Morgan Rice - A Charge of Valor

They flew and flew, heading all the way North, along the edge of the Canyon. As the weather grew colder and they lost Estopheles in and out of the Canyon’s mist, Thor was beginning to wonder if they were heading in the right direction—when finally, they reached it.

There, perched at the edge of the Canyon, sat a huge, red city.

Silesia.

Thor had seen paintings of it as a child, but had never seen it in person. The sight of it took his breath away. It was magical, blanketed in the swirling mist of the Canyon, with its two cities, one on the Canyon’s edge and one built into the Canyon itself. It looked as if it sat on the edge of the world.

Even more startling, it was occupied by Andronicus’s army. There must have been a million soldiers down below, covering the ground like locusts, camped out as far as the eye could see, and filling the entire city. It was unlike anything Thor had ever seen.

This city, unlike King’s Court, had not been completely destroyed; nor was it empty of humanity, as King’s Court was. Instead, down below, Thor saw hundreds of MacGil and Silesians, alive, bound to each other, slaves to Andronicus.

He also, as he looked carefully, saw something which gave him hope: there was a small group of soldiers, attacking a huge group of Empire. They were vastly outnumbered, clashing with a vast army of Empire soldiers pouring in through the gates. They were fighting bravely and holding their own for now—but within minutes he could see they would be outnumbered and overpowered.

As they flew closer, Thor looked down and saw Kendrick leading the pack. His heart quickened.

“DOWN!” Thor yelled.

Mycoples dove down, so close she nearly grazed Kendrick’s head with her talons. Then she craned back her neck, opened her mouth, and breathed fire on the Empire soldiers, again and again and again.

Hundreds of Empire soldiers caught fire, shrieking, collapsing to their deaths.

Mycoples kept flying, lifting over the city gates, then diving down and breathing fire on the thousands of Empire soldiers camped outside it. Thor cut huge swaths through the crowd, destroying entire regimens within seconds.

The Empire soldiers who were not killed turned in a panic and fled, running for the hills. The entire army began to run, like a pack of migrating gazelles, farther and farther from Silesia. Many trampled each other to death in the chaos.

Thor circled back, and Mycoples flew back over Silesia and dove down and landed in the center of the courtyard.

They landed to the bewildered faces of Kendrick and the others, all of them in a panic at seeing a dragon. Then their panic turned to relief upon realizing that the Dragon was not going to harm them. And then, finally, it morphed to excitement and gratitude, as they all saw that it was Thor and the others, having returned from the Empire, dismounting from its back.

Thor dismounted from the dragon, and he wheeled the Destiny Sword. He raised it high, overhead, a light shining from it. As he did, the faces of all those around him froze in shock and awe.

There were still hundreds of Empire soldiers left inside the courtyard, and Mycoples purred and Thor sensed she wanted to attack.

“No,” Thor said to her. “I’ve got these.”

Thor burst forward on foot, raising the Destiny Sword high, and ran out by himself to meet the hundreds of Empire soldiers remaining.

As he charged, wielding the Sword, he felt different than he’d ever had in his life. It was like the Sword was a part of him. It was like it was lifting him up in battle, making each foot step lighter and faster. He didn’t feel as if he was wielding the sword: he felt as if the sword were wielding him.

Thor met the enemy and swung the Sword, and as he did, a magical light shone forth from it. The Sword seemed to stretch out from his hand and he killed a dozen men in a single stroke. He raised the Sword again and again, charging right into the thick of the army, and swung relentlessly.

Within minutes, he had killed all of the men. Hundreds of them, all corpses, lying dead at his feet. And he wasn’t even tired: on the contrary, the Sword filled him with energy.

Thor turned and walked back to his people, standing dumbfounded in the courtyard, watching the scene in shock.

They stood there, mouths agape, as he approached them, walking alone, holding the Sword at his side. Kendrick, Brom, Atme, Srog, Godfrey and the others, dozens of members of the Silver, all famed warriors—they all looked to him with awe.

Thor stood there proudly, and he held the Sword high above his head in victory.

As one, all of the men raised their swords in a great cheer:

“THORGRIN!” they yelled out.

Erec charged into the thick of the soldiers in the gulch, packed shoulder to shoulder, swinging his war hammer and turning it sideways to block blows, fighting ten men at once, using every ounce of his skills, every training he had ever received. He was beyond exhausted, but he would not give up. He only needed to gain a few more feet, to cut his way through this crowd, to reach the lodged boulder. If he could just knock it down, he could seal up the gulch and spare all his men from the tide of Empire. Without that, they could never win.

Erec fought with all he had, wheeling and swinging, ducking, leaping, kicking, elbowing and even head-butting. He received a great many blow, punches and kicks and elbows, shields smashing against him, swords slashing and bouncing off his armor. He was losing stamina as he struggled forward, never losing sight of the boulder. He fought for every inch.

Just a few feet away, Erec was stuck. He was simply too exhausted to fight back the tide of men, and he felt himself about to lose ground.

Please, God. I am willing to die on this day. Just let me reach the boulder first. Just give me one last burst of strength.

Erec summoned all the years of training he’d had. He thought of King MacGil, and his heart burned with a desire for vengeance. Not just for himself. But for the MacGils. For the entire Ring.

Erec screamed a great battle cry, and summoned a final strength from somewhere deep inside him, some place he did not know. He roared and rushed forward, knocking back two men at once and pushing his way the final few feet all the way to the boulder.

As he reached it, Erec raised the two-handed hammer high, and brought it down right on the center of the rock.

There came a great cracking noise as the boulder began to split.

Erec did it again and again, and finally, the boulder split in two. He smashed it one last time, and the boulder came tumbling down in a great pile of debris and dust, filling the gulch and completely cutting it off. The tide of Empire soldiers stopped. Finally, the gulch was blocked.

From behind Erec there came a great cheer of victory from his men, who had witnessed the scene.

But Erec suddenly felt a horrific pain in his back. It was the feeling of steel puncturing his flesh.

Erec collapsed to his knees, in agony. He turned to see one remaining Empire soldier still on this side of the debris. He had hidden in the corners, and Erec had missed him.

There came a shout, and Brandt rushed forward and stabbed Erec’s attacker in the heart, killing him and sparing Erec from further injury.

Still, Erec felt the hot blood pouring out, and already felt the life force ebbing out of him.

“Erec!” Brandt cried out in concern.

Brandt reached down and grabbed Erec and picked him up, draping an arm over his shoulder as several of the Duke’s soldiers rushed forward to help. They all dragged Erec out of the gulch, Erec feeling the pain with each step.

Erec lay there, blood trickling from his mouth, breathing hard, as they laid him down. It hurt to move. He felt his body growing colder, and he knew he wouldn’t have much longer.