The Gift of Battle

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Angel grasped the rail as she stood at the stern of the ship, looking out at the fading Land of Blood as the currents pulled them downriver, away from Thorgrin. She was straining to see him as he faded from view, trapped in that woman’s arms at the gatehouse to the castle. As she floated away, she knew, she just knew, that if she didn’t stop this ship somehow, she would be taken away from him forever.

The currents carried them toward freedom, away, finally, from this land of gloom. But Angel did not want freedom—she wanted Thorgrin, alive, with them. She knew he would be trapped here, forever, along with his son, Guwayne. She could not turn her back on him. Thorgrin had saved her life, had rescued her from that island, and she never forgot a kindness. Life without loyalty meant nothing to Angel.

“Thorgrin!” she cried, again and again, determined to get him back.

She felt arms restraining her as she yelled, and she turned to see Reece and Selese holding her compassionately, out of concern for her.

“These currents are too strong,” Reece said, his voice filled with anguish. “There is nothing we can do.”

“NO!” Angel cried, refusing to accept it.

Without thinking, she tore free from their grip, jumped on the rail, and leapt, bounding off the edge, right for the waters below.

Angel felt the air rushing by her as she plunged, face first, into the sea of blood. Immersed in the thick liquid, she splashed back to the surface, fighting the currents with everything she had to make her way to Thorgrin.

She felt herself getting weaker, beginning to drown, and she closed her eyes as she flailed.

“Angel!” Selese yelled from behind her.

Angel heard a splash in the water beside her, and she saw that Selese had thrown a rope.

“Grab it!” Selese yelled. “We’ll drag you back in!”

But Angel refused. She would not abandon Thorgrin.

Instead, she willed, with all her might and all her soul, that the currents take her to Thorgrin. Not for herself, but for him.

And then something strange happened. As she swam, she suddenly felt the currents reversing, taking her with them, back toward Thorgrin. It was as if her force of will had been strong enough to change the sea.

Angel swam and swam, feeling her love for Thorgrin, her determination to save him, carry her along the tides. It was so strong, there was nothing that could keep it back.

Angel reached the stone drawbridge, grabbed hold of the slippery stone, and scrambled her way up the surface, scraping her hands and knees.

She knelt there, breathing hard, covered in the sticky red waters of the sea of blood, and she looked up. Sitting there, perhaps ten feet away, was the enchantress, Thorgrin on her lap, eyes opened wide, as if in a trance. The woman looked over at Angel in shock, as if she had never expected her.

The woman slowly set Thorgrin down and stood, rising to her full height, as Angel gained her feet, too. The two stood there, facing off with each other.

“You dare trespass on the gatehouse of the Lord of the Dead,” she seethed. “Thorgrin shall never leave here. What makes you think that you shall, too?”

But Angel, determined, stared back, unafraid. She had already faced death many times in her brief life, with her disease, and it had instilled her with fearlessness.

“I am immune to your charms,” Angel replied. “I am no man. I am a woman. And your charms cannot work on me.”

The woman scowled, as she must have realized that Angel, standing there, defiant, was right; clearly, her powers were useless against her. She must have been the first person in this woman’s life, Angel realized, that she could not touch.

The woman let out a shriek of rage, as she rushed forward, claws out as if to tear Angel to shreds.

Angel could not react in time—and there was nowhere to run on the narrow stone drawbridge. She braced herself as she soon felt the woman tackling her, on top of her, grabbing her and driving her down to the stone. As the woman clawed for her face, Angel grabbed the woman’s hair and yanked as hard as she could, until finally she cried out in pain and Angel was able to roll away.

Angel scrambled to her feet and kicked the woman hard, forcing her to roll out of her way, then she ran right for Thorgrin. He lay there, still bound by the invisible spell.

Angel reached his side and knelt down beside him, frantic, as the woman began to turn back.

“Thorgrin!” she yelled, shaking him. “It’s me! Angel! Come back to me.”

But, to her horror, Thorgrin just lay there, helpless, eyes glazed as he stared up at the sky of gloom.

Angel felt her heart sinking.

“Thorgrin, please!” she cried.

Suddenly she felt claws dig into her ankle, and she turned to see the woman grabbing her. The next thing she knew she was sliding backwards along the stone as the woman yanked her.

Angel managed to turn around, and as she did, she caught a good look at the woman’s face, and she was horrified. No longer was there a beautiful woman there; instead, her true colors had come out with her rage. She was now an ugly demon, her face green, lined with warts. She pounced on Angel, landing on top of her, and put both hands on her throat. She squeezed, and began choking her for real.

Angel, gasping, reached up and grabbed her wrists and tried her best to get the grotesque woman off of her. But it was no use; she wasn’t strong enough. This woman was a demon, and Angel knew she would die by her grasp.

“Thorgrin!” Angel called out weakly, gasping. “Help me! Please!”

Angel was losing air. She felt herself growing faint, knew that in moments she would be dead. But she did not regret it; at least she had died fighting for Thorgrin.

Suddenly, Angel could breathe again, as she saw the woman go flying backwards off of her. She blinked, confused, gasping, and her heart lifted to see Thorgrin rushing forward and throwing the woman off of her.

Angel jumped to her feet and Thor came running to her and embraced her.

“Angel,” he said, clearly overcome. “You have brought me back. Your love brought me back.”

They both turned and faced the woman who, as she stood, began to morph into something else. Her body stretched as she rose higher and higher, to a great height, thirty feet tall, her body green, slimy, with the face of a demon.

She raised one huge foot and brought it down, as if to crush them both.

Thor grabbed Angel and dove out of the way with her at the last moment. The demon’s foot came down right beside them. Angel felt the wind rush by her air, and as it hit the stone, the world shook. Its foot hit with enough impact to crush the stone drawbridge, shattering it into pieces.

Angel felt herself falling, as she and Thor fell through the bridge, which collapsed around them in a great avalanche and rumbling of stone. She fell through the air, and a moment later, she found herself submerged again, back into the sea of blood, Thorgrin beside her.

They splashed and flailed, as this time, the currents, far stronger, took them in a rush downriver, away from the castle, back toward the ship. It was like being caught in rapids, and the two of them flailed end over end in the frothing waters, the sea clearly upset, wanting to eject them from this Land of Blood. In the distance, Angel could see the demon still standing on the bridge, roaring, infuriated, wanting its due.

They went gushing downriver and as she held onto Thorgrin, the two of them tried their best to stay afloat.

“Thorgrin, the rope!” called out a voice.

Angel turned to see a rope rushing by, and as she looked up, she saw their ship, Reece and the others standing at the rail and looking down in desperation.

Thorgrin reached out for it and just missed it—but Angel, closer to it, managed to grab it. She hung on for dear life, and Thor hung onto her, and the two of them were finally stopped, hanging on by the rope, bound to the ship.

She held on tight as she felt the others pulling them in, one hand at a time, and soon they got close enough for Reece and the others to reach down, grab them, and pull them back on deck.

Angel and Thorgrin knelt there, spitting out the waters of blood, breathing hard, as they were brought to their feet and embraced by the others.

Thor turned to Angel, a look of profound gratitude in his eyes—which, Angel was thrilled to see, were no longer glazed.

“I shall never be able to thank you,” he said.

They embraced as the others joined them, and the roaring currents carried their ship away, toward a horizon of light, toward freedom, and away from Guwayne, from the Land of Blood.