A Realm of Shadows (20 page)

Vesuvius flailed
in the raging waters of the Bay of Death, gasping for air as the wild currents nearly
sucked him down. He swam his way back up to the surface after each current dragged
him under and, exhausted, wounded, he knew he couldn’t last long. All around
him there floated the dead bodies of his army of trolls, and it was like one
big floating grave.

Vesuvius heard a
rushing noise, and he glanced over his shoulder and was struck with terror to
see a looming whirlpool, its whitecaps visible over the blackened water. In the
other direction dragons screeched, diving and rising, crossing the sky with
flame and breathing fire down into the waters, sending up columns of steam. Death
awaited him on all sides.

Vesuvius could
not believe he had found himself in this position. But moments ago his men were
overtaking Knossos, closing in on Lorna, the warriors, about to wipe them all
out and claim total victory. He had been so close to completing his victory, to
destroying any last remnants of the rebels, to discovering what else that girl
had been guarding in the tower, to learning how to keep the Flames down
forever. It had all been right at his fingertips.

Then the dragons
had appeared, and everything had changed. It had been a massacre, and he had
been lucky to escape with his life, diving off the cliff and using his trolls
to cushion his fall. Yet now here he was, suffering the first defeat of his
life, floating at sea, barely clinging to life, all his dreams crushed.

Yet he refused
to die. Not here, and not in this place. Vesuvius knew he had more death and
destruction to wreak upon the world, and his job was unfinished. He certainly
would not die until he had first vanquished the people of Escalon. He had to
make them pay, all of them, and he would not let it end like this. He had been
in worse positions before—and he had always survived. Death was terrible—but he
was, he knew, more terrible than death.

As Vesuvius
began to get sucked into the whirlpool’s currents, he heard a shout, looked
over, and saw nearby a few other trolls who had survived. His generals. They
had loyally stayed by his side at every step, determined to protect him, helping
to prop him up as best they could. Seeing them gave Vesuvius had an idea.

He suddenly twisted
around, grabbed a general, and shoved him, sending him face-first into the
whirlpool instead. The general shrieked as the waters began to suck him down, a
look of shock and betrayal on his face. At the same, while he began to sink,
Vesuvius leaned back and kicked off of him, using his leverage to send the
general flying into the hole—and to kick himself away from the swirling current.

The move gave Vesuvius
just enough momentum to swim away from the currents. He swam furiously, and
within moments he was out of harm’s way. He heard the general’s muffled shrieks
and watched him get sucked under for good. At least the troll had died in good
service.

Vesuvius,
bobbing wildly in the waters, set his sights on the rocky shore up ahead, on
the far side of the bay, where so many of his trolls had washed up dead. He kicked
and flailed and managed to grab hold of a large piece of flotsam. Finally, he
could float.

For the first time,
he breathed easy, resting his aching shoulders for a moment as he held onto the
plank, bobbing up and down in the waters. It gave him the second wind he
needed. He kicked, and this time, he caught the current and found himself on a rolling
wave that crested high, then brought him crashing down low, all the while
carrying him closer to shore.

He braced
himself as the jagged rocks loomed and he came rushing right for the edge of
the shore. Yet there was nothing he could do stop it.

Vesuvius smashed
into the rocks, the pain so intense he thought all his bones were cracking. Yet
in a sense, he enjoyed the pain. It made him feel alive again. He enjoyed
feeling pain as much as he enjoyed inflicting it upon others.

Vesuvius
shrieked, overcoming the pain, reached out and grabbed hold of a crack in the
rocks, his hands slipping, holding on for dear life. As the currents threatened
to carry him back out to sea, he held on for dear life, slipping on the moss.
Finally, losing his grip, he reached out and snatched the floating plank beside
him, then held it out and jammed it in the rocks.

He held on for
dear life as a huge wave rushed back out to sea, trying to carry him. But he
held on, and Vesuvius, this time, was safe.

Vesuvius quickly
clambered up the rocks, breathing hard, arms shaking, until he finally
collapsed onto the shore. He dropped down face-first on the rocky shore, amidst
all the corpses, the only troll left alive in a sea of dead bodies.

And before he
collapsed, there was one thing he knew for certain: he would live. At all
costs, he would live. And he would wreak havoc on Escalon unlike any they had
ever seen.

Aidan held on
tight as his horse galloped across the wasteland, riding beside Anvin, Leifall
and the hundreds of men of Leptus, as they had for hours. Covered in dust,
gasping for air, White keeping pace at their feet, finally they crested a hill
and Aidan saw what they had come for: the towering cliffs of Everfall.

Aidan was awed
by the sight. The cliffs rose from the wasteland like a monument to the
heavens, and gushing and roaring down them were the largest waterfalls he had
ever seen. It was spectacular. Their roar was deafening. Even from here, he
felt himself sprayed with mist, the cool air and water so refreshing, cooling
him down from the trek.

Aidan dismounted
with the others and stood there, looking up, taking it all in. Water gushed
down from hundreds of feet high, from impossibly high cliffs, smashing into
rocks, creating huge columns of spray and coursing into a raging river which
wound its way out past Leptus and toward the Bay of Death. Aidan could hardly
believe that things like this even existed in nature, so beautiful, so
awe-inspiring, and seemingly untouched by any human hand.

He thought of
his father’s plan to divert the water, to force it to change direction, to gush
down the other side, and seeing it now, in person, it seemed impossible.
Looking at it, so ancient, so powerful, Aidan doubted these waters could ever
be made to change course. If they did, it seemed, they would flood the world.

“And now?” Anvin
asked Leifall, shouting over the falls to be heard.

“We must go for
the levers,” Leifall replied. “Follow me.”

Leifall hurried
off at a brisk walk, his men following, and Aidan, too, followed, as he strutted
around to the far side of the cliffs. Aidan found himself walking carefully on
rock, slick with spray, slipping several times, the gushing noise ever louder,
getting wetter by the second.

Finally, they reached
the far side of the cliffs, and Leifall led them to a hidden cave. They ducked
at the entrance, and Aidan followed them in.

Aidan found
himself standing with the others inside an expansive cave, the arched ceiling
rising thirty feet, the sound of the falls muted in here. He blinked as he
adjusted to the dark, and as he did, he watched Leifall walk over to an
enormous stone lever.

Anvin came over
and studied it in wonder. Leifall turned to him.

“Built by our
ancestors, for times of war,” Leifall said.

“What does it
do?” Anvin asked.

“Pull it, and the
great stones of Everfall will open. The falls can be redirected. A new river will
form, and the land will change forever.”

Aidan stared in
wonder.

“Can they reach
my father?” he asked, hopeful. “Can they flood the canyon?”

Leifall looked
back, grave.

“I do not know,”
he replied. “This lever has never been pulled.”

Aidan stared at
it silently, wondering.

“Then let us
waste no time,” Anvin said.

One at a time,
all the men rushed forward. Dozens of men pressed close as they each grabbed
hold of the massive stone lever, thirty feet long, and began to pull it down with
all their might.

They groaned
from the effort and Aidan watched, hopeful. Yet his heart fell as they finally
stopped, all backing away, unable to budge it.

Leifall shook
his head.

“As I feared,”
he said.

Aidan frowned.

“Is there no way
to unlock it?” he demanded, impatient for his father’s sake.

Leifall walked
over to a small passageway, low to the ground, cut into the stone by a small
arch. He got on his hands and knees and tried without success to squeeze
through. Then he stood, red-faced, and shook his head.

“At the end of
the passageway,” he said, “there is a second lever. It might unlock the first.
But we will never reach it. It was built to be hidden, inaccessible.”

Aidan felt a
rush of adrenaline, as he suddenly knew what he needed to do.

“I can fit!” he
called out.

The men all
turned to him in wonder. Aidan rushed forward, fell to his hands and knees, and
examined the small stone passageway.

“I can fit!”
Aidan insisted. “I can reach the second lever.”

Anvin shook his
head, grim.

“If you get
stuck,” Anvin said, “you will die. None of us can reach you.”

“If I don’t go,”
Aidan countered, “my father will die. What choice do I have?”

Without another
word, Aidan turned and, heart pounding, began to squeeze himself into the
tight, stone passageway.

It was airless
in here, the stone pressing in from all directions, and Aidan had never felt
more scared. He was barely able to move, and the farther in he crawled, the
harder it was to breathe. He was soon forced to crawl on his stomach, on his
elbows, and he felt huge, sticky spiders crawling on his face. He was breathing
rapidly, yet he was unable to free his hands to swat them away.

Aidan crawled farther
and farther, his elbows and forearms scraped up, feeling as if this would never
end.

And then, suddenly,
to his horror, he was trapped. Stuck.

Wiggling as he
did, Aidan could not break fee.

He broke out in
a sweat as panic set in.

Aidan had a
flash that this was the pivotal moment of his short life. He finally understood
what it meant to be a warrior, to be a man. It meant to be alone. To be utterly
alone. And to rely on no one but yourself for your survival.

Aidan knew he
had to find the courage, the strength, to do this. For himself. For his father.
For his people. He thought of how much his father had struggled, what he had
overcome, and he knew that he, too, could find the strength somewhere within
himself. He knew he could summon some part of himself that was stronger than he
thought. He
had
to.

He did not want
to die in here.

Come on
, Aidan willed himself.

Aidan dug in
with his elbows ever harder, bleeding, ignoring the pain, and shoved his face
in the dirt, using his toes. He groaned and groaned, feeling as if he were
being crushed in a vise, until finally, in one great burst, he managed to move
again. At first he moved an inch, then more, then a foot. He squeezed and
pushed, farther and farther.

Suddenly he
heard a noise behind him, a bark. He glanced back and was elated to see White
racing into the cave. He rushed in, all the way, able to fit, until he finally
reached Aidan. From behind, he lowered his head into Aidan’s body and nudged
him with all his might. Aidan was shocked at the wild dog’s strength and
determination to save him.

Moments later, Aidan
finally burst through to a clearing, to his own shock and joy coming out on the
other side. He emerged into sunlight, so relieved, and hugged White as the dog
licked him back.

Coughing up dust,
Aidan managed to stand upright, finding himself in a small chamber within the
cave. The roar of the water was deafening in here. He was covered in spray, but
the icy waters felt good, washing all the dust off his face and hair. It felt
good to be alive.

Aidan wiped
water from his eyes, caught his breath, and took stock. He looked around, examining
the place, until finally he spotted it.

The stone lever.

This one was
much smaller than the other, and he ran over to it, jumped up on it, grabbed
with both hands, and yanked down.

Yet, to his
dismay, nothing happened.

He tried again,
planting his feet against the wall and pulling.

Yet still
nothing.

Refusing to give
up, Aidan jumped atop the lever and pulled again and again, groaning and crying,
his hands cut from the stone. He yanked and yanked with all that he had, all
that he was.

Come on
, he willed,
sweat stinging his eyes.

And then
finally, to his own shock, it happened. To his delight, he felt the lever move
beneath his hand, heard the sound of stone scraping stone. It moved slowly, his
arms shaking, lower and lower—until finally, in one great motion, it hit the
bottom.

There came a
great cheer on the other side of the tunnel, and as Aidan got back down in the passage
and squeezed his way back, easier this time as he was slick with water, he
emerged on the far side just in time to see all the men, with one great cheer,
pushing the great lever all the way down. He had unlocked it after all.

Aidan followed as
the other men ran excitedly to the outer ledge of the cave. There came a great
rumble from somewhere high above, slowly building, and as they all stood there
and watched, looking out over the desert landscape far below, suddenly Aidan
saw a sight he would never forget.

A river of water
came gushing down the side of the cliff in what sounded like a massive explosion.
It was as if an entire ocean were falling down before them.

Aidan watched as
the falls actually changed course, as mountains of water gushed down the other
side, rushed across the desert, and ambled their way somewhere for the horizon—and
somewhere, he prayed, for the canyon.

Somewhere, for
his father.