Morgan Rice - A Grant of Arms

Gwendolyn charged, deeper and deeper into the thick of the battlefield, raising her shield to ward off a blow, her hands shaking. But she never stopped her charge. Empire soldiers pressed in from all sides, realizing an important person had arrived and trying to attack her. One came charging at Gwendolyn with his sword raised high, making it past her entourage, bearing down on her; Gwen waited and then dodged; he went flying past her.

Another came at her, slipping through the ranks, and this time Steffen charged forward, let loose an arrow, and shot him in the throat. He fell sideways off his horse, dead.

Yet another slipped through, and this one Gwen killed herself, raising her dagger and stabbing him in the throat before he could bring his axe down for her head. He dropped his axe on his own head and collapsed off his horse.

But the crowd grew thicker and thicker as she got closer to Thor, more and more Empire men charging for her. Her men and Steffen did the best they could, killing several of them. But she soon felt herself bumped on all sides, and suddenly, she was slammed on the shoulder by a shield, and knocked off her horse.

Gwen landed hard and rolled. She dropped to her knees, her belly killing her, dirt in her face and in her nose. Gasping, Gwen turned and looked up to see an Empire soldier grimacing, coming down at her with a war hammer.

Unable to defend, Gwen raised her hands and braced herself.

The hammer stopped in mid-air, its wielder looking confused.

Gwen looked over and saw Alistair, close by, holding out a single palm, a blue light between her and the weapon. Alistair then raised her hand and directed the light towards the soldier.

The soldier suddenly went flying backwards, dozens of feet through the air, his hammer falling to his side harmlessly.

Alistair reached out a hand and helped Gwen to her feet.

Gwen turned to see several more soldiers charging to attack her, with swords raised high, and she raised a shield and braced herself and Alistair against the blows. There came a snarling noise, and Krohn raced past her, leapt into the air, and sunk his fangs into each soldier’s throat. Krohn pinned each down and viciously shook his head, until satisfied each was dead.

Krohn, snarling, stood before them, scaring back any soldiers who dared approach and providing an opening for her. Gwendolyn saw her chance. She knew it was now or never.

Gwen sprinted, darting through the thick of men, Thorgrin in sight between the battling soldiers.

She was bumped and banged roughly in each direction, and she dodged more than one blow—but her speed worked for her. She was quick, not bogged down by armor, and she managed to weave her way through.

Gwen broke into the open clearing, Krohn leading the way, Steffen and Alistair right behind her, helping to deflect the blows. There he was, hardly twenty feet away from her.

Thorgrin.

Gwen could hardly breathe, she was so overcome with joy to see him, to be so close to him. She wanted to rush out and give him a hug. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

Yet she was also terrified of him. Thor fought with Erec like a man possessed. Watching them fight, two of the greatest warriors of all time, was like watching a work of beauty, the back and forth, the swords clanging, flashing in the light, the speed, the agility, the power, the perfect form. They were two masters of their art, their swords sparkling as if extensions of them, as if they were alive.

Dozens of soldiers stopped fighting and just stood there and watched, mesmerized.

Argon came up beside Gwendolyn, and as he did, he uttered one word:

“Rafi.”

Gwendolyn followed his gaze, and saw a sorcerer in scarlet robes standing on the far side of the clearing, watching the spectacle, standing beside Andronicus, beside McCloud. Rafi was the most evil-looking creature that she’d ever seen. He held out two hands towards Thor, and a scarlet light emanated from them, engulfing him. Suddenly, it all made sense. Thor was under this dark sorcerer’s control.

Argon stepped forward, fearlessly, out into the clearing, and held out a palm towards Rafi.

A blue light flew across the clearing. Rafi turned to see Argon and his face contorted with fear. Rafi looked shocked and confused.

“Argon,” Rafi said darkly. “It cannot be.”

The two of them stepped forward, out into the clearing, walking toward each other, each holding out a palm, each directing it at the other as they came closer.

It was a sight to watch, two sorcerers, two titans, facing off with each other, like two mountains colliding. It was a monumental struggle, and Argon’s hands shook, as did Rafi’s. They were each scowling, gasping for air. They each dropped to their knees, each infusing the other with a different color light.

Finally, Argon let out a great battle cry and raised his hands high, and as he did, Rafi suddenly lifted high into the air. Argon swung both his arms, and Rafi went hurling through the air, flying hundreds of feet, disappearing somewhere into the horizon.

Argon collapsed with the effort.

For a moment, Thor paused in his battle with Erec. He stood there, as if confused, as if a spell had been broken over him. Thor stared back at Erec with glazed eyes.

Erec, realizing what had happened, paused, too. He stood there, breathing hard, holding out his sword warily.

“Thorgrin, it is I, Erec,” he said. “Lay down your arms. It is not too late.”

“THORNICUS!” Andronicus yelled, stepping forward. “You are my son! YOU ARE MY SON!” he shrieked.

Thor’s eyes glazed over again, and suddenly, he threw himself back into battle, fighting Erec with twice the power, twice the speed.

They exchanged blow after blow, and soon, Erec tripped backwards, landing on one knee, overpowered.

Thor continued to slash for him, slashing with such fury, that he chopped Erec’s sword in half. He then knocked Erec’s shield from his hand.

Thor stood over Erec, a demonic look in his eyes. He breathed hard, wiped blood from his mouth, and raised his sword to plunge it into Erec.

Gwendolyn could stand to watch no more.

She rushed forward, into the clearing, and ran between Thor and Erec.

“Thorgrin!” she yelled out, tears in her voice. “It’s me. Gwendolyn!”

She stood just a foot away from him, crying, tears pouring down her cheeks. She felt overwhelmed by a million emotions.

The entire battlefield stopped to watch.

Thor stood there, sword raised high, and stared back at her. His eyes were not the eyes she knew and recognized and loved. He looked lost to her, lost in another world, another place, another time. As she stood there, for the first time in her life, she felt afraid of him.

“Thorgrin?” she asked, unsure.

Thor grimaced, and pulled his sword back farther.

Krohn suddenly rushed forward, snarling, and stood between Thor and Gwen. He snarled back at Thor as if he were a stranger. Gwen could hardly believe it: she had never Krohn snarl at him. Her sense of foreboding increased.

“Thor, it’s me ,” she pleaded, tearful. “Gwendolyn. Your love.”

Thor blinked, yet still his eyes held the same blank, confused look.

Gwen prayed that Thor would come back to her, would set down his sword. He seemed as if he might.

But suddenly, he scowled and raised his sword again, and Gwen knew in that moment that she would die by his hands.

Her final thought, before the blow came, was that she would wish for no other way to die in this world.

Mycoples rocked and swayed every which way on the ship as the huge waves crashed all over the deck, sliding her from one side of the deck all the way to the other, slamming into the railing. The sound from the crashing waves was deafening. She tried her best to claw through the net, but the Akron material remained indestructible.