A March of Kings sr-2

by Morgan Rice

  Argon looked away.

  “Will I still be in the Legion? Will I pass the test? Become a great warrior?”

  Argon stared back, expressionless.

  “Many questions,” he said, and turned and looked away. Thor realized he was not going to respond to any of them.

  “If I told you your future, it might affect it,” Argon added. “Every choice you make, that is what creates it.”

  “But I saw MacGil’s future,” Thor said. “In that dream. I saw that he was going to die. And yet I tried to help and it did no good. What was the point of my seeing it? What was the point of all that? I wish I’d never known.”

  “Don’t you?” Argon asked. “But your knowing affected destiny. He was meant to be poisoned. You prevented that.”

  Thor stared back, puzzled. He had never thought of that.

  “But he was killed anyway,” Thor said.

  “But not by poison. By dagger. And you don’t know what effect that small change will have on the destiny of this kingdom.”

  Thor thought about that, his head hurting. It was too much for him to comprehend. He didn’t fully understand what Argon was hinting at.

  “The King wanted to see me before he died,” Thor continued quickly, eager for answers. “Why me? Of all people? And what did he mean, when he spoke of my mother? Of my destiny being greater than his? Were these just the words of a dying man?”

  “I think you know they were far more than that,” Argon replied.

  “So then it’s true?” Thor asked. “My destiny is greater even than his? How is that possible? He was a king. I am nothing.”

  “Are you, then?” Argon asked back.

  Argon took several steps forward, standing feet away from Krohn, and stared down at him. Krohn whined, and turned and ran away. Thor felt a chill, as Argon stared right through him.

  “God does not choose the arrogant for his will. He chooses the humble. The least likely. Those overlooked by everyone else. Have you not considered this? All of your days farming, tending your father’s sheep in your village. This is a warrior’s-a true warrior’s-foundation. Humility. Reflection. This is what forges a warrior. Did you never sense it? That you were greater than what you were? That you were meant for something else?”

  Thor thought, and realized that he had sensed it.

  “Yes,” Thor responded. “I felt that…maybe I was meant for greater things.”

  “And now that they arrive, you still don’t believe it?” Argon asked.

  “But why me?” Thor asked. “What are my powers? What is my destiny? Where did I come from? Who was my mother? Why must everything in life be such a riddle?”

  Argon slowly shook his head.

  “One day, you will discover these things. But you have much to learn first. You must first become who you are. Your powers are deep, but you know not how to wield them. A mighty river flows within you, but it still lingers beneath the surface. You must bring it forward. You will learn much in your hundred days. But remember, that will be just the beginning.”

  Thor looked up at Argon, wondering how much he saw.

  “I feel guilty to live,” Thor said. He wanted desperately to tell Argon what was on his mind, the one person who could understand. “The king is dead, and yet I am alive. I feel that his death is on my head. And it hurts to go on.”

  Argon turned and looked at him.

  “One king dies and another follows. That is the way of the world. A throne is not meant to sit empty. Kings will flow, like a river, through our Ring. All will seem permanent, and all will be fleeting. Nothing in this world-not you, not I-can stop the current. It is a parade of puppets, in the service of fate. It is a march of kings.”

  Thor sighed, looking out at the horizon for a very long time.

  “The ways of the universe are inscrutable,” he finally continued. “You will not understand them. Yes, it hurts to go on. But we must. We have no choice. And remember,” he said, smiling at Thor with a smile that terrified him, “one day, you will join MacGil, too. Your time here is but a flash. Don’t let life weigh you down with fear and guilt and regret. Embrace every moment of it. Do you understand me? The best thing you can do for MacGil now is to live. To really live. Do you understand me?”

  Argon reached out and grabbed Thor by the shoulders, and it felt like two fires burning through his arms. He stared down with such intensity, Thor finally had to turn his head, and blink his eyes shut.

  He raised up his hands to protect his eyes, and then suddenly, he felt nothing. He looked up. Argon was gone. Vanished.

  Thor stood there alone in the field, turning in every direction. He saw nothing but the open sky, the open plains, and the howling of the wind.

  *

  Thor sat around the fire on the cool summer night, staring into the flames silently with the other Legion members as the wood cracked and popped. He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the night sky, and in the distance, countless stars twinkled red and orange. Thor wondered, as he often did it, about distant worlds out there. He wondered if there were planets that weren’t divided by canyons, seas that weren’t protected by dragons, kingdoms that were not divided by armies. He wondered about the nature of fate and destiny.

  The fire crackled, and he looked over at the roaring flames, around which sat his brothers-in-arms, hunched over, arms resting on their knees, looking somber and on-edge. Some of them roasted pieces of meat on sticks.

  “Want one?” came a voice.

  Thor turned and saw Reese, sitting beside him, holding out a stick wrapped in a white, gooey substance. He looked around and saw that they were being passed around to other boys around the fire.

  “What is it?” Thor asked, as he took it and touched the white mass. It was sticky.

  “Sap from the Sigil Tree. You roast it. Wait until it turns purple. It’s delicious. And it will be the last tasty thing you have in a while.”

  Thor watched the other boys holding their sticks into the fire, watched as the white substance hissed. He held his out, too, into the flames, and was amazed as the substance bubbled over, then turned colors. It turned all the colors of the rainbow before it turned purple.

  He pulled it out and tasted it, and was amazed at how good it was. It was sweet and chewy, and he took bite after bite.

  Seated on his other side, chewing happily, were Elden, O’Connor, and the twins. As Thor looked around, he realized that the Legion fell into natural cliques. With the ages ranging from 14 to 19, and with nearly a hundred boys in the Legion, there were a dozen boys in each age range. The 19 year olds barely acknowledged the 14-year-olds, and each year seemed to stick to itself. Looking at the faces of the 19 year olds, Thor could hardly conceive how much older they looked, like full-grown men, compared to the boys his age. They looked almost too old to even still be in the Legion.

  “Are they coming, too?” Thor asked Reese. He did not need to ask where. The Hundred was on everyone’s mind this night, and no one seemed to think or talk of anything else.

  “Of course,” Reese answered. “Everyone goes. No exceptions. Every age range.”

  “The only difference,” Elden interceded, “is that when they return, they are done with the Legion. It only goes to 19. And then they graduate.”

  “And then what?” Thor asked.

  “If they make it through their final Hundred,” Reese answered, “then they go before the King, and the King chooses which become Knights. Then, if they are chosen, the kingdom places them in posts for patrol duty throughout the kingdom. They have to do two years of rotation. Then they return to King’s Court, and are eligible to join The Silver.”

  “Is it possible that they wouldn’t pass the Hundred? After all these years?” Thor asked.

  Reese furrowed his brow.

  “It is different for every age and every year. I know stories of many who have not made it, at any age.”

  The group of boys fell silent, as Thor stared into the flames, wondering what lay ahead of them. After a l
ong while, there was a commotion, and the boys turned to see Kolk marching into the center of the circle, his back to the flames, flanked by two warriors. Kolk scowled down at the boys, slowly pacing, looking each one in the eye as he went.

  “Rest up, and eat up,” he said. “This will be the last time you do. From here on, you’re no longer boys, but men. You’re about to embark on the hardest hundred days of your life. When you return-if you return-those of you who return will finally be worth something. Now, you’re nothing.”

  Kolk continued pacing, walking slowly, looking as if he wanted to strike fear into each and every one of them.

  “The Hundred is not a test,” he continued. “It is not practice. It is real. What you do here, the sparring, the training-that is practice. But in the next hundred days, that is all gone. You will be entering a war zone. We are crossing the Canyon, will be beyond the shield, trekking for miles through the Wilds, into unguarded territory. We will be boarding ships, and crossing the Tartuvian Sea. We will be in enemy waters, far from the coast. We will be going to an island that is unmanned and unprotected from attack, in the heart of the Empire. We could be ambushed any time. There will be enemy forces all around us. And dragons lurk not far from there.

  “Without fail, there will be battle. A few of us warriors will accompany you, but mostly you will be on your own. You will be men, forced to fight real men’s battles. Sometimes to the death. This is how you learn battle. Each year, some of you will die. Some will be injured permanently. Some will drop out from fear. And the select few who return-those are the ones who merit joining the Legion. If you are too scared to go, don’t show up tomorrow. Every year at this night, a few of you will pack up and leave. If that is you, I hope you do. We don’t want cowards joining us.”

  With that, Kolk turned and stormed away, his men following.

  A low whisper spread among the boys, as they looked solemnly at each other. Thor could see fear on many of their faces.

  “Is it really that bad?” O’Connor asked a boy sitting beside him. The boy was older, maybe 18, and he stared into the flames, his wide jaw locked in a grimace.

  He nodded.

  “It is different every time,” he said. “I’ve had many of my brothers not come back with me. Like he said, it’s real. The best advice I can give you is to prepare for life-and-death. But I’ll tell you one thing: if you make it back, you’ll be a better warrior than you ever thought you could be.”

  Thor wondered if he could make it. Was he tough enough? How would he react when faced with real life and death combat? How could they sustain a hundred days of it? And what he would be like when he came back? He sensed that he would not return the same person. None of them would. And they would all be in it together.

  He looked at Reese’s face, and saw how distracted he was, and realized he was weighed down by something else. His father.

  “I’m sorry,” Thor said to him.

  Reese did not look at him, but slowly nodded, his eyes welling, looking down at the ground.

  “I just want to know who did it,” Reese said “I just want to know who killed him.”

  “As would I,” Elden echoed.

  “And we,” the twins echoed.

  “Did he tell you anything?” Reese asked Thor. “In those last minutes with him? Did he tell you who did it?”

  Thor could sense the others all looking at him. He tried to remember exactly what the king said.

  “He told me he saw who did it. But he could not remember his face.”

  “But was it someone he knew?” Reese pressed.

  “He said it was,” Thor said.

  “But that hardly narrows it down,” O’Connor said. “A king knows more people than we ever will.”

  “I’m sorry,” Thor added. “He didn’t tell me anymore.”

  “But you were in there with him for minutes before he died,” Reese pressed. “What else did he say to you?”

  Thor hesitated, wondering how much to tell Reese. He didn’t want to make him envious or jealous, or cause jealousy among the other boys. What could he possibly say? That the king said his destiny was greater than his? That would only stir the envy and hatred of everyone else.

  “He did not say much,” Thor said. “He was mostly silent.”

  “But then why did he want to see you? You specifically? Right before he died? Why did he not want to see me?” Reese pressed.

  Thor sat there, not knowing how to respond. He realized how bad Reese must have felt, being his son, and having his father choose to see someone else in his final moments. He did not know what to say to comfort him, and had to think of something fast.

  “He wanted me to tell you how much he cared for you,” Thor lied. “I think it was easier for him to tell a stranger.”

  Thor felt Reese examining him to see if he was lying.

  Finally, Reese turned and looked away, seeming satisfied. Thor felt bad not telling the complete truth. He hated to lie, and he never did. But he did not know what else to say. And he did not want to hurt his friend’s feelings.

  “And what of the sword now?” Conval asked.

  Reese turned and looked at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. The Dynasty Sword. Now that the king is dead, the next MacGil will have a chance to try to wield it. I hear that Gareth is being crowned. Is that true?”

  All the boys around the fire, even the older ones, grew quiet and looked at Reese.

  Reese slowly nodded.

  “It is,” he said.

  “That means Gareth will get to try,” O’Connor said.

  Reese shrugged.

  “According to tradition, yes. If he chooses to.”

  “Do you think he’ll be able to wield it?” Elden asked. “Do you think he is the One?”

  Reese snorted in derision.

  “Are you kidding? He’s my brother by blood only. Not by choice. I have nothing to do with him. He is not the One. He is not even a King. He is barely a prince. If my father were alive, he would never be king. I would bet my life that he would be unable to wield that sword.”

  “And then how shall that look to the other kingdoms, if our new king should try and fail?” Conval asked. “Another failed MacGil king? It will make us seem weak.”

  “Are you saying that my father was a failure?” Reese snapped, on edge.

  “No,” Conval said, backing down. “I didn’t meant that. I’m just saying that our kingdom will look weak if our new king fails to wield the sword. It could invite attack by others.”

  Reese shrugged.

  “There is nothing we can do. When the right time comes, one day, a MacGil will wield that sword.”

  “Maybe it will be you,” Elden said.

  All the others turned and stared at Reese

  “After all,” Elden added, “you are the king’s other true son.”

  “So is Godfrey,” Reese answered. “He is also older than me.”

  “But Godfrey would never rule. And after Gareth, that leaves you.”

  “None of that matters,” Reese said. “Gareth is king now. Not me.”

  “Maybe not for long,” said one of the other boys, a deep voice from somewhere in the crowd.

  “What do you mean?” Reese asked into the night, searching out the face.

  But only silence came in return, as the others looked away.

  “There are rumors of a revolt,” Elden said finally. “Gareth is nothing like you. Nothing like us. He has made many enemies. Especially among the Legion, and among the Silver. Anything can happen. You might one day find yourself King.”

  Reese reddened.

  “I would only wish to be king if it were legitimate. Not under those circumstances. Not because of my father’s early death, and not because Gareth was betrayed. Besides, my eldest brother Kendrick would be far better than me.”

  “But he is not eligible,” said O’Connor.

  “Well then there is also my sister, Gwendolyn. That was my father’s fin
al wish.”

  “For a girl to rule?” someone yelled out in surprise. “That would never happen.”

  “But that was his wish,” Reese insisted.

  “But he shall not get his wish now, shall he?” someone remarked.

  Slowly, Reese shook his head.

  “For better or for worse, we’re all in Gareth’s hands now,” he said.

  “Who knows what we shall return to in a hundred days?” Elden remarked.

  The group fell silent, as they all stared into the flames.

  Thor sat there, thinking. The mention of Gwendolyn’s name left a pit in his stomach. He turned and whispered to Reese.

  “Your sister,” he said. “Did you see her, after the funeral?”

  Reese looked at Thor, and slowly nodded.

  “We spoke. I cleared your name. She knows you had nothing to do in the brothel.”

  Thor felt a great sense of relief, felt his stomach relax for the first time in days. He was overwhelmed with gratitude towards Reese.

  “Did she say she wants to see me again?” Thor asked, hopefully.

  Reese shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, my brother,” he said. “She is a proud one. She does not like to admit when she’s wrong. Even if she is.”

  Thor turned and looked back into the flames, and slowly nodded. He understood. He felt a hollowness in his stomach, but it gave him strength. There would be a long hundred days ahead of him, and it would be best if he had nothing left to care for.

  *

  Thor stood in the king’s chamber, over his bed, the room dark save for a single torch at the far end that flickered slowly. Thor took three slow steps, knelt down beside the king, and held his hand. His eyes were closed. He looked peaceful. He was cold and still, and Thor could feel that he was dead.

  MacGil’s crown still sat on his head, and as Thor watched, Ephistopheles suddenly flew into the room, swooped down through an open window, and landed on the king’s head. She grabbed the crown in her mouth, and flew away with it. She screeched as she flew out the window, her huge wings flapping, carrying the crown far into the sky.

  Thor looked back at MacGil, and saw that now, in his place, lay Gareth. Thor quickly withdrew his hand, as he saw that Gareth’s hand was that of a snake; he looked up and saw that Gareth’s face was transforming, mixed with that of a cobra. He had scaly skin, and a tongue which flickered out at him. Gareth smiled an evil smile, his eyes flashing yellow.