by Morgan Rice
But he did not. He let his feet lead him, and did not give in to fear or doubts. He ran and ran, until his lungs were bursting.
Thor turned a bend, and what he saw made him stop short in his tracks. He stood there, trying to catch his breath, trying to reconcile the image before him, which did not make any sense. It was enough to strike terror into any hardened warrior.
There stood Elden, holding his short sword and looking up at a creature unlike any Thor had ever seen. It was horrific. It towered over them both, at least nine feet tall, and as wide as four men. It leaned back and raised its muscular, red arms, with three long fingers, like nails, at the end of each hand, and a head like that of a demon, with four horns, a long jaw, and a broad forehead. It had two large yellow eyes and fangs curled like tusks. It leaned back and screeched.
Beside him, a thick tree, hundreds of years old, split in two at the sound.
Elden stood there, frozen in fear. He dropped his sword, and the ground beneath him went wet; Thor realized Elden must have peed his pants.
The creature drooled and snarled, and took a step towards Elden.
Thor, too, was filled with fear, but unlike Elden, it did not immobilize him. For some reason, the fear heightened him. It heightened his senses, made him feel more alive. It gave him tunnel vision, allowed him to focus supremely on the creature before him, on its position to Elden, on its width and breadth and strength and speed. On its every movement. It also allowed him to focus on his own body position, his own weapons.
Thor fearlessly burst into action. He charged forward, past Elden, and came between him and the beast. The beast roared, its breath so hot, Thor could feel it even from here. The sound raised every hair on Thor’s spine, and made him want to turn around. But he heard Erec’s voice in his head, telling him to be strong. To be fearless. To retain equanimity. And he forced himself to stand his ground.
Thor raised his sword high and charged, plunging it into the beast’s ribs, aiming for his heart.
The beast shrieked in agony, its blood pouring down Thor’s hand as Thor plunged the sword all the way in, to the hilt.
But to Thor’s surprise, it did not die. The beast seemed invincible.
Without missing a beat, the beast swung around and swiped Thor so hard that he felt his ribs cracking. Thor went flying, through the air, all the way across the clearing, and smashed into a tree before collapsing to the ground. He felt a terrible headache as he lay there.
Thor looked up, dazed and confused, the world spinning. The beast reach down and extracted Thor’s sword from its stomach. The sword seemed tiny in its hands, like a toothpick, and the beast reached back and hurled it; it went flying through the trees, taking down branches, and disappeared into the wood.
It turned its full attention on Thor, and began to bear down on him.
Elden stood there, still frozen in fear. But as the beast charged Thor, suddenly, Elden burst into action. He charged the beast from behind, and jumped onto its back. It slowed the beast just enough for Thor to sit up; the beast, furious, flung back his arms and threw Elden. He went flying across the clearing, smashed into a tree, and slumped to the ground.
The beast, still bleeding, panting heavily, turned its attention back to Thor. It snarled and widened its fangs, as it bore down on him.
Thor was out of options. His sword was gone, and there was nothing between him and the monster. The monster dove down for him, and at the last second, Thor rolled out of the way. The monster hit the tree were Thor had been with such force that it uprooted it from the ground.
The beast raised its foot, and brought it down for Thor’s head. Thor rolled out of the way and it left a footprint were Thor’s head had been.
Thor rolled to his feet, placed a stone in his sling and hurled.
He hit the monster square between the eyes, a fiercer throw than he had ever made, and the creature staggered back. Thor was certain he had killed it.
But to his amazement, the beast did not stop.
Thor tried his best to summon his power, whatever power it was that he had. He charged the beast, leaping forward, crashing into it, aiming to tackle it and drive it down to the ground with a superhuman power.
But to Thor’s shock, this time his power never kicked in. He was just another boy. A frail boy, next to this massive beast.
The beast merely reached down, grabbed Thor by his waist and hoisted him high above its head. Thor felt so helpless, dangling high in the air—and then he was thrown. He went flying like a missile across the clearing, and smashed again into a tree.
Thor lay there, stunned, his head splitting, his ribs feeling cracked in two. The beast raced for him, and he knew that this time he was finished. It raised its red, muscular foot, bringing it down right for Thor’s head. Thor looked up, and prepared to die.
Then, for some reason, the beast froze in midair. Thor blinked, trying to understand why.
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 d
o 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 was 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 k
ept 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.