by Morgan Rice
Reece galloped alongside Conven, O’Connor, Elden, Indra, Serna and Krog, the seven of them racing down narrow trails, up and down hills as they charged through the thick wood, staying out of sight of Andronicus’ main army. Reece knew they had to avoid the bulk of Andronicus’ men if they were to have any chance of getting there safely—and before it was too late. They rode and rode, his arm scratched by branches, avoiding the open plains and meadows that could tip them off. They were cutting through McCloud territory, taking a huge shortcut, and they had been riding hard for hours.
Finally, they broke free of the forest, finding themselves deposited in a rocky, open field, with the Canyon in view on the horizon. Reece’s heart soared in excitement. They had made it.
Reece could smell the ocean air, the sea was but miles beyond the Canyon. As he rode, Elden charged up beside him. He pointed:
“There!” Elden screamed. “The Crossing!”
Reece looked and saw that he was right: there on the horizon, amidst the swirling mists of the Canyon, lay the Eastern Crossing, the massive bridge spanning the Canyon, glistening in the sun. It let travelers out on the Eastern side, and the crossing, once manned with McCloud’s men, now sat empty. Of course it would: all of McCloud’s men were in Andronicus’ service now, and with the Shield back up, there was no need for Andronicus to have the crossing manned. No one else could get in, so there was no one left to defend against.
Reece searched desperately for any sign of the Empire entourage who had taken the sword.
“There!” O’Connor screamed, pointing.
Reece squinted against the sun and saw the entourage of about two dozen Empire warriors, marching under the burden of a huge Boulder, carrying it slowly towards the bridge. They were just setting foot on it.
Reece kicked his horse and screamed, doubling his efforts.
“RIDE!” he screamed. They had caught them in time, but it would still be close. If they crossed to the other side, the Shield would go down for all time. Either way, it was a losing proposition.
They charged and charged, the cold wind whipping Reece’s face, galloping until he was out of breath. Beside him his Legion brothers did the same, all of them feeling the urgency of their mission.
Luckily, the Empire group was slow-moving, weighed down by the boulder, and as they were crossing the bridge, Reece and his men narrowed the gap quickly.
Reece and the others reached the bridge and rode onto it, not slowing, catching up with the Empire men as they were nearly halfway across.
The Empire men heard the commotion, and they all turned and faced Reece and the others, surprised expressions on their faces. They set down the boulder, and prepared to fight.
Reece realized they were badly outnumbered, just the seven of them against twenty-plus hardened Empire warriors. But the Sword was in his sights, and there was no turning back now.
“FIRE!” Reece screamed again.
O’Connor, beside him, fired two arrows, taking down two soldiers, Elden hurled his spear, Indra threw her dagger, and Conven his small throwing axe. They each hit their mark, taking down five of them, narrowing the odds.
Reece charged out in front of the others, drew his sword, and galloped into the thick of the group. He rode between two Empire soldiers and leapt off his horse in mid-air, knocking them both down with his arms.
They all tumbled together to the ground, and Reece landed in a roll, turned, took a knee and slashed each of them both before they had a chance to regain their feet.
His Legion brothers were fighting all around him, hand-to-hand, as the fighting grew fierce. The surprised Empire soldiers seemed wary of losing the Sword, intent on crossing the Canyon with it, and they were distracted in their fighting, huddling around it. They were also clearly exhausted from carrying the boulder so far, giving Reece and his men the advantage.
Reece, fighting for his life, for Thor’s life, for the Sword’s life, and for the life of the Ring, gave it everything he had. He had never fought with such abandon, slashing and stabbing and parrying, and he took down several soldiers, as did Conven beside him, who also battled in a reckless rage. Elden used his sheer strength to overpower them, wielding a battle axe and using his strong legs to kick several soldiers in the chest, onto their backs. O’Connor fired arrow after arrow, most of them finding their mark, and Indra, too, was a force to be reckoned with, weaving in and out of the men and slashing with her dagger. Serna and Krog were an impressive addition to the group, Serna wielding a flail, knocking swords from Empire soldiers’ hands before they attacked, and Krog using his shield as a weapon, blocking blows for others, and smashing soldiers in the face and in the throat, sending them down to the ground. He followed up with his big studded gauntlet, knocking them out for good.
Soon, the odds were even. There stood seven of them against seven of the Empire, all of them covered in blood and breathing hard.
One Empire soldier yelled a command to another, in a language Reece did not understand. He was looking at the Sword and gesturing wildly at it.
That was when Reece realized: he was ordering his fellow soldiers to destroy the Sword.
Reece’s eyes opened wide as he watched three of the largest Empire soldiers hoist the boulder up off the ground with all their might, while the other four circled around them, a wall to defend them.
Reece and the others fought hand-to-hand with the four soldiers, trying to cut their way through to the three soldiers carrying the Sword towards the bridge’s edge. They went blow for blow, clang for clang, but it was not easy—these remaining four soldiers were better than the others, and more determined. They were losing precious time.
Conven charged forward and threw himself onto the lead soldier, tackling him to the ground. It was a move no one had expected, and it turned the tide in their favor. While the other Empire soldiers, distracted, turned to pry Conven off, Reece and the others attacked fearlessly. The seven of them fought as one, overwhelming the four Empire soldiers and killing them on the spot.
Reece, kneeling over a soldier he had just killed, looked up to watch the boulder feet away from the edge. The three Empire soldiers were lifting it, higher and higher, preparing to send it over the railing, to hurl it over the precipice. They already had it sitting on the ledge of the stone railing, teetering, about to be pushed over. In moments the Sword would be lost forever. He could not let that happen.
“NO!” Reece screamed.
Reece charged forward, the others right behind him, raised his sword and attacked the four soldiers. They turned and raised their swords—but too late. Reece deftly killed two of them on his own, and before the others could raise a defense, Elden, with his axe, and Conven, wielding a short spear, stepped forward and finished them off.
The Empire men were all dead, but there was no time for Reece and the others to rest on their heels. The boulder was rocking, teetering over the edge, the Sword swaying both ways.
Reece and the others rushed forward, and they all grabbed hold of the boulder. It was so heavy, so precarious, and already leaning over the edge.
As they grabbed on with all they had, their knuckles turning white, the boulder began to slide over the edge; Reece grabbed onto the hilt of the Sword, while the others grabbed the rock. He pulled with everything he had, pulled so hard that he felt his back and stomach muscles tearing. All of the others pulled just as hard, the sky filling with the sound of their screams. Even Elden, with all his strength, holding on with two hands, groaned.
But their hands were slick with the blood of men, and they were beyond exhausted. With whatever strength they had left, they pulled, but no matter how hard they pulled, the boulder just continued to sink lower and lower.
Finally, after one last desperate effort, Reece watched, horrified, as the hilt of the Sword slipped from his grip—and as the boulder slipped from all of their hands.
“NO!” Reece screamed.
He looked down and watched, wide-eyed, as if in a nightmare, as the boulder, the Sword st
ill lodged in it, hurled down over the edge of the Canyon bridge. It spun and spun, plummeting down into the mist, into the bottomless Canyon.
Reece felt his whole life caving in, all hope being lost, as he watched everything he cared for in the world slipping before his eyes, the Sword hurling into nothingness, lost forever.
The Ring, he knew, was finished.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Thor peeled open his eyes as he felt his wrists being dragged, his arms being raised and hoisted above his head. He felt himself yanked up, his body scraping against the hard, dirt wall of the pit, in and out of consciousness as his body scraped against mud, roots and rock.
Thor opened his one good eye, the other still swollen shut, and found himself laying face-first on the cold winter ground. He squinted at the harsh light of day, shivered from the cold gust of wind that struck his bare back and chest. He looked up to see an Empire soldier standing over him, scowling down.
“The Great Andronicus wishes to see you now,” the man said coldly.
Thor felt several sets of strong hands grab him from behind, and set him on his feet. Thor stood on unsteady legs, his wrists still shackled with Akdon, still feeling weak, and wondered how long he’d been out.
He felt himself shoved hard from behind and he stumbled forward, dragged by several men, across the Empire camp. Thousands of soldiers gawked at him as he went. He felt every bump and bruise in his body, felt like he weighed a million pounds with every step he took. He felt more dead than alive.
Thor looked up to see he was being led to a small, ancient octagon-shaped structure, adorned with marble fluted columns. It was the ruins of an ancient temple. It sat alone in the camp, the Empire soldiers keeping a safe distance from it. Its huge iron doors were bolted shut, and Thor could sense an intense evil energy coming from inside as an attendant unlocked the door and swung it open.
Thor was shoved inside, and the door slammed behind him, echoing in the silence. It was colder in here than outdoors and something in the air made his hairs stand on end.
Thor stood alone in the octagon-shaped building; it was dim in here, lit only by a circular opening in the ceiling through which streamed a shaft of sunlight, tinged with scarlet, near day’s end.
Thor sensed someone else in here with him. He looked up and saw with dread that, standing in the center of the empty circle, was his father. Andronicus.
He stood alone, as tall as a mountain, smiling down at Thor, as Thor stood across him. It was just the two of them now, facing each other in this empty, ancient ruin of a temple. Thor could hardly believe that he issued from this man. It was like a nightmare that would not go away.
“You have tasted the strength of the Great Andronicus,” he began, his voice ancient, booming, echoing through the hall. “You have begun to learn the price of defying me.”
Thor felt his shoulder throbbing and burning where he had been branded by Andronicus, and he hated this man with a hatred greater than he ever thought possible. He thought of Gwendolyn, of what Andronicus had done to her, and he ached for vengeance for her, too. He was so livid, he could barely breathe.
“I can feel your hatred for me,” Andronicus said. “That is good. Your hatred will serve you will in this life.”
Thor felt exhausted by his own hatred, felt barely able to stand anymore. He felt as if he were being broken by this man.
“Thorgrin,” came the voice.
Thor looked up, shocked by the voice, and saw standing across from him now was Argon. It was a voice he loved, a man he missed dearly. Argon looked back, his eyes glowing with a fatherly love. It was a love that Thor had never experienced in his life.
“Join Andronicus,” Argon said. “He is your father. Embrace who you are. Embrace your destiny.”
Thor shook his head, confused. He stepped forward.
“Argon?” he asked. “It can’t be you.”
Thor blinked, and the figure before him became someone else. His mother.
“Thorgrin,” she said sweetly. “Your time in the Ring is over. It is time for you to go someplace greater. Choose life. No one will fault you. Join him. I want you to join him.”
Thor stumbled towards her.
“Mother!” he screamed.
Thor blinked to find Andronicus standing before him again. Thor shook his head, trying to shake off the visions. He knew Andronicus was using some sort of dark sorcery to play with his mind. But he could not understand what.
“Those shackles,” Andronicus said. “There is an easy way to get them off, to regain all your strength, to become the warrior you once were.”
“How?” Thor asked, his voice weak.
“Join me. That is all you have to do. Join me, and the two of us will rule the Empire together. Join me, and you will be stronger than you’ve ever been. Strong enough, even, to kill me if you choose. That is what you want, isn’t it? To kill me? Yes, it is…I can feel it. Join me, and you will be strong enough to.”
Thor breathed heard, his mind muddled, trying to make sense of it all. Strong enough to kill Andronicus?
“All you have to do is decide, inside your heart, that you are my son. That you are ready to embrace who you are. Once you do, those shackles on your wrists will fall off by themselves. It is the only way to get them off. You will be reborn as one of us. As my son. And you will reach a level of strength you could never comprehend. You will become the greatest warrior of all time. All you have to do is accept me. Accept me as your father.”
Thor shook his head again and again, trying to get the voices out of his head. They seemed to spiral into his brain, to lodge deep in his mind like a foreign entity he could not shake out. Thor felt as if some force were invading his thoughts, making him unable to think, to decide, for himself.
Was it all true? Was Andronicus really his father? Would he really be wrong to defy his own father? He was starting to feel that if he said no, somehow he would be betraying his father. Betraying himself. He couldn’t understand his own thoughts. It was as if they were turning on him, as if everything Andronicus said was starting to make sense.
“Thorgrin,” Andronicus said, stepping closer to him, hardly a foot away. He reached out and lay a hand on his shoulder.
“You know I speak the truth,” he continued. “You’ve never had a father in this world. And, aside from me, you never will. I am the only one who claims you. Now you must claim me. I am a part of you. A part that will never leave you. If you want to make all this go away, to silence that voice in your head, then claim me. Claim me as I have claimed you.”
“NO!” Thor shrieked, sinking to his knees, trying to raise his hands to his head to blot it all out.
Andronicus’ words circled inside his head, making clear thoughts impossible.
“Join me, and together, we will crush the Ring. The Ring that never embraced you. Join me, and become unstoppable.”
“NO!” Thor shrieked, so loud, his voice echoed off the walls, blotted out all his thoughts.
He leaned back and roared in agony.
Thor heard a noise, felt something lift, and he raised his wrists and stared at them in shock: the Akdon shackles snapped.
They dropped harmlessly from his wrists, and landed on the floor with a clang.
Thor looked up at Andronicus, and saw his own eyes looking down at him.
“Father,” Thor said, feeling a new strength begin to well within him.
Andronicus smiled wide with satisfaction.
“My son.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Kendrick felt a renewed sense of optimism as he rode beside Bronson and Erec. Ever since Bronson’s arrival, they had wiped out the Empire division. Together, they had all crossed the valley, their thousands of men merging seamlessly with one another. The size of their forces had doubled, thanks to Bronson, and momentum was finally on their side.
Kendrick knew that they owed Bronson a great debt. Bronson would have a friend in him for life now, and if they all ever survived this, Kendrick would m
ake sure Bronson was given a position of honor and power. He marveled at how wrong they had all been about him. He should have known all along that it was his sister, Luanda, who had duped him. She had always been that way: conniving, power-hungry, and willing to stop at nothing until she had her way. Much, in a way, like Gareth.
With their newfound momentum, Kendrick felt they had a renewed chance to burst through enemy lines, rescue Thorgrin, and get him out. They had weakened the Empire army, or at least a sliver of it, a sliver wide enough to allow them to achieve their goal. Their plan was working. Now, before the Empire could regroup, all they needed was to press through the crack in the men they had created.
Kendrick recalled the olden days, when King MacGil had been alive; when the Silver had been all together, there was nothing in the world that could stop them. He felt something like the olden days returning once again, and felt that they were on the verge of achieving one of the greatest conquests of their lives, one that would be sung of for generations.
The valley narrowed, leading them on a path between two steep cliffs, and as they rounded a bend, a new vista opened up before them—and Kendrick’s heart fell.
Blocking off their path in the narrow valley, facing them in combat, waiting to ambush them, were tens of thousands of men. More Empire soldiers than he had ever seen. These were led by thousands more. Men he recognized at once from their armor, from their banners.
Tirus’ men.
At first, Kendrick was confused. Why would Tirus’ men be joined with the Empire’s, one unified force facing him? Then he realized: they had been sold out by Tirus.
As all of his men came to a sudden stop, Kendrick sat there on his horse, dumbfounded, hardly able to breathe. Tirus sat there, grinning back with a huge look of satisfaction. The battlefield was thick with a tense silence of anticipation.
Kendrick finally cleared his throat and called out to Tirus across the battlefield:
“You have betrayed the better half of the MacGils,” Kendrick called out to him.