The passageway sealed, Duncan took his first deep breath. He and his men had done it. They had lured the Pandesians to the other side and had returned. His men let out a great cheer as they all realized, and reunited with the men, they all embraced them.
Duncan, as thrilled as he was, knew they had little time. The Pandesians were surely turning back even now, trying to make it back through the Gulch. They had but minutes to seal it off completely before all they had accomplished was undone.
Duncan immediately jumped into action, ignoring the pain and leading his men as he climbed the ropes alongside the cliffs. Each step took them higher and higher, until they finally reached the very heights of the Gulch.
They all stood on the broad plateau up top, Duncan knocked off balance by the driving gale up here, coming off the ocean on the far side of the Gulch. The view from up here was commanding. He looked out and saw the limitless ocean, then he looked down and saw, to the South, Ra’s one hundred thousand men, all slowly turning around and heading back for the Gulch. Duncan could see Ra and his golden chariot from here, in the center of it all, gleaming, racing back and realizing finally he had been duped. Duncan saw the gaping passageway of the Gulch, still wide open, and he knew that if he didn’t seal it, within minutes the Pandesian army would return to this side of Escalon.
“POSITIONS!” Duncan yelled.
His men all lined up at the edge of the cliff, awaiting his command, and he finally raised one fist and gave the signal. Duncan rushed forward and put his shoulder into the first of the dozens of huge boulders lined up along the cliff’s edge, while all around him his men did the same.
Duncan pushed the first huge boulder off the edge, and beside him, dozens more rained down. There followed a tremendous crashing noise, as a great avalanche was set in motion below.
Duncan leaned over the edge and watched. Explosion followed explosion, so strong that the ground shook even up here. The narrow pass of the Devil’s Gulch became clogged, one at a time, with massive boulders, all smashing down in a huge cloud of dust and rock. One at a time, higher and higher, they landed atop each other, filling up the Gulch. Soon, it was a wall of rock from here to the sea.
Impassable.
The first vanguard of the Pandesian army, riding too fast to slow down, charged right into the wall of rock. They smashed into it, and with the Gulch sealed up and nowhere to go, they were stampeded from behind, and crushed to death in a great pile of men and horses.
Duncan’s men, all watching, let out a great cheer all around him. They had finally sealed the gulch, had finally shut out the great invader.
Duncan felt elated, a great sense of joy. Yet as he looked down, something troubled him. He spotted a small opening in the wall of rock, a spot where one of the boulders had gotten lodged too high above the other. It allowed for a ten-foot tunnel through which Pandesians could slip through the Gulch. Indeed, he saw the Pandesians spot it, too, and make for it. Duncan knew there was no time: the Gulch had to be sealed off completely or else the entire dam would break.
As Duncan studied it, he could tell there was no way to fix it not from up here, not with the rock lodged the way it was. The only way, he knew, was to get down there himself and do it by hand.
Duncan’s heart pounded as he felt a sudden thrill. It was the thrill of destiny. The thrill of battle. The thrill of the bold. He knew what he had to do, and he knew there would be no way out. It would mean his death—and yet also the salvation of his nation.
“Commander. Lead these men in my absence,” Duncan commanded.
Volen, standing beside him, stared back at Duncan with fear, realizing what he intended to do. He gripped his arm.
“You must not go. It will mean your death.”
Duncan could see his old friend had read his mind. And Duncan knew he was right. There would be no way back.
“If I do not,” Duncan replied, “then what am I? What is Escalon?”
Duncan gently shook Volen’s hand off, turned to the cliffs, and immediately climbed down the rock face, his palms sweaty, his heart pounding in his chest, knowing this would be his final descent.
As he climbed down, faster and faster, scraping elbows and knees and not caring, Duncan felt a great sense of destiny, of clarity, rise up within him. His vision became blurry as he thought of nothing else but that rock below, of sealing off the Gulch for good. Of saving his people. This was what he had been born to do. He was not afraid. He was only grateful that he had been given such a moment, such an opportunity, to die with honor.
Suddenly, Duncan spotted motion out of the corner of his eye and he turned, halfway down the cliff, to see, with horror, a massive boulder sailing through the air. He realized, too late, that the Pandesians were firing catapults, the boulders sailing like weapons toward his men, high up on the plateau, unsuspecting.
There came an awful crash high above as the cliffs shook—and Duncan’s heart dropped to hear his men, high above, shrieking. Several of them suddenly fell right past him, their bodies whooshing down toward the Gulch. He looked down and, heart breaking, watched them land, dead.
Duncan saw more catapults being rolled forward, and he did not hesitate. He climbed all the way down the cliffs, right into the center of the gulch. He jumped down to the ground and found, waiting for him, a dozen Pandesian soldiers. Before he could reach the lodged boulder, he had to fight his way past these men.
Rising above his pain, Duncan took a deep breath and threw himself into battle, raising his sword, slashing a charging soldier across the chest, then sidestepping, ducking a blow, and stabbing another in the gut. Duncan ducked a swing of a mace, then spun, raising his sword and blocking a soldier’s halberd. He stepped up and elbowed him in the nose, dropping him to the ground.
Duncan fought like a man possessed, cutting through these soldiers like a whirlwind, needing to fight his way across the Gulch. He was completely immersed in the enemy, and he fought like it. He fought like a man who knew he was going to die and had nothing to lose. It brought back the old days, the days when he was but a soldier, free to be reckless, to fight as he wished.
By the time he was done, Duncan, in a mad blur, had felled a dozen soldiers single-handedly. He managed to fight his way all the way to the lodged boulder, then leapt up onto it and climbed his way to the top. A soldier lunged for his leg, and he turned and raised his boot and kicked him in the face right before the soldier could slash it.
Duncan reached down, grabbed a long spear from the hand of a dead Pandesian soldier, raised it high, and plunged it into the crack beside the rock, wedging it deeper and deeper, groaning, with all his might. If he could just pry it enough, this boulder would collapse, would plug the hole and seal the Gulch. He cried out to the heavens, his face turning red from effort, every vein in his body about to pop. It moved, but would not roll.
Suddenly, Duncan heard a commotion and he turned to see another catapult rolled forward, aimed right for him. He watched the soldiers raise their swords, preparing to hack the rope, and he knew it was too late. He had nowhere to run, no way to escape the missile that would come his way.
The Pandesians, after all, would kill him.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Aidan sprinted through the tunnel, Motley running and heaving before him, Cassandra and White behind him, all running single file in the tight confines beneath the Devil’s Gulch. As Motley ran, struggling, heaving great gasps of air, Aidan knew that if they didn’t reach their destination soon, Motley wouldn’t make it. He had drunk one too many pints of ale in his lifetime, and he was in no shape for this.
“There!” Motley finally gasped. “Up ahead!”
Aidan shielded his eyes as harsh desert sunlight shone through—and then, there was chaos.
They all burst out of the tunnel, and the world was filled with the deafening noise of a hundred thousand soldiers, the largest gathering of warriors Aidan had ever seen, all thundering by. The Pandesian army raced by but feet in front of him, and Aidan and the others
immediately retreated into the shadows, against the rock. Aidan’s heart pounded, praying they were undetected, yet he soon realized they had nothing to fear; it was such chaos before him that not a soul noticed. It was like a river of humanity gushing by.
Of course, no one would be looking for them anyway, here, on the other side of the Devil’s Gulch, cut off from the rest of Escalon. Aidan was beginning to realize just how reckless and foolhardy this plan was, yet he did not care. He could not let his father come here alone, and he would do anything to help his father’s cause.
As Aidan watched them rumble by, like an endless herd of buffalo, he stood against the wall, choking on the cloud of dust, and saw Motley watching them carefully, as if looking for something.
“There!” Motley finally called out, pointing.
Aidan followed his gaze to see a group of Pandesian soldiers stumbling, falling over each as they were stampeded by the hordes behind them. They rolled to the ground, stomped to death by men and then by horses, no one noticing them in the great chaos. Finally, their bodies bounced out of the way of the rest of the army.
Motley turned to Aidan and gave him a knowing look.
“The cruelty of the Pandesian army,” he said. “That is the difference between us and them. We look after our own, while they desert them if they fall. With a million men passing through this tiny gulch, some were bound to fall. It is the way of life, my friend. And one man’s loss can be another’s opportunity.”
Motley looked down.
“Can your dog help us?” he asked.
Aidan, realizing what Motley was after, looked down at White, stroking his head.
“Those three soldiers,” Aidan instructed White. “Drag them here!”
White was bounding off before Aidan could even finish his words. White bit the first by the shirt and dragged him back to Aidan, then bounded off and dragged the other two, one at a time, all into the safety of the recesses of the cliffs. Aidan stroked his head proudly, as White licked his hand.
Motley, Aidan, and Cassandra quickly stripped the dead soldiers of their armor. Motley undressed, and as he took off his shirt, his big belly was hanging out in the glaring sun, slick with sweat. He squeezed into the largest soldier’s shirt and chainmail; it barely fit, but with a great effort he made it work. Aidan and Cassandra stripped the armor off the smaller soldiers, one a boy hardly older than Aidan, the other an older, frail man, who was short; both of their armor fit, although it was a bit large on them both. As Aidan donned the helmet, the face visor kept slipping down.
He looked over at Cassandra and smiled.
“You look like a man,” he said to her.
She smiled back before closing her visor.
“And you, a Pandesian boy,” she retorted. “In too-large armor.”
Aidan turned and looked at Motley and was startled to find him fully dressed in Pandesian armor, looking like a Pandesian soldier. For a moment Aidan, forgetting, gasped in fear.
“Convincing,” Aidan said.
“Let’s go,” Motley said.
“Where now?” Aidan asked, running beside Motley, trying to catch up as he bounded off away from the safety of the cliffs and right into the thick of the Pandesian army.
“To see,” Motley replied, “what damage we can do.”
Aidan felt a rush of adrenaline as he found himself in the midst of the chaos and confusion of the Pandesian army, running beside Motley, Cassandra, and White right into the eye of the storm. As they ran, suddenly the tide of soldiers stopped, and the Pandesian army turned back the other way. Aidan, confused, joined them.
“What is happening?” he called out to Motley. “Why are they turning back around for the Gulch?”
“Your father,” Motley called back. “He has circled back. They are sealing off the Gulch. His plan is working!”
Aidan felt a swell of pride for his father as he turned and ran with the army, all the Pandesians now realizing they had been duped by his father. Aidan looked up to the cliffs, and sure enough, he spotted his father. There he was, Duncan and all his brave men, risking their lives as they shoved down huge boulders. There came one crash after the next, and Aidan was overjoyed to see the Gulch sealed for good. His father had outsmarted them all.
Aidan heard the cheering of his father’s men, their jubilant horns booming throughout the cliffs, and he felt a rush of victory. He saw his father push the final boulder over, and he knew they had done it.
Yet there suddenly came the awful sound of Pandesian horns, one after the next. He watched as the Pandesian army fell into organized lines as they turned back for the gulch. Aidan could see that the Pandesians had found a small opening, and under their commander’s whips, they were now all marching for it. Within moments, Aidan realized with dread, they would break through and retake the north.
Worse, there came a sudden sharp creaking and groaning noise, and Aidan turned and was shocked to see a long catapult being rolled forward, holding a massive boulder.
“FIRE!” a commander yelled.
The rope was cut, and the catapults snapped, shooting its boulder high into the air. Aidan watched with dread as it smashed into the cliffs and sent several of his father’s men shrieking down to their deaths.
The catapults were quickly reloaded, more boulders rolled forward and mounted on them, and their great ropes yanked back.
Aidan suddenly caught motion out of the corner of his eye, and he turned, startled, to see his father was climbing down the cliffs, alone, into the Gulch, into the heart of the enemy. Aidan realized he was trying to pry loose the wedged boulder and seal off the Gulch for good. Aidan’s heart leapt with pride at his father’s courage—yet also fear for his safety. He did not see how his father could survive this.
“FATHER!” Aidan cried out, not even thinking.
Motley turned and gave him a warning look.
“Are you mad!?” he hissed, looking about at the enemy. Aidan looked, too, and realized that luckily no one had heard his cry in the commotion.
Aidan knew he had to help him. If he did not do something immediately, his father would surely die here, crushed to death by the sailing boulders.
The next boulder in place, the Pandesian commander shouted orders, and Aidan could see the group of soldiers positioning the catapult, aiming it right for his father.
“NO!” Aidan shrieked.
He could not let it happen. Without thinking, he charged for the catapult.
White ran by his side, and as they reached the catapult, White leapt up and sank his fangs into the lead Pandesian soldier’s throat, just before he could slice the rope. Aidan, meanwhile, raised a salvaged spear and let out a fierce battle cry as he rushed into the heart of the enemy, exposing himself, he knew, to death. He did not care. His father’s life was at stake, and that was all that mattered.
Aidan jammed the spear into the wooden spokes of the catapult’s wheel. A moment later, another soldier stepped forward and hacked the great rope.
A rush of air flew past, and Aidan braced himself as the catapult snapped beside him, the spear jamming its spokes. It made a great snapping noise, and Aidan was thrilled to see the catapult snapping in two. His sabotage had worked.
The boulder, as a result, fell short, and instead of killing his father, it smashed into a crowd of Pandesian soldiers, killing dozens of them on the spot.
Mass chaos broke out, and slowly, Aidan saw a group of Pandesian soldiers turn and spot him.
“TRAITOR!” one cried, pointing to Aidan.
“RUN!” Motley cried. “NOW!”
Aidan wanted to stop, to stay there and fight, to do all he could to help his father. After all, he had just managed to save his life, and to kill dozens of Pandesians at the same time. Yet Motley yanked him away, back through the thick crowd of soldiers, and Aidan knew he had no other choice. He was being swarmed, and he could not make a stand against thousands; if they were to have any chance of survival, now was the time to flee.
“MY FATHER!” Aidan
cried, resisting.
“You’ve done all you can do!” Motley cried back. “You’ve saved his life. He’s on his own now.”
Aidan found himself yanked back into the cave, joined by Motley, Cassandra, and White, all of them back in the blackness, racing back, once again, for the right side of the Gulch—and to be reunited, Aidan prayed, with his father once again.
Do not die, Father, he prayed silently. Do not die.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Duncan braced himself as the boulder flew through the air, cringing, expecting to be crushed. Yet he watched, stunned, as its course was altered. Something had happened at the catapult, almost as if someone had sabotaged it behind enemy lines—and the boulder, instead of crushing him, of ending any chance of sealing the Gulch, fell short. Duncan looked down and watched as it crushed dozens of Pandesians, stopping their advance toward him.
It was a miracle. And the second chance he needed to seal the Gulch for good and save Escalon.
Duncan went back to prying the lodged boulder, straining all his muscles as he pushed the long spear with all his might.
Please, God, he prayed, give me the strength. I do not ask for life. I ask only to die in victory. To save my people.
Finally, with a great whooshing noise, the massive boulder, twenty feet in diameter, gave. It rolled, wedged free, and fell toward the ground. With a huge crash and a cloud of dust, it sealed off the Devil’s Gulch for good.
Duncan felt a wave of relief unlike any he’d ever had. Finally, his homeland was secure.
The move, though, as Duncan knew it would, left him standing there, alone amidst the enemy, exposed. He turned and looked out and as he saw the flood of Pandesians charging below, he saw a gleaming in the sunlight and saw none other than the Great and Holy Ra himself leading the way, charging right for Duncan. He rode in his chariot, his long golden spear extended before him, and before Duncan could react, Ra hurled it.