded.

“You shall, my
friend. You shall.”

The two of them
set off down the steep ridge, away from the Plain of Thorns and toward the
city, and as they did, Alec felt himself slowly welling with a new feeling. The
feeling of grief and emptiness that had taken over his spirit was now being
replaced by one of anticipation. Of purpose. Of determination. Of vengeance.

Ur.

Perhaps, after
all, he had reason to live again.