The Gift of Battle (6 page)

Darius looked up
in shock, staring back at the eyes of the mysterious man kneeling over him.

His father.

As Darius stared
into the man’s eyes, all sense of time and space fell away, his entire life
freezing in that moment. It all suddenly fell into place: that feeling Darius
had had from the moment he had laid eyes upon him. That familiar look, that
certain something that had been tugging away at his consciousness, that had
been bothering him ever since they’d met.

His
father
.

The word did not
even seem real.

There he was,
kneeling over him, having just saved Darius’s life, having blocked a deadly
blow from the Empire soldier, one which surely would have killed Darius. He had
risked his life to venture out here, alone, into the arena, at the moment
Darius had been about to die.

He had risked it
all for him. His son. But why?

“Father,” Darius
said back, more of a whisper, in awe.

Darius felt a
rush of pride to realize he was related to this man, this fine warrior, the
finest warrior he had ever met. It made him feel that perhaps he could be a
great warrior, too.

His father
reached down and grabbed Darius’s hand, and it was a firm, muscular grip. He
yanked Darius to his feet, and as he did, Darius felt renewed. He felt as if he
had a reason to fight, a reason to go on.

Darius
immediately reached down, grabbed his dropped sword off the floor, then turned,
together with his father, and they faced the oncoming horde of Empire soldiers
together. With those hideous creatures now dead, his father having killed them
all, horns had sounded, and the Empire had sent out a fresh wave of soldiers.

The crowd
roared, and Darius looked out at the hideous faces of the Empire soldiers
bearing down on them, wielding long spears. Darius focused, and he felt the
world slowing as he prepared to fight for his life.

A soldier
charged and threw a spear at his face, and Darius dodged right before it hit
his eye; he then swung around and as the soldier neared to tackle him, Darius
smashed him on his temple with the hilt of his sword, knocking him to the
ground. Darius ducked as another soldier swung a sword at his head, then lunged
forward and stabbed him in the gut.

Another soldier
charged from the side, his spear aiming for Darius’s ribs, moving too fast for
Darius to react; yet he heard the sound of wood smashing metal, and he turned
gratefully to see his father appear and use his staff to block the spear before
it hit Darius. He then stepped forward and jabbed the staff between the
soldier’s eyes, knocking him to the ground.

His father spun
with his staff and faced the group of attackers, the click-clack of his staff
filling the air as he swatted away one spear thrust after the next. His father
danced between the soldiers, like a gazelle weaving through men, and he wielded
his staff like a thing of beauty, spinning and striking soldiers expertly, with
well-placed jabs in the throat, between the eyes, in the diaphragm, felling men
in every direction. He was like lightning.

Darius,
inspired, fought like a man possessed beside his father, drawing energy off of
him; he slashed and ducked and jabbed, his sword clanging against other
soldiers’ swords, sparks flying as he advanced fearlessly into the group of
soldiers. They were larger than he, but Darius had more spirit, and he, unlike
they, was fighting for his life—and for his father. He deflected more than one
blow meant for his father, saving him from an unforeseen death. Darius dropped
soldiers left and right.

The last Empire
soldier rushed for Darius, raising a sword high overhead with both hands—and as
he did, Darius lunged forward and stabbed him in the heart. The man’s eyes
opened wide, as he slowly froze and fell to the ground, dead.

Darius stood
beside his father, the two of them back to back, breathing hard, surveying
their handiwork. All around them, Empire soldiers lay dead. They had been
victorious.

Darius felt that
here, beside his father, he could face whatever the world threw at him; he felt
that together, they were an unstoppable force. And it felt surreal to actually
be fighting at his father’s side. His father, whom he had always dreamt was a
great warrior. His father was not, after all, just any ordinary person.

There came a
chorus of horns, and the crowd cheered. At first Darius hoped they were
cheering for his victory, but then huge iron doors opened at the far side of
the arena, and he knew that the worst of it was just beginning.

There came the
sound of a trumpet, louder than any Darius had ever heard, and it took him a
moment to realize it was not the trumpet of a man—but rather, of an elephant.
As he watched the gate, his heart pounding with anticipation, there suddenly
appeared, to his shock, two elephants, all black, with long gleaming white
tusks, faces contorted with rage as they leaned back and trumpeted.

The noise shook
the very air. They lifted their front legs then brought them down with a crash,
stamping the ground so hard that it shook, throwing Darius and his father off
balance. Atop them rode Empire soldiers, wielding spears and swords, dressed
head to toe in armor.

As Darius
surveyed them, looking up at these beasts, larger than anything he had
encountered in his life, he knew there was no way he and his father could win.
He turned and saw his father standing there, fearlessly, not backing down as he
stoically stared death in the face. It gave Darius strength.

“We cannot win,
Father,” Darius said, stating the obvious as the elephants began their charge.

“We already
have, my son,” his father said. “By standing here and facing them, by not
turning and running, we have defeated them. Our bodies might die here today,
but our memory lives on—and it shall be one of valor!”

Without another
word, his father let out a cry and began to charge, and Darius, inspired, cried
out and charged beside him. The two of them raced out to meet the elephants,
running as fast as they could, not even hesitating to meet death in the face.

The moment of
impact was not what Darius expected. He dodged a spear as the soldier, atop the
elephant, threw it straight down at him, then he raised his sword and slashed
at the elephant’s foot as it charged right for him. Darius did not know how to
strike an elephant, or if the blow would even have any impact.

It did not.
Darius’s blow barely scratched its skin. The massive beast, enraged, lowered
its trunk and swung it sideways, smashing Darius in the ribs.

Darius went
flying thirty feet through the air, feeling the wind knocked out of him, and
landed on his back, rolling in the dust. He rolled and rolled, trying to catch
his breath as he heard the muted shout of the crowd.

He turned and
tried to catch a glimpse of his father, concerned for him, and out of the
corner he saw him hurling his spear straight up, aiming for one of the
elephant’s huge eyes, then rolling out of the way as the elephant charged for
him.

It was a perfect
strike. It lodged firmly in its eye and as it did the elephant shrieked and
trumpeted, its knees buckling as it tumbled to the ground and rolled, taking
out the other elephant with it in a huge cloud of dust.

Darius scrambled
to his feet, inspired and determined, and he set his sights on one of the
Empire soldiers, who had fallen and was rolling on the ground. The soldier
gained his knees, then turned and, still clutching his spear, took aim for
Darius’s father’s back. His father stood there, unsuspecting, and Darius knew
in a moment he would be dead.

Darius burst
into action. He charged the soldier, raised his sword, and slashed the spear
from his hand—then swung around and decapitated him.

The crowd
cheered.

But Darius had
little time to revel in his triumph: he heard a great rumbling, and he turned
to see the other elephant had regained its feet—and its rider—and was bearing down
on him. With no time to run out of the way, Darius lay on his back, took the
spear, and held it straight up, as the elephant’s foot came down. He waited
until the last moment, then rolled out of the way as the elephant went to stomp
him into the earth.

Darius felt a
great wind as the elephant’s foot rushed past him, missing him by inches, then
heard a shriek and the sound of spear impacting flesh as he turned to see the
elephant stepping on the spear. The spear rose straight up, all the way through
its flesh and out the other side.

The elephant
bucked and shrieked, running in circles, and as it did, the Empire soldier
riding it lost his balance and fell, a good fifty feet, shrieking as he landed
to his death, crushed by the fall.

The elephant,
still mad with rage, swung the other way and smacked Darius with his trunk and
sent him flying once again, tumbling in the other direction, Darius feeling as
if all his ribs were breaking.

As Darius
crawled on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath, he looked up to see
his father fighting valiantly with several Empire soldiers, who had been
released from the gates to assist the others. He spun and slashed and jabbed
with his staff, felling several of them in every direction.

The first
elephant that had fallen, the spear still in its eye, regained its feet,
whipped back up by another Empire soldier who jumped on its back. Under his
direction, the elephant bucked, then charged right for Darius’s father who,
unsuspecting, continued to fight the soldiers.

Darius watched
it happening and he stood there, helpless, his father too far away from him and
he unable to get there in time. Time slowed as he saw the elephant turn right
for him.

“NO!” Darius
shrieked.

Darius watched
in horror as the elephant rushed forward, right for his unsuspecting father.
Darius raced across the battlefield, rushing to save him in time. Yet, he knew,
even as he ran, that it was futile. It was like watching his world fall apart
in slow motion.

The elephant
lowered its tusks, charged forward, and impaled his father through the back.

His father cried
out, blood pouring from his mouth, as the elephant raised him high in the air.

Darius felt his
own heart close up as he saw his father, the bravest warrior he had ever seen,
high in the air, impaled by the tusk, struggling to break free even as he was
dying.

“FATHER!” Darius
shrieked.

Thorgrin stood
at the bow of the ship, tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, and looked
up in shock and horror at the massive sea monster emerging from the depths of
the water. It was the same color as the blood sea below, and as it rose higher
and higher, it cast a shadow over what little light there was in this Land of Blood. It opened its massive jaws, revealing dozens of rows of fangs, and it released
its tentacles in every direction, some of them longer than the ship, as if a
creature from the very depths of hell were reaching out to give them a hug.

Then it plunged
down for the ship, ready to engulf them all.

Beside Thorgrin,
Reece, Selese, O’Connor, Indra, Matus, Elden, and Angel all stood holding their
weapons, standing their ground fearlessly in the face of this beast. Thor
strengthened his resolve as he felt the Sword of the Dead vibrating in his
hand, and he knew he had to take action. He had to protect Angel and the
others, and he knew he could not wait for the beast to come to them.

Thorgrin leapt
forward to meet it, up high onto the rail, raised his sword high overhead, and
as one of the tentacles came swinging sideways for him, he swung around and
chopped it off. The huge tentacle, severed, fell to the ship with a hollow
sound, shaking the boat, then slid alongside the deck until it smashed into the
rail.

The others did
not hesitate either. O’Connor let loose a volley of arrows for the beast’s
eyes, while Reece chopped off another tentacle descending for Selese’s waist.
Indra threw her spear, piercing its chest, Matus swung his flail, severing
another tentacle, and Elden used his ax, chopping off two in one stroke. As
one, the Legion descended on this beast, attacking it like a finely tuned
machine.

The beast
shrieked in rage, having lost several of its tentacles, pierced by arrows and
spears, clearly caught off guard by the coordinated attack. Its first attack
halted, it shrieked even louder in frustration, shot up high into the air, and
then just as quickly plunged beneath the surface, creating great waves and
leaving the ship rocking in its wake.

Thor stared out
at the sudden silence, puzzled, and for a second he thought that maybe it had
retreated, that they had defeated it, especially as he saw the beast’s blood
pooling at the surface. But then he had a sinking feeling that all went too
quiet, too quickly.

And then, too
late, he realized what the beast was about to do.

“HANG ON!” Thor
yelled to the others.

Thor had barely
uttered the words when he felt their ship rise up unsteadily from the waters,
higher and higher, until it was in the air, in the tentacles of the beast. Thor
looked down and saw the beast beneath it, its tentacles wrapped all over the
ship from bow to stern. He braced himself for the crash to come.

The beast hurled
the ship and it went flying like a toy through the air, all of them trying to
hold on for dear life, until it finally landed back in the ocean, rocking violently.

Thor and the
others lost their grip and went sliding across the deck every which way,
smashing into the wood as the ship tossed and turned. Thor spotted Angel
sliding across the deck, heading for the rail, soon to go over the edge, and he
reached out and grabbed her small hand, holding her tight as she looked back at
him with panic.

Finally, the
ship righted itself. Thor scrambled to his feet, as did the others, bracing for
the next attack, and as soon as he did, he saw the beast swimming toward them
at full speed, its tentacles flailing. It gripped the ship from all sides, its
tentacles creeping over the edge, over the deck, and coming right at them.

Thor heard a cry
and he looked out and saw Selese, a tentacle wrapped around her ankle, sliding
across the deck, being yanked overboard. Reece swung around and chopped off the
tentacle, but just as quickly another tentacle grabbed Reece’s arm. More and
more tentacles crept over the ship, and as Thor felt one on his own thigh, he
looked around and saw all of his Legion brothers swinging wildly, chopping off
tentacles. For each one they chopped off, two more appeared.

The entire ship
was covered, and Thor knew that if he did not do something soon, they would all
be sucked under for good. He heard a screech, high in the sky, and as he looked
up, he saw one of the demon creatures released from hell, flying high overhead,
looking down with a mocking gaze as it flew away.

Thor closed his
eyes, knowing this was one of his tests, one of the monumental moments in his
life. He tried to blot out the world, to focus inwardly. On his training. On
Argon. On his mother. On his powers. He was stronger than the universe, he knew
that. There were powers deep within him, powers above the physical world. This
creature was of this earth—yet Thor’s powers were greater. He could summon the
powers of nature, the very powers that had created this beast, and send it back
to the hell it had come from.

Thor felt the
world slow all around him. He felt a heat rising within his palms, spreading
through his arms, his shoulders, and back again, prickling, right down to his
fingertips. Feeling invincible, Thor opened his eyes. He felt an incredible
power shining through them, the power of the universe.

Thor reached out
and placed his palm on the tentacle of the beast, and as he did, he seared it.
The beast withdrew it immediately from his thigh, as if being burnt.

Thor stood, a
new man. He turned and saw the beast’s head rearing itself up along the edge of
the ship, opening its jaws, preparing to swallow them all. He saw his Legion
brothers and sisters sliding, about to be dragged over the edge.

Thor let out a
great battle cry and charged the beast. He dove for it before it could reach
the others, forgoing his sword and instead reaching out with his burning palms.
He grabbed hold of the beast’s face and laid his palms on it, and as he did, he
felt them sear the beast’s face.

Thor held on
tight as the beast shrieked and writhed, trying to break free from his grasp.
Slowly, one tentacle at a time, the beast began to release its grip on the
boat, and as it did, Thor felt his power rising within him. He grabbed hold of
the beast firmly and raised both of his palms, and as he did, he felt the
weight of the beast, rising higher and higher into the air. Soon it hovered
above Thor’s palms, the power within Thor keeping it afloat.

Then, when the
beast was a good thirty feet overhead, Thor turned and cast his hands forward.

The beast went
flying forward, above the ship, shrieking, tumbling end over end. It sailed
through the air a good hundred feet, until finally it went limp. It dropped
down into the sea with a great splash, then sank beneath the surface.

Dead.

Thor stood there
in the silence, his entire body still warm, and slowly, one at a time, the
others regrouped, gaining their feet and coming up beside him. Thor stood
there, breathing hard, dazed, looking out at the sea of blood. Beyond it, on
the horizon, his eyes fixed on the black castle, looming over this land, the
place that, he knew, held his son.

The time had
come. There was nothing stopping him now, and it was time, finally, to retrieve
his son.