by Morgan Rice
“The weapons house,” Reece answered. “It’s where they store all our arms. Every once in a while they let us get a peek, even train with some of them. Depends what lesson they want to impart.”
Thor’s stomach tightened as he noticed Elden, coming over to them. Thor braced himself, expecting a threat—but this time, to Thor’s amazement, Elden wore a look of appreciation.
“I have to thank you,” he said, looking down, humbled. “For saving my life.”
Thor was stumped: he had never expected this from him.
“I was wrong about you,” Elden added. “Friends?” he asked.
He held out a hand.
Thor was not one to hold a grudge, and he gladly reached over and met his hand.
“Friends,” Thor said.
“I don’t take that word lightly,” Elden said. “I will always have your back. And I owe you one.”
With that, he turned and hurried off, back into the crowd.
Thor barely knew what to make of it. He was amazed at how quickly things had changed.
“I guess he’s not a complete creep,” O’Connor said. “Maybe he’s okay after all.”
They reached the weapons house, the immense doors swung open, and Thor was in awe as he entered. He walked slowly, neck craned, surveying the place in a broad circle, taking it all in. There were hundreds of weapons, weapons he didn’t even recognize, hanging on the walls. The other kids hurried forward in an excited rush, running up to weapons, picking them up, handling them, examining them. Thor followed their example, and felt like a kid in a candy store.
He hurried over to a large halberd, hoisted the wooden shaft with two hands, and felt its weight. It was massive, well oiled. The blade was worn and notched, and he wondered if it had killed any men in battle.
He set it down and picked up a mace, a studded metal ball attached to a short staff by a long chain. He held the studded wooden shaft, and felt the metal spike dangle on the end of the chain. Beside him, Reece handled a battle ax, and beside him, O’Connor tested the weight of a long pike, jabbing into the air at an imaginary enemy.
“Listen up!” Kolk yelled, and they all turned.
“Today we will learn about fighting your enemy from a distance. Can anyone here tell me what weapons can be used? What can kill a man from thirty paces away?”
“A bow and arrow,” somebody yelled.
“Yes,” Kolk answered. “What else?”
“A spear!” someone shouted.
“What else? There are more than just these. Let’s hear them.”
“A slingshot,” Thor added.
“What else?”
Thor racked his brain, but was running out of options.
“Throwing knives,” Reece yelled.
“What else?”
The other boys hesitated. No one had any ideas left.
“There are throwing hammers,” Kolk yelled, “and throwing axes. There is the crossbow. Pikes can be thrown. So can swords.”
Kolk paced the room, looking over the faces of the boys, who stood rapt with attention.
“That is not all. A simple rock from the ground can be your best friend. I’ve seen a man, big as a bull, a war hero, killed on the spot by a throw from a rock by a craftier soldier. Soldiers often don’t realize that armor can be used as a weapon, too. The gauntlet can be taken off and thrown in an enemy’s face. This can stun him, several feet away. In that moment, you can kill him. Your shield can be thrown, too.”
Kolk took a breath.
“It is crucial that when you learn to fight, you don’t just learn to fight in the distance between you and your opponent. You must expand your fight to a much greater distance. Most people fight with three paces. A good warrior fights with thirty. Understood?”
“Yes sir!” came the chorus of shouts.
“Good. Today, we will sharpen your throwing skills. Canvas the room and grab what throwing devices you see. Each grab one and be outside in thirty seconds. Now move!”
The room erupted into a scramble, and Thor ran for the wall, searching for something to grab. He was bumped and pushed every which way by other excited boys, until he finally saw what he wanted and grabbed it. It was a small throwing axe. O’Connor grabbed a dagger, Reece a sword, and the three of them raced out, with the other boys, into the field.
They followed Kolk to the far side of the field, where there were lined up a dozen shields on posts.
All the boys, holding their weapons, gathered around Kolk expectantly.
“You will stand here,” he boomed out, gesturing to a line in the dirt, “and aim for those shields when throwing your weapons. You will then run to the shields, grab a weapon that was not yours, and practice throwing that. Never choose the same weapon. Always aim for the shield. For those of you who miss a shield, you will be required to run one lap around the field. Begin!”
The boys lined up, shoulder to shoulder, behind the dirt line, and began to throw their weapons at the shields, which must have been a good thirty yards away. Thor fell in line with them. The boy beside him reached back and threw his spear, and it missed by a hair.
The boy turned and began to jog around the arena. As he did, a member of the King’s men ran up beside him, and laid a heavy mantle of chainmail over his shoulders, weighing him down.
“Run with that, boy!” he ordered.
The boy, weighed down, already sweating, continued to run in the heat.
Thor did not want to miss the target. He leaned back, concentrated, pulled his throwing axe back, and let it go. He closed his eyes and hoped it hit its mark, and was relieved to hear the sound of it embedding itself in the leather shield. He barely made it, hitting a lower corner, but at least he did. All around him, several boys missed and broke off into laps. The few that hit raced for the shields to grab a new weapon.
Thor reached the shields and found a long, slim throwing dagger, which he extracted, then ran back to the throwing line.
They continued to throw for hours, until Thor’s arm was killing him and he had run one too many laps himself. He was dripping in sweat, as were others around him. It was an interesting exercise, to throw all sorts of weapons, to get used to the feel and weight of all different shafts and blades. Thor felt himself getting better, more used to it, with each throw. But still, the heat was oppressive, and he was getting tired. There were only a dozen boys still standing before the shields, with most of them broken off into laps. It was just too hard to hit so many times, with so many different weapons, and the laps and the heat were making accuracy even worse. Thor was gasping, and didn’t know how much longer he could go on. Just when he felt he was about to collapse, suddenly, Kolk stepped forward.
“Enough!” he yelled.
The boys returned from their laps and collapsed on the grass. They lay there, panting, breathing hard, removing the heavy coats of chain mail that had been draped on them. Thor, too, sat down in the grass, arm exhausted, dripping with sweat. Some of the King’s men came around with buckets of water and dropped them on the grass. Reece reached out, grabbed one, drank from it, then handed it to O’Connor, who drank and handed it to Thor. Thor drank and drank, the water dripping down his chin and chest. The water felt amazing. He breathed hard as he handed it back to Reece.
“How long can this go on?” he asked.
Reece shook his head, gasping. “I don’t know.”
“I swear they’re trying to kill us,” came the voice. Thor turned and saw Elden, who had come up and sat beside him. Thor was surprised to see him there, and it sank in that Elden truly wanted to be friends. It was odd to see such a change in his behavior.
“Boys!” Kolk yelled, walking slowly between them. “More of you are missing your marks now, late in the day. As you can see, it is harder to be accurate when you’re tired. That’s the point. During battle, you will not be fresh. You will be exhausted. Some battles can go on for days. Especially if you are attacking a castle. And it is when you’re at your most tired that you must make your most accu
rate throw. Often you will be forced to throw whatever weapon is at your disposal. You must be an expert in every weapon, and in every state of exhaustion. Is that understood?”
“YES SIR!” they shouted back.
“Some of you can throw a knife, or a spear. But that same person is missing with a hammer or axe. Do you think you can survive by throwing one weapon?”
“NO SIR!”
“Do you think this is just a game?”
“NO SIR!”
Kolk grimaced as he paced, kicking boys in the back who he felt were not sitting up straight enough.
“You’ve rested long enough,” he said. “Back on your feet!”
Thor scrambled to his feet with the others, his legs weary, not sure how much more of this he could stand.
“There are two sides to distance fighting,” Kolk continued. “You can throw—but so can your enemy. He may not be safe at thirty paces away—but you may not be, either. You must learn how to defend yourself at thirty paces. Is that understood?”
“YES SIR!”
“To defend yourself from a throwing object, you will need to not only be aware and quick on your feet, to duck, or roll, or dodge—but to also be adept at protecting yourself with a large shield.”
Kolk gestured, and a soldier brought out a huge, heavy shield. Thor was amazed: it was nearly twice the size of him.
“Do I have a volunteer?” Kolk asked.
The group of boys was quiet, hesitant, and without thinking, Thor, swept up in the moment, raised his hand.
Kolk nodded, and Thor hurried forward.
“Good,” Kolk said. “At least one of you is dumb enough to volunteer. I like your spirit, boy. A stupid decision. But good.”
Thor was beginning to wonder if he had made a bad decision as Kolk handed him the huge metal shield. He fastened it to one arm, and could not believe how heavy it was. He was barely able to lift it.
“Thor, your mission is to run from this end of the field to the other. Unscathed. See those fifty boys facing you?” Kolk said to Thor. “They are all going to throw weapons at you. Real weapons. Do you understand? If you do not use your shield to protect you, you may die before you make it to the other side.”
Thor stared back, unbelieving. The crowd of boys grew very quiet.
“This is not a game,” Kolk continued. “This is very serious. Battle is serious. It is life-and-death. Are you sure you still want to volunteer?”
Thor nodded, too frozen in terror to say anything else. He could hardly change his mind at this point, not in front of everyone.
“Good.”
Kolk gestured to an attendant, who stepped forward and blew a horn.
“Run!” Kolk screamed.
Thor hoisted the heavy shield with two hands, grasping it with all that he had. As he did, he felt a resounding thud, so severe it shook his skull. It must have been a metal hammer. It didn’t pierce the shield, but it sent an awful shock throughout his system. He nearly dropped the shield, but forced himself to grasp it, and to move on.
Thor began to run, hobbling as fast as he could with the shield. As weapons and missiles flew past him, he forced himself to huddle within the shield as best he could. The shield was his lifeline. And as he ran, he learned how to stay within it.
An arrow flew by him, missing him by a fraction of an inch, and he pulled his chin back tighter. Another heavy object slammed against the shield, hitting him so hard that he stumbled back several feet and collapsed to the ground. But Thor stumbled back to his feet, and continued to run. With a supreme effort, gasping for air, finally he crossed the field.
“Yield!” Kolk yelled.
Thor dropped the shield, dripping in sweat. He was beyond grateful that he had reached the other side: he didn’t know if he could’ve held that shield for another moment.
Thor hurried back to the others, many of whom gave him looks of admiration. He wondered how he had survived.
“Nice work,” Reece whispered to him.
“Any other volunteers?” Kolk called out.
There was dead silence among the boys. Clearly, after watching Thor, no one else wanted to try.
Thor felt proud of himself. He wasn’t sure if he would have volunteered knowing what was entailed, but now that it was over, he was glad that he did it.
“Fine. Then I will volunteer for you,” Kolk yelled. “You! Saden!” he called out, pointing to someone.
An older, thin boy stepped forward, looking terrified.
“Me?” Saden said, his voice cracking.
The other boys laughed at him.
“Of course you. Who else?” Kolk said.
“I’m sorry sir, but I would rather not.”
A horrified gasp arose among the Legion.
Kolk stepped forward, approaching him, grimacing.
“You don’t do what you want,” Kolk growled. “You do what I tell you to do.”
Saden stood there, frozen, looking scared to death.
“He shouldn’t be here,” Reece whispered to Thor.
Thor turned and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“He comes from a noble family, and they placed them here. But he doesn’t want to be here. He’s not a fighter. Kolk knows that. I think they’re trying to break him. I think they want him out.”
“I’m sorry sir, but I cannot,” Saden said, sounding terrified.
“You can,” Kolk screamed, “and you will!”
There was a frozen, tense standoff.
Saden looked down to the ground, hanging his chin in shame.
“I am sorry, sir. Give me some other task, and I will gladly do it.”
Kolk turned red in the face, storming towards him until he was inches from his face.
“I will give you another task, boy. I don’t care who your family is. From now on, you will run. You will run around this field until you collapse. And you will not come back until you volunteer to take up this shield. Do you understand me?”
Saden looked as if he were about to burst into tears, as he nodded back.
A soldier came over, draped chainmail over Saden, and then a second arrived and draped another set of chainmail on him. Thor could not understand how he could bear the weight of it. He could barely run with one of them on.
Kolk leaned back and kicked Saden hard in the rear, and he went stumbling forward and began his long, slow jog around the field. Thor felt bad for him. As he watched him hobble around, he couldn’t help but wonder if the boy would survive the Legion.
Suddenly a horn was sounded, and Thor turned to see a company of the King’s men ride up on horseback, a dozen of the Silver with them, holding long spears, wearing feathered helmets. They rode up and stopped before the legion.
“In honor of the king’s daughter’s wedding day, and in honor of the summer solstice, the king has declared the rest of today a hunting day!”
All the boys around Thor erupted into a huge cheer. As one, they all broke off into a sprint, following the horses as they turned and charged across the field.
“What’s happening?” Thor asked Reece, as he began to run with the others.
Reece wore a huge smile on his face.
“It’s a godsend!” he said. “We’re off for the day! We get to hunt!”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Thor jogged down the forest trail with the others, holding the spear that had been handed to him for the hunt. Beside him were Reece, O’Connor and Elden, along with at least fifty other members of the Legion. In front of them rode a hundred Silver, on horseback and in light armor, some carrying short spears, but most with bows and arrows slung over their backs. Running on foot amongst them were dozens of squires and attendants.
Riding at the front was King MacGil, looking as huge and proud as ever, an excited grin on his face. He was flanked by his sons, Kendrick and Gareth, and, Thor was surprised to see, even Godfrey. Dozens of pages ran amidst them, a few of them leaning back and blowing horns made of long ivory tusks; others yanked at baying dogs, who anxi
ously ran forward to keep up with the horses. It was complete mayhem. As the huge group charged through the forest, they began to split off in every direction, and Thor hardly knew where they were going, or which group to follow.
Erec rode close by, and Thor and the others decided to follow his trail. Thor came running up beside Reece.
“Where are we going?” he asked Reece, out of breath as they ran.
“Deep into the wood,” Reece called back. “The King’s men aim to bring back days’ worth of foul.”
“Why are some of the Silver on horses and others on foot?” O’Connor asked Reece.
“Those on horses are hunting the easier kill, such as deer and fowl,” Reece responded. “They use their bows. Those on foot aim for the more dangerous animals. Like the yellowtail boar.”
Thor was both excited and nervous at the mention of the animal. He had seen one growing up: it was a nasty and dangerous creature, known to tear a man in two with little provocation.
“The oldest warriors tend to stay on horseback and go after deer and birds,” Erec added, looking down. “The younger tend to stay on foot, and go after the bigger game. You have to be in better shape for it, of course.”
“Which is why we allow this hunt for you boys,” Kolk, running with the others, not far away, yelled out, “it is training for you, too. You will have to be on foot the entire hunt, keep up with the horses. As we go, you will break off into smaller groups, and each fork down your own path, and each hunt down your own animal. You will find the most vicious animal you can—and you will fight it to the death. These are the same qualities that make you a soldier: stamina, fearlessness, and not backing down from your adversary, no matter how big or how vicious. Now go!” he screamed.
Thor ran faster, as did all of his brethren, racing to catch up to the horses as they tore through the forest. He hardly knew which way to go, but he figured if he stuck close to Reece and O’Connor, he would be okay.
“An arrow, quick!” Erec yelled down.
Thor burst into action, running up beside Erec’s horse, grabbing an arrow from the quiver on the saddle, and handing it up to him. Erec placed it on his bow as he rode, slowed and took steady aim at something in the woods.