A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (5 page)

Thorgrin felt himself plunging to the bottom of
the ocean, the pressure building in his ears as he sank in the icy water,
feeling as if he were being stabbed by a million daggers. Yet as he plunged
deeper, the strangest thing happened: the light did not get darker, but
brighter. As he flailed, sinking, dragged down by the weight of the sea, he
looked down and was shocked to see, in a cloud of light, the last person he’d
expected to see here: his mother. She smiled up at him, the light so intense he
could barely see her face, and she reached out to him with loving arms as he
sank, heading right for her.

“My son,” she said, her voice crystal clear
despite the waters. “I am here with you. I love you. It is not your time yet.
Be strong. You have passed the test, yet there are many more to come. Face the
world and never forget who you are. Never forget: your power comes not from
your weaponry, but from inside you.”

Thorgrin opened his mouth to answer back, but as
he did, he found himself engulfed by water, swallowing, drowning.

Thor woke with a start, looking all around,
wondering where he was. He felt a rough material on his wrists and realized he
was bound, his hands behind his back, against a wooden pole. He looked around
the dim hold, felt the rocking motion, and he knew at once he was on a ship. He
could tell by the way his body moved, by the slats of light coming in, by the
moldy smell of men trapped below deck.

Thorgrin looked about, immediately on guard,
feeling weak, and trying to remember. The last thing he remembered was that awful
storm, the shipwreck, he and his men tumbling from the boat. He remembered
Angel, remembered clutching onto her for dear life, and he remembered the sword
in his belt, the Sword of the Dead. How had he survived?

Thor looked all around, wondering how he was sailing
at sea, confused, looking desperately for his brothers, and for Angel. He felt
relieved as he made out shapes in the darkness, and saw them all nearby, bound
with ropes to the posts: Reece and Selese, Elden and Indra, Matus, O’Connor,
and a few feet away from them, Angel. Thor was elated to see they were all
alive, though they all looked exhausted, beaten down from the storm and from
the pirates.

Thor heard raucous laughter, arguing, cheering
from somewhere up above, and then what sounded like explosions in his ears as
men tumbled over each other on the hollow deck, and he remembered: the pirates.
Those mercenaries who tried to sink him into the sea.

He would recognize that sound anywhere, the
sound of crude individuals, bored at sea, out for cruelty—he had encountered
too many of them before. He realized, shaking off his dream, that he was their
prisoner now, and he struggled at his cords, trying to break free.

But he could not. His arms had been bound well,
as were his ankles. He was not going anywhere.

Thorgrin closed his eyes, trying to summon his
power from deep within, the power he knew could move mountains if he chose.

But nothing came. He was too spent from the
ordeal of the shipwreck, his strength still too low. He knew from past
experience that he needed time to recover. Time, he knew, that he did not have.

“Thorgrin!” came a relieved voice, cutting
through the darkness. It was a voice he recognized well, and he looked over to
see Reece, bound a few feet away, looking back at him with joy. “You live!”
Reece added.

“We did not know if you would come through!”

Thor turned to see O’Connor bound on his other
side, equally joyful.

“I prayed for you every minute,” came a sweet,
soft voice in the darkness.

Thor looked over to see Angel, tears of joy in
her eyes, and he could feel how much she cared for him.

“You owe her your life, you know,” Indra said. “When
they cut you loose, it was she who dove in and brought you back. Without her courage
you would not be sitting here right now.”

Thor looked at Angel with a new respect, and a
new feeling of gratitude and devotion.

“Little one, I shall find a way to repay you,” he
said to her.

“You already have,” she said, and he could see
how much she meant it.

“Repay her by getting us all out of here,” Indra
said, struggling against her binds, irritated. “Those bloodsucking pirates are
the lowest of the low. They found us floating at sea and bound us all while we
were still unconscious from that storm. If they’d faced us man to man, it would
be a very different story.”

“They are cowards,” Matus said. “Like all
pirates.”

“They also stripped us of our weapons,” O’Connor
added.

Thor’s heart skipped a beat as he suddenly
recalled his weapons, his armor, the Sword of the Dead.

“Don’t worry,” Reece said, seeing his face. “Our
weaponry made it through the storm—including yours. It is not at the bottom of
the sea, at least. But the pirates have it. See there, through the slats?”

Thor peered through the slats and saw, on the
deck, all of their weapons, laid out beneath the sun, the pirates crowding
around them. He saw Elden’s battle-ax and O’Connor’s golden bow and Reece’s
halberd and Matus’s flail and Indra’s spear and Selese’s sack of sand—and his very
own Sword of the Dead. He saw the pirates, hands on their hips, looking down and
examining them with glee.

“I never seen a sword like that,” one of them said
to the other.

Thor reddened with rage as he saw the pirate
prodding his sword with his foot.

“Looks like it was a King’s,” said another,
stepping forward.

“I found it first, it’s mine,” the first one
said.

“If you kill me for it,” said the other.

Thor watched the men tackle each other, then
heard a loud thump as they both crashed down to the deck, wrestling, the other
pirates jeering as they circled around. They rolled back and forth, punching
and elbowing, the others egging them on, then finally Thor saw blood sprayed through
the slats, saw one pirate stomp the other one’s head several times.

The others cheered, relishing in it.

The pirate who won, a man with no shirt, a wiry
torso, and a long scar down his chest, got up and, breathing hard, walked over
to the Sword of the Dead. As Thor watched, he reached down and grabbed it and
held it up victoriously. The others cheered.

Thor burned at the sight. This scum, holding
his sword, a sword meant for a King. A sword he had risked his life to earn. A
sword given to he, and no other.

There came a sudden shout, and Thor saw the
pirate’s face suddenly wince in agony. He cried out and threw the sword, as if
holding a snake, and Thor saw it go flying through the air and land on the deck
with a clang and a thud.

“It bit me!” the pirate yelled to the others. “The
freaking sword bit my hand! Look!”

He held out his hand and displayed a missing
finger. Thor looked over at the sword, its hilt visible through the slats, and
saw small, sharp teeth protruding from one of the faces carved in it, blood
running down it.

The other pirates turned and glanced at it.

“It’s of the devil!” one yelled.

“I’m not touching it!” yelled another.

“Never mind it,” said one, turning his back. “There
are plenty of other weapons to choose from.”

“What about my finger?” cried the pirate, in
agony.

The other pirates laughed, ignoring him, and instead
focused on going through the other weapons, fighting over the cache for
themselves.

Thor returned his attention to his sword,
seeing it now sitting there, so close to him, tantalizingly right on the other
side of the slats. He tried once again with all his might to break free, but his
cords would not give. They had been tied well.

“If we could just get our weapons,” Indra seethed.
“I can’t stand the sight of their greasy palms on my spear.”

“Maybe I can help,” Angel said.

Thor and the others turned to her skeptically.

“They didn’t bind as they did you,” she
explained. “They were afraid of my leprosy. They tied my hands, but then they
gave up. See?”

Angel stood, showing her wrists bound behind
her back, but her feet free to walk.

“Little good it will do us,” Indra said. “You’re
still locked down here with all of us.”

Angel shook her head.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I’m smaller
than all of you. I can squeeze my body through those slats.” She turned to
Thor. “I can reach your sword.”

He looked back at her, impressed by her
fearlessness.

“You’re very bold,” he said. “I admire that
about you. Yet you would endanger yourself. If they catch you out there, they
may kill you.”

“Or worse,” Selese added.

Angel looked back, proud, insistent.

“I will die either way, Thorgrin,” Angel
replied. “I learned that a long time ago. My life taught me that. My disease
taught me that. Dying does not matter to me; it is only living that matters.
And living free, unrestrained from the bonds of men.”

Thor looked back at her, inspired, amazed at
her wisdom for such a young age. She already knew more about life than most of the
great teachers he had met.

Thor nodded back at her solemnly. He could see
the warrior spirit within her, and he would not restrain it.

“Go then,” he said. “Be quick and quiet. If you
see any sign of danger, return to us. I care more for you than that sword.”

Angel brightened, encouraged. She turned
quickly and hurried through the hold, walking awkwardly with her hands behind
her back, until she reached the slats. She knelt there, looking out, sweating,
eyes wide with fear.

Finally, seeing her chance, Angel stuck her
head through a gap in the slats, just wide enough to hold her. She wiggled her
way through it, pushing off with her feet.

A moment later, she disappeared from the hold, and
Thor could see her, standing on the deck. His heart pounded as he prayed for her
safety, prayed that she could get his sword and get back before it was too
late.

Angel stood, crouched down and hurried quickly
to the sword; she reached out with her bare foot, placed it on the hilt, and
slid it over.

The sword made a loud noise as it slid across
the deck, toward the hold. It was but a few inches away from the slats, when
suddenly a voice cut through the air.

“The little creep!” a pirate yelled.

Thor saw all the pirates turn her way, then run
to her.

Angel ran, trying to make it back—but they
caught her before she could make it. They grabbed her and scooped her up, and
Thor could see them marching her toward the rail, as if prepared to hurl her
into the seas.

Angel managed to lift up the back of her heel
hard and a groan rang out as she connected right between the pirate’s legs. The
pirate holding her moaned and dropped her, and without hesitating, Angel raced
back across the deck, reached the sword, and kicked it.

Thor watched, exhilarated, as the sword slipped
through the cracks and landed in the hold, right at his feet, with a bang.

There came a scream as one of the pirates
backhanded Angel. The others scooped her up and carried her back for the rail,
preparing to throw her into the sea.

Thor, sweating, having more fear for Angel than
for himself, looked down at his sword and felt an intense connection to it.
Their connection was so strong, Thor did not need to use his magical powers. He
spoke to it, as he would to a friend, and he felt it listen.

“Come to me, my friend. Release my binds. Let
us be together again.”

The sword heeded his call. It suddenly lifted
into the air, floated behind his back, and severed his ropes.

Thor immediately spun around, grabbed the hilt
in midair, and brought the sword down, slashing the cords at his ankles.

He then jumped to his feet and slashed the cords
binding all the others.

Thor turned and charged for the slats, raised
his boot, and kicked off the wooden door. Shattered, it went flying into pieces
as he burst out into sunlight, free, sword in hand—and determined to rescue
Angel.

Thor sprinted onto the deck and charged for the
men holding Angel, who squirmed in their arms, fear in her eyes as they reached
the rail.

“Let her go!” Thor yelled.

Thor raced for her, cutting down the pirates
who approached him from all sides, slashing them across the chest before they
could even get a blow in—none of them a match for him and the Sword of the
Dead.

He cut through the group, kicked the final two
men out of the way, then reached out and grabbed the back of the final pirate’s
shirt just before he dropped her over. He yanked him toward him, pulling Angel
back over the edge, then twisted his arm so he dropped her. She landed safely
on deck.

Thor then grabbed the man and hurled him over
the edge. He plummeted into the icy seas, screaming.