Morgan Rice - A Charge of Valor

The others cheered, jumping to their feet, each drawing their weapons.

Sandara stood and nodded solemnly to Kendrick. She walked to him, lay her hands on his forehead, leaned in and kissed it.

“May the gods be in your favor,” she said, “in this lifetime and the next.”

She crossed the room, undid the bolts, and opened the secret chamber door for them.

Kendrick led the others as they charged from the chamber. They emerged from the black hole into the bright light of morning, exiting in the Silesian courtyard, Kendrick squinting against the sun. There was a large group of unsuspecting Empire soldiers before them, and they all charged them with a great battle cry, and before the soldiers could figure out what was happening, they had slaughtered all of them. There were quickly a dozen dead.

Hundreds of Silesian captives, stood nearby and watched, bound to each other. Kendrick had an idea.

“FREE OUR BROTHERS!” Kendrick yelled.

The group of men ran to them and sliced their ropes, freeing one after the other.

The men broke free with a shout and ran and grabbed weapons off of the downed soldiers, and off of the corpses lying on the battlefield. The group grew larger by the second, each person freeing someone else. Soon there numbers swelled to over a hundred men.

The main camp of Empire soldiers, on the far side of the courtyard, were only beginning to realize what was happening, and they began to turn at the sound of the shouts. They clearly had not been expecting this. They stood there, shocked.

“CHARGE!” Kendrick shouted.

Hundreds of Silesians, led by Kendrick, let out a great shout, racing across the courtyard with weapons held high and vengeance in their eyes. Srog, Brom, Atme, Godfrey, Akorth and Fulton ran beside them, across the courtyard, towards the distant group of Empire soldiers, who now turned and charged for them.

Kendrick knew they had no chance of winning. But he no longer cared. This was what it was all about. Honor. Glory. Valor. He had fire in his veins, and he was prepared to fight the battle of his life.

Thor, wielding the Destiny Sword in one hand, held onto the back of the dragon’s neck with the other, as they soared through the air, racing away from the dragons’ lair. Riding with him on the back of Mycoples were Reece, O’Connor, Elden, Conven and Indra, holding Krohn, all of them laden with the new weapons they had found. And Thor carrying the greatest weapon of all.

Thor was controlling Mycoples, leaning down and whispering in her ear, and she was listening. Thor felt as if he had known her his whole life, and he also felt within him an uncanny ability to control her. He felt in some ways as if he and the animal were one.

As they flew, a million thoughts raced through Thor’s mind. So much had happened so quickly, he could hardly process it all. Here he was, flying on the back of a dragon, which he could hardly understand. It felt surreal. How did he have the power to summon it? To control it? Was it because Thor had some special power? Or because he had some special connection to this beast? Or was it both?

Most importantly: who was he? How was he able to wield the Destiny Sword? He had grabbed it out of desperation, not expecting, of course, to be able to hoist it. But ever since he had, he could not let go of it. The energy of it gushed through him like a river. Legend held that only a MacGil could wield it. Did that mean that he, Thor, was a MacGil? How was that possible? Was the legend wrong?

That also meant that he was the Chosen One. But chosen for what, exactly? How could he, a simple shepherd from the outskirts of the Ring, possibly be the Chosen One? He, a mere boy? He wondered if a mistake had been made.

As Thor reflected on how far they had come, on all that they had done to cross the Empire, he felt a sense of victory beyond description that they had made it this far, had actually found the Sword, had retrieved it, and were returning with it. He could hardly comprehend it. At the very moment when all had seemed darkest, somehow, they had prevailed.

The only way out is through.

Thor looked down as they flew, the landscape beautiful from here. Below were rivers of lava, volcanoes spewing forth fire and ash in the air. When they were down there it had been threatening; now, from up above, it was picturesque, like a huge painting unfolding beneath them. They flew through clouds that came and went. The farther they got, the more the clouds of ash and sulfur gave way to open sky and clear wisps of cloud.

They flew so fast, it nearly took Thor’s breath away. They headed east, towards home, and Thor only hoped that they could return to the Ring in time to save his people. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think of Gwen. To really think of her. To really imagine him being with her again. He had been afraid to dwell on it before, as he’d thought his chances of return were impossible. But now, for the first time, it felt as if it could really happen. And he allowed himself to believe once again.

Suddenly there came a distant roar from somewhere behind them, and Thor’s heart dropped as he turned to see an army of dragons, soaring in the air, chasing after them. There were dozens of them, black and red and green, breathing fire, screeching. They were in a rage. Thor did not know if it was because they had taken the Destiny Sword, or because they had stolen their treasure, or because Mycoples had betrayed them. Whatever it was, they seemed set on vengeance.

“Faster!” Thor screamed, into Mycoples’ ear. Her wings flapped harder and he felt himself lunge forward.

The terrain changed below them as they flew faster and faster, the landscape becoming a blur. They left the land of the dragons, flew over the mountain peaks, past the trail of bones, over the great tunnel. The salt fields appeared below, shining white; soon these passed, and they were crossing over rolling green hills. Then swamps, mountains, ridges, lakes….

On and on they went, and Thor felt as if he were watching their entire journey, his entire life, pass by beneath them.

They finally reached the jungle where they had first arrived at the Empire, a huge mass of green below, clinging to the edge of the Tartuvian sea. Thor looked down to see its waves crashing onto the shore. The air was warmer here.

“Our ship is gone!” O’Connor yelled behind him, and Thor looked down at the empty shores and realized he was right.

“We won’t be needing that now!” Thor yelled back.

There came another roar and Thor turned to see the dragons were getting closer. They were breathing fire at them, and while it could not reach them, Thor felt an increasing sense of urgency.

“Faster!” Thor whispered to Mycoples.

The dragon flapped even harder, lunging forward again. Thor could feel her breathing hard, exerting all the energy she had, and he hoped he was not driving her too hard. Below them passed the Tartuvian, a vast expanse of yellow and blue. It rushed by, Thor able to spot the small whitecaps of its waves, the air turning moist; as they went, they flew over a fleet of Empire ships, dotting the ocean with their huge sails. Thor saw the men, tiny from here, like ants, and watched as they all stopped their rowing and looked up in wonder at the dragon flying overhead. No doubt, these soldiers were on their way to wreak havoc on the Ring.

“DOWN!” Thor commanded.

Mycoples dove down, right for the group of ships, and as they approached, Thor whispered: “FIRE!”

Mycoples breathed onto the sails, a steady stream of fire coming from her mouth, and as she did, one ship after the other lit up as the canvas sails caught. The huge wooden ships erupted into balls of flame, and Thor could see all the men below jumping ship, splashing into the water.