A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

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 at the mention of it.
    “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 at another time.
    There
were so many questions Thor wanted to ask him—about the nature of the evil
empire, 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 felt his eyes grow heavy, and 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, 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.
    He
heard something and turned and looked into the forest. He detected movement. He
rose to his feet and walked towards the sound, his feet sinking into the earth
as he went. As he got closer, he spied a net hanging from a low branch. There,
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 which
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, came 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,
there 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 back 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