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

was Thor’s missing sheep: screaming, hanging upside-down, half its body
pierced by fangs. It was mostly dead. The Sybold appeared to revel in the kill,
taking its time; it seemed to delight in torturing it.
    Thor could not stand the cries.
The sheep wiggled, helpless, and he felt responsible.
    Thor’s first impulse was to turn
and run; but he already knew that would be futile. This beast could outrun
anything. Running would only embolden it. And he could not leave his sheep to
die like that.
    He stood there, frozen in fear,
and knew he had to take action of some sort.
    His reflexes took over. He slowly
reached down to the pouch, extracted a stone, and placed it in his sling. With
a trembling hand, he wound up, took a step forward, and hurled.
    The stone sailed through the air
and hit its mark. It was a perfect shot. It hit the sheep in its eyeball,
driving through to its brain.
    The sheep went limp. Dead. Thor
had spared this animal its suffering.
    The Sybold glared, enraged that
Thor had killed its plaything. It slowly opened its immense jaws and dropped
the sheep, which landed with a thump on the forest floor. Then it set its eyes
on Thor.
    It snarled, a deep, evil sound,
rising from its belly.
    As it started skulking towards
him, Thor, heart pounding, placed another stone in his sling, reached back, and
prepared to fire once again.
    The Sybold broke into a sprint,
moving faster than anything Thor had ever seen in his life. Thor took a step
forward and hurled the stone, praying it hit, knowing he wouldn’t have time to
sling another before it arrived.
    The stone hit the beast in its
right eye, knocking it out. It was a tremendous throw, one that would’ve
brought a lesser animal to its knees.
    But this was no lesser animal.
The beast was unstoppable. It shrieked at the damage, but never even slowed.
Even without one eye, even with the stone lodged in its brain, it continued to
charge mindlessly at Thor. There was nothing Thor could do.
    A moment later, the beast was on
him. It wound up with its huge claw and swiped his shoulder.
    Thor shrieked and fell. It felt
like three knives cutting across his flesh, hot blood gushing instantly from
it.
    The beast pinned him to the
ground, on all fours. The weight was immense, like an elephant standing on his
chest. Thor felt his ribcage being crushed.
    The beast threw back its head,
opened wide its jaws to reveal its fangs, and began to lower them for Thor’s
throat.
    As it did, Thor reached up and
grabbed its neck; it was like gripping solid muscle. Thor could barely hang on.
His arms started to shake as the fangs descended lower. He felt its hot breath
all over his face, felt the saliva drip down onto his neck. A rumble came from
deep within the animal’s chest, burning Thor’s ears. He knew he would die.
    Thor closed his eyes.
    Please God. Give me strength.
Allow me to fight this creature. Please. I beg you. I will do anything you ask.
I will owe you a great debt.
    And then, something happened.
Thor felt a tremendous heat rise up within his body, coursing through his veins,
like an energy field racing through him. He opened his eyes and saw something
that surprised him: from his palms emanated a yellow light, and as he pushed
back into the beast’s throat, amazingly, he was able to match its strength and
hold it at bay.
    Thor continued to push until he
was actually pushing the beast back. His strength grew and he felt a cannonball
of energy—an instant later, the beast went flying backwards, Thor sending it a
good ten feet. It landed on its back.
    Thor sat up, not understanding
what had happened.
    The beast regained its feet.
Then, in a rage, it charged again—but this time Thor felt different. The energy
coursed through him; he felt more powerful than he had ever been.
    As the beast leapt into the air,
Thor crouched down, grabbed it by its stomach and hurled it, letting its
momentum carry it.
    The beast flew through the wood,
smashed into a tree, and collapsed to the floor.
    Thor turned, amazed. Had he just
thrown a Sybold?
    The beast blinked twice, then
looked at Thor. It charged again.
    This time, as the beast pounced,
Thor grabbed it by its throat. They both went to the ground, the beast on top
of Thor. But Thor rolled over, on top of it. Thor held it, choking it with both
hands, as the beast kept trying to raise its head, snap its fangs at him. It
just missed. Thor, feeling a new strength, dug his hands in and did not let go.
He let the energy course through