the last person he knew, and his one hope for redemption.
The silence was shattered by a wild
dog’s manic barking, and Godfrey looked down to see Dray emerging from a city
alley, barking and snarling like mad, charging across the courtyard after his
master. He, too, was desperate to save Darius, and as he reached the great iron
gates, he leapt up and threw himself on them, tearing at them, fruitlessly,
with his teeth.
Godfrey watched with horror as the Empire
soldiers standing guard caught sight of Dray and signaled to each other. One
drew his sword and approached the dog, clearly preparing to slaughter him.
Godfrey did not know what overcame him, but
something inside him snapped. It was just too much for him, too much injustice
for him to bear. If he could not save Darius, at least he must save his beloved
dog.
Godfrey heard himself shout, felt
himself running, as if he were outside of himself. With a surreal feeling, he
felt himself draw his short sword and rush forward for the unsuspecting guard,
and as the guard turned, he watched himself plunge it into the guard’s heart.
The huge Empire soldier looked down at
Godfrey with disbelief, his eyes open wide, as he stood there, frozen. Then he
dropped down to the ground, dead.
Godfrey heard a cry and saw the two
other Empire guards bear down on him. They raised their menacing weapons, and
he knew he was no match for them. He would die here, at this gate, but at least
he would die with a noble effort.
A snarl ripped through the air, and
Godfrey saw, out of the corner of his eye, Dray turn and bound forward, and
leap onto the guard looming over Godfrey. He sank his fangs into his throat,
and pinned him down to the ground, tearing at him until the man stopped moving.
At the same time, Merek and Ario rushed
forward and each used their short swords to stab the other guard at Godfrey’s
back, killing him together before he could finish Godfrey off.
They all stood there, in the silence,
Godfrey looking at all the carnage, shocked at what he had just done, shocked
that he had that sort of bravery, as Dray rushed over and licked the back of
his hand.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,”
Merek said, admiringly.
Godfrey stood there, stunned.
“I’m not even sure what I just did,” he
said, meaning it, the events all a blur. He had not meant to act—he just had.
Did that still make him brave? he wondered.
Akorth and Fulton looked every which way,
in terror, for any sign of Empire soldiers.
“We must get out of here!” Akorth
yelled. “Now!”
Godfrey felt hands on him and felt himself
ushered away. He turned and ran with the others, Dray at their side, all of
them leaving the gate, running back to Volusia, and to God knew what the fates
had in store for them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Darius sat back against the iron bars,
his wrists shackled to his ankles, a long, heavy chain between them, his body
covered in wounds and bruises, and he felt like he weighed a million pounds. As
he went, the carriage bouncing on the rough road, he looked out and watched the
desert sky between the bars, feeling forlorn. His carriage passed through an
endless, barren landscape, nothing but desolation as far as the eye could see. It
looked as if the world had ended.
His carriage was shaded, but streaks of
sunlight streamed through the bars, and he felt the oppressive desert heat
rising up in waves, making him sweat even in the shade, adding to his
discomfort.
But Darius did not care. His entire body
burned and ached from his head to his toes, covered in lumps, his limbs hard to
move, worn out from the endless days of fighting in the arena. Unable to sleep,
he closed his eyes and tried to make the memories go away, but each time he
did, he saw all of his friends dying alongside him, Desmond, Raj, Luzi and Kaz,
each in terrible ways. All of them dead so that he could survive.
He was the victor, had achieved the
impossible—and yet that meant little to him now. He knew death was
Guillermo Orsi, Nick Caistor