Morgan Rice - An Oath of Brothers

“A fish!” Angel screamed in delight and stood, watching the waters, clapping and pointing.

Thor followed her gaze and saw one of the many common white and blue fish they had seen following the boat all throughout their journeys, skimming the surface, then disappearing beneath the waves. Thor marveled that it would bring such delight to her, but then realized, having never been off that island, everything must seem new and exciting to her.

Angel scanned the ocean with delight.

“I’ve always wanted to go somewhere,” she said. “Anywhere. I don’t care where we go, as long as I never step foot on the island again. Every one of them—they were all just waiting to die.”

“Well, we may not be waiting,” Elden said, looking up at the horizon, “we might be dying pretty soon.”

All of them turned and followed his gaze, and Thor’s stomach dropped as he saw what lay ahead of them. The sky, sunny overhead, was completely black and frothing in the distance. He saw a solid wall of water coming right for them, impossibly fast. It was a downpour, a massive storm, and moment to moment Thor could feel the wind getting stronger, the boat rocking more forcefully.

“We need a bigger boat,” Reece observed.

Thor knew they had to sail away from that storm, to get out of its path. With a sense of urgency, he jumped to his feet and began working the sails, and the others all jumped in along with him, some raising and lowering sails, others turning the rudder, and others rowing. They all worked as hard as they could, and they managed to turn the boat and catch the wind in the opposite direction, trying to get away from the storm. They no longer cared what direction they were going in—as long as it wasn’t toward that blackness.

The wind picked up, sailing them faster than ever, the boat tilted sideways as white caps popped up all around them. And yet, even as fast as they were going, as Thor turned back and checked the horizon, he saw the storm bearing down on them. It was a futile endeavor. The clouds closed in on them, like a cheetah racing their way.

Even more ominous, Thor spotted rough seas traveling their way, enormous waves, big enough to crush their boat ten times over.

Thor gulped, having a bad feeling about this, and he looked straight ahead, hoping for any sign of shelter, another island perhaps, and saw where the wind was driving them: the destination ahead was even more ominous than the one behind them. The Dragon’s Spine. It lay right in their path, and the wind was driving them right toward it, with frothing and churning seas.

Trapped between two deadly locations, Thor did not know which was worse. Either one could easily tear their boat to pieces. The others, too, seemed frozen in indecision, all of them in awe at the power of nature.

The wind picked up so loud, Thor could barely hear himself think, and he knew the inevitable was happening. They were caught up in something greater than themselves, and there was simply nothing they could do. Theirs was just a small sailing vessel, meant as an outship for Gwendolyn’s greater ship—not meant to traverse the seas, and certainly not meant for a storm like this. Indeed, they were lucky they had made it as far as they had in this small vessel without a storm like this coming sooner. This, Thor realized, was their first real storm.

Thor watched as the angry storm narrowed the gap, but a hundred yards away. They began to get pelted with more wind, more rain, and the waters began to rise and fall, twenty-foot waves, then thirty, rising ever higher, then dropping just as quickly. Thor felt his stomach plummeting.

The wind raged even louder, tearing off their sail, and Thor watched it lift into the air and disappear. He realized they needed to prepare for impact.

“Get down!” Thor yelled. “Lie down on the deck! Grab hold of something and don’t let go!”

They all followed his command, all jumping down to the deck. Only Angel continued to stand, staring out, fascinated by the sky, the most fearless of all of them. As the waves crashed around her, Thor saw her begin to slip, and knew she was about to go over the edge.

Thor leapt up, landing on top of her just as a wave crashed over the edge the boat. He pinned her down to the deck, not letting her go as the wave pushed them from one side of the boat to the other.

“Hold on to me!” he yelled over the wind.

Thor grabbed hold of her with all he had, wrapping an around her arm with leprosy, and not caring. With his other hand, he grabbed hold of a wooden pole secured to the deck.

After that last wave hit, her expression changed to one of fear.

“I’m scared,” she said, shaking, as another wave crashed down on them.

“Don’t be scared,” he said. “It’s all going to be okay. I’ve got you. Nothing will happen to you that won’t happen to me first. I swear it. By all the gods I swear it,” he said, meaning it more than he’d meant anything in his life.

She clutched his waist, her nails digging into his skin, and as she did, she screamed as an enormous wave came crashing down on them. The weight of it felt as if it were crushing Thor’s ribs.

Thor suddenly felt them both underwater, tumbling, over and over, deep beneath the waves. He saw the faces of all his brothers in arms spinning upside down, again and again, in the water, as he felt himself plummeting, deeper and deeper, unable to surface.

He could think of nothing in all the chaos, as water filled his eyes and ears and nose, as the pressure bore down on him, nothing at all, save for one thing: hold onto Angel. No matter what, hold on.

Alistair stood at the bow of the ship, Erec by her side, and looked up with all the others at the enormous monster bearing down on them all, screeching, its jaws open wide, revealing hundreds of rows of jagged teeth, and preparing to swallow them all. Alistair knew that this monster would destroy their ship, that one swipe of those clause would crack their ship in half, send it plummeting into the raging ocean and drown them all—if its teeth did not get them first. They had sailed right into the jaws of death—and there was no turning back.

Alistair knew that, if they were to survive, something had to be done quickly. She looked around at all the men, all paralyzed with fear, and she knew they would do little but meet their deaths. She could not blame them. Nothing could be done. They were staring destiny in the face, a monster against which no weapon could suffice.

Alistair did not want to die this way; even more so, she did not want Erec, who she loved more than herself, to die this way. The thought of losing him, of their not being together, of him dying here, on this ship, with this sea as his grave—and with their child in her belly—was more than she could bear.

Alistair closed her eyes, determined to change her destiny, determined to not accept this fate, and in that moment, she felt time freeze. She felt her entire body turning hot, prickling with the heat, the familiar energy welling up within her that arose in times of crisis—the power she did not understand and which she could not always control. She felt it overwhelming her, taking over her, a flush racing through her body that made her feel that she and her body were no longer one.

Please God, she prayed, feeling Him listening. Grant me the power you have given me . Allow me to stop this creature from destroying us. Allow me to save all these people. Allow me to save Erec. Allow me to save our child.

Alistair felt the heat passing through her palms, such a powerful heat she could barely control it, and suddenly, time came rushing back to full speed, as she opened her eyes and found herself back in this place and time, back in the present moment.