Morgan Rice - A Grant of Arms

Aberthol screamed as the lork sank its fangs into his shoulder and pinned him down, face-first, into the snow.

Gwendolyn turned to help, but Steffen beat her to it, drawing his bow and landing an arrow in the creature’s jaws before it landed a fatal blow on the back of Aberthol’s exposed neck.

Steffen then turned to fire at the two lorks pinning Krohn down, but a sudden gale of snow made aiming impossible.

Gwendolyn ran for Krohn. She drew her dagger and stabbed one lork in its back, while Krohn leapt off and sank his fangs in the other lork’s throat. Steffen rushed forward and stabbed the lork in its other face before it could kill Krohn.

Finally, the lorks were all dead. They all grew silent.

Krohn, covered in wounds, regained his feet and limped over to Gwendolyn. He licked her hand and then her stomach.

Gwendolyn, crying to see Krohn wounded and so touched by his loyalty, knelt down by his side and rubbed his fur, feeling all his wounds and seeing all the blood on her palms. Her heart broke. Alistair knelt beside Krohn, lay her hands on him, and as a soft yellow glow covered his body, he looked up at her, and licked her face. His wounds were healed.

Alistair helped Aberthol up, and he regained his feet shakily. The five of them, all rattled, turned and looked at each other, at the carnage, taking it all in. It had all happened so fast, Gwen could barely process it. It reminded her once again of the dangers of this place.

“My lady, look!” Steffen called out, excitement in his voice.

Gwen turned and looked at the horizon, and saw a temporary lull in the snowstorm. Slowly, a small burst of sunshine emerged between the clouds, a glimmer of hope on the horizon.

As she watched, to her shock, there suddenly appeared, floating on the horizon, a rainbow, all its colors glowing in the air. It was unlike any rainbow Gwen had ever seen: instead of being shaped in an arc, it was shaped in a perfect circle, hollow in the middle, floating high in the sky.

It also illuminated the landscape, and for the first time, she had a glimpse of her surroundings.

“There,” Gwen said. “Do you see that ridge? The wall of snow ends. We must make it there.”

Invigorated, the group increased their pace.

They marched in unison, up a high ridge, Gwen breathing hard, each of them supporting each other as they nurtured their wounds.

Finally, Aberthol stopped.

“I can’t go on,” he said.

“You must,” Gwen implored.

She came over, draped one arm around his, and helped him up the hill, as Alistair came over and helped with the other. If they could just reach the top of the ridge, Gwendolyn hoped all would become clear. Perhaps they would see Argon somewhere; or perhaps, at least, there would be some indicator, some sign to point the way.

They climbed and climbed, and finally, breathing hard, they reached the very top. Gwendolyn stood at the peak with the others and looked down below. She was shocked at what she saw.

There, spread out below her as far as the eye could see, was a view unlike any she had seen in her life. It was an endless valley, the sky above it a clear yellow and red, no more snow to be seen. Instead, beneath the sky was a sparkling, frozen landscape. It was like a frozen city, but instead of buildings were mounds of ice, all different shapes and sizes, each a different color—violets, blues, reds, pinks. All of it sparkled in the sun, a million flashes of light.

It was a frozen city, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It did not look real.

Gwen had no idea what it was, or where it led. But she felt a magical sheen over it, felt that time and place were trapped here.

And she knew, she just knew, that Argon was somewhere below.

Reece balanced on the edge of the cliff, pressed up against the stone, hands shaking, clutching for dear life and looking down over his shoulder in horror as he watched Krog plummet past him, screaming and flailing into the mist. Reece’s heart sank. Krog was surely dead. They had already lost one of their valued Legion members, and Reece could not help but feel that it was his fault; after all, he was the one who had led the rest down here.

Reece’s hands and feet were shaking, and he wondered how much longer he himself could hold on—and how much longer the rest of them could, too. He didn’t feel like they could make it much longer—and he still didn’t know if the bottom even existed. Had he been reckless to pursue this?

But suddenly there came a nice surprise—Krog’s screams ended abruptly and were replaced with the sound of Krog impacting something. It sounded like branches, like twigs snapping, and it was all closer than Reece could have ever imagined. He was shocked: had Krog hit bottom? Was it so close?

Reece felt encouraged as he looked down into the swirling mist, knowing Krog was not too far below. Maybe even, Reece hoped, he had lived. Maybe something had cushioned his fall.

“KROG!?” Reece called down.

There came no response.

Reece looked up and saw the others, Elden, O’Connor, Conven, Indra, and Serna, all clinging to the side of the cliff, hands shaking, and all looking down with the same expression of shock and fear. Reece could tell from their bodies, from their desperate expressions, that they would not make it much farther either. He felt obliged to set an example as their leader.

“The bottom is close!” Reece called out, mustering confidence in his tone. “Krog hit it. He will be okay—and so will we! Hang on just a little bit more, and we will all be to safety. Follow me!”

Reece scurried down, hands slipping, knees shaking, but determined to make it and to set an example. When he thought only of himself, it felt too hard; but when he thought of others, he felt renewed energy.

Breathing hard, Reece looked below and focused. He just tried to make it from one foothold to the next; sometimes there was just enough room for his toes. His boots luckily gave him support, allowing him to cram his toes into tiny spots and lodge them there, giving him the strength he needed to support his body. He scrambled down the cliff with his final burst of energy, praying this was the end.

Finally, the swirling mist began to lift, and as Reece looked down, his heart soared to see land. Real land! Hardly twenty feet below was the canyon bottom.

And lying there, on a bed of what look liked soft pine needles, bright turquoise in color, lay Krog. He groaned and writhed on the floor. Reece sighed with relief. He was alive.

As he neared, Reece was shocked at the landscape down below: it was more exotic than anything he had ever seen, and it looked like he had arrived on another world. He caught only glimpses of it between the swirling mists, but from what he could see, the canyon bottom was littered with pine trees with bright orange trunks and bright turquoise needles, their branches purple and gold and laden with exotic, small fruits that sparkled. The soil looked like mud.

As Reece reached the last few feet, he jumped down off the wall, his hands barely able to hold on one more second. His feet landed in the soil and sank a few inches. He looked down and saw a strange sticky substance, not quite mud, but not quite soil. It felt so good to have his feet on real ground again.

All around him, his fellow Legion followed his example, jumping down off the last few feet of wall and landing beside him.

Reece hurried to Krog’s side. As he approached, a flash of anger burst through Reece: Krog had been a thorn in his side the whole time. Yet despite that, Reece was determined not to treat Krog the same way he had been treated by him. He had to rise above that, and regardless of what Krog deserved, it was not leader-like to sink to his level. Petty revenge might be a way for boys—but not for men. And it was time for him to leave boyhood behind, to become a man.