A quest of Heroes - S01 E35

Story 3 years ago

A quest of Heroes - S01 E35

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 35

Cont’d

“Have you ever been out there?” Thor asked Erec. “Far out there? Beyond the forest? Into the Wilds?”

The others all turned and look at Erec, as Thor anxiously awaited his reply. In the thick silence, Erec stared at the flames for a long time—so long that Thor began to doubt he would ever answer. Thor hoped he had not been too nosy; he felt so grateful and indebted to Erec, and certainly didn’t want to get on his bad side. Thor also wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Just when Thor was wishing he could retract his question, Erec responded:

“Yes,” he said, solemn.

That single word hung in the air for too long, and in it, Thor heard the gravity that told him all he needed to know.

“What is it like out there?” O’Connor asked.

Thor was relieved that he was not the only one asking the questions.

“It is controlled by one ruthless empire,” Erec said. “But the land is vast and varied. There is the land of the savages. The land of the slaves. And the land of the monsters. Monsters unlike any you can imagine. And there are deserts and mountains and hills as far as you can see. There are the marshes and the swamps and the great ocean. There is the land of the Druids. And the land of the Dragons.”

Thor’s eyes opened wide.

“Dragons?” he asked, surprised. “I thought they didn’t exist.”

Erec looked at him, deadly serious.

“I assure you, they do. And it is a place you never want to go. A place even the Gorals fear.”

Thor swallowed at the thought. He could hardly imagine venturing out that deep into the world. He wondered how Erec had ever made it back alive. He made a mental note to ask him another time.

There were so many questions Thor wanted to ask him—about the nature of the evil empire and who ruled it; why they wanted to attack; when Erec had ventured out; when he had returned. But as Thor stared into the flames it grew colder and darker, and as all his questions swirled in his head, he felt his eyes grow heavy. This was not the right time to ask.

Instead, he let sleep carry him away. He lay his head down on the ground. Before his eyes closed for good, he looked over at the foreign soil, and wondered when—or if—he would ever return home again.

*

Thor opened his eyes, confused, wondering where he was and how he had gotten there. He looked down and saw a thick fog up to his waist, so thick he could not see his feet. He turned and saw dawn breaking over the canyon before him. Far away, on the other side, was his homeland. He was still on this side, the wrong side, of the divide. His heart quickened.

Thor looked at the bridge, but strangely, it was now empty of soldiers. The whole place, in fact, seemed desolate. He could not understand what was happening. As he watched the bridge, its wooden planks fell one after another, like dominoes. Within moments the bridge collapsed, dropped down into the precipice. The bottom was so far down, he never even heard the planks hit.

Thor swallowed and turned, looking for the others—but they were nowhere in sight. He had no idea what to do. Now he was stuck. Here, alone, on the other side of the Canyon, with no way to get back. He could not understand where everyone had gone.

Hearing something, he turned and looked into the forest. He detected movement. He rose to his feet and walked toward the sound, his feet sinking into the earth as he went. As he got closer, he spied a net hanging from a low branch. Inside it was Elden, spinning around and around in circles, the branches creaking as he moved.

A falcon sat perched on his head, a distinct-looking creature with a body that gleamed of silver and a single black stripe running down its forehead, between its eyes. It bent over, plucked out Elden’s eye, and held it there. It turned to Thor, holding the eye in its beak.

Thor wanted to look away but could not. Just as he was realizing Elden was dead, suddenly, the entire wood came to life. Charging out of it, from every direction, was an army of Gorals. Huge, wearing only loincloths, with immense, well-muscled chests, three noses placed in a triangle on their face, and two long, curved sharp fangs, they hissed and snarled, sprinting right for him. It was a hair-raising sound, and there was nowhere for Thor to go. He reached down and grabbed for his sword—but looked down to discover it was gone.

Thor screamed.

He woke sitting straight up, breathing hard, looking frantically in every direction. All around him was silence—a real, alive silence, not the silence of his dream.

Beside him, in the first light of dawn, Reece, O’Connor, and Erec slept sprawled out on the ground, the dying embers of the fire near them. On the ground, hopping, was a falcon. It turned and cocked its head at Thor. It was large and silver and proud, with a single black stripe running down its forehead, and it stared at him, looking him right in the eye, and screeched. The sound made him shiver: it was the same falcon from his dream.

It was then he realized the bird was a message—that his dream had been more than a dream. That something was wrong. He could feel it, a slight vibration in his back, running up his arms.He quickly got to his feet and looked all around, wondering what it could be. He heard nothing wrong, and nothing seemed out of place; the bridge was still there, the soldiers were all on it.

What was it? he wondered.

And then he realized what it was. Someone was missing. Elden.

At first Thor wondered if maybe he had left them, headed back across the bridge to the other side of the Canyon. Maybe he was ashamed over losing his sword and had left the region altogether.

But then Thor looked to the forest and saw fresh indentation in the moss, the footprints heading toward the trail in the morning dew. There was no doubt that those were Elden’s. Elden had not left; he had gone back into the forest. Alone. Maybe to relieve himself. Or maybe, Thor realized with a shock, to try to retrieve his sword.

It was a stupid move, to go alone like that, and it proved how desperate Elden was. Thor sensed right away that there was great danger. Elden’s life was at stake.

The falcon screeched at that moment, as if to confirm Thor’s thoughts. Then it kicked up and flew, diving right for Thor’s face. Thor ducked his head—its talons just missed and it rose in the air, flying away.

Thor leapt into action. Without thinking, without even contemplating what he was doing, he sprinted off into the woods, following the footprints.

Thor didn’t stop to feel the fear as he sprinted alone, deep into the Wilds. If he had paused to think how crazy it was, he probably would have frozen, would have felt himself flooded with panic. But instead, he just reacted, feeling a pressing need to help Elden. He ran and ran—alone—deeper into the wood in the early light of dawn.

“Elden!” he screamed.

He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he sensed Elden was about to die. Perhaps he shouldn’t care, based on the way that Elden had treated him, but he couldn’t help himself: he did. If he were in this situation, Elden would certainly not come to rescue him. It was crazy to put his life on the line for someone who cared nothing for him—and, in fact, would gladly see him die. But he could not help it. He’d never felt a sensation like this one before, where his senses were screaming to him to react—especially over something he could not possibly have known. He was changing somehow, and he did not know how. He felt as if his body were being controlled by some new, mysterious power, and it made him feel uneasy, out of control. Was he losing his mind? Was he overreacting? Was it all just from his dream? Maybe he should turn around.

But he did not. He let his feet lead him and did not give in to fear or doubts. He ran and ran until his lungs were bursting.

Thor turned a bend, and what he saw made him stop short in his tracks. He stood there, trying to catch his breath, trying to reconcile the image before him, which did not make any sense. It was enough to strike terror into any hardened warrior.

There stood Elden, holding his short sword and looking up at a creature unlike any Thor had ever seen. It was horrific. It towered over them both, at least nine feet tall, and as wide as four men. It raised its muscular, red arms, with three long fingers, like nails, at the end of each hand, and a head like that of a demon, with four horns, a long jaw, and a broad forehead. It had two large yellow eyes and fangs curled like tusks. It leaned back and screeched.

Beside him, a thick tree, hundreds of years old, split in two at the sound.

Elden stood, frozen in fear. He dropped his sword, and the ground beneath him went wet.

The creature drooled and snarled, and took a step toward Elden.

Thor, too, was filled with fear, but unlike Elden, it did not immobilize him. For some reason, the fear heightened his senses, made him feel more alive. It gave him tunnel vision, allowed him to focus supremely on the creature before him, on its position to Elden, on its width and breadth and strength and speed. On its every movement. It also allowed him to focus on his own body position, his own weapons.

Thor burst into action. He charged forward, between Elden and the beast. The beast roared, its breath so hot, Thor could feel it even from a distance. The sound raised every hair on the back of Thor’s neck and made him want to turn around. But he heard Erec’s voice in his head, telling him to be strong. To be fearless. To retain equanimity. And he forced himself to stand his ground.

Thor raised his sword high and charged, plunging it into the beast’s ribs, aiming for his heart.

The creature shrieked in agony, its blood pouring down Thor’s hand as Thor plunged the sword all the way in, to the hilt.

But to Thor’s surprise, it did not die. The beast seemed invincible..