by Morgan Rice
*
Thor raced across the drawbridge, sprinting for the castle’s outer gate, and luckily, the two guards recognized him from the Legion. They let him through without stopping, and he continued running, Krohn by his side.
Thor sprinted across the royal courtyard, past the fountains, and ran right to the inner gate of the King’s castle. There stood four guards blocking his way.
Thor stopped, gasping for air.
“What is your purpose, boy?” one of them asked.
“You don’t understand, you have to let me in,” Thor gasped. “I need to see the King.”
The guards looked at each other, skeptical.
“I am Thorgrin, of the King’s Legion. You must let me through.”
“I know who he is,” one guard said to the other. “He’s one of us.”
But the lead guard stepped forward.
“What business have you with the King?” he pressed.
Thor still fought to catch his breath.
“Very urgent business. I must see him at once.”
“Well, he must not be expecting you, because you are ill informed. Our King is not here. He left with his caravan hours ago, on court business. They won’t be returning until tonight, until the royal feast.”
“Feast?” Thor asked, his heart thumping. He remembered his dream, the feasting tables, and eerily felt it all coming to life.
“Yes, feast. If you are of the Legion, I am sure you will be there. But now he is gone, and there is no way you can see him. Come back tonight, with the others.”
“But I must get him a message!” Thor insisted. “Before the feast!”
“You can leave the message with me if you like. But I can’t deliver it any sooner than you.”
Thor did not want to leave such a message with a guard; he realized it would seem crazy. He had to deliver it himself, tonight, before the feast. He only prayed it would not be too late.
