Morgan Rice - A Joust of Knights

Thorgrin also found himself easily able to share his thoughts and feelings with her, and he knew she sensed his urgency to find Guwayne. She flapped furiously without his needing to prod, going faster than he could ask her to. They flew so fast that he could barely catch his breath, dipping in and out of the clouds, closing in on the gargoyles. Thor clutched her scales while with his free hand he gripped the Sword of the Dead. He could feel it throbbing in his hand, eager for blood.

They began to close in, getting closer to the pack of gargoyles, now but a hundred yards away, and Thorgrin wondered where they were flying to, where they were so eager to take Guwayne. As he squinted he could see Guwayne, dangling from the claws of one of those creatures at the head of the pack. Were they really taking him to the Land of Blood? If so, why?

Thor looked out at the horizon and saw nothing but ocean as far as the eye could see; he saw no Land of Blood. Had Ragon been mistaken? Were those just the words of a dying man?

Suddenly, Thorgrin was surprised to see the huge flock of gargoyles split in two, half of them circling back and racing to confront him, while the other half continued on. As they approached he got a good look at them and could see they looked like enormous bats, with wide, slimy black wings, long claws, and fangs. They reared their narrow heads and screeched as they flew right for him.

Thor gripped his sword, eager to meet them in battle, and Lycoples, to her credit, did not waver in fear. Instead, she flew faster, and Thor, eager to set wrongs right, raised the Sword of the Dead high. It was so heavy, ten times the weight of any other sword, yet somehow it felt perfect in his hands. Its black blade glistened in the sky, and as the monsters screeched, Thor replied with a battle cry of his own. He would cut through all of them to retrieve his son.

As the first of the gargoyles reached him, raising its fangs for Thor’s face, Thor reached down and slashed the sword, slicing it in half. Its blood sprayed everywhere, as the gargoyle tumbled through the air, past him.

Another came at him, then another, approaching from all sides, and Thor turned and slashed in every direction, ducking and slicing them in half. He cut off the talons of one, the wings of another, then ducked as he was scratched on the shoulder by a third—and reached up and thrust his sword into its exposed belly.

The swarm of gargoyles descended on him, and Thor fearlessly met their embrace, fighting like a man possessed, a man with nothing left to lose. The Sword of the Dead fought, too, coming to life, like a living being in his hand. It whizzed and hummed and led the way, urging Thor on, leading him to slash and thrust and block blows. It was like having a fighting partner in his hand. The Sword hummed and sang as it sliced through the air, leaving a trail of blood and severed gargoyles in its wake, all of them tumbling down to the ocean far below.

Lycoples, too, joined in, lashing out with her talons at all gargoyles who dared attack her. She was young, but vicious—and fearless. She raised her razor-sharp talons and slashed gargoyles left and right, reaching them before they reached her and slicing them in half. She reached out and grabbed others by their heads and squeezed to death, while still others she grabbed and threw, hurling them down through the air, to the ocean. Others still she bit, opening her huge jaws and sinking her teeth into their scales as they shrieked out in pain.

Finally, as a fresh swarm came at them, Lycoples threw back her head, screeched, and let out a stream of flames. Her flame was not as strong yet as her parents’, yet still it was strong enough to wreak havoc: the dozens of remaining gargoyles, engulfed in the flames, let out an awful shriek as they were immersed in the cloud of fire, their horrible screams filling the air as they tumbled down, aflame, to the sea below.

Thor was taken aback by Lycoples’s power, not expecting such a stream of flame, and the few gargoyles who remained alive also looked back with scared expressions—and a whole new fear of Lycoples. They turned and flew off into the horizon, catching up with the other half of their flock.

“Faster, Lycoples, faster!” Thor cried out, lowering his head and holding on tight as she, enraged, flew at an even greater speed.

Lycoples needed no prodding. She tore through the air faster than Thor could breathe, and they dove in and out of clouds, the scarlet sun beginning to set as they bore down on the gargoyles. The gargoyles dared not turn to face them now, but rather flew with all their speed, flapping their wings furiously to try to get away.

As they approached, Thor could finally see Guwayne again, up ahead—and his heart beat faster. He was so close now, nothing would get in his way. He would slaughter each and every one of these creatures, and soon they would be reunited again.

As Thor glanced up at the horizon, he did a double take, shocked by the sight before him. On the horizon, there slowly appeared what seemed to be a waterfall in the sky. It stretched in every direction, as far as he could see, a wall of running water—stained red. It ran from the heavens, right down to the oceans, so thick he could not see through it, and he heard a great roaring noise as he came closer. He began to realize what it was: a waterfall of blood.

Thorgrin suddenly knew, without a doubt, that it was a barrier, a wall blocking off another world: the entry to The Land of Blood. And as he saw all gargoyles heading for it, he suddenly realized where they were going—and realized that it might provide them safe harbor.

“FASTER!” he cried.

Lycoples managed to fly even faster, closing in on them, fifty yards away, then thirty, then ten…. The waterfall loomed before them, the noise now deafening.

The gargoyles flew just a bit too fast, and as Thor neared them, they all suddenly entered the waterfall of blood, disappearing into it.

Thor braced himself, too, preparing to enter after them—but suddenly, to his surprise, Lycoples stopped short in the air, rearing her head, refusing to enter it. Thor could not understand what was going on. It was as though Lycoples were scared to enter.

She flapped her wings, hanging there, arching her back, screeching, and Thor realized that, for some reason, she could not pass through this magical barrier to the Land of Blood. Thor reddened, realizing the gargoyles knew that all along.

Lycoples, frustrated, screeched again and again, clearly wanting to enter and frustrated that she could not.

Thor felt his heart breaking as he watched the gargoyles disappear into the waterfall with his son, disappearing from view.

Thor thought quickly. He looked down and scanned the ocean, and he saw in the distance, on the horizon, his Legion brothers, following in their ship. Thor directed Lycoples back down, across the ocean, toward his friends, knowing he had no choice. If Lycoples could not enter the Land of Blood, then Thor would have to enter without her.

Lycoples flew Thor down to the ship, and as she dove low and slowed, Thor jumped off her back and onto the deck. He stood there, looking up at her, and she flapped her wings, disappointed, wanting him to ride her again.

Thor shook his head.

“No, Lycoples,” he said to her. “You can be of no use to me where I need to go. You can help me elsewhere: go find my beloved. Find Gwendolyn, wherever she is. Tell her I live. Guwayne lives. And save her for me from whatever danger she might be in.”

Lycoples screeched and hovered, clearly not wanting to leave Thor’s side.

“GO!” Thor commanded firmly.

Lycoples finally, reluctantly, turned and flew off, disappearing in the horizon.

All the others gathered around Thor on the ship and stared at him, stunned. He looked out, past the bow, to the looming waterfalls of blood, and knew what he had to do.