by Morgan Rice
“Backup slowly,” Reese said. “Don’t take your eyes off them. They’ll take it as a sign of weakness.”
They each backed up slowly, one step at a time, and after several minutes, they gained enough distance to be safely out of range.
“We can’t continue in that direction,” Conval said.
“Let’s turn this way,” Conven said.
They made a sharp turn to the right, taking a narrow trail between two mountains. As soon as they were safely out of sight, they broke into a jog, trying to put as much distance between them and the creatures as they could.
“You think they’ll follow us?” O’Connor asked.
“I hope not,” William said.
They jogged for what felt like an hour, until finally they came out the other side of the mountains, and found themselves in a new wasteland.
They switched to a walk, all breathing hard, Thor covered in sweat. The sun grew long in the afternoon, and Thor would give anything for a drink. He looked around and saw the others were as exhausted as he.
“This is stupid,” William finally said. “How are we going to find them? We could be heading in the wrong direction.”
“We just have to keep moving,” Reese said.
“Moving where?” Elden asked, frustrated.
“Maybe this is all just an exercise,” O’Connor said. “To get us all killed. Maybe these Kavos don’t even exist. Maybe this whole thing was a test-to see how long and far we would go until we realized and turned back around. Maybe they’re all waiting for us back where we began.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Elden said. “We have our mission. We can’t quit.”
William stopped, and they all stopped and looked at him.
“I think we should turn around,” he said.
“If you don’t keep walking,” Malic began, “then I’m going to-”
Before he could finish his words, suddenly there came the sound of footsteps on the desert floor.
Thor spun in time to see a dozen of the fiercest warriors he had ever seen, charging right for them. They wore all black, their muscular arms and legs open to the air, and large, red helmets. They were tall and broad, muscles bulging, and they carried swords and shields and all manner of deadly weapons. They let out a fierce battle cry
“I think we’ve found them,” Malic said.
Clearly, these were the Kavos. They had come out of nowhere-and they did not seem pleased.
Thor and the others turned and faced them, but with hardly enough time to react. None of them drew their swords, all of them unsure whether to provoke them or try to make peace.
“We have come to ask your permission!” Reese yelled out, as they charged, trying to mollify them.
“Never!” their leader screamed back.
Thor and the others went to draw their weapons-but by now, it was too late.
The Kavos pounced on them. They moved faster than Thor could imagine, and Thor saw his brethren raising their swords and shields. There was a great clang of metal, as they blocked the blows.
Thor raised his own sword, blocking a blow just before it reached his shoulder. The blow was so strong and fierce, it sent him stumbling several feet. As he looked up, the Kavos brought down his sword again, and Thor blocked that too. But then the Kavos, a huge man with a long, wild beard and bald head, leaned back and kicked Thor hard in the chest. The blow sent him flying back several feet, the wind knocked out of him.
Krohn snarled and pounced on the warrior, and was able to drive him back and keep him away from attacking Thor while he was down.
The twins were knocked down, too, along with William, Reese and O’Connor. Elden, with his sheer strength, was able to go blow for blow, but even he was getting beaten back. Thor could not understand how the Kavos were so strong-and why they were so hostile. He had thought they would grant permission. Now he understood they needed to fight for it.
Thor rolled out of the way as a sword came down at him; the blade stuck in the dirt, and Thor used the opportunity to swing around and use his shield to strike him in the ribs. There came a gasp, and the man collapsed to his knees. Thor jumped to his feet and kicked the man, sending him to his back.
But Thor was then tackled from the side by another one, driven down to the ground. He landed with a crash, winded again, his facing driven into the dirt. He tried to spin, but the Kavos pinned him down, a man three times his size. The man went to claw Thor’s face, and Thor reached up to hold him back. But the man was too strong. Thor rolled his head out of the way, and at the last second the man’s fingers flew by him and plunged into the dirt.
Thor tried to roll the man off him, but he was too strong. They rolled, several times, and the man stayed on top of him, pinning him down. The man reached up and Thor saw that he held a curved dagger and was brining it down for his face. There was nothing he could do about it. He braced himself for the impact.
Krohn appeared, snarling, and bit the man in the side of the head; he screamed and let go of Thor. Then Elden appeared, kicking the Kavos hard in his temple, the blow knocking him off. Thor jumped to his feet, beside Elden, more grateful to Krohn and to Elden than they would ever know.
“I owe you one,” he said.
More of them charged, and they both spun and raised their swords and blocked the blows. Thor parried, back and forth, swords clanging, driven back and barely able to hold his own. These men were just too strong, too fast. They couldn’t hold them back much longer.
Thor, desperate, was beginning to feel a power, an energy, welling within him. He felt a tremendous heat rise up, through his legs and arms and shoulders, into his palms. Suddenly his sword was knocked out of his hand, and he found himself defenseless. The Kavos reached back to swing, and as he did, Thor felt his palms positively burning. He had to trust his instincts. He planted his feet, held a palm out, and directed his energy at the man.
As he did, he watched in awe as a golden ball of energy came flying out of his hands and hit the Kavos square in the chest. He went flying back, a good twenty feet, with a scream, and landed on his back. He lay there, unconscious.
The others must have noticed, because they all turned and looked at Thor, stunned. Thor held out his palms, aiming them at one Kavos after the next. One after another, a golden energy ball came flying out, hitting each Kavos, knocking each one onto his back. He first hit the one attacking Reese, then Elden, then O’Connor, then the others. He saved each one, sparing each a nasty blow from his attacker.
There was one Kavos, larger than the others, with a different colored armor, who looked like their leader. He charged Thor, and Thor turned and fired an energy ball at him.
But Thor was shocked to see the man swipe it away before it reached him.
The man took three steps to Thor, grabbed him by the shirt, and hoisted him up high in the air, several feet, until he was eye level with him. He held them there, staring at him, scowling.
Thor felt a tremendous energy flowing through the man, and realized, whoever he was, he was helpless in his grasp. If this man wanted to kill him, Thor knew that he could.
As the man held Thor in the air, after several seconds, slowly his expression softened, and to Thor’s surprise, it morphed into a smile.
“I like you,” the man growled, in a deep, ancient voice. “I wish to have you here.”
He leaned back, and threw Thor and he went flying through the air, landing hard in the dirt, rolling several times, winded again. He lay there, breathing hard, and looked up at the warrior.
The man laughed, then turned his back, and began to walk away.
“Welcome to the Isle of Mist,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Erec woke at dawn in the unfamiliar bed and sat upright, trying to get his bearings. He remembered: he was in the tavern. Alistair.
He jumped up and dressed himself within moments, preparing. He had been up most of the night, barely sleeping, the blood pumping in his veins with thoughts of Alistair. He could not get her fa
ce from his mind, and he could barely stand the thought that she was sleeping just down the hall, under the same roof. He also could not rest knowing she had not yet agreed to accept his proposal.
As he put on his chainmail, as he watched the first light breaking through the crooked window, he knew that today was the day. Today was the day his new life would begin, the first day of one hundred days of tournaments to win his bride. Now he had a reason to win. If she would have him, he would fight for her.
As Erec watched the sun slowly light up the world, the trees in silhouette, as he heard the first birds sing, he was struck with a feeling, one he could not shake: if she said yes, today was the day that would change his life. His entire life, when he had met women, he had never had such a feeling as when he had met Alistair. When he had found her again, in the tavern, he had been expecting not to feel that same feeling again. He had been surprised to realize that he felt it still-and even stronger. It was not a fluke. It was a feeling of instant loyalty to her. A feeling that he could be by no one else’s side. He did not know if she felt it, too. And he could not tell if that was because she was overwhelmed, or because she was simply not interested. He had to know. He could not rest until he did.
Erec finished dressing, gathered his weapons, and hurried from the room, his spurs jingling as his footsteps echoed down the creaky wooden hall. He hurried down the steps, entered the tavern, empty save for him, all the others still sleeping. He sat at one of the empty tables, waiting. Hoping. Was she awake? He wondered. Would she even care?
Moments later, the kitchen door opened and the innkeeper stuck out his head, looked disapprovingly at Erec, then closed the door quickly. There followed a yelling, a clattering of pots behind the closed door, and moments later, the door opened, and she appeared.
The sight of her took his breath away. She wore the same clothes from the night before, her hair was disheveled, and he could see she had been hastily awakened. She also looked tired, as if she had not slept much. Nonetheless, she looked as beautiful to him as ever. Her large blue eyes glowed in the morning light, emanating a power unlike any he had encountered.
Alistair hurried to his table, holding a mug of ale, her head lowered in humility, and set it down before him, still not meeting his eyes. He wanted more than anything to look into those eyes, to know how she felt about him. He was about to speak to her, when suddenly the innkeeper appeared behind her, hurrying up to her. Alistair became nervous, and she bumped the table, and a little bit of ale spilled out onto the floor.
“Look what you’ve done!” the innkeeper screamed at her. “Filthy, stupid girl! Mop it up!”
Erec reddened at his harsh words, his rage rising.
Alistair spun, nervous, and as she did, by accident she swiped the glass, which went sliding across the table and landed on the floor with a crash. The glass shattered, and the liquid went everywhere.
“Stupid wench!” the innkeeper screamed. He pulled back his large open palm, and brought it down for her face.
But Erec was faster than he. Erec drew on his soldier’s reflexes and leapt up from the bench and caught the innkeeper’s hand in mid-swing. He caught his wrist firmly, right before he hit Alistair, and held it in place.
The man glowered down at him, but Erec was stronger, and with one hand he bent his wrist back, turning it until the innkeeper dropped to his knees.
“If you ever try to lay a hand on her again,” Erec said, as he extracted a dagger and held it at the base of the innkeeper’s throat, “I swear to God I will kill you.”
The innkeeper swallowed, his eyes open wide with fear.
“My lord, please don’t hurt him,” Alistair said softly.
Erec was mollified by the sound of her voice, and he softened just a little, especially as the innkeeper gulped, and sweat broke out on his forehead.
“I won’t touch her,” the innkeeper said, his voice raspy from the tip of the blade. “I promise.”
Erec let him go, and the innkeeper dropped his arm and rubbed his wrist, breathing hard.
“Will you join me?” he asked Alistair, gesturing at the seat opposite him at the table.
“She has to work!” the innkeeper yelled back, as he got to his feet.
“If I win the tournaments, and if she agrees, then she will be my bride,” Erec said to the innkeeper. “She will never have to work again.”
“She might be your bride,” the innkeeper snapped, “but just because she is married, that doesn’t absolve her of me. She’s an indentured servant to me. She has four more years on her contract.”
Erec looked at Alistair, and she looked at him and nodded, her eyes wet.
“It is true, my lord. You see, I am not such a good bride for you. I am indentured here. I must repay my debt before I am free to go.”
Erec turned and scowled at this innkeeper. He hated him with a loathing he did not think possible.
“And how much is her contract worth?” Erec asked.
“That’s no business of yours-”
“Answer me!” Erec growled, putting one hand on his dagger.
The innkeeper must have detected Erec’s seriousness, because he swallowed and looked back.
“The typical servant is paid room and board and 100 pence for a seven year contract,” he said.
“If I win the jousting, and if she agrees to be my bride, I will buy her contract from you. In fact, I will pay you triple.”
Erec took a sack of gold coins from his waist, and dropped it on the table. It landed with a clang.
“300 pence of the king’s gold,” Erec announced.
The innkeeper looked down, wide-eyed. He licked his lips in greed, looking from Erec to Alistair. Then he grabbed the sack, weighed it in his palm, and opened it, examining the contents.
Finally, he stuffed the sack into his pocket. He shrugged.
“Take her then,” he said. “It is your money to lose. Only a fool would throw away so much gold for a servant.”
“Please, my Lord, don’t do this,” Alistair cried out to Erec. “It is too much money! I am not worth it!”
The innkeeper was about to go, but stopped and turned.
“And if you don’t win the competition? And if she doesn’t agree to be your bride?” he asked.
“As long as she is set free,” Erec said, “the gold is yours to keep.”
The innkeeper smiled, turned, and hurried from the room, slamming the kitchen door behind him.
Finally, it was just Erec and Alistair, alone in the room.
Erec Turned and looked at her.
“Do you wish to marry me?” he asked her, with more seriousness than he had ever mustered.
Alistair lowered her head in humility, and Erec’s heart pounded as he awaited her response. What if she said no?
“My lord,” she said. “I could think of no greater honor, no greater dream for any maiden in the kingdom than to be your wife. But I do not deserve this. I am but a common servant girl. You would sully your great name to be with me.”
Erec’s heart swelled with love for her, and he knew at that moment that he did not care what others thought-he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
“Will you marry me?” he asked her directly.
She lowered her head, and Erec stepped forward, placed a hand gently on her chin, and raised it.
She looked up at him, and her eyes were filled with tears.
“You cry,” he said, crushed. “That is a no.”
She shook her head.
“They are tears of joy, my lord,” she said. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted nothing else,” she said. “My heart was too overwhelmed to say it. I dared not to dream.”
They embraced, and he held her tight in a hug. The feel of her body enwrapped in his was greater than anything he had felt in his life.
“Please, my lord,” she whispered into his ear. “Win this jousting. Win it for me.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thor, drenched in sweat, stood with the ot
her boys in the Legion, trying to catch his breath. The second sun was at its peak, beating down on him overhead, and it had been a relentless day already.
After gaining permission from the Kavos and finally finding their way back to the other Legion members the night before, they had all crashed on the desert floor. It felt to Thor as if he had just closed his eyes when he had been awakened early, at the crack of dawn of another day-and since then, they had not stopped training all day long.
It was the first day of training of The Hundred, and it was more grueling than anything he could imagine. They had been sparring since the morning, breaking off into groups with all different ages. They practiced throwing spears at moving targets; clanging shields for hours; sparring with extra-heavy swords; jumping over ravines; and wrestling with each other. As he turned and looked around, he saw that all the boys looked exhausted. It was as if they had crammed a week’s worth of training into a morning, without a rest between. Every muscle in his body ached. He could not imagine how they could possibly keep up this pace for a hundred days. Maybe that was the point.
Finally, the commanders had summoned them all together, and he stood there with the others, catching his breath and staring back at Kolk, who paced among them.
“We have brought you to this island for a reason,” he boomed. “Training here is different than anywhere in the world. If we wanted to engage you in technical exercises, we would have kept you back in the Ring. Here, there are unique aspects to training, to becoming a warrior, which you will learn nowhere else in the world. This island is known as a training ground to the elite warriors of every kingdom-not just the Ring. They come here from all corners of the globe to train, to learn techniques from each other, to spar with each other. And now it is time to expose you to the best of the best.
