by Morgan Rice
The beast reached up and clutched its throat, and Thor saw an arrow, piercing through it. A moment later, the beast keeled over, dead.
Erec came running into view, followed by Reece and O’Connor. Thor saw Erec looking down on him, asking if he was okay, and he wanted to answer, more than anything. But the words would not come out. A moment later, his eyes closed on him, and then his world was blackness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Thor opened his eyes slowly, dizzy at first, trying to figure out where he was. He was laying on straw, and for a moment wondered if he was back in the barracks. He propped himself up on one elbow, on alert, looking for the others.
He realized he was somewhere else. From the looks of it, he was in a very elaborate stone room. It looked as if he were in a castle. A royal castle.
Before he could figure it all out, a large, oak door swung open and in strutted Reece. In the distance, Thor could hear the muted noise of a crowd.
“Finally, he lives,” Reece announced with a smile, as he rushed forward and grabbed Thor’s hand and yanked him to his feet.
Thor raised a hand to his head, trying to slow his terrible headache from rising too fast.
“Come on, let’s go, everyone’s waiting for you,” he urged, yanking Thor.
“Wait a minute, please,” Thor said, trying to collect himself. “Where am I? What happened?”
“We’re back in King’s Court—and you are about to be celebrated as the hero of the day!” Reece said merrily, as they headed for the door.
“Hero? What do you mean? And…how did I get here?” he asked, trying to remember.
“That beast knocked you out. You’ve been out for quite a while. We had to carry you back across the Canyon bridge. Quite dramatic. Not exactly how I expected you to return to the other side!” he said with a laugh.
They walked out into the corridors of the castle, and as they went, Thor could see all sorts of people—women, men, squires, guards, knights—staring at him, as if they had been waiting for him to wake. He also saw something new in their eyes, something like respect. It was the first time he had seen it. Up until now, he had seen something else in people’s eyes: something like disdain. Now they looked at him as if he were one of them.
“What exactly happened?” Though racked his brain, trying to remember.
“Don’t you remember any of it?” Reece asked.
Thor tried to think.
“I remember running into the wood. Fighting with that beast. And then…” He tried to think, but was drawing a blank.
“You saved Elden’s life,” Reece said. “You ran fearlessly into the wood, on your own. I don’t know why you wasted energy on saving that prim’s life. But you did. The King is very, very pleased with you. Not because he cares about Elden. But he cares very much about bravery. He loves to celebrate. It’s important to him, to celebrate stories like this, to inspire the others. And it reflects well on the king, and on the Legion. He wants to celebrate. You’re here because he’s going to reward you.”
“Reward me?” Thor asked, dumbfounded. “But I didn’t do anything!”
“You saved Elden’s life.”
“I only reacted. I only did what came naturally.”
“And that’s exactly why the King wants to reward you.”
Thor felt embarrassed. He didn’t think that his actions deserved rewarding. After all, if it hadn’t have been for Erec, Thor would be dead right now. Thor thought about it, and his heart filled with gratitude for Erec, once again. He hoped that one day he could repay him.
“But what about our patrol duty?” Thor asked. “We didn’t finish it.”
Reece put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Friend, you saved a boy’s life. A member of the Legion. That’s more important than our patrol.” Reece laughed. “So much for an uneventful first patrol!” he added.
They finished walking down yet another corridor, and two guards opened a door for them, and Thor blinked and found himself in the royal chamber. There must have been a hundred knights standing about the room, with its soaring cathedral ceilings, stained glass, its weapons and suits of armor hung everywhere on the walls, like trophies. The Hall of Arms. It was the place where all the greatest warriors met, all the men of the Silver. Thor’s heart raced as he surveyed the walls, all the famous weaponry, the armor of heroic and legendary knights. Thor had heard rumors of this place, his entire life. It had been his dream to see it for himself one day. He could hardly believe he was here. He knew that normally no squires were allowed here—no one but the Silver.
Even more surprising, as he entered, real knights turned and looked at him—him—from all sides. And they wore looks of admiration. Thor had never seen so many knights in one room, and he had never felt so accepted. It was like walking into a dream. Especially since just moments before, he had been fast asleep.
Reece must have noticed Thor’s dumbfounded face.
“The finest of the Silver have gathered here to honor you.”
Thor felt himself well with pride and disbelief. “Honor me? But I’ve done nothing.”
“Wrong,” came a voice.
Thor turned and felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was Erec, grinning down.
“You have displayed bravery and honor and courage, beyond what was expected of you. You nearly gave up your life to save one of your brethren. That is what we look for in the Legion, and this is what we look for in the Silver.”
“You saved my life,” Thor said to Erec. “If it weren’t for you, that beast would have killed me. I don’t know how to thank you.”
Erec grinned down.
“You already have,” he answered. “Don’t you remember the joust? I believe we are even.”
Thor marched down the walkway towards MacGil’s throne, at the far end of the hall, Reece on one side of him and Erec on the other. He felt hundreds of eyes on him, and it all felt like a dream.
Standing around the King were his dozens of counselors, along with his eldest son, Kendrick. As Thor approached, his heart swelled with pride. He could hardly believe the King was granting him an audience for the second time in as many days—and that so many important men were here to witness it.
They reached the king’s throne, MacGil stood, and a muted hush overcame the room. MacGil’s ponderous expression broke into a wide smile, as he took three steps forward and to Thor’s surprise, gave him a hug.
A great cheer rose up in the room.
He pulled back, held Thor firmly by the shoulders, and grinned down.
“You served the Legion well,” he said.
A servant handed the king a goblet, and the King raised it and looked all around. In a loud voice, he called out:
“TO COURAGE!”
“TO COURAGE!” shouted back the hundreds of men in the room. An excited murmur followed, then the room once again fell quiet.
“In honor of your exploits today,” the King bellowed, “I grant you a great gift.”
The King gestured, and an attendant stepped forward, wearing a long, black gauntlet, on which sat a magnificent falcon. It sat there, its claws resting on the gauntlet, and turned, and stared right Thor—as if he knew him.
It took Thor’s breath away. He could hardly believe it. It was the exact falcon from his dream, with its silver body and the single black stripe running down its forehead.
“The falcon is the symbol of our kingdom, and of our Royal family,” MacGil boomed. “It is a bird of prey, of pride and honor. Yet it is also a bird of skill, of cunning. It is loyal, and fierce, and it soars above all other animals. It is also a sacred creature. It is said that he who owns a falcon is also owned by one. It will guide you on all your ways. It will leave you, but it will always come back. And now, it is yours.”
The falconer stepped forward, placed a heavy, chainmail gauntlet onto Thor’s hand and wrist, then reached out, picked up the bird, and placed it on Thor’s gauntlet. Thor felt electrified, having it on his arm. He could hardly move. He wa
s shocked by its weight, a struggle just to keep it up as it fidgeted on his wrist. He felt its claws digging in, though luckily he only felt pressure, as he was protected by the gauntlet. The bird turned, stared right at him, and screeched. Thor felt it looking into his eyes, and he felt a mystical connection to the animal. He just knew that it would be with him all his days.
“And what shall you name her?” the King asked, in the thick silence of the room.
Thor racked his brain, too frozen to even work.
He tried to think quick. He summoned in his mind all the names of all the famed warriors of the kingdom. He turned and scanned the walls, and saw a series of plaques with all the names of battles, all the places of the kingdom. His eyes rested on one particular place. It was a place in the Ring which he had never been, but which he had always heard was a mystical, powerful place. It sounded right to him.
“I shall call her Estopheles,” Thor called out.
“Estopheles!” the crowd echoed, sounding pleased.
The falcon screeched, as if in response.
Suddenly, Estopheles flapped her wings and flew up high, all the way to the peak of the cathedral ceiling, and out an open window. Thor watched her go.
“Don’t worry,” the falconer said, “she shall always return to you.”
Thor turned and looked at the King. He had never been given a gift in his life, much less one of this stature. He hardly knew what to say, how to thank him. He was overwhelmed.
“My liege,” he said, lowering his head. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You already have,” MacGil said.
The crowd cheered, and the tension in the room was broken. A spirited conversation broke out among the men, and so many knights approached Thor, he hardly knew which way to turn.
“That is Algod, of the Eastern Province,” Reece said, introducing him to one.
“And this is Kamera, of the Low Marshes…. And this, Basikold, of the Northern Forts….”
Soon, the names became a blur. Thor was overwhelmed. He could hardly believe that all these knights wanted to meet him. He had never felt so accepted or honored anytime in his life and he had a feeling that a day like this would never come again. It was the first time in his life he had a feeling of self-worth.
And he could not stop thinking of Estopheles.
As Thor turned every which way, greeting people whose names flowed by, names he could hardly grasp onto, a messenger hurried over, slipping between the Knights. He carried a small scroll, which he pressed into Thor’s palm.
Thor rolled it open, and read the fine, delicate handwriting. He could hardly imagine who it was from. He had never been handed a message before in his life:
Meet me in the back courtyard. Behind the gate.
Thor could smell the delicate fragrance coming off the pink scroll, and was puzzled as he tried to figure out who it was from. It bore no signature.
Reece leaned over, read it over his shoulder, and laughed.
“It seems my sister has taken a fancy to you,” he said, smiling. “I would go if I were you. She hates to be kept waiting.”
Thor felt himself blush.
“The rear courtyard is through those gates. Hurry. She’s known to change her mind quickly,” Reece smiled as he looked at him. “And I’d love to have you in my family.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Thor tried to follow Reece’s directions as he wound his way through the crowded castle, but it was not easy. This castle had too many twists and turns, too many hidden back doors, and too many long corridors that seemed to only lead to more corridors.
He ran through Reece’s directions in his head as he descended yet another small set of steps, turned down another corridor, and finally, he stopped before a small arched door with a red handle, the one that Reece had told him about, and pushed it open.
Thor hurried outside and was struck by the strong light of the summer day; it felt good to be outdoors, out of that stuffy castle, breathing fresh air, the sun on his face. He squinted, his eyes adjusting in the bright light, and took in the site: before him sprawled the royal gardens, stretching as far as the eye could see, hedges perfectly trimmed in different shapes, forming neat rows of gardens, trails winding amidst them. There were fountains, unusual trees of all types, fruit orchards, ripe with early summer fruits, and fields of flowers, of every size and shape and color. The site took his breath away. It was like walking into a painting.
Thor looked everywhere for a sign of Gwendolyn, his heart pounding. This rear courtyard was empty, and Thor assumed it was probably reserved for the royal family, set off from the public with its high, stone garden walls. And yet, he looked everywhere and could not find her.
He wondered if her note was a hoax. That was probably it. She was probably just making fun of him, the country bumpkin, amusing herself at his expense. After all, how could someone of her rank, really have any interest in him?
Thor looked down and read her note again, then rolled it back up in shame. He had been made fun of. What a fool he was to get his hopes up like that. It hurt him deeply.
Thor turned and prepared to head back into the castle, head lowered. Just as he reached for the door, a voice rang out.
“And where are you going?” came the joyful voice. It sounded like a bird’s song.
Thor wondered if he was imagining it. He spun, searching, and there she was, sitting in the shade beneath a castle wall. She smiled back, dressed in her royal finest, layers of white satin dress, with pink trim, and she looked even more beautiful than he’d remembered.
It was her. Gwendolyn. The girl he had been dreaming about since they had met, with her almond, blue eyes and long strawberry hair, with her smile that lit his heart. She wore a large white-and-pink hat, shading her from the sun, beneath which her eyes sparkled; he could hardly believe she was looking at him. For a moment he felt like turning around to make sure that there was no one else standing behind him that she could be looking at.
“Um…” Thor began. “I…um…don’t know. I…um…was going inside.”
Once again, he was finding himself flustered around her, finding it hard to collect his thoughts and articulate them.
She laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
“And why would you be doing that?” she asked, playful. “You just arrived.”
Thor was flustered. His tongue was tied.
“I…um…couldn’t find you,” he said, embarrassed.
She laughed again.
“Well, I’m right here. Aren’t you going to come and get me?”
She held out a single hand, and Thor rushed over to her, reached down and took her hand. He was electrified by the touch of her skin, so smooth and soft, her frail hand fitting perfectly inside of his. She looked up at him and let her hand linger there a moment, before slowly rising. He loved the feel of her fingertips in his palm, and hoped she would never take them away.
She withdrew her hand, then placed her arm in his, locking arms. She began to walk, leading the way down the series of winding trails. They walked along a small cobblestone path, and soon they were inside a labyrinth of hedges, protected from outside view.
Thor was nervous. He did not know if he, a commoner, would get in trouble, walking like this with the King’s daughter. He felt a light sweat break out on his forehead, and did not know if it was from the heat or from her touch.
He wasn’t sure what to say.
“You’ve caused quite a stir here, haven’t you?” she asked with a smile. He was grateful that she broke the awkward silence.
Thor shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
She laughed. “And why wouldn’t you mean to? Isn’t it good to cause a stir?”
Thor was stymied. He hardly knew how to respond. It seemed as if he always said the wrong thing.
“This place is so stuffy and boring anyway,” she said. “It’s nice to have a newcomer. My father seems to have taken quite a liking to you. So has my br
other.”
“Um…thanks,” Thor replied.
He was kicking himself, dying inside. He knew he should say more, and he wanted to. He just did not know what to say.
“Do you…” he began, racking his brain for the right thing to say, “like it here?”
She leaned back and laughed.
“Do I like it here?” she. “But I should hope so. I live here!”
She laughed again and Thor felt himself redden. He felt that he was really messing things up. But he wasn’t raised around girls, he had never had a girlfriend in his village, and he just didn’t know what to say to her. What could he ask her? Where are you from? He already knew where she was from. He started to wonder why she bothered with him; was it just for her amusement?
“Why do you like me?” he asked.
She looked back at him, and made a funny sound.
“You are a presumptuous boy,” she chuckled. “Who says I like you?” she asked with a huge smile. Clearly, everything he said amused her.
Thor now felt as if he’d gotten himself into deeper trouble.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I was just wondering. I mean…um…I know you don’t like me.”
She laughed harder.
“You are amusing, I have to give you that. I take it you’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?”
Thor looked down and shook his head, humiliated.
“I assume no sisters, either?” she pressed.
Thor shook his head.
“I have three brothers,” he blurted out. Finally, at least, he had managed to say something normal.
“Do you?” she asked. “And where are they? Back in your village?”
Thor shook his head. “No, they are here, in the Legion, with me.”
“Well that must be comforting.”
Thor shook his head.
“No. They don’t like me. They wish I wasn’t here.”
It was the first time her smile dropped.
“And why wouldn’t they like you?” she asked, horrified. “Your own brothers?”
Thor shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
