A Charge of Valor sr-6

by Morgan Rice

  “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.

  Mycoples ascended and continued flying east, towards the Ring.

  Thor looked back and saw that the maneuver had cost them some of their precious lead: the dragons behind them were even closer. The plumes of black smoke from the sails had obscured their trail a bit, but Thor knew that wouldn’t last.

  “FASTER!” Thor commanded.

  They lunged forward, the moisture in the air whipping them as they flew in and out of the clouds. They went so fast that Thor could hardly breathe.

  Finally, on the horizon, Thor spotted the shores of the Ring. He saw the strip of beach, and saw, beyond that, the forest, and then the gaping expanse of the deep Canyon. His heart soared to have his homeland back in sight.

  There came a sudden roar, and Thor felt the heat behind them and turned to see the dragons even closer, breathing fire, the flames getting so close that they nearly touched Mycoples’ tail. He saw the huge, grotesque faces of the other dragons, too close. He could smell their sulfur smell from here.

  Mycoples, despite her best efforts, just didn’t have the energy to go faster. Thor knew that in just a few seconds, if they didn’t go faster, they would all be dead.

  “Please, Mycoples,” Thor whispered, “for me. Just a little bit faster. Just one last burst of speed.”

  Thor felt Mycoples lurch forward, one last time, with all she had, racing them across the final stretch of Tartuvian, across the sand, the forest, and then, across the huge gaping Canyon.

  Thor looked down at the Canyon from this perspective, and it took his breath away. It appeared as a huge gaping chasm in the earth, reaching to the bottom of the world, wider than he could ever imagine, as if it separated two worlds. Its swirling mist shimmered in all different colors, and Thor could feel its magical energy as they flew over it.

  As the Canyon flew by beneath them and they finally reached its edge, crossing the threshold into the Ring, Thor felt the Destiny Sword vibrate in his hand. He held it high, and as he did, he sensed an invisible wall suddenly seal up behind them.

  The Shield, he realized. The Sword had been returned, and the Shield was restored.

  Thor looked back and behind them, the army of dragons, so close, breathed another stream of fire. Thor braced himself, realizing they were about to be engulfed in the flames.

  But as they crossed into the Ring and the shield went up, the flames hit the invisible wall, just feet behind them, and stopped in mid-air. The dragons, too, suddenly came to a grinding halt, shrieking as they smashed into the invisible shield at the edge of the Canyon. They stopped in mid-air, screaming in pain, bouncing off it.

  Enraged, they circled and circled, breathing flames at the Shield. But the flames simply rolled off of it, and the dragons could not get closer. They roared in frustration, but they could not get in.

  Thor and the others cheered. For the first time since this whole saga had begun, since he and the others had set out on their quest, he felt safe. They were home.

  Thor reached over and smiled as he stroked Mycoples’ neck.

  “You’ve done good, my friend,” he said.

  Mycoples purred in return, craning back her neck and lifting her wings. Thor knew she understood.

  It all began to process in Thor’s swirling mind. They were home. They were safe. The shield was restored.

  Now, it was time to find Gwendolyn.

  * * *

  It had felt like an eternity since Thor had been back in the Ring. Having no news since his departure, he wondered what had happened in his absence. With the Shield down all this time, he feared for what may have come. Was Gwendolyn still in King’s Court, he wondered? Was King’s Court safe from attack? Was Gareth still ruling, and was Gwendolyn safe from him?

  Knowing how long the Shield had been down, and seeing all those fleets of Empire ships at sea, Thor assumed the worst. He feared that Andronicus had invaded. And if he had, he figured the first place he would attack would be King’s Court. Thor only hoped that Gwendolyn was still safe inside.

  Thor directed Mycoples across the familiar countryside of the Ring, heading towards King’s Court. As they flew, he appreciated his landscape from a whole new perspective. He noticed many familiar landmarks, and he felt so happy to be home. He prayed he never had to leave its borders again.

  As they passed over a hill, King’s Court came into view. Thor had been anticipating seeing it with excitement. But when they saw it, his heart plummeted.

  What was once the glorious King’s Court, the most magical and impregnable place in the world, was now just a hull, an empty burn-out shell of rubble, completely burned down to the ground. Its walls remained intact, though even these were charred and sections crumbling. Its gates were torn off and the statues and banners of the MacGils had all been toppled. In their stead, Thor’s heart sank to see, was instead a huge statue of Andronicus. And the banner of the Empire.

  As they neared, Thor realized that there were no MacGil soldiers or citizens to be found. Just Empire soldiers, everywhere. Clearly, King’s Court had been sacked, and it was now an occupied city.

  Thor was speechless. King’s Court. The bastion of strength of the entire Ring. Destroyed. How did that bode for the rest of the Ring? Thor did not want to admit it, but clearly, that could only mean one thing: they had been defeated in his absence. And Gwendolyn and the others had, most likely, been captured. Or worse, killed.

  Thor knew Andronicus’ reputation for savagery, and he broke down inside at the thought of anything happening to Gwen. He shut his eyes and tried to force the idea out of his mind; but a part of him already had a sinking feeling. Had Gwen died in the attack on King’s Court? Was she down there somewhere? And if not, if Andronicus had wreaked that much destruction on King’s Court, what other part of the Ring could be safe?

  Thor whispered to Mycoples and she dove down to take a closer look. Thor directed her to the camp of Empire soldiers, occupying the city. As they descended, hundreds of Andronicus’ men occupying King’s Gate all turned and looked up. As they spotted the dragon, their faces all froze in fear.

  They turned and tried to run, but there was nowhere for them to go. Mycoples breathed fire, and within moments, hundreds of them lay dead.

  It was a small vindication for Thor. At least he had killed these men who had dared to occupy this sacred city. But what mattered most was that he find Gwendolyn alive, and unhurt.

  They swooped down low and circled the city again and again. But nowhere were there any signs of humanity. It seemed as if everyone who had once been here was dead or gone. Thor wanted to touch down and look for her, but he knew it was pointless until they found some sign of life.

  As they circled and again and again, Thor felt increasingly desperate. He did not know where Gwen could be. He started to wonder if maybe Gwen had fled King’s Court at some point and if so, he wondered where she could have gone.

  There came a sudden screech, high above, and Thor looked up to see his old friend Estopheles, screeching, circling above them. She flapped her wings and screeched desperately and seemed to be trying to give Thor a message.

  Thor closed his eyes and listened, and he felt as if she were urging them to follow her somewhere. Estopheles turned and flew off, and Thor told Mycoples to follow.

  They flew over the countryside, heading North, and Thor wondered where Estopheles was leading them.

  “Where are we going?” Reece called out behind him. “King’s Court is destroyed. My brothers and sister are back there. We must save them!”

  “No,” Thor said. “King’s Court is no more. Estopheles is leading us elsewhe
re. I sense, to them. We must follow her.”

  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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  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.

  A horse came charging up, and as Erec looked up he could have sworn he saw Alistair, dismounting and running over. He wondered if her were seeing things. Alistair? How could she possibly be here?

  She knelt down beside Erec, and held him in her
arms. Erec could feel her love for him as she sobbed, the tears dripping down onto his face.

  She held his face in her palms, leaned down and kissed his forehead.

  “My Lord,” she said, sadly.

  As Erec felt the world grow lighter, whiter, the last thing he saw was Alistair, looking down at him with kind, compassionate eyes. He saw her lift her palms, and saw an intense blue light radiate from them. It was the most intense light he had ever seen, and he watched as she closed her eyes and laid her palms on his wound.

  As she did, he felt his entire body filling with light and warmth. He felt his wounds healing within him, felt himself being brought back from the dead.

  All the soldiers looked over at Alistair as the intense light grew brighter and brighter, encapsulating them both in a magic orb of light.

  Erec, feeling stronger by the second, looked up into Alistair’s mystical eyes and got lost in them. As he felt himself drifting into a healing sleep, he had enough energy for one final thought was:

  Who is she?

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Gwendolyn opened her eyes slowly, her head throbbing from the welt on her temple where she had been hit by the thieves. She looked around, and realized she was sitting on the forest floor, bound to a tree with coarse ropes. She wiggled, but they would not give. Sitting across from her, perhaps ten feet away, was Steffen, bound to a tree as well.

  She heard muted laughter coming from somewhere, and she turned and looked over to see the group of a dozen thieves huddled over a small bonfire in the forest, roasting some sort of small animal, perhaps a rabbit. They shoveled food into their mouths and chewed with their mouths open, chasing it with sacks of wine, and laughing. They laughed too loud, elbowing each other, and were clearly all vulgar individuals.