by Morgan Rice
The attendant screamed, clutching his bloody scalp.
“Take him away!” Gareth screamed to the other attendants.
They looked at each other warily, then reluctantly took away the bloody attendant.
“Send him to the dungeons!” Gareth said.
As Gareth sat back down, trembling, the room was empty save for one attendant, who walked over to Gareth meekly.
“My liege,” he said, nervous.
Gareth looked over at him in a seething rage. As he looked over, Gareth could see his father, sitting erect at the table, a few chairs away, looking back at him and smiling an evil smile. Gareth tried to look away.
“The Lord you summoned has arrived to see you,” the attendant said. “Lord Kultin, from the Essen province. He waits outside.”
Gareth blinked several times, as he began to process what his attendant was saying. Lord Kultin. Yes, now he remembered.
“Send him in at once,” Gareth ordered.
The attendant bowed and ran from the room, and as he opened the door, in strutted a huge, fierce warrior with long black hair, cold black eyes, a long black beard. He wore full armor and a mantle, wore two long swords, one on either side of his belt, and he kept his hands resting on both of them, as if ready to defend—or attack—at any moment. He looked as if he were in a rage himself, but Gareth knew he was not—Lord Kultin had always appeared this way, ever since the time of his father.
Kultin strutted up to Gareth, stood over him, and Gareth waved his hand at an empty seat.
“Sit,” Gareth said.
“I will stand,” Kultin said back curtly.
Kultin scowled down at Gareth, and Gareth could hear the strength in his voice, and knew that this Lord was unlike the others. He was fierce, filled with bloodlust, ready to kill anyone and anything at the drop of a dime. He was exactly the type of man that Gareth wanted around.
Gareth smiled, pleased for the first time this day.
“You know why I have summoned you?” Gareth asked.
“I could guess,” Kultin answered, terse.
“I have decided to elevate you,” Gareth said. “You will be elevated beyond even the King’s Men, beyond even The Silver. From now on, you will be my personal guard. The King’s Elite. You and your five hundred warriors will be given the choicest meat, the choicest lodging and the venerable Silver Hall. The very best of everything.”
Kultin rubbed his beard.
“And what if I don’t wish to serve you?” he scowled back, challenging him, tightening his grip on his sword.
“You served my father.”
“You are not your father,” he replied.
“True,” Gareth said. “But I am far richer than he, and I pay far more handsomely. Ten times what he paid you. You and your men will live in King’s Court. You will answer to me personally—there will be no one above you. You will bring riches back to your province beyond what you’d ever imagine.”
Kultin stood there, rubbing his beard, and finally reached down and pounded a fist on the table.
“Twenty times,” he replied. “And we will kill anyone you like upon your command. We will guard you with our lives, whether you deserve it or not. And we will kill anyone who comes near you.”
“Anyone,” Gareth insisted. “King’s soldiers or not. The Silver or not. If I tell you to kill them, you will do so.”
For the first time, Kultin smiled.
“I don’t care who I kill. As long as the price is high enough.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Thor sat at the long banquet table in the Hall of Arms, surrounded by his Legion brothers, his close friends, by scores of the Silver, Kendrick across from him, Kolk and Brom nearby, and he felt more at home than he ever had in his life. The day had been a whirlwind. Before today, they had still looked at him as something of an outsider, or at best, as just another Legion member. But after today, he could see from their every glance, from the way they addressed him, that they looked at him as one of theirs. As an equal. These men, whom he had always admired, were giving him the respect he had strived for his entire life. There was nothing he’d ever wanted more than just to be here, to sit with these men, to fight by their side, and to be accepted by them.
Thor felt more weary than he’d ever had, having been awake for nearly two straight days, his body covered in bruises and cuts and scrapes, having not stopped for he did not know how long; physically, a part of him just wanted to collapse, to go to sleep and not wake for a week. But he caught a second wind, and these men and boys were more festive than he’d ever seen them. A great tension had broken, and relief filled the room. It was more than relief: it was joy. The joy of victory. The joy of saving their homeland. And it all had to do with Thor.
One after the other, members of the Silver came by, draped an arm around Thor, patted him on the back, shook him roughly, clasped forearms, and called him “Thorgrinson.” It was a title of respect, one usually reserved for adults, implying that Thor was a famed warrior. It was a title usually reserved for an elite warrior. If ever the Legion boys had used that title amongst themselves, it had been in jest; but now, these men used it with Thor with seriousness.
As another mug of frothing ale was put into Thor’s hand, he took a long drink, feeling it go to his head; then he reached out and took a huge chunk of the venison laid out before him. He was starving, but first he bent over and handed this chunk to Krohn, who happily snatched it from his hand. Thor took another piece for himself, and he chewed and chewed, starving. The food was delicious.
Serving girls, barely clothed, passed by the rows of men, refilling their mugs of ale and goblets of wine, and as one walked by, one of the warriors grabbed her and yanked her down onto his lap. She giggled. Another servant girl came close to Thor, and a warrior grabbed her and tried to thrust her into Thor’s lap—but Thor held up his hands, and gently prodded her away.
“Don’t you like the women?” the warrior asked Thor.
“I like them just fine,” Thor said. “But there is one in particular who I am saving myself for.”
“Just one?” the warrior pressed, disappointed. “Take two or three. Don’t fall for just one. You’re too young. Take as many as your hands can grab,” he said, and with that, he grabbed the girl himself, who screamed with delight, and carried her over his shoulder, off to a far corner of the room, to a pile of soft rugs.
“Don’t listen to him,” came a voice.
Thor looked over and saw Reece, sitting beside him, who reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Gwen would be proud,” Reece said. “I am proud. That was exactly the kind of response I would want from a brother-in-law.”
Thor smiled at the thought.
“If I were to propose to her, would you really accept me into your family?” he asked.
“What kind of questions that is that?” Reece asked. “You already are my brother. In every sense of the word. My true brother.”
Thor felt honored. He also felt the same way about Reece.
“Be good to her,” Reece added. “That’s all I ask. She’s tough, but sensitive. Don’t take a second wife. And don’t look elsewhere.”
Reece went back to his drinking, and before Thor could respond, Kolk suddenly stood, across from Thor, and banged his mug on the wooden table several times, until finally the room quieted. All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire, roaring at the far end of the hall, and the growling of the dogs who fought with each other for a spot beside the flames.
“Men of the Legion!” he called out in his booming voice. “Men of the Silver! The King’s soldiers! Today was a day of glory day for the MacGils! And we would be remiss if we did not acknowledge the exploits of one warrior: Thorgrinson!” he called out, raising his mug to Thor.
The entire room suddenly stood, raising their mugs.
“Thorgrinson!” they shouted, breaking into a cheer.
Thor stood and felt hands patting him on the back, tugging at him roughly. He
was embarrassed, but elated at the same time. He hardly knew what to make of all this. Kolk. The warrior who had always rebuked him. He had never expected this.
Kolk banged his mug again, and everyone sat back down, and the room fell silent.
“Thor’s courage today typified everything we want in a member of the Legion, everything we want in a member of the Silver. Honor must be rewarded, at all costs. So from this day, Thorgrin, you are promoted to Captain of the Legion. You will answer only to me, and the rest of the Legion will answer to you. You have in your command now hundreds of the finest young warriors our kingdom has to offer. To Thorgrinson!” he shouted again.
“To Thorgrinson!” the room shouted.
As they all sat back down, Thor sat there, stunned, hardly able to breathe, not knowing what to make of all of this. He, the youngest of the Legion members, promoted to Captain of them all. A part of him felt he didn’t really deserve it. All he had done what was he had been trained to do.
The room settled back into its festivities, and Thor heard a whining beside him. He looked down and saw Krohn, resting his head in his lap, and realized he felt left out—and hungry. Thor reached out and grabbed another hunk of venison, even bigger, an entire leg, with the bone, and Krohn snatched it from his hands and carried it happily across the room. Krohn found a spot beside the fire, walking boldly right between the pack of wolfhounds. Although they were all bigger than he, as Krohn walked down the center, they all parted ways, none of them daring challenge him. Already, Krohn exuded an energy unlike any other animal. Thor could see him growing bigger and stronger every day, more powerful, more mysterious.
“It is an honor well-deserved,” Reece said, standing and embracing Thor. Thor stood and embraced him back, and received embraces from Elden, O’Connor, and the twins. One after the other, Legion members shook his hand and clasped his forearm, all showing deference to him, clearly all pleased to have him as their Captain.
“A battle won by mere witchery and tricks,” came a dark voice.
Thor turned to see standing behind him his three real brothers, Drake, Dross and Durs. His heart skipped a beat as he saw them, standing just a few feet away, looking down at him coldly, unsmiling. He hadn’t seen them in ages, and had nearly forgotten about them. He could see in their eyes that they still held hatred for him, and it brought back fresh memories of his childhood, of his feeling unworthy, feeling small next to them.
“You did not fight like a warrior,” said Drake, the eldest. “You did not fight like one of us. If you did, you never would have won.”
“You are not deserving of the honors they heap on you,” added Dross.
“Despite what these men think, we know the truth about you. You are still just our younger brother,” said Durs. “Still just a poor sheepherder. The smallest and least deserving of all of us. You cheated your way into the Legion, and you cheated your way into the honors you won today.”
“And what do you all know of cheating?” O’Connor said back, stepping up and defending Thor.
“And what makes you all so superior?” Elden added, at his side. “Just because you are older?”
“That’s right,” Drake said. “We are older. And bigger. And stronger. We could beat you all to a pulp one-on-one, any day.”
“So why don’t you?” Reece countered. “Let us arrange a one-on-one combat, and see who wins.”
Dross laughed derisively.
“I don’t need to listen to you,” he said. “You are too young and ignorant to even talk to me. I’m a far greater warrior than you will ever be.”
“Oh no, but you do need to listen to Thor,” Reece countered. “He’s your Captain now. Did you not hear Kolk? You’ll have to listen to Thor’s every word from now. How does that make you feel?” Reece smiled.
The three brothers scowled down.
“We will never listen to you,” Drake spat to Thor. “We will never take an order from you. Ever. As long as we live.”
Thor was taken aback by their anger towards him.
“Why do you hate me?” Thor asked. “You always have, ever since I could remember.”
“Because you’re not worth anything,” Durs sneered.
With that, the three of them turned and walked off into the crowd, disappearing. Thor felt his heart pounding, felt a pit in his stomach.
Reece reached up and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it. They’re not worth the ground you walk on.”
O’Connor turned to him.
“Some people hate for no reason,” he added. “That’s just who they are.”
“Others are just filled with envy, for everyone and everything,” Elden added. “They need someone or something to blame, so they decide that you are the reason they don’t have what they want in life, and they hate you for their own failed lives. It is the easy way out for them—to blame you instead of being truthful and blaming themselves. It is just bullying—in another form.”
Thor understood. But it still stung him to the core. He did not know what he had done to deserve such animosity from his own family. Not just now, but his entire life. Why had he had to be born into this family? Why had they had to be there, always, at every turn, to ruin things for him at his happiest moments?
“My friend,” Reece said.
Thor looked up.
“There is something across the room that might cheer you up,” he laid a hand on Thor’s shoulder and turned him in the direction of the opposite side of the chamber.
There, standing in the doorway, smiling across the room at him, was Gwendolyn. Thor’s heart leapt.
“It seems she waits for you,” Reece said, smiling.
Thor had completely forgotten. With all the excitement, he had forgotten to meet her at the back door.
Thor hurried across the hall, whistling for Krohn, who raced to catch up. He saw Gwen smile wide, then duck out the back door, and Thor’s heart raced as he realized that finally, after everything, they could have time to be together.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thor held Gwen’s hand with anticipation, as she led him through the moonlit night, down winding paths that turned through the gently rolling hills outside of King’s Court. Krohn walked at their side, and as they nearly crested a hilltop, Gwen came around behind Thor and smiling, placed her hands over his eyes and made him stop.
“Don’t look,” she said, leading him forward, one step at a time.
Thor smiled, holding his hands out in front of him.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“I want you to see something,” she said. “But wait until we reach the top of the hill. Just a few more steps. Don’t open your eyes until I tell you. Promise?”
Thor smiled wide. He loved Gwen’s playfulness; he always had.
“I promise,” he said.
Slowly, Gwen removed her hands. Thor waited, until finally she said: “Okay.”
Thor opened his eyes and was breathless at the site: stretched before him as far as the eye could see were rolling meadows, filled with the most beautiful and exotic night flowers he had ever seen. He had never even known that flowers like these existed. Under the moonlight, these flowers were alive, blooming, and even more so, they were actually glowing, lighting up the night. There were entire fields of glowing yellows and violets and whites, swaying in the nighttime breeze, making the fields look alive, as if they were holding thousands of swaying candles. It was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.
“Glow flowers,” she said, coming up beside. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
She took his hand, as they looked out at the fields and he learned in and kissed her.
They held the kiss for a long time, and finally they clasped hands, and continued on the trail, through the glowing field of flowers, side by side, Krohn leaping into the flowers beside them.
They had been walking for what felt like forever when Thor asked, with a smile: “Where are we going?”
She smiled back.
They walked for a while in silence, with no sound but the whistling of the wind, and the occasional night bird’s song, along with Krohn’s breathing beside them as they went. Every now and again Krohn would bound into the flowers, pouncing on some animal they could not see, then come victoriously back to the trail, trotting along beside them.
“I prayed for you,” Gwen said, softly. “I thank god that you were delivered back safe to me. The thought of you being gone was too much for me to bear.”
“I’m sorry to have left you,” Thor said. “I wish I did not have to.”
“It’s funny,” Gwen said, “but ever since I met you, I’m finding it hard to think of anything else. You have a way of getting into my veins. It’s hard to concentrate when you’re gone. But it’s hard to concentrate when you’re near me.”
Thor’s squeezed her hand harder, overcome with love for her, amazed to hear that she felt the same way about him as he did her. He was burning with a desire to ask her to marry him. He was starting to wonder if now was the right time and place. He was about to, and cleared his throat, but then felt himself getting nervous, afraid she might say no.
He steeled himself. He opened his mouth to speak, and was about to ask her.
But suddenly they rounded a bend, and they stopped as there came into view a small but magnificent structure, built in the shape of a miniature castle, intimate and quaint. It was nestled in the hills, high up, with a commanding view of the meadows, surrounded by thousands of glowing night flowers.
“My mother’s house,” Gwen said.
“Your mother’s?” Thor asked.
“She and my father found it harder to take each other as they grew older. She had this place built for herself, mainly, to get away from him. From all of us. She liked to be alone. Not anymore. Now, ironically, she’s confined to the castle—at least until she is better. So this place sits empty. Few people know of it. I would come here, sometimes, when I was young, to get away from it all, when she was not here. I wanted to share it with you,” she said, squeezing his hand.