A Cry of Honor (Book #4 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

Thor lay on the ground in the midst of the battlefield, pinned down by McCloud soldiers, helpless, hearing the clash of battle, the screams of horses, of men dying all around him. The setting sun and the rising moon—a full moon, fuller than any he had ever seen—was suddenly blocked by a huge soldier, who stepped forward, raised his trident and prepared to bring it down. Thor knew that his time had come.

Thor closed his eyes, preparing for death. He did not feel fear. Only remorse. He wanted more time to be alive; he wanted to discover who he was, what his destiny was, and most of all, he wanted more time with Gwen.

Thor felt it wasn’t fair to die like this. Not here. Not this way. Not on this day. It wasn’t his time yet. He could feel it. He was not ready yet.

Thor suddenly felt something rising up within him: it was a fierceness, a strength unlike any he had ever known. His entire body tingled and grew hot as he felt a new sensation shoot through him, from the soles of his feet, through his legs, up his torso, and through his arms, until his fingertips were positively burning, sparking with an energy he could barely understand. Thor shocked himself by letting out a fierce roar, like a dragon rising from the depths of the earth.

Thor felt the strength of ten men course through him as he broke off the soldiers’ grips and leapt to his feet. Before the soldier could bring the trident down, Thor stepped forward, grabbed him by his helmet and head-butted him, cracking his nose in two; he then kicked him so hard he careened backward like a cannonball, knocking down ten men.

Thor shrieked with a newfound rage as he grabbed a soldier, raised him high overhead and threw him into the crowd, taking down a dozen soldiers like bowling pins. Thor then reached out and snatched a flail with a ten-foot chain from a soldier’s hands, and swung it overhead, again and again, until screams rose up all around him, taking down all the soldiers within a ten-foot radius, dozens of them.

Thor felt his power continue to surge, and he let it take over. As several more men charged him, he reached up and held out a palm and was surprised to feel a tingling and then watch a cool mist emanate from it. His attackers suddenly stopped, blanketed in a sheet of ice. They stood frozen in place, blocks of ice.

Thor turned his palms in each direction, and everywhere men became frozen; it looked like blocks of ice had dropped down all over the battlefield.

Thor turned to his brothers-in-arms, and saw several soldiers about to land fatal blows on Reece, O’Connor, Elden, and the twins. He raised a palm in each direction and froze the attackers, saving his brothers from instant death. They turned and looked at him, relief and gratitude welling in their eyes.

The McCloud army began to notice and became wary of approaching Thor. They started to create a safe perimeter around him, all of these warriors afraid to get too close as they saw dozens of their comrades frozen in place on the battlefield.

But then there came a roar, and a man stepped forward, five times the size of the others. He must have been fourteen feet tall, and he carried a sword bigger than Thor had ever seen. Thor raised a palm to freeze him—but it didn’t work against this man. He merely swatted the energy away as if it were an annoying insect, and continued to charge for Thor. Thor was beginning to realize that his power was imperfect; he was surprised, and did not understand why he was not strong enough to stop this man.

The giant reached Thor in three long steps, surprising Thor with his speed, and then backhanded him, sending Thor flying.

Thor hit the ground hard, and before he could turn, the giant was on him, lifting him up over his head with two hands. He threw him, and the McCloud army screamed in triumph as Thor soared through the air a good twenty feet before landing on the ground and tumbling hard, until he rolled to a stop. Thor felt as if all his ribs had been cracked.

Thor looked up to see the giant bearing down on him, and this time, there was nothing left he could do. Whatever power he had had been exhausted.

He closed his eyes.

Please God, help me.

As the giant bore down on him, Thor began to hear a muted buzzing in his mind; it grew and grew, and soon, it became a buzzing outside of his mind, in the universe. He felt a strange sensation he had never felt before; he began to feel in unison with the very material and fabric of the air, the swinging of the trees, the movement of the blades of grass. He felt a great buzzing amidst all of them, and as he reached up a hand, he felt as if he were gathering this buzzing, from all corners of universe, summoning it to his will.

Thor opened his eyes to hear a tremendous buzzing overhead, and watched in surprise as a massive swarm of bees materialized from the sky. They poured in from all corners, and as he raised his hands, he felt that he was directing them. He did not know how he was doing it, but he knew that he was.

Thor moved his hands in the direction of the giant, and as he did, he watched as a swarm of bees darkened the sky, dove down, and completely covered the giant. The giant raised his hands and flailed, then shrieked, as they swarmed him, stinging him a thousand times until he collapsed to his knees, then to his face, dead. The ground shook with the impact of his body.

Thor then directed his hand towards the McCloud army, who sat on their horses, staring back at him, watching the scene, in shock. They began to turn to flee—but there was no time to react. Thor swung his palm in their direction, and the swarm of bees left the giant and began to attack the soldiers.

The McCloud army let out a shout of fear, and as one they turned and rode, stung countless times by the swarm. Soon the battlefield emptied of them as they disappeared as fast as they could. Some of them could not manage to ride away in time, and soldier after soldier fell, filling the field with corpses.

As the survivors kept galloping, the swarm chased them all the way across the field, into the horizon, the great sound of buzzing blending with the thunder of horses’ hooves and of men’s shouts of fear.

Thor was astounded: within minutes, the battlefield was vacant and still. All that remained was the moaning of the McCloud wounded, lying in heaps. Thor looked around and saw his friends, exhausted and breathing hard; they seemed to be badly bruised and covered in light wounds, but okay. Aside, of course, from the three legion members he did not know, who lay there, dead.

There came a great rumbling on the horizon, and Thor turned in the other direction and saw the King’s army charging over the hill, racing towards them, Kendrick leading the way. They galloped for them, and within moments they came to a stop before Thor and his friends, the lone survivors on this b****y field.

Thor stood there, in shock, staring back, as Kendrick, Kolk, Brom, and the others dismounted and walked slowly towards Thor. They were accompanied by dozens of Silver, all the great warriors of the King’s Army. They saw that Thor and the others stood there alone, victorious, in the b****y battlefield, riddled with the corpses of hundreds of McClouds. He could see their looks of wonder, of respect, of awe. He could see it in their eyes. It was what he had wanted his entire life.

He was a hero.