A Quest of Heroes (19 page)

“Wherever it is, it’s gone now,” Reece said. “You’ll never find it.”

“But you don’t understand,” Elden pleaded. “The Legion. There is just one rule. Never leave your weapon behind. I can’t return without it. I would be ousted!”

Thor turned and searched the ground again, searched the trees, looking everywhere. But he could see absolutely no sign of it. Reece and O’Connor just stood there, not bothering to look.

“I’m sorry,” Thor said, “I don’t see it.”

Elden scrambled everywhere, then finally gave up.

“It’s
your
fault,” he, pointing at Thor. “You got us into this mess!”

“No I didn’t,” Thor replied. “You did! You ran for the flag. You pushed us all out of the way. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“I hate you!” Elden screamed.

He charged Thor, grabbing him by the shirt, knocking him down to the ground. The weight of him caught Thor off guard. Thor managed to spin around, But Elden spun again and pinned Thor down. Elden was just too big and strong, and it was too hard to hold him back.

Suddenly, though, he let go. Thor heard the sound of a sword being extracted from his scabbard, and looked up and saw Reece standing over Elden, holding the tip of his sword at his throat.

O’Connor reached over and gave Thor a hand, and yanked him quickly to his feet. Thor stood, with his two friends, looking down on Elden, who remained pinned to the ground, Reece’s sword at his throat.

“You touch my friend again,” Reece, deadly serious, said slowly to Elden, “and I assure you, I will kill you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Thor, Reece, O’Connor, Elden, and Erec all sat on the ground, before a fire, forming a circle around it. The five of them sat glum and silent, Thor surprised to realize that it could be this cold on a summer night. There was just something about this canyon, the cold, mystical winds that swirled around, down his back, and which mingled with the fog that never seemed to go away, which left him damp to the bone. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands against the fire, unable to get them warm.

Thor chewed on the piece of dried meat that the others were passing around; it was tough and salty, but somehow nourished him. Erec reached over and handed him something and Thor felt a soft wineskin being pressed into his hand, the liquid sloshing in it. It was surprisingly heavy as he raised it to his lips and squirted it into the back of his mouth, for too long a time. He felt warm for the first time.

Everyone was quiet, staring into the flames. Thor was still on edge, being on this side of the Canyon, in enemy territory, still felt as if he should be on guard at every moment, and marveled at how calm Erec seemed to be, as if he were casually sitting in his own backyard. Thor was relieved, at least, to be out of the Wilds, reunited with Erec, and sitting around the reassurance of a fire. Erec watched the forest line, attentive to every little noise, yet confident and relaxed. Thor knew that if any danger was coming, Erec would protect them all.

Thor felt content around the flames, and he looked around and saw that the others seemed content, too—except, of course, for Elden, glum ever since returning from the forest. He had lost his confident swagger from earlier in the day, and he sat there, sour, without his sword. Thor knew that the commanders would never forgive such a mistake, and that Elden would be kicked out of the Legion upon their return. He wondered what Elden would do. He had a feeling he would not go down so easily, that he had some trick, some backup plan, up his sleeve. Thor assumed that, whatever it was, it would not be good.

Thor turned and followed Erec’s gaze to the distant horizon, in the southern direction. There was a faint glow, an endless line as far as the eye could see, that lit up the night. Thor wondered.

“What is it?” he finally asked Erec. “That glow? The one you keep staring at?”

Erec was silent for a long time, and the only sound was that of the whipping of the wind. Finally, without turning, he said: “The Gorals.”

Thor exchanged a glance with the others, who looked back, fearful. Thor’s stomach tightened at the thought of it. The Gorals. So close. There was nothing in between them and him except for a simple forest and a vast plain. There was no longer the great Canyon separating them, keeping them safe. All his life he had heard tales of these violent savages from the Wilds who had no ambition except to attack the Ring. And now, there was nothing between them. He couldn’t believe how many of them there were. It was a vast and waiting army.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked Erec. “There is nothing between us.”

Erec shook his head.

“The Gorals move as one. Their army camps out there every night. They have for years. They would only attack the Canyon if they mobilized the entire army and attacked as one. And they wouldn’t dare try. The power of the Sword acts as a shield. They know they cannot breach it.”

“So then why do they camp out there?” Thor asked.

“It is their way of intimidating. And preparing. There have been many times throughout the course of history, in the time of our fathers, when they attacked, tried to breach the canyon. But it hasn’t happened in my time.”

Thor looked up at the black sky, the yellow and blue and orange stars twinkling high overhead, and he wondered. He could hardly believe he was out here, on this side of the canyon. It was a place of nightmares, and had been ever since he could walk. The thought of it made him fearful, but he forced fearful thoughts from his mind. He was a member of the Legion now, and knew he had to act like it.

“Do not worry,” Erec said, as if reading his thoughts. “They will not attack while we have the Destiny Sword.”

“Have you ever held it?” Thor asked Erec, suddenly curious. “The Sword?”

“Of course not,” Erec retorted sharply. “No one is allowed to grasp it, except for descendants of the King.”

Thor looked at him, confused.

“I don’t understand? Why?”

Reece cleared his throat.

“May I?” he interceded.

Erec nodded back.

“There is a legend around the Sword. It has never actually been hoisted by anyone. Legend has it that one man, the chosen one, will be able to hoist it by himself. Only the King is allowed to try, or one of the King’s descendants, if named King. So there it sits, untouched.”

“And what of our current King? Your father?” Thor asked. “Can’t he try to hoist it?”

Reece looked down.

“He tried to hoist it once. When he was crowned. So he tells us. He could not. It sits there like an object of rebuke for him. He hates it. It weighs on him like a living thing.

“When the chosen one arrives,” Reece added, “he will free the Ring from its enemies all around and lead us to a greater destiny than we’ve ever known. All wars will end.”

“Fairytales and nonsense,” Elden interceded. “That sword will be lifted by no one. It is too heavy. It is not possible. And there is no ‘chosen one.’ It’s all hogwash. That legend was invented just to keep the common man down, to keep us all waiting for the supposed ‘chosen one.’ To embolden the line of MacGils. It is a very convenient legend for them.”

“Shut your tongue, boy,” Erec snapped. “You will always speak respectfully of your King.”

Elden looked down, humbled.

Thor thought about everything, trying to take it all in. It was so much to process at once. All his life he had dreamt of seeing the Destiny Sword. He had heard stories of its perfect shape. It was rumored to be crafted from a material no one understood, was supposed to be a magical weapon. Thor looked around, at the Canyon, and could hardly imagine its energy protected the entire Ring. It made Thor wonder what would happen if they didn’t have the sword to protect them. Would the King’s army then be vanquished by the Empire? Thor looked out at the glowing fires on the horizon. They seemed to stretch for an eternity.

“Have you ever been out there?” Thor asked Erec. “Far out there? Beyond the forest? Into the Wilds?”

The others all turned and look at Erec, as Thor anxiously awaited his reply. In the thick silence, Erec stared at the flames for a long time—so long that Thor began to doubt he would ever answer. Thor hoped he had not been too nosy; he felt so grateful and indebted to Erec, and certainly didn’t want to get on his bad side. Thor also wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Just when Thor was wishing he could retract his question, Erec responded:

“Yes,” he said, solemn.

That single word hung in the air for too long, and in it, Thor heard the gravity that told him all he needed to know.

“What is it like out there?” O’Connor asked.

Thor was relieved that he was not the only one asking the questions.

“It is controlled by one ruthless empire,” Erec said. “But the land is vast and varied. There is the land of the savages. The land of the slaves. And the land of the monsters. Monsters unlike any you can imagine. And there are deserts and mountains and hills as far as you can see. There are the marshes and the swamps and the great ocean. There is the land of the Druids. And the land of the Dragons.”

Thor’s eyes opened wide at the mention of it.

“Dragons?” he asked, surprised. “I thought they didn’t exist.”

Erec looked at him, deadly serious.

“I assure you, they do. And it is a place you never want to go. A place that even the Garlons fear.”

Thor swallowed at the thought. He could hardly imagine venturing out that deep into the empire. He wondered how Erec had ever made it back alive. He made a note mental note to ask him at another time.

There were so many questions Thor wanted to ask him—about the nature of the evil empire, who ruled it; why they wanted to attack; when he had ventured out; when he had returned. But as Thor stared into the flames it grew colder and darker, and as all his questions swirled in his head, he felt his eyes grow heavy. He knew this was not the right time to ask.

Instead, he let sleep carry him away. He felt his eyes grow heavy, and lay his head down on the ground. Before his eyes closed for good, he looked over at the foreign soil, and wondered when—or if—he would ever return home again.

*

Thor opened his eyes, confused, wondering where he was and how he had gotten here. He looked down and saw a thick fog up to his waist, so thick he could not see his feet. He turned and saw dawn breaking over the canyon before him. Far, on the other side, was his homeland. He was still on this side, the wrong side, of the divide. His heart quickened.

Thor looked at the bridge, but strangely, it was now empty of soldiers. The whole place, in fact, seemed desolate. He could not understand what was happening. As he watched the bridge, its wooden planks fell one after another, like dominoes. Within moments the bridge collapsed, dropped down into the precipice. The bottom was so far down, he never even heard the planks hit.

Thor swallowed and turned, looking for the others—but they were nowhere in sight. He had no idea what to do. Now he was stuck. Here, alone, on the other side of the canyon, with no way to get back. He could not understand where everyone had gone.

He heard something and turned and looked into the forest. He detected movement. He rose to his feet and walked towards it, his feet sinking into the earth as he went. As he got closer, he saw a net hanging from a low lying branch. There, inside it, was Elden. He was spinning around and around in circles, the branches creaking as he moved.

A falcon sat perched on his head, a distinct looking creature with a body which gleamed of silver and a single back stripe running down its forehead, between its eyes. It bent over and plucked out his eye, and held it there. It turned to Thor, holding the eye in its mouth.

Thor wanted to look away, but could not. Just as he was realizing that Elden was a corpse, suddenly, the entire wood came to life. Charging out of it, from every direction, came an army of Gorals. Huge, wearing only loins, with immense muscled chests, three noses placed in a triangle on their face, and two long, curved sharp fangs, they hissed and snarled as they sprinted right for him. It was a hair-raising sound, and there was nowhere for Thor to go. He reached down and grabbed for his sword—but looked down to discover it was gone.

Thor screamed.

He woke sitting straight up, breathing hard, looking frantically in every direction. All around him was silence. But it was a real, alive silence, not the silence of his dream. It was then that he realized that he had, indeed, been dreaming.

Beside him, in the first light of dawn, Reece, O’Connor, and Erec slept sprawled out on the ground, the dying embers of the fire near them. On the ground, hopping, there was a falcon. It turned and cocked its head at Thor. It was large and silver and proud, with the single black stripe running down its forehead, and it stared back at him, looking him right in the eye, and screeched. The sound made him shiver. Thor could not believe it: it was the same falcon from his dream.

It was then he realized the bird was a message—that his dream had been more than a dream. That something was wrong. He could feel it, a slight vibration on his back, running up his arms.

He quickly got to his feet, looked all around, wondering what it could be. He heard nothing wrong, and nothing seemed out of place; he turned and saw that the bridge was still there, and in the distance, the soldiers were all on it.

What was it? he wondered.

And then he realized what it was. One of them was missing. Elden.

At first Thor wondered if maybe he had left them, headed back across the bridge to the other side of the Canyon. Maybe he was ashamed over losing his sword, and had left the region altogether.

But then Thor turned and looked to the forest, and he could see the fresh indentation in the moss, the footprints heading towards the trail in the morning dew. There was no doubt that those were Elden’s. Elden had not left them. He had gone back into the forest. Alone. Maybe to relieve himself. Or maybe, Thor realized with a shock, to try to retrieve his sword.

It was a stupid move, to go alone like that, and it proved how desperate he was. Thor sensed right away that there was great danger. He could feel that Elden’s life was at stake.