Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

Thor willed that he not die, with every ounce of his being. As he did, he recalled his mother’s words: You are destined to die twelve times. Each moment, fate will intervene, or it will not. It will depend on you, and whether you’ve passed the test. These moments of death might also become moments of life. You will be supremely tested and tormented. More than any warrior has ever been tested before. If you have the internal strength to withstand it. Ask yourself, how much suffering can you tolerate? The more you can handle, the greater you will become.

As Thor felt himself sinking, he wondered: was this one of those tests? Was this one of his twelve deaths? He felt that it was, that it was a supreme test of physical strength and courage and stamina. As he sank, his body pierced by arrows, he did not know if he was strong enough to pass it.

Thor, his lungs bursting, was determined to summon a reserve strength. He was determined to become bigger than he was, to tap into some internal power.

You are bigger than your body. Your spirit is greater than your strength. Strength is finite; spirit knows no bounds.

Thor suddenly opened his eyes underwater, feeling a burning heat within him, feeling himself reborn. He kicked, overcoming the pain of the arrows piercing his body, and forced himself to swim to the surface. Covered with arrows, he swam and swam, heading for daylight, his lungs bursting, and finally he surfaced, like a giant porcupine, from the waters, gasping for air.

Thor used his power and momentum, and with a great shriek he lifted up into the air and landed on the deck of the nearest boat, on his feet.

Thor summoned some ancient part of himself, and he turned off the pain. He reached over, grabbed the arrows piercing his arms, shoulders, chest, thighs, and two, three, four at a time, he yanked them out. He shrieked a great battle cry, and he felt bigger than the pain as he removed every arrow.

Standing before Thor were two shocked Empire soldiers, who stared back at him, eyes wide in fear. Thor reached out, grabbed them both, and smashed them together, knocking them out.

Thor charged the group of soldiers on the ship; he kicked the one closest to him, sending him stumbling backwards into the others—but not before he snatched the sword from the soldier’s scabbard. Thor raised the sword high and charged forward into the stunned crowd, slashing and killing everyone in his path. They tried to fight back, but Thor was like a whirlwind, racing through the ship, killing two soldiers before one had time to try to block a blow.

Thor raced through the ship and he fought and fought until there was not a soul left on board. As Thor reached the bow, he looked out and found himself facing Romulus, on the bow of another ship, who was staring back at him in shock. Thor did not hesitate; he let out a shriek as he pulled back his sword and threw it.

The sword spun end over end, shimmering in the light, aiming right for Romulus.

Romulus, still in shock, realized what was happening too late, and turned his back and tried to run.

Romulus dodged as he ran, trying to escape the deadly blow—and he spared himself a certain death. But he was not quick enough to escape injury: the sword grazed his head and sliced off one of Romulus’s ears.

Romulus shrieked as he sank to his knees and reached up to his missing ear, blood gushing down on his fingers.

Thor grimaced back. At least he had some satisfaction—yet still Romulus was not dead.

Suddenly, all of the Empire soldiers on the other ships began to regroup, and they fired arrows and hurled spears at Thorgrin, who stood there, exposed.

Thor saw them all coming, a sea of black ready to kill him, and this time, he closed his eyes and raised his palms and summoned an inner power. He cast an orb of light around him, a yellow shield, and as the arrows and spears neared, they bounced harmlessly off it.

Thor stood there, invincible, in the midst of all these men, and he leaned back and raised his palms to the sky—determined to kill them all.

Thor felt the energy of the sky entering his palms; he also felt the energy of the ocean below, mirroring the heavens. Thor felt one with the power running through the universe; it was a great current, greater than he could ever imagine. He felt the very fabric of the air, of the waters, and he felt that he could harness it.

Heavens rage; oceans churn , Thor commanded silently. I will you. For the sake of justice. Purge this evil I see before me, once and for all.

As Thor stood there, slowly, he could feel something happening: he felt a great wind pick up, tickling his palms, and as he opened his eyes, he watched as the sunny day turned black. Thick, dark clouds rolled in, thunder clapped, and lightning flashed. The waters churned, and his ship began to rock and sway as the ocean became stormy.

Another clap of thunder, and Thor felt the waves get stronger, his ship rising and falling, as the wind became louder and rain fell.

Universe, I summon you. You are one with me. And I with you. Your fight is my fight, and my battle is your battle.

Thor let out a great shriek, and the entire horizon lit with lightning, not disappearing. Thunder clapped again and again, so loud it shook the boats, and Romulus and all the Empire turned, fear in their eyes, and faced the horizon lit by lightning.

Thor watched with awe as suddenly, a massive tidal wave came their way.

Romulus and the others all cried out in terror as they raised their arms to their faces, cowering.

But there was nothing they could do. They were in the path of the wrath of the seas, and as the great wave rushed forward, in moments the ships were all caught up in it, climbing higher and higher to its crest, getting lost, like ants in the great wave.

It was the biggest wave Thor had ever seen—as tall as a mountain—and he, too, became caught up in it, rising and rising with the rest of the Empire fleet. Thor rose a hundred feet, then another hundred, and another—and he watched in shock as the wave began to crash, as he began to plummet down with all the others, his stomach dropping. The shrieks of all the Empire were drowned out by the wind and the rain, and Thor’s shriek, too, was swallowed up. As he looked down, plummeting back into the ocean, he knew the impact would crush him. He had summoned a storm that even he could not control.

As Thor prepared to die, once again, he felt that, if he could take any solace in his death, it was that he had, at least, taken the Empire out with him.

Thank you, God , he thought, for this victory.

Alistair followed Erec’s mother through the night, as she led her in the darkness, twisting and turning down the narrow alleyways of court, her heart pounding as she tried to keep up and not be seen. Long shadows were cast across the stone walls and paths, the only illumination coming from the sporadic torchlight, and Alistair, freshly escaped, could not help but feel like a criminal.

His mother finally led her behind a wall and crouched down low, out of sight of the guards, and Alistair squatted down beside her. They crouched in silence, listening, watching the guards pass by, and Alistair prayed they would not get caught. Erec’s mother had waited until nightfall to lead her here, so that they would not be detected, and they had twisted and turned down the series of labyrinthine streets and back alleys that led the way from the dungeons to the royal house of the sick, where Erec lay. Finally, they were close, close enough that Alistair, peeking around the corner, could see its entrance. It was well guarded, a dozen men standing before it.

“Look at that door,” Alistair whispered to his mother. “Why would Bowyer keep it so well guarded if he was really convinced I am the one that tried to kill Erec? He has positioned these men here not to protect Erec—but to prevent him from escaping, or to kill him, should he recover.”