by Morgan Rice
Beside Thor, Krohn snarled. Thor drew inspiration from Krohn’s fearlessness: he never whimpered or looked back once. In fact, the hairs rose on his back, and he slowly walked forward, as if to meet the army alone. Thor knew that in Krohn he had found a true battle companion.
“Do you think the others will reinforce us?” O’Connor asked.
“Not in time,” Elden answered. “We’ve been set up by Forg.”
“But why?” Reece asked.
“I don’t know,” Thor answered, stepping forward on his horse, “but I have a sinking feeling it has something to do with me. I think someone wants me dead.”
Thor felt the others turn and look at him.
“Why?” Reece asked.
Thor shrugged. He did not know, but he had some inkling it had to do with all the machinations at King’s court, something to do with the assassination of MacGil. Most likely, it was Gareth. Perhaps he viewed Thor as a threat.
Thor felt terrible for having endangered his brothers in arms, but there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do now was do his best to defend them.
Thor had enough. He shouted and kicked his horse, and he burst forward at a gallop, charging out before the others. He would not wait here to be met by this army, by his death. He would take the first blows, maybe even divert the blows from his brothers in arms, and give them a chance to run if they decided to. If he was going to meet his death, he would meet it fearlessly, with honor.
Shaking inside but refusing to show it, Thor kicked his horse and burst forward, farther and farther from the others, charging down the hill towards the advancing army. Beside him, Krohn sprinted, not missing a beat.
Thor heard a shout, and behind him, his fellow Legion members raced to catch up. They were hardly twenty yards away, and they galloped after him, raising a battle cry. Thor remained way out in front, yet still, it felt good to have their support behind him.
Before Thor a contingent of warriors broke out from the McCloud army, charging ahead to meet Thor, perhaps fifty men. They were a hundred yards ahead and closing in fast, and Thor pulled back his sling, took aim and hurled. He aimed for the lead warrior, a large man with a silver breastplate, and his aim was perfect. He hit the man at the base of the throat, between the plates of armor, and the man fell from his horse, landing on the ground before the others.
As he fell, his horse fell with him, and the dozen horses behind him piled up, sending their soldiers hurling to the ground, face first.
Before they could react, Thor placed another stone, reached back and hurled it. Again, his aim was true, and he hit one of the lead warriors in the temple, at the spot exposed from his raised faceplate, and knocked him sideways off his horse, into several other warriors, taking them down like dominoes.
As Thor galloped, a javelin flew by his head, then a spear, then a throwing hammer and a throwing pick, and he knew his Legion brothers were supporting him. Their aim was true, too, and their weapons took down the McCloud soldiers with deadly precision, several of them falling from the horses and crashing into others who fell with them.
Thor was elated to see that they had already managed to take down dozens of McCloud soldiers, some of them with direct hits but most being tripped up by falling horses. The advance contingent of fifty men was now down on the ground, lying in great heaps of dust.
But the McCloud army was strong, and now it was their turn to fight back. As Thor came within thirty yards of them, several threw weapons his way, too. A throwing hammer came right at his face, and Thor ducked at the last moment, the iron whizzing by his ear, missing by an inch. A spear came flying at him just as quickly and he ducked the other way, as the tip grazed the outside of his armor, luckily just missing him. A throwing pick came right for his face, and Thor raised his shield and blocked it. It stuck to his shield, and Thor reached over, pulled it off, and threw it back at his attacker. Thor’s aim was true, and it lodged in the man’s chest, piercing his chainmail; with a scream the man cried out and slumped over his horse, dead.
Thor kept charging. He charged right into the thick of the army, into a sea of soldiers, prepared to meet his death. He shouted and raised his sword as he did, letting out a great battle cry; behind him, his brothers in arms did, too.
With a great clash of arms, there came impact. A huge, full-grown warrior charged for him, raised a double-handed ax, and brought it down for Thor’s head. Thor ducked, the blade swinging by his head and slashed the soldier’s stomach as he rode past; the man screamed out, and slumped over on his horse. As he fell he dropped his battle ax, and it went flying end over end, into another McCloud horse, who shrieked and pranced, throwing off his rider into several others.
Thor kept charging, right into the thick of the McCloud warriors, hundreds of them, cutting a path right through them, as one after the other swung at him with their swords, axes, maces, and he blocked with his shield or dodged them, slashing back, ducking and weaving, galloping right through. He was too quick, too nimble, for them, and they had not expected it. As a huge army, they could not maneuver fast enough to stop him.
There rose up a great clash of metal all around him, as blows hailed down on him from every direction. He blocked one after the other with his shield and sword. But he could not stop them all. A sword slash grazed his shoulder, and he cried out in pain as it drew blood. Luckily the wound was shallow, and it did not prevent him from fighting. He continued to fight back.
Thor, fighting with both hands, was surrounded by McCloud warriors, and soon the blows began to lighten, as other Legion members joined the pack. The clang of grew greater as the McCloud men fought against the Legion boys, swords striking shields, spears hitting horses, javelins being thrust into armor, men fighting in every way. Screams rang out on both sides.
The Legion had an advantage in that they were a small and nimble fighting force, the ten of them in the midst of a huge and slow-moving army. There was a bottleneck, and not all the McCloud warriors could reach them at once; Thor found himself fighting two or three men at a time, but no more. And with his brothers now at his back, it prevented him from being attacked from behind.
As a warrior caught Thor off guard and swung his flail right for Thor’s head, Krohn snarled and pounced. Krohn leapt high into the air and clamped down on his wrist; he tore it off, blood flying everywhere, forcing the soldier to change direction right before the flail impacted Thor’s skull.
It was like a blur as Thor fought and slashed and parried in all directions, using every ounce of his skill to defend, to attack, to watch out for his brothers, and to watch out for himself. He instinctively summoned his endless days of training, of being attacked from all sides, in all situations. In some ways, it felt natural to him. They had trained him well, and he felt able to handle this. His fear was always there, but he felt able to control it.
As Thor fought and fought, his arms growing heavy, his shoulders tired, Kolk’s words rang in his ears:
Your enemy will never fight on your terms. He will fight on his. War for you means war for someone else.
Thor spotted a short, broad warrior raise a spiked chain, with both hands, and swing for the back of Reece’s head. Reece did not see it coming, and Thor knew that in a moment, Reece would be dead.
Thor leapt off his horse, jumping in mid-air and tackling the warrior right before he released the chain. The two of them went flying off the horses and landed hard on the ground, in a cloud of dust, Thor rolling and rolling, the wind knocked out of him, as horses trampled all around him. He wrestled with the warrior on the ground, and as the man raised his thumbs to gouge out Thor’s eyes, Thor suddenly heard a screech-and saw Estopheles swoop down and claw the man’s eyes right before he could hurt Thor. The man screamed, clutching his eyes, and Thor elbowed him hard and knocked him off of him.
Before Thor had a chance to revel in his victory, he felt himself kicked hard in the gut, knocked onto his back. He looked up to see a warrior raise a two-handed war hammer, and bring it down
for his chest.
Thor rolled, and the hammer whizzed by him, sinking into the earth all the way up to the hilt. He realized it would have crushed him to death.
Krohn pounced on the man, leaping forward and sinking his fangs into the man’s elbow; the soldier reached over and punched Krohn, again and again. But Krohn would not let go, snarling, until finally he tore the man’s arm off. The soldier shrieked and fell to the ground.
A soldier stepped forward and slashed his sword down at Krohn; but Thor rolled over with his shield and blocked the blow, his entire body shaking with the clang, saving Krohn’s life. But as Thor knelt there he was exposed, and another warrior charged over him with his horse, trampling him, knocking him down face first, the horse hooves feeling like they were crushing every bone in his body.
Several McCloud soldiers jumped down and surrounded Thor, closing in on him.
Thor realized he was in a bad place; he would give anything to be back up on his horse now. As he lay there on the ground, his head ringing with pain, out of the corner of his eye he saw his other Legion members fighting, and losing ground. One of the Legion boys he did not recognize let out a high-pitched scream, and Thor watched as a sword punctured his chest, and he slumped over, dead.
Another one of the Legion Thor did not know came to his aid, killing his attacker with a thrust of his spear-but at the same time, a McCloud attacked him from behind, thrusting a dagger into his neck. The boy screamed and fell off his horse, dead.
Thor turned and looked up to see a half dozen soldiers bearing down on him. One raised a sword and brought it down for his face, and Thor reached up and blocked it with his shield, the clang resonating in his ears. But another raised his boot and kicked Thor’s shield from his hand.
A third attacker stepped on Thor’s wrist, pinning it to the ground.
A fourth attacker stepped forward and raised a spear, preparing to drive it through Thor’s chest.
Thor heard a great snarl, and Krohn leapt on the soldier, driving him back and pinning him down. But a soldier stepped forward with a club and swiped Krohn, hitting him so hard that Krohn went tumbling over with a yelp, and landed on his back, limp.
Another soldier stepped forward, standing over Thor, and raised a trident. He scowled down, and this time there was no one to stop him. He prepared to bring it down, right for Thor’s face, and as Thor lay there, pinned, helpless, he could not help but feel that, finally, his end had come.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gwen knelt by Godfrey’s side in the claustrophobic cottage, Illepra beside her, and could stand it no longer. She had been listening to her brother’s moans for hours, watching Illepra’s face grow increasingly grim, and it seemed certain that he would die. She felt so helpless, just sitting here. She felt that she needed to do something. Anything.
Not only was she racked with guilt and worry for Godfrey-but even more so, for Thor. She could not shake from her mind the image of him charging into battle, set up for a trap by Gareth, about to die. She felt she had to do something. She was going crazy sitting here.
Gwen suddenly rose to her feet, and hurried across the cottage.
“Where are you going?” Illepra asked, her voice hoarse from chanting prayers.
Gwen turned to her.
“I will be back,” she said. “There is something I must try.”
She opened the door and hurried outside, into the sunset air, and blinked at the site before her: the sky was streaked with reds and purples, the second sun sitting as a green ball on the horizon. Akorth and Fulton, to their credit, still stood there, on guard, and they jumped up and looked at her, concern on their faces.
“Will he live?” Akorth asked.
“I don’t know,” Gwen said. “Stay here. Stand guard.”
“And where are you going?” Fulton asked.
An idea had occurred to her as she looked into the blood red sky, felt the mystical feeling in the air, she knew that there was one man who might be able to help her.
Argon.
If there was one person Gwen could trust, one person who loved Thor and who had remained loyal to her father, one person who had the power to help her in some way, it was he.
“I need to seek out someone special,” she said.
She turned and hurried off, across the plains, breaking into a jog, running, retracing the steps to Argon’s cottage.
She hadn’t been here in years, ever since she was a child, but she knew he lived high on the desolate, craggy planes. She ran and ran, barely catching her breath, as the terrain became more desolate, more windy, grass giving way to pebbles, then to rocks. The wind howled, and as she went, the landscape became eerie; she felt as if she were walking on the surface of a star.
She finally reached his cottage, out of breath, and pounded on the door. There was no knob anywhere she could grab onto, but she knew this was his place.
“Argon!” she shrieked. “It is me! MacGil’s daughter! Let me in! I command you!”
She pounded and pounded, but all that came back in return was the howling of the wind.
Finally, she broke into tears, exhausted, feeling more helpless than she ever had. She felt hollowed out, as if she had nowhere left to turn.
As the sun sank deeper into the sky, its blood-red giving way to twilight, Gwen turned and began to walk back down the hill. She wiped tears from her face as she went, desperate to figure out where to go next.
“Please father,” she said aloud, closing her eyes. “Give me a sign. Show me where to go. Show me what to do. Please don’t let your son die on this day. And please don’t let Thor die. If you love me, answer me.”
Gwen walked in silence, listening to the wind, when suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck her.
The lake. The Lake of Sorrows.
Of course. The lake was where everyone went to pray for someone who was deathly ill. It was a pristine, small lake, in the middle of the Red Wood, surrounded by towering trees that reached into the sky. It was considered a holy place.
Thank you father, for answering me, Gwen thought.
She felt him with her now, more than ever, and she burst into a sprint, racing towards Red Wood, towards the lake that would hear her sorrows.
*
Gwen knelt on the shore of the Lake of Sorrows, her knees resting on the soft, red pine that encased the water like a ring, and looked out at the still water, the stillest water she had ever seen, which mirrored the rising moon. It was a brilliant, full moon, more full than she had ever seen, and while the second sun was still setting, the moon was rising, casting both sunset and moonlight over the Ring. The sun and the moon reflected together, opposite each other in the lake, and she felt the sacredness of this time of day. It was the window between the close of one day and the start of another, and at this sacred time, and in this sacred place, anything was possible.
Gwen knelt there, crying, praying for all she was worth. The events of the last few days had been too much for her, and now she let it all out. She prayed for her brother, but even more so for Thor. She could not stand the thought of losing them both on this night, of having no one left around her but Gareth. She could not stand the thought of she, herself, being shipped off to be wed to some barbarian. She felt her life collapsing around her, and she needed answers. Even more, she needed hope.
There were many people in her kingdom who prayed to the God of the Lakes, or the God of the Woods, or the God of the Mountains, or the God of the Wind-but Gwen never believed in any of these. She, like Thor, was one of the few who went against the grain of belief in her kingdom, and followed the radical path of believing in just one God, just one being who controlled the entire universe. It was to this God that she prayed.
Please God, she prayed. Return Thor to me. Let him be safe in battle. Let him escape his ambush. Please let Godfrey live. And please protect me-don’t let me be taken away from here, wed to that savage. I will do anything. Just give me a sign. Show me what you want from me.
Gwen knelt there for
a long time, hearing nothing but the howling of the wind, racing through the endlessly tall pine trees of Red Wood; she listened to the gentle cracking of the branches as they swayed above her head, their needles dropping in the water.
“Be careful what you pray for,” came a voice.
She spun, flinching, and was shocked to see someone standing there, not far from her. She would have been scared, but she recognized the voice immediately-an ancient voice, older than the trees, older than the earth itself, and her heart swelled as she knew who it was.
She turned and saw him standing over her, wearing his white cloak and hood, eyes translucent, burning through her as if he were peering into her very soul. He held his staff, lit up in the sunset and the moonlight.
Argon.
She stood and faced him.
“I sought you out,” she said. “I went to your cottage. Did you hear me knock?”
“I hear everything,” he answered cryptically.
She paused, wondering. He was expressionless.
“Tell me what I have to do,” she said. “I will do anything. Please, don’t let Thor die. You can’t let him die!”
Gwen stepped forward and grasped his wrist, pleading. But as she touched him she was scorched by a burning heat, traveling through his wrist and onto her hands, and she pulled back, overwhelmed by the energy.
Argon sighed, turned from her, and took several steps towards the lake. He stood there, looking out at the water, his eyes reflected in the light.
She walked up beside him and stood there silently, for she did not know how long, waiting until he was ready to speak.
“It is not impossible to change fate,” he said. “But it exacts a heavy price on the petitioner. You want to save a life. That is a noble endeavor. But you cannot save two lives. You will have to choose.”
