A Sea of Shields

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Romulus marched down the wide country road, gravel crunching beneath his feet, leading thousands of soldiers, an entire division of his army following him into war. Romulus marched with confidence, taking long strides, fearless, with his shirt open and his large, glowing green amulet prominently visible on his chest.

Romulus felt like a new man since that ceremony in the cave. After he had risen from the waters, his initiation into the puddle of fire, that sorcerer had given him this amulet, along with the prophecy that he would wield it to become lord of the dragons. He assured him that, for the next moon cycle, nothing on this planet would stop him, not even the dragons, and not even the Ring. It would all—anything he could imagine—be his.

Romulus felt it to be true. Since leaving that cave he had put it to the test, consolidating his power over the Empire, ruthlessly assassinating all of his enemies, instilling fear in all of his men, and taking over, force by force, all of the legions that had once belonged to Andronicus. He had abolished the Empire Council, and he now ruled alone with an iron fist, leaving a wake of blood in his trail. He had been successful, no one able to stop him, managing to get the entire Empire to cower at the sight of him. The ceremony had worked.

And yet today, Romulus knew, would be the ultimate test of his power. Romulus’s people now believed in him, because of the prophecy, because of the rumors they had heard. They all already saw him as lord of the dragons.

But Romulus had not proven it yet, and his people knew that. He knew this final test would be the most important one: to become a ruler of legend, once and for all, to assure himself a place that no man could topple, he would need a dazzling display of power. He would need to demonstrate to his people that he could indeed stop the dragons.

Romulus marched with all of his men through the southern fields of the Empire, heading toward the city of Ganos, a once-great Empire city that now lay in ruins, ransacked by a host of dragons. Over these past moons reports had filtered in of the trail of devastation left by the dragons, who had been provoked when Romulus had entered their territory and tried to steal back the Destiny Sword. Now, the dragons were taking revenge. They were sweeping across the Empire, raining fire, wiping out one great Empire city after the next. There had been no way to stop them; Romulus had sent many divisions to try, only to see them obliterated. The Empire was losing ground, and the people were losing faith in him. If he didn’t do something fast, there would be a revolt.

Now, it was time for Romulus to offer a stunning display of his newfound power. To prove to his people that he indeed was lord of the dragons. If he could stop and control the dragons, that meant that the other prophecy was true, too: that he would shatter the Shield and enter the Ring. He smiled at the thought. He would control every inch of every corner of the world, and be the greatest ruler of all time.

Romulus’s heart pounded as he marched to Ganos, preparing to risk his life to face the dragons. If he died, at least he would go down in a blaze of glory—and if he survived, well, his life would never be the same.

“My liege, are you certain you want to attempt this?”

Romulus turned to see his lead generals behind him, panicked as they began to crest the final hill before their arrival in Ganos. He could see the fear in their eyes, these men who were never afraid. He understood; as soon as they crested this ridge, they would be spotted and would have no choice but to confront the dragons. And if they fared the same as every other army in the Empire, they, too, would soon be dead.

“My liege, please turn back,” another general said. “All of our men have died by the dragons’ breath. What if the prophecy is false? After all, you are but a single man.”

Romulus ignored them, marching faster and faster, cresting the top of the ridge, smiling to himself. He felt he would win. But if not, he didn’t care. He’d be glad to be burned alive with all his men. In fact, he would find that quite fun. He had no fear of death like these men. He knew it was coming for him soon enough. And if he was not meant to be ruler of the world, he would rather just embrace his death now.

Romulus crested the ridge and stopped in his tracks, his breath taken away at the sight. The entire vista below opened up, and Romulus saw dozens of dragons flapping their great wings in the air, screeching, arching their backs, intertwining in the air, soaring, diving down, rising up, pillaging the city below. Some of them breathed fire down on already smoldering buildings. Others swooped down with their great talons and tore up ancient buildings on the ground, as if playthings, carrying them into the sky, then dropping them. They were enjoying their destruction.

Romulus’s men came up beside him and stopped, and he heard their audible gasps. He could sense their fear, as the air was filled with the smell of sulfur, as the heat reached them from here, and as all around them the dragons screeched.

But Romulus stood unafraid. He could feel his new amulet throbbing on his chest, could see it throbbing green, and he felt himself infused with a strength he did not understand. It was a primal strength. The strength of other realms. He did not fear an encounter with the dragons; he craved one.

The host of dragons, as if sensing his presence, suddenly turned in his direction. They stopped what they were doing, arched their backs, and roared, infuriated. They then all came flying toward him at the speed of lightning, diving right for him.

Romulus stood his ground, unafraid, while many of his men turned and fled, screaming. Romulus waited and waited, as these huge, ancient creatures blackened the sky, swooping down, right for him. They opened their great mouths and breathed fire.

Romulus felt the heat as a wave of fire came his way. He knew this was his moment.

But he still was unafraid. Instead, he raised a single palm, held it out toward the fire, and watched as the dragons stopped in midair, several feet before they reached him. He threw his palm forward, and as he did, the rain of fire descending for him suddenly reversed, shooting up in a storm, engulfing the dragons.

The dragons screeched, then they all lifted up, away from Romulus, in a rage.

They circled around, determined, swooping down for him again with their great talons extended, their huge jaws open—and this time, Romulus extended both palms.

A blue light shot forth, up into the sky, encasing all the dragons. He felt the amulet throbbing, the newfound strength coursing through his body, and within moments, he felt himself controlling the dragons. He raised his arms higher, and as he did, the dragons all froze in the air. Romulus lifted them higher and higher, until he stopped them exactly where he wanted them to be.

They looked down at him, confused, flapping their wings, unable to move, unable to breathe fire at him.

They stared down at him with a new expression. It was the look of a beast staring back at its master.