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.
Chapter Seven
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