by Morgan Rice
Thor could not think of Conval without Conven, the two identical twins, inseparable, always completing each other’s thoughts. He could not imagine the pain Conven was feeling. Conven looked as if he was not in his right mind anymore; the happy, carefree Conven he once knew seemed to have departed in a single stroke.
They all still stood at the edge of the battlefield where it had taken place, the Empire corpses piled up around them. They stood there, rooted, looking down at Conval, none of them willing to move on until they had given him a proper burial. They had found some choice furs on some Empire officers, had stripped them, and had wrapped Conval’s corpse in them. They had placed him on a small boat, the one they had used to get here, and his body lay in it, long, stiff, facing the sky. A warrior’s burial. Conval already seemed so frozen, his body stiff and blue, as if he had never lived.
They had been standing there for Thor did not know how long, each of them lost in their own sorrows, none wanting to see his body go. Indra moved her palm over Conval’s head in small circles, chanting something in a language that Thor did not understand, her eyes closed. He could tell how much she cared for him as she conducted the solemn funeral service, and Thor felt a sense of peace at the sound. None of the boys knew what to say, and they all stood there glumly, silent, letting Indra lead the service.
Finally, Indra finished and took a step back. Conven stepped forward, tears running down his cheeks, and knelt down beside his brother. He reached out and lay a hand on his, bowing his head.
Conven reached out and gave the boat a shove. It bobbed out into the still waters of the river, and then, as if the tides understood, they suddenly picked up, pulling the boat away, slowly, gently. It drifted farther and farther away from the group, Krohn whining as it went. Out of nowhere there arose a mist, and it consumed the boat. It disappeared.
Thor felt as if his body, too, had been sucked into the underworld.
Slowly, the boys turned to each other and looked out, past the battlefield, and to the terrains beyond it. Behind them was the underworld from which they came; to one side was a vast plain of grass; and to the other side was an empty wasteland, a hard-baked desert. They stood at a crossroads.
Thor turned to Indra.
“To reach Neversink, we must cross that desert?” Thor asked.
She nodded.
“Is there no other way?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“There are other ways, but less direct. You would lose weeks. If you hope to beat the thieves, it is your only way.”
The others stared long and hard at it, the sun baking off it, rippling in waves.
“It looks unforgiving,” Reece said, coming up beside Thor.
“I know of no one who has ever crossed it and lived,” Indra said. “It is vast, filled with hostile creatures.”
“We don’t have enough provisions,” O’Connor said. “We wouldn’t make it.”
“Yet it is the way to the Sword,” Thor said.
“Assuming the Sword still exists,” Elden said.
“If the thieves have reached Neversink,” Indra said, “then your precious Sword is lost forever. You would risk your lives for a dream. The best thing you can do now is turn back to the Ring.”
“We will not turn back,” Thor said, determined.
“Especially not now,” Conven added, stepping forward, his eyes alight with fire and grief.
“We will find that Sword or die trying,” Reece said.
Indra shook her head and sighed.
“I didn’t expect any other answer from you boys,” she said. “Foolhardy to the last.”
*
Thor marched side by side with the others through the wasteland, squinting into the harsh sun, gasping in the relentless heat. He’d thought he would be thrilled to be rid of the underworld, of its ever-present gloom, of being unable to see the sun. But he had gone from one extreme to the other. Here, in this desert, there was nothing but sun: yellow sun and yellow sky, all beaming down on him and nowhere to go. His head hurt, and he was feeling dizzy. He was dragging his feet, and felt as if he had been marching a lifetime; as he looked over, he saw the others were, too.
They had been trekking half a day, and he did not know how they could possibly continue to keep this up. He looked over at Indra, holding her hood over her head, and wondered if she had been right. Maybe they had been foolhardy to attempt this. But he had vowed to find the Sword—and what choice did they have?
As they went their feet stirred up clouds of dust, swirling everywhere, making it even harder to breathe. On the horizon there sat nothing but more sunbaked dirt, everything flat as far as the eye could see. There wasn’t the slightest glimmer of structure, or road, or mountain—or anything. Nothing but desert. Thor felt as if they had come to the very end of the earth.
As they went, Thor took solace in one thing: at least now, for the first time, he trusted where they were going. No longer was he at the mercy of listening to those three brothers and their stupid map; now they listened to Indra, and he trusted her more than he had ever trusted them. He felt certain they were being led in the right direction—he just didn’t feel certain they would survive the journey.
Thor began to hear a subtle whooshing noise, and as he looked down, he saw the sand all around him swirling in circles. The others saw it, too, and Thor was confused as he watched the sand slowly gather, the circles growing more intense at his feet, then lift up into the sky. There soon arose a dust cloud, lifting off the desert floor, rising higher and higher.
Thor felt his entire body suddenly getting drier. He felt as if every drop of water was being pulled from his body, and he ached for water; he had never been so thirsty in his life.
He reached out in a panic, fumbling for his water sack, and raised it and squirted it towards his mouth. But as he did, the water turned and went upwards, towards the sky, never reaching his lips.
“What’s going on?” Thor yelled to Indra, gasping.
She watched the skies with fear, retracting her hood.
“A reverse rain!” she yelled.
“What’s that?” Elden yelled, gasping as he grabbed his throat.
“It’s raining upwards!” she yelled. “All the moisture is being sucked up to the sky!”
Thor watched as the rest of his water shot upwards from his sack, and then watched the sack itself crackle and turn dry, dropping down to the ground as a dry crisp.
Thor dropped to his knees, grabbing his throat, barely able to breathe. All around him, the others did the same.
“Water!” Elden pleaded beside him.
There came a great rumble, like the sound of a thousand thunders, and Thor looked up to watch the sky blacken. A single storm cloud appeared, racing towards them at incredible speed.
“GET DOWN!” Indra screamed. “The sky is reversing!”
She had barely finished speaking when the sky opened up and a wall of water came gushing down, knocking down Thor and the others with the force of a tidal wave.
Thor went rolling over and over in the wave of water, tumbling he did not know how long. Finally, he surfaced back on the desert floor, the wave rolling right past them. This was followed by sheets of pouring rain, and Thor threw his head back and drank and drank, as did the others, until finally he felt hydrated again.
Slowly, each of them regained their feet, breathing hard, looking beaten up. They turned to each other. They had survived. As their shock and fear subsided, slowly they burst out laughing.
“We’re alive!” O’Connor yelled out.
“Is that the worst this desert can give us?” Reece asked, joyful to be alive.
Indra shook her head, somber.
“You celebrate prematurely,” she said, looking very worried. “After the rains, the desert animals come out to drink.”
An awful noise arose, and Thor looked down and watched in horror as an army of small creatures arose from the sand and scurried their way towards them. Thor checked back over his shoulder and s
aw the lake of water the rains had left, and he realized that they were right in the path of the thirsty creatures.
Dozens of creatures which Thor had never laid eyes upon before raced his way. They were huge, yellow animals, resembling Buffalo, yet twice as large, with four arms and four horns, and they stood on two legs as they ran towards them. They charged in a funny way, running on two legs, but every once a while pouncing down on all fours, then bouncing up again. They roared as they came for them, their vibrations shaking the ground.
Thor drew his sword, as did the others, and prepared to defend. As the first of the animals neared, Thor rolled to the side, out of the way, not striking it, hoping that it would just run right past them and go for the water.
The creature lowered its head to gouge Thor, and just missed as Thor rolled. To Thor’s dread, it was not content—it circled back, in a rage, and charged right for Thor. It seemed it wanted him dead more than it wanted water.
As it charged again, lowering its horns, Thor leapt high into the air and swung his sword, chopping off one of its horns as it rushed by. The animal shrieked, jumping up on two legs, and spun around, clipping Thor and knocking him to the ground.
The creature lifted its feet and tried to stomp Thor, and Thor rolled out of the way as its feet made an impression in the sand and stirred up a cloud of dust. The creature raised its feet again, and this time Thor raised his sword and plunged it into the creature’s chest.
The beast shrieked again, the sword plunging to the hilt, and Thor rolled out from under it right before it collapsed down to the ground, dead. He was lucky he did: the weight of it would have crushed him into the earth.
As Thor gained his feet another beast charged for him, and he leapt out of the way, but not before its horn grazed his arm, slicing it, making him scream out in pain and drop his sword. Swordless, Thor extracted his sling, placed a stone and hurled it at the beast.
The beast staggered and screamed as the stone impaled its eye—but still, it charged.
Thor ran to the left and to the right, trying to zigzag out of the way—but the creature was too fast. There was nowhere left to run, and he knew that in moments he would be gouged. As he ran he glanced over at his Legion brothers and saw they were not faring much better, each on the run from a beast.
The beast neared, just inches away, its awful snorting and smell in Thor’s ears, and it lowered its horns. Thor braced himself for the impact.
Suddenly the beast shrieked, and Thor turned to see it being lifted high into the air. Thor looked up, puzzled, not understanding what was happening—when he saw behind it a huge lime-green monster, the size of a dinosaur, a hundred feet tall, with rows of razor-sharp teeth. It held the beast in its jaw as if it were nothing, and leaned back scooped it up in its mouth. It held it there, squirming, then chewed it and gobbled it down in three huge bites, swallowing and licking its lips.
All around Thor the yellow creatures turned and ran from the beast. The beast chased after them, sliding and whipping its huge tail as it went; the tail caught Thor from behind, and sent him and the others landing hard on the ground. But the beast continued charging past them, more interested in the yellow creatures than in them.
Thor turned and looked at the others, who all sat there, dumbfounded, and looked back at him.
Indra stood there, shaking her head.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “it gets much worse.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kendrick walked slowly through the burnt-out courtyard of Upper Silesia, at his side Srog, Brom, Kolk, Atme, Godfrey and a dozen Silver. They all marched slowly, deliberately, hands clasped behind their heads in a show of surrender.
The small group worked its way past the thousands of watching Empire soldiers, towards the waiting figure of Andronicus at the far city gate. Kendrick felt all eyes on them as they went, the tension thick in the air. The courtyard, despite being occupied by thousands of troops, was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
An hour before, Kendrick had yelled up his surrender to Andronicus, and this group had ascended together, making a show of not carrying weapons as they had marched between the parting crowd of Empire soldiers, on their way to formally kneel before Andronicus. Kendrick’s heart was pounding as they went, his throat dry, as he saw how many thousands of hostile enemy surrounded them.
Kendrick and the others had rehearsed a scheme, and as they approached Andronicus, and Kendrick saw firsthand how huge and savage he looked, Kendrick prayed the scheme worked. If it did not, their lives were over.
They marched, spurs jingling, until finally one of Andronicus’ generals stepped forward, an imposing creature with a deep scowl, and stuck out a rough palm, jabbing Kendrick in the chest. They were stopped about twenty feet away from Andronicus, presumably out of caution. Their soldiers were wiser than Kendrick had predicted; he had hoped to march all the way to Andronicus, but clearly that was something they would not allow. Kendrick’s heart beat faster, as he hoped it did not put a wrinkle in their plan.
As they all stood there, silent, facing off with each other, Kendrick cleared his throat.
“We have come to surrender before the Great Andronicus,” Kendrick announced, his voice booming, trying to use his most convincing tone as he stood with the others, unmoving, looking up into Andronicus’ eyes.
Andronicus reached up and fingered the shrunken heads on his necklace, looking down at them with something like a snarl, or perhaps a smile.
“We accept your terms,” Kendrick continued. “We admit defeat.”
Andronicus leaned forward, just slightly, seated on a huge stone bench, and looked down at them with something like a smile.
“I know that you will,” he said, his voice booming back across the courtyard. “Where’s the girl?”
Kendrick was prepared for that.
“We have come as a contingent of our most senior and decorated officers,” Kendrick responded. “We came first, to profess our surrender to you. When we are finished, the others will follow, with your permission.”
Kendrick thought that adding “with your permission” was a nice touch, would help it seem even more plausible. He’d learned a great lesson long ago, from one of his military advisors: when dealing with a narcissistic commander, always appeal to his ego. There was no limit to the mistakes a commander might make when you flattered them, when you played up their greatness.
Andronicus leaned back just a bit, barely responding.
“Of course they will,” Andronicus said. “Otherwise the group of you would be very foolish to appear here.”
Andronicus sat there, staring down at them, as if trying to decide. He seemed as if he sensed something awry. Kendrick’s heart pounded.
Finally, after a long wait, Andronicus seemed to decide.
“Step forward and kneel,” he said. “All of you.”
The others all looked to Kendrick, and Kendrick nodded.
They all took a step forward and knelt down, before Andronicus.
“Repeat after me,” the commander said. “We, representatives of Silesia….”
“We, representatives of Silesia….”
“Do hereby surrender to the Great Andronicus….”
“Do hereby surrender to the Great Andronicus….”
“and vow allegiance to him for the rest of our days and more….”
“and vow allegiance to him for the rest of our days and more….”
“And to serve as slaves to him for as long as our days endure.”
The final words were hard for Kendrick to get out and he swallowed hard, until he finally repeated them, word for word:
“And to serve as slaves to him for as long as our days endure.”
It made him nauseous to do so, and his heart was thumping in his ears. Finally, the pain of it was over.
A tense silence followed, and Andronicus finally smiled.
“You MacGils are weaker than I thought,” he snarled. “I shall take great pleasure in enslaving you, and in making yo
u learn the ways of the Empire. Now go and fetch the girl, before I change my mind and kill all of you on the spot.”
As Kendrick knelt there, he felt his entire life flash before his eyes. He knew that this was one of those defining moments in his life. If all went as he hoped, he would live to tell the tale of this day to his grandchildren; if not, he would, in moments, be lying here a corpse. He knew the chances were stacked against him, but it was a chance he had to take. On behalf of himself; on behalf of the MacGils; and on behalf of Gwendolyn. It was now or never.
In one quick motion, Kendrick reached behind his back, grabbed a short sword hidden beneath his shirt, stood, and screamed as he hurled it with all his might.
“SILESIANS, ATTACK!”
Kendrick’s sword hurled end over end, heading right for Andronicus’ chest. It was a mighty throw, with true aim, a throw bold enough to kill any other warrior.
But Andronicus was not any other warrior. Kendrick was just a few yards too far, and Andronicus was just a touch too quick; Andronicus managed to duck out of the way with a moment to spare. He still screamed out in pain, as the blade grazed his arm, drawing blood. It then continued through the air and killed the general standing beside him, lodging in his stomach instead.
On Kendrick’s scream, chaos erupted. All around him the others reached back and drew their hidden swords and decapitated the soldiers standing amidst them. Brom pulled a dagger from his belt, stepped to the side, and slashed it backwards through the throat of a soldier standing close by. Kolk removed a short sling from his waist, placed a rock, and hurled it, hitting a distant soldier, holding a bow, in the head, right before he could fire. Godfrey threw a dagger; his aim was not as true as the others, and the dagger missed its mark, impaling instead the leg of a young soldier.
All around them, screams erupted of the wounded Empire soldiers, none of them expecting the surprise attack.
On cue, at the same moment, on all sides of the courtyard Silesian soldiers suddenly emerged from the ground, from the walls. They came up with a great battle cry, aiming arrows, darkening the air with them. Thousands of arrows crossed the courtyard, felling Empire soldiers in every direction. They were attacked from so many sides, the soldiers were at a loss as to which way to turn; many of them, in their panic, ended up attacking each other.