A Joust of Knights

CHAPTER EIGHT

Thorgrin pulled one last time on the golden rope, hands shaking, Angel on his back, sweat pouring down his face, and he finally cleared the cliff, his knees touching down on soil, catching his breath. He turned and looked back and saw, hundreds of feet below, straight down the steep cliffs, the crashing ocean waves, their ship on the beach, looking so small, and he was amazed at how far he’d climbed. He heard groans all around him, and turned to see Reece and Selese, Elden and Indra, O’Connor and Matus all finishing the climb, all hoisting themselves up and onto the Isle of Light.

Thor knelt there, muscles exhausted, and looked up at the Isle of Light spread out before him—and his heart sank with a fresh sense of foreboding. Before he even saw the awful sight, he could smell the burning ash, the smell of smoke heavy in the air. He could also feel the heat, the smoldering fires, the damage that remained from whatever creatures had destroyed this place. The island was black, burned, destroyed, everything that had once been so idyllic about it, that had seemed so invincible, now turned to ash.

Thorgrin gained his feet and wasted no time. He began to venture out into the isle, his heart pounding as he looked everywhere for Guwayne. As he took in the state of this place, he hated to think of what he might find.

“GUWAYNE!” Thorgrin shouted as he jogged across the smoldering hills, raising both hands to his mouth.

His voice was echoed back to him against the rolling hills, as if to mock him. And then nothing but silence.

There came a lonely screech from somewhere high above, and Thor looked up to see Lycoples, still circling. Lycoples screeched again, dove low, and flew off toward the center of the isle. Thor sensed at once that she was leading him to his son.

Thor broke off into a jog, the others beside him, running through the charred wasteland, searching everywhere.

“GUWAYNE!” he shouted again. “RAGON!”

As Thor took in the devastation of the blackened landscape, he felt increasingly certain that nothing could have survived here. These rolling hills, once so lush with grass and trees, were now but a scarred landscape. Thor wondered what sort of creatures, aside from dragons, could wreak this sort of havoc—and more importantly, who controlled them, who had sent them here, and why. Why was his son so important that someone would send an army for him?

Thor looked to the horizon, hoping for a sign of them, but his heart sank as he saw nothing. Instead he saw only smoldering flames littering the hills.

He wanted to believe Guwayne had somehow survived all this. But he did not see how. If a sorcerer as powerful as Ragon could not stop whatever forces had been here, how could he possibly save his son?

For the first time since he had set out on this quest, Thor was beginning to lose all hope.

They ran and ran, ascending and descending hills, and as they crested a particularly large hill, suddenly O’Connor, leading the way, pointed excitedly.

“There!” he called out.

O’Connor pointed to the side, to the remains of an ancient tree, now charred, its branches gnarled. And as Thor looked closely, he spotted, lying beneath it, motionless, a body.

Thor felt at once that it was Ragon. And he saw no sign of Guwayne.

Thor, filled with dread, raced forward, and as he reached him, collapsed on his knees at his side, scanning everywhere for Guwayne. He hoped that perhaps he’d find Guwayne hidden in Ragon’s robes, or somewhere beside him, or nearby, perhaps in the cleft of a rock.

But his heart sank as he saw he was nowhere to be found.

Thor reached down and slowly turned over Ragon, his robe charred black, praying he had not been killed—and as he turned him over, he felt a glimmer of hope to see Ragon’s eyes flutter. Thor reached down and grabbed his shoulders, still hot to the touch, and he pulled back Ragon’s hood and was horrified to see his face charred, disfigured from the flames.

Ragon began to gasp and cough, and Thor could see he was struggling for life. He felt devastated at the sight of him, this beautiful man who had been so kind to them, reduced to such a state for defending this isle, for defending Guwayne. Thor could not help but feel responsible.

“Ragon,” Thorgrin said, his voice catching in his throat. “Forgive me.”

“It is I who beg your forgiveness,” Ragon said, his voice raspy, barely able to get out the words. He coughed a long time, then finally continued. “Guwayne…” he began, then trailed off.

Thor’s heart was slamming his chest, not wanting to hear his next words, fearing the worst. How could he ever face Gwendolyn again?

“Tell me,” Thor demanded, clutching his shoulders. “Does the boy live?”

Ragon gasped a long time, trying to catch his breath, and Thor gestured to O’Connor, who reached over and handed him a sack of water. Thor poured the water over Ragon’s lips, and Ragon drank, coughing as he did.

Finally, Ragon shook his head.

“Worse,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Death would have been a mercy for him.”

Ragon fell silent, and Thor nearly shook with anticipation, willing him to speak.

“They have taken him away,” Ragon finally continued. “They snatched him from my arms. All of them, all here, just for him.”

Thor’s heart dropped at the thought of his precious child being snatched away by these evil creatures.

“But who?” Thor asked. “Who is behind this? Who is more powerful than you who could do this? I thought your power, like Argon’s, was impenetrable by all creatures of this world.”

Ragon nodded.

“All creatures of this world, yes,” he said. “But these were not of this world. They were creatures not from hell, but from a place even darker: the Land of Blood.”

“The Land of Blood?” Thorgrin asked, baffled. “I have been to the hells and back,” Thor added. “What place can be darker?”

Ragon shook his head.

“The Land of Blood is more than a place. It is a state. An evil darker and more powerful than you ever imagine. It is the domain of the Blood Lord, and it has grown darker and more powerful over generations. There is a war between the Realms. An ancient struggle between evil and light. Each vies for control. And Guwayne, I’m afraid, is the key: whoever has him, can win, can have dominion over the world. For all time. It was what Argon never told you. What he could not tell you yet. You were not ready. It was what he was training you for: a greater war than you would ever know.”

Thor gaped, trying to comprehend.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “They have not taken Guwayne to kill him?”

He shook his head.

“Far worse. They have taken him as their own, to raise as the demon child they need to fulfill the prophecy and destroy all that is good in the universe.”

Thor reeled, his heart pounding, trying to understand it all.

“Then I shall get him back,” Thor said, a cold feeling of resolve rushing through his veins, especially as he heard Lycoples high above, screeching, craving, as he, vengeance.

Ragon reached out and grabbed Thor’s wrist, with a surprising amount of strength for a man about to die. He looked into Thor’s eyes with an intensity that scared him.

“You cannot,” he said firmly. “The Land of Blood is too powerful for any human to survive. The price to enter there is too high. Even with all your powers, mark my words: you would surely die if you go there. All of you would. You are not powerful yet enough yet. You need more training. You need to foster your powers first. To go now would be folly. You would not retrieve your son, and you would all be destroyed.”

But Thor’s heart hardened with resolve.

“I have faced the greatest darkness, the greatest powers in the world,” Thorgrin said. “Including my own father. And never have I backed down from fear. I will face this dark lord, whatever his powers; I will enter this Land of Blood, whatever the cost. It is my son. I will retrieve him—or die trying.”

Ragon shook his head, coughing.

“You are not ready,” he said, his voice trailing off. “Not ready…. You need…power…. You need…the…ring,” he said, and then erupted into a fit of coughing blood.

Thor stared back, desperate to know what he meant before he passed away.

“What ring?” Thor asked. “Our homeland?”

There came a long silence, Ragon’s wheezing the only sound in the air, until finally he opened his eyes, just a sliver.

“The…sacred ring.”

Thor grabbed Ragon’s shoulders, willing him to respond, but suddenly, he felt Ragon’s body stiffening in his hands. His eyes froze, there came an awful death gasp, and a moment later, he stopped breathing, perfectly still.

Dead.

Thor felt a wave of agony rush through him.

“NO!” Thor threw his head back and cried to the heavens. Thor was wracked with sobs as he reached out and embraced Ragon, this generous man who had given up his life to guard his son. He was overwhelmed with grief and guilt—and he slowly and steadily felt a new resolve rising up within him.

Thor looked to the heavens, and he knew what he had to do.

“LYCOPLES!” Thor shrieked, the anguished cry of a father filled with desperation, filled with fury, with nothing left to lose.

Lycoples heard his cry: she screeched, high up in the heavens, her fury matching Thor’s, and she circled down lower and lower, until she landed but a few feet away.

Without hesitating, Thor ran to her, jumped on her back, and grabbed hold of her neck tight. He felt energized to be on the back of a dragon again.

“Wait!” O’Connor yelled, rushing forward with the others. “Where are you going?”

Thor looked them dead in the eye.

“To the Land of Blood,” he replied, feeling more certain than he’d ever had in his life. “I will rescue my son. Whatever it takes.”

“You will be destroyed,” Reece said, stepping forward with concern, his voice grave.

“Then I will be destroyed with honor,” Thor replied.

Thor peered upward, looked to the horizon, and he saw the trail of the gargoyles, disappearing into the sky—and he knew where he must go.

“Then you shall not go alone,” Reece called out, “We shall follow your trail in our ship, and we shall meet you there.”

Thorgrin nodded and squeezed Lycoples, and suddenly, Thor felt that familiar sensation as the two of them lifted up into the air.

“No, Thorgrin!” cried out an anguished voice behind him.

He knew the voice to be Angel’s, and he felt a pang of guilt as he flew away from her.

But he could not look back. His son lay ahead—and death or not, he would find him—and kill them all.