A Fate of Dragons. Morgan Rice
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and began to bring it down for her face.
“NO!” Gwen shrieked.
She braced herself for the life-changing slash.
But as the blade came down, something happened. Suddenly, a bird screeched, swooped down from out of the sky, dove right for the man. She glanced up and recognized it at the last second:
Estopheles.
It swooped down, its talons out, and scratched the man’s face as he brought down the dagger.
The blade had just begun to slice Gwen’s cheek, stinging her with its pain, when it suddenly changed directions; the man shrieked, dropping the blade and raising his hands. Gwen saw a white light flash in the sky, the sun shining behind the branches, and as Estopheles flew away, she knew, she just knew, that her father had sent the falcon.
She wasted no time. She spun around, leaned back and, as her trainers had taught her to do, kicked the man hard in the solar plexus, taking perfect aim with her bare foot. He keeled over, feeling the strength of her legs as she drove her kick right through him. She’d had it drilled into her, from the time she was young, that she did not need to be strong to fend off an attacker. She just needed to use her strongest muscles – her thighs. And to take aim precisely.
As the man stood there, keeled over, she stepped forward, grabbed the back of his hair and raised her knee – again, with pinpoint precision – and connected perfectly on the bridge of his nose.
She heard a satisfied crack and felt his hot blood gush out, pour onto her leg, staining it; as he slumped to the ground, she knew she had broken his nose.
She knew she should finish him off for good, take that dagger and plunge it into his heart.
But she stood there, naked, and her instinct was to clothe herself and get out of here. She didn’t want his blood on her hands, however much he may have deserved it.
So instead she reached down, grabbed his blade, chucked it into the river, and wrapped her clothes around herself. She prepared to flee, but before she did, she turned back, wound up, and kicked him as hard as she could in the groin.
He screamed out in pain, and curled up in a ball, like a wounded animal.
Inwardly she was shaking, feeling how close she had come to being killed, or at least maimed. She felt the cut stinging her cheek, and realized she would probably carry some scar, however light. She felt traumatized. But she did not let him show it. Because at the same time, she also felt a new strength welling up in her, the strength of her father, of seven generations of MacGil kings. And for the first time she realized that she, too, was strong. As strong as her brothers. As strong as any of them.
Before she turned away, she leaned down close so he could hear her amidst his groans.
“Come near me again,” she growled to the man, “and I will kill you myself.”
Chapter Ten
Thor felt himself getting sucked down beneath the water and knew that within moments he would be plunged to the depths and drowned – if he wasn’t eaten alive first. He prayed with all that he had.
Please, don’t let me die now. Not here. Not in this place. Not by this creature.
Thor tried to summon his powers, whatever they were. He tried with all that he had, willed that special energy to flow through him, to help him defeat this creature. He closed his eyes and willed for it to work.
But it did not come when he summoned it. Nothing happened. He was just a regular boy, powerless, just like everybody else. Where were his powers when he needed them most? Were they real? Or had all those other times just been a fluke?
As he was beginning to lose consciousness, a series of images flashed through his mind. He saw King MacGil, as if he were right there with him, watching over him; he saw Argon; and then he saw Gwendolyn. It was that last face that gave him reason to live.
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