Duncan looked down below and was relieved to see most of his men taking cover on the plateau, lying on their stomachs, raising their hands over their heads. But Duncan and Seavig were too high up, way out in front of the group, and they could not make it back down in time. Duncan knew he was alone up here, and that he would have to fight it out on his own.

Duncan fought back. He grasped the other pick and swung around his head, chopping at them, swinging wildly. Screeching arose as he killed more than a few of them, the things dropping all around him.

Yet, Duncan soon realized, it was but a drop in the bucket; for every one he killed, ten more appeared. He was getting scratched and bit in every direction, and as the pain ripped through his body, Duncan, growing weaker, did not know how much longer he could hang on.

An ice bat sunk his fangs deep into his shoulder and Duncan shrieked out in pain, losing his balance as he reached around with his free hand and pried it off him, crushing its head. He was growing lightheaded, and, dizzy, felt himself about to fall. He suddenly knew he would die here, in this place, beside his brothers. He did not regret dying. He only regretted dying this way, up here, so far from the home he loved. But death, he knew, came for you when it did, and it had come knocking, definitively, for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Merk woke to the smell of the ocean, to the feel of ocean mist spraying his face, to the sound of crashing waves, and he opened his eyes slowly, disoriented, wondering where he was. He tried to shake off the cobwebs of his mind, having had a long night filled with dreams he did not understand. He had dreamt of rescuing the girl from her burning farm, her family’s faces haunting him, pointing at him, accusing him, only to see them all go up in flames—and he with them. His last dream had been of his ascending the tower, running up a circular staircase for what felt like hours, only to reach the top and slip and come hurtling down to the ground.

Merk opened his eyes to see the sun rise over the windy, desolate peninsula that housed the Tower of Ur and slowly, he remembered where he was. The vast Sea of Sorrow stretched out to the horizon, its waves rolling and smashing into the soaring cliffs that framed Escalon high above the sea. Feeling a stiffness in his back and neck, Merk sat up and looked around, trying to get his bearings. He felt cold hard metal against his back, and he turned and saw what he had slept against all night: the silver doors of Ur.