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

maybe he had left them, headed back across the bridge to
the other side of the Canyon. Maybe he was ashamed over losing his sword and
had left the region altogether.
    But
then Thor looked to the forest and saw fresh indentation in the moss, the
footprints heading towards the trail in the morning dew. There was no doubt
that those were Elden’s. Elden had not left; he had gone back into the forest.
Alone. Maybe to relieve himself. Or maybe, Thor realized with a shock, to try
to retrieve his sword.
    It
was a stupid move, to go alone like that, and it proved how desperate Elden
was. Thor sensed right away that there was great danger. Elden’s life was at
stake.
    The
falcon screeched at that moment, as if to confirm Thor’s thoughts. Then it
kicked up and flew, diving right for Thor’s face. Thor ducked his head—its
talons just missed and it rose in the air, flying away.
    Thor
leapt into action. Without thinking, without even contemplating what he was
doing, he sprinted off into the woods, following the footprints.
    Thor
didn’t stop to feel the fear as he sprinted alone, deep into the Wilds. If he
had paused to think how crazy it was, he probably would have frozen, would have
felt himself flooded with panic. But instead, he just reacted. He felt a
pressing need to help Elden. He ran and ran—alone—deeper into the wood in the
early light of dawn.
    “Elden!”
he screamed.
    He
couldn’t explain it, but somehow he sensed Elden was about to die. Perhaps he
shouldn’t care, based on the way that Elden had treated him, but he couldn’t
help himself: he did. If he were in this situation, Elden would certainly not
come to rescue him. It was crazy to put his life on the line for someone who
cared nothing for him—and, in fact, would gladly see him die. But he could not
help it. He’d never felt a sensation like this one before, where his senses
were screaming to him to react—especially over something he could not possibly
have known. He was changing somehow, and he did not know how. He felt as if his
body were being controlled by some new, mysterious power, and it made him feel
uneasy, out of control. Was he losing his mind? Was he overreacting? Was it all
just from his dream? Should he turn around?
    But
he did not. He let his feet lead him and did not give in to fear or doubts. He
ran and ran until his lungs were bursting.
    Thor
turned a bend, and what he saw made him stop short in his tracks. He stood
there, trying to catch his breath, trying to reconcile the image before him,
which did not make any sense. It was enough to strike terror into any hardened
warrior.
     There
stood Elden, holding his short sword and looking up at a creature unlike any
Thor had ever seen. It was horrific. It towered over them both, at least nine
feet tall, and as wide as four men. It raised its muscular, red arms, with
three long fingers, like nails, at the end of each hand, and a head like that
of a demon, with four horns, a long jaw, and a broad forehead. It had two large
yellow eyes and fangs curled like tusks. It leaned back and screeched.
    Beside
him, a thick tree, hundreds of years old, split in two at the sound.
    Elden
stood, frozen in fear. He dropped his sword, and the ground beneath him went
wet.
    The
creature drooled and snarled, and took a step towards Elden.
    Thor, too, was filled with fear,
but unlike Elden, it did not immobilize him. For some reason, the fear
heightened him. It heightened his senses, made him feel more alive. It gave him
tunnel vision, allowed him to focus supremely on the creature before him, on
its position to Elden, on its width and breadth and strength and speed. On its
every movement. It also allowed him to focus on his own body position, his own
weapons.
    Thor burst into action. He
charged forward, between Elden and the beast. The beast roared, its breath so
hot, Thor could feel it even from a distance. The sound raised every hair on
the back of Thor’s neck and made him want to turn around. But he heard Erec’s
voice in his head, telling him to be strong. To be fearless. To retain
equanimity. And he forced himself to stand his ground.
    Thor raised his sword high and
charged, plunging it into the beast’s ribs, aiming for his heart.
    The creature shrieked in agony,
its blood pouring down Thor’s hand as Thor plunged the sword all the way in, to
the hilt.
    But to Thor’s surprise, it did
not die. The beast seemed invincible.
    Without missing a beat, the beast
swung around and swiped Thor