Morgan Rice: A Grant of Arms

As Andronicus spoke, each of his words became a suggestion in Thor’s mind, then a command. Then somehow, they became his own thoughts. Thor struggled, some small part of him trying to rid his mind of these invasive feelings, to reach a point of clarity. But the more he struggled, the harder it became.

As he sat there on his horse, watching the incoming army galloping across the plains, he felt the blood in his veins flowing, and all he could think of was his loyalty to his father, his need to crush anyone who stood in his father’s way. Of his destiny to rule the Empire.

“Thornicus, did you hear me?” Andronicus prodded. “Are you prepared to prove yourself in battle for your father?”

“Yes, my father,” Thor answered, staring straight ahead. “I battle anyone who battles you.”

Andronicus smiled wide. He turned and faced his men.

“MEN!” he boomed. “The time has come to face the enemy, to rid the Ring of its surviving rebels once and for all. We shall begin with these McCloud men who dare defy us. Thornicus, my son, will lead us in battle. You will follow him as you would follow me. You will give your life for him as you would for me. Betrayal to him is betrayal to me!”

“THORNICUS!” Andronicus screamed.

“THORNICUS!” came the echo of the chorus of ten thousand Empire troops behind them.

Thor, emboldened, raised his new sword high, the sword of the Empire, the one his beloved father had given him. He felt a power welling through it, the power of his bloodline, of his people, of all that he was meant to be. Finally he was back home, back with his father, once again. For his father, Thor would do anything. Even throw himself to death.

Thor let out a great battle cry as he kicked his horse and went charging down the valley, the first in battle. Behind him came a great battle cry, as tens of thousands of men followed, all of them prepared to follow Thornicus to their deaths.

Mycoples sat curled up, tangled inside the immense Akron net, unable to stretch, to flap her wings. She sat at the helm of the Empire ship, and struggle as she did, she could not lift her chin, move her arms, expand her claws. She had never felt worse in her life, never felt such a lack of freedom, of strength. She was curled up in a ball, blinking slowly, despondent, more so for Thor than for herself.

Mycoples could sense Thor’s energy, even from this great distance, even as her ship sailed across the sea, rolling up and down in the monstrous waves, her body rising and falling as waves crashed onto the deck. Mycoples could feel Thor changing, becoming someone else, not the man she once knew. Her heart broke. She could not help but feel as if somehow she had let him down. She tried to struggle once again, wanting so much to go to him, to save him. But she just could not break free.

A huge wave crashed on deck, and the foaming waters of the Tartuvian slipped beneath her net, making her slide and bang her head on the wooden hull. She cowered and snarled, not having the spirit or strength that she used to. She was resigned to her new fate, knowing she was being taken away to be killed, or worse, to live a life in captivity. She didn’t care what became of her. She just wanted Thor to be okay. And she wanted a chance, just one last chance, for vengeance on her attackers.

“There she is! Slipped halfway across the deck!” one of the Empire soldiers yelled out.

Mycoples felt a sudden jabbing pain on the sensitive scales of her face, and she saw two Empire soldiers, with spears thirty feet long, prodding her at a safe distance through the net. She tried to lunge forward for them, but her constraints held her down. She snarled as they poked her again and again, laughing, clearly having fun.

“She’s not so scary now, is she?” one asked the other.

The other laughed, jabbing his spear close to her eye. Mycoples moved away at the last second, sparing herself blindness.

“She’s harmless as a fly,” said one.

“I hear they’re going to put her on display in the new Empire capitol.”

“That’s not what I heard,” said the other. “I heard they’re going to pry off her wings and torture her for all the harm she did our men.”

“I wish I’d be there to see that.”

“Do we really need to deliver her intact?” one asked.

“Orders.”

“But I don’t see why we can’t at least maim her a little. After all, she doesn’t really need both eyes, does she?”

The other laughed.

“Well now that you put it that way, I guess not,” he answered. “Go for it. Have fun.”

One of the men came closer and raised a spear high.

“Hold still now, little girl,” the soldier said.

Mycoples flinched, helpless as the soldier came charging forward, preparing to plunge his long spear into her eye.

Suddenly, another wave crashed over the bow; the water took out the legs of the soldier, and he went sliding right for her face, eyes open wide in terror. In a huge burst of effort, Mycoples managed to lift one claw just high enough to allow the soldier to slip beneath her; as he did, she brought it down on him and pinned it through his throat.

He shrieked and blood spilled everywhere, mixing with water, as he died beneath her. Mycoples felt some small satisfaction.

The remaining Empire soldier turned and ran, screaming for help. Within moments, a dozen Empire soldiers approached, all bearing long spears.

“Kill the beast!” one of them screamed.

They all approached to kill her, and Mycoples felt certain that they would.

Mycoples felt a sudden rage burn through her, unlike anything she’d ever felt. She closed her eyes and prayed to God to give her one final burst of strength.

Slowly, she felt a great heat rise within her belly and travel down her throat. She lifted her mouth and let out a roar. To her surprise, a slew of flames poured out.

The flames traveled through the net, and though not destroying the Akron, still a wall of fire engulfed the dozen men coming at her.

They all shrieked as their bodies went up in flames; most collapsed on deck, and those that didn’t die instantly ran and jumped overboard into the sea. Mycoples smiled.

Dozens more soldiers appeared, these wielding clubs, and Mycoples tried to summon the fire again.

But this time it did not work. God had answered her prayers, and had given her a one-time grace. But now, there was no more she could do. She was grateful, at least, for what she’d had.

Dozens of soldiers descended on her, beating her with clubs, and slowly, Mycoples felt herself sinking down, lower and lower, eyes closing. She curled herself up tight, resigned, wondering if her time on this world had come to an end.

Soon, her world was filled with blackness.

Romulus stood at the helm of his massive ship, the hull painted black and gold and waving the flag of the Empire, a lion with an eagle in its mouth, flapping boldly in the wind. He stood there with hands on hips, his wide muscular frame even wider, as if rooted to the deck, and stared out at the rolling, luminescent waves of the Ambrek. In the distance, just coming into view, was the shore of the Ring.

Finally.

Romulus’ heart soared with anticipation as he laid eyes on the Ring for the first time. On his ship sailed his finest hand-picked men, several dozen of them, and behind them sailed thousands of the finest Empire ships there were. A vast armada, filling the sea, all sailing the banner of the Empire. They had sailed a long way, circling the Ring, determined to land on the McCloud side. Romulus planned to enter the Ring by himself, sneak up on his old boss, Andronicus, and assassinate him when he was least expecting it.

He smiled at the thought. Andronicus had no idea of the might or cunning of his number two in command, and he was about to learn the hard way. He never should have underestimated him.