Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

Thor jumped back to his feet and continued his charge, heading for a group of tribesmen who were all raising spears, preparing to throw them right at him. Thor leapt into the air and sliced the spears in half before they could throw them, then he planted his sword in the ground and used it to propel himself into the air, swinging his legs around and kicking them all in the chest and knocking them back. Thor landed back on his feet, grabbed his sword, and swung around in a wide circle, felling them all.

Thor heard the baby’s cry in the distance, ringing in his ears, rising even above the shouts of the men, and he fought like a man possessed. He did not try to summon his powers; he did not want to. He wanted to kill these men with his bare hands, these men who dared take his son from him, who dared try to kill him. He wanted to kill them all man to man, face to face.

Thor slashed left and right as these men came at him with daggers and spears. Thor killed them left and right, but he could not kill all of them before they fired off at him. One of the tribesmen hurled a stone with his sling, and it hit Thor hard in the head, cutting him above his temple and drawing blood. Others fired off arrows before Thor could reach them, and while Thor ducked and evaded most, seeing them coming from the corner of his eye, he could not miss all of them, and one arrow grazed his left arm. He cried out in pain as it drew blood.

Yet still Thor did not slow down. He thought of nothing but his child, and even with his wounds, Thor continued to charge, swinging his sword with both hands, slashing and kicking and elbowing his way for the village center. Soon he was engulfed by tribesmen, elbow to elbow with them, fighting hand to hand, eye to eye, through the thick crowd. It was slow going, even with his brothers fighting side by side with him, helping to block blows and felling tribesmen in their own right.

Thor was faster and stronger than these natives with their crude weapons, and he weaved in and out of them expertly, dodging spear thrusts as he slashed and stabbed. Yet the crowd grew thick, and there were just too many of them, and as he found himself enclosed from all sides, there were a few he never saw coming. Thor heard something behind him, and spun to see a villager lowering his dagger for the back of his head. It was too late to react, and Thor braced himself for the blow.

Suddenly, the tribesman opened his eyes wide and collapsed at Thor’s feet, and Thor watched him fall, puzzled. He looked down and saw an arrow through his back, and he looked up to see O’Connor, holding his bow, grinning, his aim as true as always. Indra stood beside him and fired off an arrow of her own, and as she did, Thor heard a grunting noise and he looked over to see another tribesman, to his right, fall before he could unleash his spear.

Elden stepped forward, wielding a huge hammer, and in a broad stroke, he knocked three of them across the chest with a thumping noise, sending them to the ground. Elden then raised his hammer and turned it sideways, and butted two of them across the face, knocking them down. He then swung the heavy hammer over his head and sent it sailing into the mass of bodies, and it took down four more tribesmen, creating a path in the crowd.

Reece lunged forward with his sword, slashing every which way, while Conven did not even bother swinging his sword as he ran recklessly right into the thick of the tribesmen. He reached up and snatched a spear from one of their hands, and used that spear against its own attacker. He then spun around, creating a circle around him as he slashed every which way, downing tribesmen left and right. When he was done, Conven raised it above his head and hurled it with such force that it went through one tribesman and into another.

As Thor made progress, fighting his way through the crowd, his shoulders burning from the nonstop battle, he heard a whooshing noise above his head, and he noticed Matus coming up beside him, swinging a spiked flail, the chain swishing through the air as the metal ball found its target again and again, taking down a half dozen of them and lightening the crowd.

Thor, freed up, emboldened by all his brothers at his side, slashed deeper into the crowd, forging his way, keeping an eye on the distant well, hearing the baby’s screams, watching the tribesmen standing menacingly above it. Thor noticed one of them nod to the other and then saw them begin to turn a crank, and lower the screaming baby down toward the fire.

Desperate, Thor stabbed a tribesman in the chest, snatching a spear from his hands, yanked it backwards, then took a step forward and threw it.

The spear sailed through the air, above the heads of the others, and finally, Thor, with his perfect aim, killed one of the tribesmen turning the cranks. O’Connor, picking up on his lead, fired off an arrow himself, and hit the other tribesman between the eyes. They both fell off the edge of the well, dead.

Determined to reach his son, Thor fought twice as hard, cutting his way through like a man possessed. Something came over him, a supreme rage beyond which he could control, and Thor leaned back and let out an unearthly shriek, veins popping in his arms and neck and shoulders, the sound of a desperate creature determined to rescue its young.

Thor moved with the speed of lightning, a one-man killing machine, as he cut through the rest of the men, creating a one-man warpath of destruction. The tribesmen were helpless against a warrior such as he, a warrior unlike any they had encountered before. This was the fight of Thor’s life, and he would stop at nothing to achieve his goal.

Within moments, Thor cut a path through them, a pile of bodies lining up through the crowd’s center. It was like he had entered a gap in space and time, and he was not fully conscious of what he was doing, or even where he was. He was taken over by the killing.

Thor reached the village center, and he wiped the sweat from his eyes, trying to understand what had just happened to him. He had felt the power of a hundred men, even if just for a moment, and he had been invincible.

The baby’s cries snapped Thor back to the present, and he quickly turned and raced for the stone well.

With no one left between him and the well, Thor scrambled to climb to the top of it, as sweat stung his eyes, his heart pounding.

Please, God. Let my son be alive.

As Thor reached the top, the cries grew louder, echoing in the empty well, and he coughed and gagged from the rising smoke. Thor reached down and with shaking hands yanked at the crank, again and again, the rope rising, turning, raising up the baby as Thor rescued it from the heat and the smoke.

Thor pulled and pulled, anxious to see that the baby was okay, and as it finally reached the top, Thor reached down in the smoke and held the baby, lifting it up, and turned to look into his son’s eyes.

Thor was elated to see that the baby was alive and healthy. Yet as he examined the baby, naked, lying in the bassinet, Thor was shocked to discover something: it was not his son.

It was a girl.

The girl screeched as Thor held her high. He was glad to have saved her. But it was not his son. It was someone else’s child.

Indra and the others reached the top of the well, beside Thor, and as they did, Thor handed the baby to her, then immediately turned and scanned the village, looking for any sign of his son. From up here he had a great perspective, and could see the whole village spread out below. The rest of his brothers were finishing off the last of the tribesmen, and all of them were dead, bodies sprawled out everywhere.

But nowhere was there any sign of Guwayne.

Thor was determined to get answers. On the far side of the village he saw one villager, wounded, slowly getting to his feet, and he leapt down off the wall, racing for him as he tried to crawl away.