Night of the Bold

  In a blur of motion, Duncan watched the spear sail through the air. But it all happened too fast for him to react.

  A moment later, Duncan felt blinding pain, pain as he had never felt. It was the pain of a spear entering his chest, coming out the other side. A pain of finality. A pain from which, he knew at once, he would not recover.

  Duncan looked up and met Ra’s eyes, and his final feeling, curiously, was one of comfort. He had died, at least, by the hand of his enemy, in the midst of his enemy, sealing off the Gulch, saving his nation, ridding Escalon of the plague of Pandesia forever.

  His death, and his life, was a victory.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Kyra raced through the air on Theon’s back, gripping his scales as they flew south, driven by a sense of urgency. Her father awaited her, and she could sense his life hung in the balance. With her heightened powers, Kyra was able to sense things more strongly now, and she felt his danger as if it were her own, as if he were right there beside her.

  Gripping the Staff of Truth, Kyra was beginning to see things, her vision becoming more clear. She saw her father surrounded by a great and dangerous army; she saw him facing off with Ra; she saw a gulch, boulders, men falling and dying. She saw an epic battle being waged, one in which the entire fate of Escalon hung in the balance. She leaned down and urged Theon on, the clouds whipping her face. She only prayed it was not too late.

  All these months spent training with Alva, meeting her mother, flying to Marda, retrieving the staff—it had all been for this, this moment in time, to fight by her father’s side. Finally, her destiny was becoming clear. The prophecy, she realized, had perhaps been right all along.

  As she dwelled on her father, she could not help but have a sinking premonition that she was already too late. She saw him surrounded, evil forces closing in, and her heart pounded in dismay. If she had just finished her training a bit sooner, had just left Marda a bit sooner, perhaps she would be fighting by his side now.

  “Faster, Theon!” she urged.

  Theon obliged and Kyra gripped his scales as the two flew so fast she could barely catch her breath, her homeland racing by in a blur below.

  Finally, the terrain changed, and as Kyra looked down, she gasped. There, below, was what appeared to be the entire expanse of the Pandesian army, covering her beloved homeland like a nation of ants. She was even more startled to see that they were now on the southern side of the Devil’s Gulch and racing north, trying to reenter Escalon. She realized at once that an epic battle was being waged in the Gulch, between the cliffs and the sea, the waves crashing into the rocks on one side, the towering cliffs bordering the men on the other. It was a battle that had the very fate of Escalon at stake.

  Kyra watched catapults hurling boulders through the air, smashing into the cliffs; she saw her father’s men falling and dying; she saw Pandesian soldiers swarming below, ramming the rock, trying to break through.

  “LOWER, THEON!”

  As Theon descended, Kyra spotted something amidst the mayhem that made her heart stop. There, standing atop a huge boulder in the center of the Gulch, facing off against the Pandesian army alone, stood her father. There he stood, so proud, making a stand against an army. She watched as he pried loose a great boulder, saw it fall in a cloud of dust to seal the Gulch for good. She had never been more proud of him than at that moment.

  And then Kyra watched, horror-struck, as Ra rushed forward on his golden chariot, raised a golden spear, and hurled it into her father’s chest.

  She felt her entire life collapse inside her as she watched it kill him.

  “NO!” she cried.

  Theon dove, needing no urging, sensing what she wanted—and he opened his great mouth and roared.

  Fire came pouring down. It spread out in waves on the southern side of the Gulch, and hundreds of Pandesians shrieked, flailing, instantly aflame.

  Kyra watched as Ra ducked down beneath his golden chariot, taking cover with his men, using them and their armor as shields. His men fled, burned alive, in every direction, unable to escape Theon’s wrath, while Ra huddled beneath the chariot, which melted all around him.

  As Theon dove low, roaring in fury, the flames rolled, engulfing all the soldiers approaching the Gulch, pushing back the entire Pandesian army. The Pandesian soldiers, realizing, finally turned and fled, away from the Gulch, as Kyra and Theon drove them back.

  Kyra pursued them, vengeance burning in her blood. She felt the Staff of Truth summoning her, and she felt a burning urge to use it. She brought it down fiercely, with a great battle cry.

  A clap like thunder emanated from it, and a shockwave spread below. It spread through the ranks and destroyed thousands of men of the Pandesian army within moments. She struck again and again, decimating all she saw before her, unleashing an unstoppable wave of fury and destruction. She pushed the Pandesians further and further south, far away from the Gulch, forcing them to turn and flee all the way back for their homeland.

  Kyra finally circled around. She could finish off the army some other time. What was most pressing was her father, who lay there in the Gulch, flat on his back. Perhaps there was still time to save him.

  “DOWN, THEON!” she urged.

  Theon dove down and landed beside her father, atop a wide, flat boulder in the center of the Gulch. Kyra dismounted and rushed to her father’s side.

  She knelt beside him, wracked with sobs as she picked him up in her arms. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He was alive—barely.

  “Father!” she wept, tears gushing down her cheeks, unable to contain her grief.

  She picked him up in her arms, laid him on Theon’s back, then climbed up and held him. They took off, flying back to the northern side of the Gulch, to the safety of his men. If there was any chance of saving him, this was the only way.

  *

  Kyra knelt at her father’s side, surrounded by hundreds of his men, all crowding in close, all looking down at Duncan on his deathbed. He was very weak, his eyes barely open, as he lay on the rock, safe amongst his men, on this side of the Gulch. The free side.

  In the distance Kyra could hear the Pandesian army, still smarting from their defeat, from the closing of the Gulch. It sounded like they were rallying, preparing for another attack, to try to find a way around the Gulch—or through it. Perhaps. But for now at least, for the first time since this nightmare had begun, Escalon was safe.

  And yet, Kyra did not feel safe. She did not feel relieved. Instead, she felt a deep, overwhelming sadness. She knelt there, looking down at her father, watching his life force ebb away, and it pained her to no end. What she thought would never happen was happening. Her father, the greatest, strongest man she had ever known, was dying. All the healers had said his time had come.

  Her eyes welled with tears as she looked down, cradling his head in her hands. If only she’d arrived sooner, she thought. Even a few minutes. If only she had broken free from Marda sooner. If only there had been anything she could have done to save his life. She felt as if she had let him down.

  She wiped away her tears and willed her father not to die.

  “Father,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I have failed you.”

  She waited in the interminable silence. Finally, Duncan reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it firmly. He smiled weakly, his eyes barely open.

  “Kyra,” he said. His voice sounded so muted, so distant, not like the father she had loved and known, had looked up to her entire life.

  She looked down, listening.

  “I want you to know something,” he added.

  She leaned closer, struggling to hear his voice.

  “You have made me proud. Prouder than I could have ever hoped to be as a father. Prouder than my sons.” He paused, trying to speak. “More importantly, I want you to know how much I love you.”

  Kyra could not hold back her tears as her father struggled to breathe, to speak.

  “You, Kyra,” he finally ad
ded. “You, of all my children, are the one. Tell your mother…”

  His voice trailed off, and Kyra’s heart pounded with curiosity and regret, as she felt all her emotions overwhelming her. He could not die. Not now. She willed for him not to die.

  “What, Father?” she cried. “Tell her what? What should I tell my mother? Who is my mother? Who am I?”

  Duncan laid his head back down, closed his eyes, and uttered his final words.

  “Tell her…” he concluded, “…I am sorry.”

  With that, Duncan’s eyes closed.

  Dead.

  Kyra let out a wail of grief. She leaned back and looked to the skies, cursing this day. Life was too cruel. Was there not already enough death in the world to spare this one man?

  Kyra suddenly felt utterly alone, more alone than she had ever felt in the universe. She felt like an orphan. It didn’t seem natural not to have a parent. It didn’t seem fair. How could her father be taken away from her, especially now, after such a victory? On the verge of achieving complete freedom? On the verge of achieving everything he had ever hoped and dreamed of, their entire lives?

  Kyra wailed with grief as she leaned over him, hugging his dead body, crying out again and again.

  “No, Father, no!”

  She wanted to bring him back. To hug him. To tell him how much she loved him. She had imagined celebrating with him, had imagined him always being there to watch her become a great warrior, to see how proud of her he would be. To meet her own children one day. What did she have to live for with her father dead? Whose approval did she have left to win?

  Kyra knew at that moment that a part of her had died with him—and that she would never, ever, be the same again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Merk and Lorna navigated the ship deeper into the Bay of Ur, the black skies lit eerily by the red twinkling stars and by the glow of Pandesian ships aflame. As they sailed their hull bumped against the endless cadavers of Pandesian soldiers floating in the waters, a soft yet eerie sound. Lorna’s mist still hung in the air, but it was beginning to burn off, and slowly, they were losing their cover. Their time was scarce now.

  Merk looked over at Lorna and saw her exhaustion, could see from her eyes the toll it had taken on her. With each passing moment their ship would become more visible, and already Merk could hear the Pandesian horns, the shouts of soldiers preparing to rally and fight back.

  “Where do we sail, my lady?” Merk asked, feeling an increasing sense of panic. With each passing moment, with each body they passed, they were sailing deeper into the heart of the enemy. They had managed to commandeer a ship—yet they were still surrounded, and vastly outnumbered. It was only a matter of time until the other Pandesian ships discovered that they were the enemy.

  Lorna looked out and studied the waters calmly, expressionless, clearly seeing into worlds that Merk would never understand. There followed a long silence in which there came nothing but the gentle splashing of water—and cadavers—against the hull.

  Finally, she raised a finger and pointed.

  “There.”

  Merk struggled to follow her gaze, peering into the night and mist until finally he spotted something. It was another ship, and his heart leapt with joy to see it was being sailed by one of theirs. At the helm he recognized Duncan’s commander, Seavig, the ship filled with his men. Merk watched as Seavig sailed right for a Pandesian ship, one of the few not aflame, and let out a great battle cry. Without warning, his men leapt from one ship to the other, drawing swords and charging.

  Shouts and clangs rang out as they fought man to man, and Merk realized with a jolt that Seavig was trying to take another ship. Merk marveled at their courage, at their recklessness in thinking they could defeat this entire Pandesian fleet. He watched dozens of Pandesians fall, and yet saw many of Seavig’s men fall, too. More horns sounded, and Pandesian ships rallied, turning for Seavig’s ship. Merk watched, wide-eyed, as in the distance the Pandesians raised cannons. He knew that if he did not do something quick, Seavig and his men would be wiped out for good.

  Merk rushed to the cannon on his own ship, pushed it with all his might, and aimed it for the distant Pandesian ship. He lit a torch and raised it, and looked to Lorna.

  “This will give away our position,” he said grimly. “If I do this, we will be surrounded.”

  She nodded back her approval.

  He lowered the flame to the wick, and a moment later there came a tremendous boom, the force of it knocking him back.

  The cannonball flew through the air and smashed into the hull of the Pandesian ship before it could fire on Seavig. Merk watched it buckle and sink, and was elated to see he had saved Seavig’s men.

  Merk heard commotion behind them, and he turned to see, as the last of the mist rose, Pandesian ships had spotted him. They began to close in. He knew that within moments they would be surrounded.

  Merk heard a shout of triumph, and he turned to see Seavig’s men had taken the other ship, throwing the last dead Pandesian overboard. There followed a loud rattling, and he then watched as Seavig and his men threw long spiked chains overboard. Finally, as they set sail, Merk realized what their strategy was. Seavig had commandeered the larger ship for its huge supply of chains. As they sailed, his men threw them overboard and held on tight, dragging them along the water.

  Merk looked out and saw that they were sailing for the far end of the harbor, and he realized right away what they were doing: they were trying to seal it off. They were goading the entire Pandesian fleet to follow them into the harbor, hoping to secure the chains first and destroy their hulls. It was a brilliant move. If they succeeded, they would sink half the fleet outside the harbor and cut off the other half, leaving them trapped inside the harbor.

  Merk’s heart raced as he watched Seavig make good progress, sailing quickly, the air filled with rattling as his men lowered chain link after link.

  Horns sounded again and again, and Merk turned to see more Pandesian ships rallying, spotting Seavig. They were closing in, and Merk knew that in a hundred yards or so they would destroy Seavig. They were not going to make it.

  At the same time, Merk turned and realized that the other ships that had spotted him and Lorna were getting closer.

  Merk shoved the cannon with all his might, raised a heavy cannonball, and lit the torch. It fired with a boom, sending him backwards, and he watched with satisfaction as it took out the ship trailing them, right before they could fire themselves.

  More ships closed in, and as Merk looked down at the deck, he was aghast to see there were no more cannonballs.

  He turned to Lorna, knowing something had to be done. He felt the turning point had come.

  “I have to stop them,” he said.

  She looked at him, concern in her eyes.

  “And how shall you?” she asked.

  He scanned the waters desperately, and an idea came to him.

  “I must board one of the Pandesian ships,” he said. “From there, I can fire on the others. I can distract them long enough for Seavig to chain the harbor, to win the battle.”

  She nodded back in admiration.

  “You know that once you fire, you will be surrounded. You will die.”

  He looked back at her, thinking the same thing, knowing it was true.

  “I do,” he replied solemnly.

  Merk sighed.

  “All my life, I’ve done harm to others,” he said. “I regret it with all that I am. I yearn for redemption. I yearn to do right for something bigger than myself. I have found that chance. If I stop that fleet, Seavig will seal off the harbor. Ur will be free. Escalon can be free once again. What is more important?”

  He took a step closer.

  “This is my chance, Lorna. My chance to become the man I had always wished I had been.”

  She looked back at him, her eyes shining, intense.

  “I care for Escalon as much as you,” she said. “But I care for you, too. I don’t want to see you die.”


  Merk felt overwhelmed, realizing for the first time that Lorna actually cared for him. And that meant more to him than he could say. His resolve deepened.

  Without a word, he stepped forward and kissed her.

  It was a kiss that restored his soul. He expected her to back away, and he was stunned that she did not.

  Finally, they parted, gently.

  “I love you,” he said.

  He did not wait for a reply. With those words, Merk turned, leapt off the edge of the ship, and dove headlong down into the freezing waters of the harbor of Ur.

  “Merk!” he heard her call out behind him.

  A moment later Merk found himself immersed in the freezing waters, and as he did, his body in shock, he forced himself to stay under, not wanting to be detected. He swam and swam underwater, kicking, using his arms, until finally he could hold his breath no longer and surfaced far away, near the hulls of the Pandesian ships. He stealthily reached up, grabbed the rope dangling down from one of them, and pulled himself up, dripping wet, one foot at a time. Muscles aching, he pulled as quietly as he could as he inched his way up the hull, praying he was not detected.

  Finally, Merk stealthily climbed over the rail and set foot on the Pandesian deck. He looked out and saw hundreds of soldiers on board, and his apprehension deepened. Yet it was too late now.

  Merk braced himself and took off at a sprint. He extracted his dagger, ran up to the soldier he saw manning the cannon, and as he turned, Merk sliced his throat. He caught him before he hit the ground, putting him down gently so as not to alert the others.

  Merk then grabbed the torch, and with all his might kicked the heavy cannon into position, knowing he had but one chance at this.

  “Hey!” a voice called out behind him.

  He glanced back to see the Pandesians charging.

  Merk lit the cannon, leaving himself exposed and no longer caring. He was no longer concerned for himself; he cared only for saving Seavig and his men.