Morgan Rice: A Sky of Spells

Thor faced Gwendolyn, holding his sword at his side, his entire body trembling. He looked out and saw all the faces staring back at him in the stunned silence—Alistair, Erec, Kendrick, Steffen, and a host of his countrymen—people he had known and loved. His people. Yet here he was, facing them, sword at his side. He was on the wrong side of battle.

Finally, he realized.

Thor’s veil had lifted as Alistair’s words rang through him, filled him with clarity. He was Thorgrin. A member of the Legion. A member of the Western Kingdom of the Ring. He was not a solider for the Empire. He did not love his father. He loved all these people.

Most of all, he loved Gwendolyn.

Thor looked down and saw her face, staring up at him with such love, her eyes tearing. He was filled with shame and horror to realize he was facing her, holding this sword. His palms burned with humiliation and regret.

Thor dropped the sword, letting it fall from his hands. He took a step forward and embraced her.

Gwendolyn hugged him back tightly, and he heard her crying, felt her hot tears pouring down his neck. Thor was overwhelmed with remorse, and he could not conceive how it had all happened. It was a blur. All he knew was that he was happy to be back to himself, to have clarity, and to be back with his people.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear. “And I always will.”

“I love you with everything that I am,” Thor replied.

Krohn whined at his feet, limping over and licking Thor’s palm; Thor leaned down and kissed his face.

“I’m sorry,” Thor said to him, remembering hitting him as Krohn had defended Gwendolyn. “Please forgive me.”

The earth, quaking violently but moments before, finally became still again.

“THORGRIN!” a shriek cut through the air.

Thor turned to see Andronicus. He stepped forward, into the clearing, scowling, his face red with rage. Both armies watched in stunned silence, as father and son faced each other.

“I command you!” Andronicus said. “Kill them! Kill them all! I am your father. You listen to me, and to me alone!”

But this time, as Thor stared back at Andronicus, something felt different. Something shifted inside. No longer did Thor view Andronicus as his father, as a family member, as someone he must answer to and give his life for; instead, he saw him as a foe. A monster. Thor no longer felt any obligation to give up his life for this man. On the contrary: he felt a burning rage against him. Here was the man who had ordered the attack on Gwendolyn; here was the man who had killed his fellow countrymen, who had invaded and ransacked his homeland; here was the man who had taken over his own mind, who had held him hostage with his dark sorcery.

This was not a man he loved. Rather, this was a man he wanted to kill more than anything on earth. Father or not.

Thor suddenly felt himself flood with rage. He reached down, picked up his sword, and charged full speed across the clearing, ready to kill his father.

Andronicus looked shocked as Thor charged, raised his sword high, and as Thor brought it down with both hands, with all his might, for his head.

Andronicus raised his huge battle axe at the last second, turning it sideways and blocking the blow with its metal shaft.

Thor did not relent: he swung his sword again and again, going for the kill, and each time Andronicus raised his axe and blocking it. The great clang of the two weapons meeting rang through the air as both armies watched in silence. Sparks flew with each blow.

Thor screamed and grunted, using every skill he had, hoping to kill his father on the spot. He had to do it, for himself, for Gwendolyn, for all those who had suffered by this monster’s hand. With each blow, Thor wanted, more than anything, to wipe out his lineage, his own background, to start fresh again. To choose a different father.

Andronicus, on the defense, only blocked Thor’s blows, and did not fight back. Clearly, he was refraining from attacking his son.

“Thorgrin!” Andronicus said, between blows. “You are my son. I do not wish to harm you. I am your father. You have saved my life. I want you alive.”

“And I want you dead!” Thor screamed back.

Thor swung down again and again, driving him back, across the clearing, despite Andronicus’ great size and strength. Yet still, Andronicus would not swing back at Thor. It was as if he was hoping that Thor would come back to him again.

But this time, Thor would not. Now, finally, Thor knew who he was. Finally, Andronicus’ words were free from his head. Thor would rather be dead than at Andronicus’s mercy again.

“Thorgrin, you must stop this!” Andronicus cried out. Sparks flew by his face as he blocked a particularly vicious slash with his axe head. “You will force me to kill you, and I do not wish to. You are my son. To kill you would be to kill myself.”

“Then kill yourself!” Thor said. “Or if you do not wish to, then I shall do it for you!”

With a great cry Thor leapt up and kicked Andronicus with both feet in the chest, sending him stumbling and landing on his back.

Andronicus looked up, as if stunned that could have happened.

Thor stood over him and raised his sword high to finish him off.

“NO!” shrieked a voice. It was an awful voice, sounding like it erupted from the very depths of hell, and Thor glanced over to see a single man enter the clearing. He wore a long scarlet robe, his face hidden behind a hood, and an unearthly growl erupted from his throat.

Rafi.

Somehow, Rafi had made it back from his battle with Argon. He stood there now, holding both arms out wide at his sides. His sleeves fell as he rose his arms, revealing pale, blistery skin that looked as if it had never seen the sun. He emitted an awful sound from the back of his throat, like a snarl, and as he opened his mouth wide, it grew louder and louder until it filled the air, the low timber vibrating and making Thor’s ears hurt.

The earth began to quake. Thor was knocked off-balance as the entire ground shook. He followed Rafi’s hands and saw before him a sight he would never forget.

The earth began to split in two, a great chasm opening, spreading wider and wider. As it did, soldiers from both sides fell, slipping down, screaming as they hurled down into the ever-growing crevice.

An orange glow emitted from beneath the earth, and there came an awful hissing noise as steam and fog arose.

There appeared a single hand, emerging from the crevice, gripping the earth. The hand was black, lumpy, disfigured, and as it pulled itself up, Thor, to his horror, saw emerging from the earth an awful creature. It was in the shape of a human, but it was entirely black, with large glowing red eyes and long red fangs. A long, black tail dragged behind it. Its body was lumpy, and it looked like a corpse.

It leaned back its head and there came an awful roar, like Rafi’s. It appeared to be some sort of undead creature, summoned from the depths of the hell.

Behind this creature there suddenly emerged another. Then another.

Thousands more of these creatures surfaced, pulling themselves up from the bowels of hell, an army of undead. Rafi’s army.

Slowly, they came to Rafi’s side, facing Thorgrin and the others.

Thor stared back in shock at this army facing him; as he stood there, his sword still held high, Andronicus suddenly rolled out from under him and retreated back to his army, clearly not wanting to have to confront Thorgrin.