by Morgan Rice
The others all turned and looked at Thor in the silence that followed. He wished he had an answer for them; he wished he understood where his powers came from, understood how to harness them perfectly on demand. And most of all he wished he knew who he was.
But he did not.
He was different from everyone else, he knew. But how?
Would he ever know?
*
The slow-moving river tide carried them farther downriver, deeper into the heart of the underworld. They all paddled with all they had, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the monster as the sky grew increasingly dark. Thor still stood there, at the back of the boat, trying to understand what had just happened. It was like another part of himself, one he could not quite reach. It had taken him a while to come back to where he was.
"I know of you,” Indra said, looking over at him with something like fear and awe. “You are the son of the Druid. The Chosen One. I have heard tales about you. Great tales.”
Thor blinked at her, confused.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "You couldn't have heard anything about me. I'm from a small village inside the Ring. I am just another Legion member.”
Indra shook her head, adamantly.
"We have legends, our people. Ancient legends. They tell of the day the Chosen One will arrive to lead. They say he will carry with him balls of flame and light, a power unlike any we have seen. The son of a Druid. He will come at a time of great calamity in the world, a great battle between light and darkness. A man who stands between two worlds. Our last hope.”
Thor looked at her, not sure if she understood what she was talking about. He assumed she was confused, mistaking him with someone else.
"I believe you have me confused,” he said. “I am not one of your legends," he added, finally sitting back down and paddling with the others.
"I confuse you with no one,” she said defiantly. “I know what the legends say. And I know now who you are.”
The others stopped and turned, staring at Thor, and Thor shook his head.
"I'm just a boy," Thor insisted. "Just like everybody else.”
It was all he wanted. To be just like everybody else. Not to be looked at as different.
Indra shook her head, continuing to stare at him as if he were an alien who had jumped down from the sky. She made a strange sign with her hand over her throat and chest and head, almost as if she were praying to Thor. Or protecting herself from him.
She bowed her head, then turned back towards the water.
Thor felt a chill, and hardly knew what to make of it. It was the first time anyone had looked at him that way. As if he were a God.
The tide grew strong and the night thick, and Thor looked around at the current with a new respect for what creatures might be lurking beneath. Up ahead there came a small mountain, into which the river continued running, its tide flowing into a small, black tunnel in the stone.
"The Cave of Devils," Indra hissed, fear in her voice.
Everyone looked to her now with a new sense of respect.
"That doesn't sound very hospitable," O’Connor said.
Indra shook her head.
"It is a house of bones. Legend says it is where devils go to have their snacks.”
The boys all looked to each other, apprehension etched across their faces.
"Is there another way?" Reece asked, as the tide continued to pull them strongly.
Indra shook her head.
"We could pull the boat aside and try to make on land,” Elden said.
She shook her head.
“The land is worse,” she said. “Do you see the soil?”
Thor turned with the others and looked out at the shore.
“It is not soil,” she added. “It is a hundred million worms. Flesh-eating worms. The second you step foot on it, your foot will be no more.”
Thor examined the dark soil closely—and as he did, he could see that it was indeed moving, ever so slightly. He gulped, with a new respect for this place.
"Our map says we must take the river through the cave," Dross insisted.
Indra let out a short, mocking laugh.
"Your maps says many things. But does it tell us how to stay alive?”
The tide became stronger, and soon their decision was made for them, as it sucked them right into the cave, all of them ducking their heads so as not to hit the low, stone arched entranceway. Thor’s stomach dropped in dread. What was this place?
As they entered the cave, it was like entering a whole different world. At first, it was pitch black in here, the ceiling low to their heads, dead silent save for the sound of drops of water echoing, reverberating off the walls. Thor could hear his brothers breathing hard, the sound amplified, echoing, and he could sense the fear in all of them. He felt it himself. He braced himself in the blackness, expecting to be attacked any minute.
After a minute, the cave opened up, the ceiling above their head rising dozens of feet, the tide continuing to pull them slowly through. It was noisier in here, every drop of water reverberating off the high walls—and there also came another noise: a cacophony of insects and small animals. There was the fluttering of wings, strange cooing noises which Thor wished he had never heard. There came the low and high-pitched groans and moans of all sorts of odd insects, each sound more ominous than the next. It was as if they had entered a cave of horrors. And not being able to see anything just made it all worse.
Beside Thor, Krohn snarled, his hair on end. Thor turned side to side, as did the others, trying to peer into the blackness and see if he could decipher anything.
As the water carried them deeper inside, the cave walls began to take on a soft glow, to light up just a bit; Thor looked closely, wondering where the lights were coming from, and all along the walls he spotted thousands of insects, clinging to the stone, hissing at them, their glowing green eyes opening as they passed them and casting off a light. Thor realized, with dread, that they were waking them. It was like a thousand small candles in the blackness, but at least it afforded them a light to see by.
"What are they?" Elden asked Indra, on guard, afraid they might attack.
"Cavesuckers," Indra said. "They carry the sting of a hundred bees. You need not worry: they stick to the walls. Unless you provoke them.”
"How do you know if you’ve provoked them?" O'Connor asked.
"Their eyes will glow,” she answered.
Thor gulped.
“As they are doing now?” he asked.
She nodded back.
The hissing continued, and the cavesuckers crawled along the walls, some of them arching their small heads towards the boat.
With the cave aglow, Thor could dimly make out its proportions: it was cavernous, its arched ceiling soaring dozens of feet, and they were riding down the center of a narrow river. Huge stalagmites and stalactites hung from every direction.
There came a low, soft snarling noise from somewhere in the depths of the cave, and Thor turned with the others—but saw nothing.
"I don't like the feel of this," Reece said, tightening his hand on his sword hilt.
"Nor do I," Conval said. He drew his sword, and the metallic ring echoed loudly in the cave, again and again, as if a dozen swords had been drawn.
"You shouldn't have done that," Indra scolded him. "Now you will provoke them.”
"Provoke who?" Conval asked.
There began to appear from the depths of the blackness, walking towards them, dozens of shadows. They resembled human skeletons, all bones, no flesh, but their bones were black, and their eyes glowed white. They each carried a long, white sword, glistening, reflecting off the water’s light. Thor could see that each sword was made of bone. It looked like human bone.
"The army of the undead," Indra answered, fear in her voice.
Thor turned slowly and saw that from every corner of the cave there emerged hundreds of these things, these undead skeletons wielding swords of bones, all heading right for
them.
“Undead?” Elden asked. “Can they not be killed?”
"No,” Indra replied. “They are already dead. The only ones left to be killed are us."
There came a great clatter of bones, and suddenly the undead raced towards them, raising their swords.
“Well, if we’re going to die,” Thor said, “it’s going to be on dry ground, and with our swords held high. ATTACK!” Thor commanded.
As one, the nine Legion members jumped from the boat, onto the dry ground of the shore, Krohn leaping out with them. They all drew their swords and bravely charged the undead.
There came a great clash of weapons as sword met sword, the sounds amplified, echoing off of everything inside the cave. The Legion had trained for this, had trained to be outnumbered, had trained to be pitted against fierce warriors—and while these shadow skeletons were fierce, they were still conventional warriors, and no match for the expertise of the Legion.
Thor and the others went blow for blow with the skeletons, and as Thor’s sword met one of theirs, he was happily surprised to see that his steel shattered the bone sword; he then swung around and slashed the skeleton before him, and as he did, all of its bones broke and crumpled into a heap on the ground.
Thor wheeled in every direction, blocking blows, parrying, shattering swords and slashing skeleton after skeleton, leaving heaps of bones at his feet.
All around him, his Legion brothers were doing the same, deftly defeating the warriors before them.
Krohn joined in, leaping into the fray, snarling, pouncing on one skeleton after the next, knocking them down to the ground, and leaving them in piles.
After nearly an hour fighting, the shores were lined with heaps of bones. Though Thor and his Legion brothers were bruised and scratched and breathing hard, exhausted, none were seriously injured.
They all looked at each other, regrouping, out of breath. For their first time since being in the Empire, Thor was hopeful, even optimistic. They had taken some of the worst the Empire could throw at them, and they had survived.
"We won," O'Connor said. "I can't believe it.”
They all turned and walked back towards the boat—but as they did, Indra stood there, eyes still wide with fear, looking over their shoulders.
"Do not boast too soon, warrior," Indra warned.
There arose from behind them a sound that made the hairs on the back of Thor’s neck rise. It was the sound of a thousand bones clattering.
Slowly, Thor turned, almost afraid to look.
There, he was horrified to see, were all the bones of the defeated skeletons, slowly beginning to rise up from the ground, and re-attach themselves. One bone at a time, the entire army of the undead was coming back to life.
"As I said,” Indra said, “you cannot kill what is already dead."
Thor watch wide-eyed as the entire army began to reassemble itself, to prepare for yet another attack. All that fighting, all of their victory—it had all been useless. These monsters would just keep regenerating themselves, until finally they tired Thor and his men out, and killed them all. They might not be as good fighters—but they had something that Thor and his men never would: endless endurance. And at the end of the day, Thor knew, endurance would always triumph.
"Back to the boat!" Thor yelled, stepping backwards slowly with the others.
As one, they all turned and jumped back into the boat and gave it a good shove from shore, paddling harder than ever. The tides picked up, and soon they were rushing downriver, gaining distance from that shore. Thor and his men ducked as they passed into yet another canal, leaving the cavernous room, just in time to be out of reach of the advancing army.
It was the first time in Thor's life that victory had been meaningless, and as they entered yet another tunnel of darkness, he wondered, with a futile feeling, what other horrors could await them around the bend.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Gwendolyn stood on the broad stone landing of the lower city of Silesia, surrounded by her generals, soldiers and Silesian citizens, all of them looking out in ominous silence into the vast expanse of the Canyon, watching the second sun drop in the sky. They had not heard a peep from the Empire's men all this time, and after a long, agitated panic among the crowd, slowly, they had settled into a deep quiet. The tension hung thick in the air, each of them lost in their own world, looking out at the sky, facing their own mortality. It was the quiet of a thousand souls in the eye of a storm, of people who knew they had nowhere left to go but to their deaths.
The silence from the Empire scared Gwendolyn more than their attack. She knew that Andronicus was up there somewhere, plotting something, and she knew it was only a matter time until he executed it. He was as ruthless a soldier as she had ever seen. The worst part was that, even if he did nothing, there would still be no way out for them but death. How long could they survive down here, until their provisions ran out? They had nowhere to go but up. And up was not an option.
Andronicus knew that, of course. He had them all by the throat. He would make them wait it out. Allow their panic to set in. He was probably reveling in it right now. He had them exactly where he wanted.
Gwen supposed she should be pleased with herself for at least fending them off as well as she had in her first battle, for taking out so many of them, and for saving so many of her people in the evacuation. But she was not pleased with herself at all. She felt she had failed.
Nearby stood Srog, Brom, Kolk and Godfrey, along with the other soldiers, and beside her stood Steffen and Kendrick. They all looked out at the Canyon, faces grim. She wished she knew what to say to them to cheer them up, wished she knew where to go from here.
"Do you remember that one time with father," Kendrick answered softly, nostalgically, looking out at the sky, "when he was trying to teach you to swing a sword? You refused. You said swords were for weak men.”
Gwendolyn smiled.
"Only vaguely," she said. "I must have been very young.”
Kendrick smiled.
"Father got so mad,” he continued. “He ended all of our training sessions for the day. Back then, it seemed like you’d said the dumbest thing in the world.”
He sighed.
"But you know, now that I'm older, I realize there was great wisdom in what you said,” he added. “The simplest battles are won by swords. The most complex ones are won by other means. By strategy. By logistics. By willpower.”
"I'm sure I was not hinting at all that when I said that as a youth," she smiled.
He smiled back.
"No, I am sure you weren’t. What you’d said was wise beyond your years. Even then.”
He turned and looked at her.
“I just want you to know that you fought this battle brilliantly,” he said. “We killed twenty times our ranks, and lost far fewer of our own than we should have. For any other leader, that would be a victory to be remember for all time. Don’t feel badly. Their numbers were too vast for any army to conquer.”
"He’s right, my lady,” said Steffen beside her.
“Truer words were never spoken,” added Srog.
"Thank you, my brother," she said to Kendrick. "I want you to know that I've always thought of you as my brother. My true brother. We share the same father. And that is blood enough for me.”
Kendrick looked back to her and he could see in his eyes how much her words meant to him.
"And what now, my lady?" Srog asked. “I'm afraid we have no other contingency plans beyond this. Now, the people look to you. Now, the decision is yours.”
"It would do us little good to surrender as a people to Andronicus," Gwendolyn said. "We all know his reputation: he does not keep his prisoners alive. We must wait it out.”
"And if hunger finds us first?" Brom asked.
Gwen sighed.
"Then we fight a different kind of death," she answered. “Unless one of you has other ideas?”
They all stood in the glum silence, listening to the howling of the wind. No o
ne had anything to add.
Kendrick finally cleared his throat.
"When we joined the Legion,” he said, “and then the Silver, we took a vow. It was a vow to fight, even when there was no chance left to win. It was a vow of honor. A vow of glory. That is what we have achieved here today. Not victory, but glory. And sometimes, long after the victor has left, it is the glory that remains, that is sung of, not the conquest. Sometimes, glory is greater.”
As they all sat there in the silence, watching the sun drop, swayed by a gust of howling wind, suddenly, a booming voice split the air.
"Gwendolyn, I call for you!" came the voice, echoing off the Canyon walls.
They all turned and looked at each other, baffled, then they all looked up, as one, and as they did, Gwendolyn could see where the voice was coming from. A chill went through her.
Andronicus.
There he was, surrounded by hundreds of his men, leaning out over the edge of the Canyon, looking down at her with a triumphant smile on his face.
"Gwendolyn, ruler of the Western Kingdom of the Ring, it is only you left now. King’s Court is no more. The McClouds are my prisoners. It is only you left who dares defy me.”
He paused.
"Despite what you have heard about me, I am not a savage. In fact, I am a most reasonable man. You fought bravely here today. Better than I had expected. And for that, I commend you. And for that, I wish to reward you. I can use valuable commanders like you in my armies, and I can use valuable soldiers like the Silesians.
“I never keep captives alive. But on this day, because of your bravery, I will make an exception. If you surrender to me, you personally, then I will spare your entire city from destruction. I will let everyone live, including your soldiers. I will even free each one of you. You will live in peace in my Empire, and I will leave Silesia alone.
“All I ask in return is that you swear allegiance to me. That you vow to serve me, to be a ruler under my command. I will treat you justly and fairly. You will be given any position you choose at my court. Surely it is a small price to pay—your personal sacrifice for the good of your nation.
“It is a kind and generous offer. Be wise, and accept it, on behalf of the thousands of souls around you. Look around you, see their faces. They are alive. If you defy me, they will face the wrath of the great Andronicus.
