Morgan Rice - A Grant of Arms

But another part of her forced her to be strong, to stand her ground and fight. Some small part of her knew she had the strength, and that she needed to be strong, not just for herself, but for the others. She couldn’t run from her fears; she might die facing them, but then, at least, she would die with honor. After all, she was a King’s daughter, and the blood of royalty ran in her.

The monster swooped its arm around towards her, its five jaws at the ends of its five fingers snapping open and shut as it neared. Gwen, with shaking hands, drew her sword, stepped forward, and swung at it.

The sword missed, the monster much quicker than she’d anticipated. Where his hand had been a second before, there was now nothing but air.

The monster’s jaws snapped open and shut, an awful noise of chattering teeth, and it lunged forward with high-pitched squeaking noises emanating from each of its ten jaws. They lunged right for Gwendolyn.

Gwendolyn screamed out in pain as one of its small jaws bit her arm, clamping down, drawing blood. She tried to pull away, but there was no use: the monster had clamped down tight, and she could feel its teeth sinking into her skin.

Gwen heard a snarl, and Krohn lunged forward and leapt onto the beast, biting the offending finger. Krohn clamped his jaws down on the monster’s hand, refusing to let go, shaking his head left and right, snarling, until finally the monster loosened its grip.

Gwen quickly stepped back, the pain shooting through her arm, and reached up and clasped her arm. Her hand was stained with blood, so she tore off a strip of cloth from the end of her shirt and tied it with a shaking hand around the wound, stopping the blood.

The monster turned to Krohn, in a rage. Another one of its jaws wheeled around, and with a sudden strike, it bit Krohn in the leg.

Krohn yelped, yet he would still not loosen his bite on the monster’s hand, chomping down on the monster’s fingers with all his might, until finally he snapped one of its jaws off. The monster shrieked, and Krohn fell to the ground, taking one of the monster’s fingers with it.

The monster, in a rage, leaned back and swung its arm around, preparing to sink several more of its mouths into Krohn’s back.

Steffen stepped forward, took aim, and fired two arrows in quick succession at the beast. Each arrow lodged itself in the monster’s small jaw, an incredible feat from such a distance and at such a fast-moving target. It caused the monster to turn away from Krohn, sparing him.

It turned instead and faced Steffen, irate, and roared.

The monster charged for Steffen, its arms and jaws flailing at the ends of its fingers, the sound of cracking ice filling the air as it charged for Steffen. Steffen fumbled with his bow, Aberthol lunged forward, his staff before him, boldly raised it with both hands, and jabbed it into the monster’s chest.

Despite the noble effort, the staff blow was useless against such a powerful beast; the monster merely looked down at Aberthol as if he were an annoying insect, reached back, and backhanded him. The sound of ice smacking skin cut through the air, and Aberthol, with a groan, went flying, landing hard on his back on the ice and sliding back several feet before he came to a stop, moaning in pain.

The monster focused again on Steffen. As Steffen backed up, the monster jumped forward, reached down, scooped Steffen up with one hand, raised him high overhead, a good twenty feet in the air, and examined him as if he were a meal. The monster turned Steffen upside-down, then reached over with its other hand, and aimed its snapping jaws for Steffen’s face.

Gwen realized with horror that it was about to eat Steffen alive.

As Steffen had been hoisted in the air, he dropped his bow and arrows, and Gwen, thinking quick, ran over and snatched them off the ground. With shaking hands, she took aim.

Gwen fired several arrows, embedding them in the monster’s side, and, finally, in one of its jaws.

It turned and glared at her, shrieking with rage, and dropped Steffen to the ground. Steffen hurled end-over-end through the air, and hit the ice with a cracking noise. Gwen hoped he had not broken all his bones.

The monster descended for Gwen once again, this time with both hands outreached, all its jaws snapping; Gwen, out of arrows and with nowhere to run, knew it was about to kill her. Still, she did not regret it, as she had at least saved Steffen’s life.

“BY THE LAWS OF THE SEVEN CIRCLES OF NATURE, I COMMAND YOU TO HALT!” boomed a fierce voice.

Gwendolyn turned to see Alistair step forward, hold out a palm, and aim it at the creature. An orange ball of light shot from it and went to the creature, hitting it in the chest.

But the creature turned to Alistair, unafraid, and swatted away the light ball as it approached. The ball went flying harmlessly over his shoulder.

Alistair stood there, shocked. Clearly, she had not been expecting that.

The monster instead turned and rushed for Alistair. It kicked her, its huge claws impacting her chest and sending her flying backwards, skidding across the ice.

Not satisfied, the monster bore down on her, preparing to finish her off.

Gwen took stock of the battlefield, and it did not look good: Alistair was on her back, and Steffen, Aberthol, and Krohn lay moaning, all injured by the monster. Gwen herself lay there, smarting from the blow, and wondered how they could ever defeat this thing. Their weapons were too flimsy against such a creature, and even Alistair’s druid magic had not worked.

Gwen turned and scanned her surroundings desperately, trying to use her wit, desperate to find something, anything that could be used, some way out of here. As she looked, she spotted something, and she had an idea.

There, at the top of one of the ice mounds, sat a large, round ice boulder. It was immense, and perched precariously, a good fifty feet high. It looked like one good shove could knock it from its perch—and the monster stood directly at the base of the ice mound beneath it. If Gwen could somehow dislodge the boulder, she could crush the beast below.

Gwendolyn burst into action. She raised Steffen’s bow, placed an arrow, and took aim, firing at the ice ledge beneath the boulder. Her aim was perfect: she managed to lodge the arrow precisely beneath the boulder, cracking the ice—and the boulder swayed just a tiny bit.

But it did not roll.

There were four arrows left, and with the monster bearing down on Alistair, there was little time to lose. Gwen fired again and again, and with her incredible aim, all four shots hit, as she’d hoped, in the exact same spot. Each time, the boulder rolled a little bit more.

It still sat on the precipice, tantalizingly about to go over the edge; but then it rolled back and stopped. It didn’t work. Gwendolyn was out of arrows. She had failed.

Alistair regained her feet and looked over and noticed what Gwendolyn was attempting to do. As the monster rushed for her, feet away, Alistair turned, raised both palms high above her head, and this time, she aimed for the ice boulder.

A yellow light shot from her palms, aimed up high at the ice mound, and the light flew across the battlefield. As she held the yellow light on the ice, beneath the boulder, it began to melt. Then crack.

Soon, the boulder began to move.

The monster was now just feet away, and Gwen feared that if the boulder did not roll quickly enough, Alistair would be killed before her eyes.

But Alistair, fearless, did not budge and did not back away in the face of the monstrous charge. She merely continued to concentrate, sending light onto the ice.

“ALISTAIR!” Gwen shrieked, running towards her.

The monster reached Alistair, grabbed her, and hoisted her high over its head with an awful shriek. Gwen could see that it was about to kill her.