A Cry of Honor. Morgan Rice
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She turned and saw him standing over her, wearing his white cloak and hood, eyes translucent, burning through her as if he were peering into her very soul. He held his staff, lit up in the sunset and the moonlight.
Argon.
She stood and faced him.
“I sought you out,” she said. “I went to your cottage. Did you hear me knock?”
“I hear everything,” he answered cryptically.
She paused, wondering. He was expressionless.
“Tell me what I have to do,” she said. “I will do anything. Please, don’t let Thor die. You can’t let him die!”
Gwen stepped forward and grasped his wrist, pleading. But as she touched him she was scorched by a burning heat, traveling through his wrist and onto her hands, and she pulled back, overwhelmed by the energy.
Argon sighed, turned from her, and took several steps towards the lake. He stood there, looking out at the water, his eyes reflected in the light.
She walked up beside him and stood there silently for she did not know how long, waiting until he was ready to speak.
“It is not impossible to change fate,” he said. “But it exacts a heavy price on the petitioner. You want to save a life. That is a noble endeavor. But you cannot save two lives. You will have to choose.”
He turned and faced her.
“Would you have Thor live on this night, or your brother? One of them must die. It is written.”
Gwen was horrified by the question.
“What kind of choice is that?” she asked. “By saving one, I condemn the other.”
“You do not,” he responded. “They are both meant to die. I am sorry. But that is their fate.”
Gwen felt as if a dagger had been plunged into her stomach. Both of them meant to die? It was too awful to imagine. Could fate really be that cruel?
“I cannot choose one over the other,” she said, finally, her voice weak. “My love for Thor is stronger, of course. But Godfrey is my flesh and blood. I cannot stomach the idea of one dying at the expense of the other. And I don’t think either of them would want that.”
“Then they both shall die,” Argon replied.
Gwen felt flooded with panic.
“Wait!” she called out, as he began to turn away.
He turned and looked at her.
“What about me?” she asked. “What if I should die in their stead? Is it possible? Can they both live, and I will die?”
Argon stared at her for a very long time, as if taking in her very essence.
“Your heart is pure,” he said. “You are the most pure-hearted of all the MacGils. Your father chose wisely. Yes, he did…”
Argon’s voice trailed off as he continued to look into her eyes. Gwen felt uncomfortable, but did not dare look away.
“Because of your choice, because of your sacrifice on this night,” Argon said, “the fates have heard you. Thor will be saved on this night. And so will your brother. You will live, too. But a small piece of your life must be taken. Remember, there is always a price. You will die a partial death in return for both of their lives.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, terror-stricken.
“Everything comes with a price,” he answered. “You have a choice. Would you rather not pay it?”
Gwen steeled herself.
“I will do anything for Thor,” she said. “And for my family.”
Argon stared right through her.
“Thor has a very great destiny,” Argon said. “But destiny can change. Our fate is in our stars. But it is also controlled by God. God can change fate. Thor was meant to die on this night. He will live only because of you. You will pay that price. And the cost will be high.”
Gwen wanted to know more, and she reached out to Argon, but as she did, suddenly, a bright light flashed before her, and Argon disappeared.
Gwen spun, looking for him in every direction, but he was nowhere to be found.
She finally turned and looked out at the lake, so serene, as if nothing had happened here on this night. She saw her reflection, and she looked so far away. She was filled with gratitude, and finally, with a sense of peace. But she couldn’t help but also feel a sense of dread for her own future. As much as she tried to put it out of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder: what price would she pay for Thor’s life?
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