A Quest of Heroes (20 page)

The falcon screeched at that moment, as if to confirm Thor’s thoughts. Then it picked up and flew, diving right for Thor’s face. Thor ducked his head, and its talons just missed, and it rose in the air, flying away.

Thor leapt into action. Without thinking, without even contemplating what he was doing, he sprinted off into the woods, following the footprints.

Thor didn’t stop to feel the fear as he sprinted alone, deep into the Wilds. If he had paused to think how crazy it was, he probably would have frozen, would have felt himself flooded with panic. But instead, he just reacted. He felt a pressing need to help Elden. He ran and ran, alone, deeper into the wood in the early light of dawn.

“Elden!” he screamed.

He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he sensed that Elden was about to die. He knew he shouldn’t care, based on the way that Elden had treated him, but he couldn’t help himself: he did. If it were he in this situation, Elden would certainly not come to rescue him. It was crazy to put his life on the line for someone who cared nothing for him—and, in fact, would gladly see him die. But he could not help it. He’d never felt a sensation like this one before, where his senses were screaming to him to react—especially over something he could not possibly have known. He was changing somehow, and he did not know how. He felt as if his body were being controlled by some new, mysterious power, and it made him feel uneasy, out of control. Was he losing his mind? Was he overreacting? Was it all just from his dream? Should he turn around?

But he did not. He let his feet lead him, and did not give in to fear or doubts. He ran and ran, until his lungs were bursting.

Thor turned a bend, and what he saw made him stop short in his tracks. He stood there, trying to catch his breath, trying to reconcile the image before him, which did not make any sense. It was enough to strike terror into any hardened warrior.

 There stood Elden, holding his short sword and looking up at a creature unlike any Thor had ever seen. It was horrific. It towered over them both, at least nine feet tall, and as wide as four men. It leaned back and raised its muscular, red arms, with three long fingers, like nails, at the end of each hand, and a head like that of a demon, with four horns, a long jaw, and a broad forehead. It had two large yellow eyes and fangs curled like tusks. It leaned back and screeched.

Beside him, a thick tree, hundreds of years old, split in two at the sound.

Elden stood there, frozen in fear. He dropped his sword, and the ground beneath him went wet; Thor realized Elden must have peed his pants.

The creature drooled and snarled, and took a step towards Elden.

Thor, too, was filled with fear, but unlike Elden, it did not immobilize him. For some reason, the fear heightened him. It heightened his senses, made him feel more alive. It gave him tunnel vision, allowed him to focus supremely on the creature before him, on its position to Elden, on its width and breadth and strength and speed. On its every movement. It also allowed him to focus on his own body position, his own weapons.

Thor fearlessly burst into action. He charged forward, past Elden, and came between him and the beast. The beast roared, its breath so hot, Thor could feel it even from here. The sound raised every hair on Thor’s spine, and made him want to turn around. But he heard Erec’s voice in his head, telling him to be strong. To be fearless. To retain equanimity. And he forced himself to stand his ground.

Thor raised his sword high and charged, plunging it into the beast’s ribs, aiming for his heart.

The beast shrieked in agony, its blood pouring down Thor’s hand as Thor plunged the sword all the way in, to the hilt.

But to Thor’s surprise, it did not die. The beast seemed invincible.

Without missing a beat, the beast swung around and swiped Thor so hard that he felt his ribs cracking. Thor went flying, through the air, all the way across the clearing, and smashed into a tree before collapsing to the ground. He felt a terrible headache as he lay there.

Thor looked up, dazed and confused, the world spinning. The beast reach down and extracted Thor’s sword from its stomach. The sword seemed tiny in its hands, like a toothpick, and the beast reached back and hurled it; it went flying through the trees, taking down branches, and disappeared into the wood.

It turned its full attention on Thor, and began to bear down on him.

Elden stood there, still frozen in fear. But as the beast charged Thor, suddenly, Elden burst into action. He charged the beast from behind, and jumped onto its back. It slowed the beast just enough for Thor to sit up; the beast, furious, flung back his arms and threw Elden. He went flying across the clearing, smashed into a tree, and slumped to the ground.

The beast, still bleeding, panting heavily, turned its attention back to Thor. It snarled and widened its fangs, as it bore down on him.

Thor was out of options. His sword was gone, and there was nothing between him and the monster. The monster dove down for him, and at the last second, Thor rolled out of the way. The monster hit the tree were Thor had been with such force that it uprooted it from the ground.

The beast raised its foot, and brought it down for Thor’s head. Thor rolled out of the way and it left a footprint were Thor’s head had been.

Thor rolled to his feet, placed a stone in his sling and hurled.

He hit the monster square between the eyes, a fiercer throw than he had ever made, and the creature staggered back. Thor was certain he had killed it.

But to his amazement, the beast did not stop.

Thor tried his best to summon his power, whatever power it was that he had. He charged the beast, leaping forward, crashing into it, aiming to tackle it and drive it down to the ground with a superhuman power.

But to Thor’s shock, this time his power never kicked in. He was just another boy. A frail boy, next to this massive beast.

The beast merely reached down, grabbed Thor by his waist and hoisted him high above its head. Thor felt so helpless, dangling high in the air—and then he was thrown. He went flying like a missile across the clearing, and smashed again into a tree.

Thor lay there, stunned, his head splitting, his ribs feeling cracked in two. The beast raced for him, and he knew that this time he was finished. It raised its red, muscular foot, bringing it down right for Thor’s head. Thor looked up, and prepared to die.

Then, for some reason, the beast froze in midair. Thor blinked, trying to understand why.

The beast reached up and clutched its throat, and Thor saw an arrow, piercing through it. A moment later, the beast keeled over, dead.

Erec came running into view, followed by Reece and O’Connor. Thor saw Erec looking down on him, asking if he was okay, and he wanted to answer, more than anything. But the words would not come out. A moment later, his eyes closed on him, and then his world was blackness.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Thor opened his eyes slowly, dizzy at first, trying to figure out where he was. He was laying on straw, and for a moment wondered if he was back in the barracks. He propped himself up on one elbow, on alert, looking for the others.

He realized he was somewhere else. From the looks of it, he was in a very elaborate stone room. It looked as if he were in a castle. A royal castle.

Before he could figure it all out, a large, oak door swung open and in strutted Reece. In the distance, Thor could hear the muted noise of a crowd.

“Finally, he lives,” Reece announced with a smile, as he rushed forward and grabbed Thor’s hand and yanked him to his feet.

Thor raised a hand to his head, trying to slow his terrible headache from rising too fast.

“Come on, let’s go, everyone’s waiting for you,” he urged, yanking Thor.

“Wait a minute, please,” Thor said, trying to collect himself. “Where am I? What happened?”

“We’re back in King’s Court—and you are about to be celebrated as the hero of the day!” Reece said merrily, as they headed for the door.

“Hero? What do you mean? And…how did I get here?” he asked, trying to remember.

“That beast knocked you out. You’ve been out for quite a while. We had to carry you back across the Canyon bridge. Quite dramatic. Not exactly how I expected you to return to the other side!” he said with a laugh.

They walked out into the corridors of the castle, and as they went, Thor could see all sorts of people—women, men, squires, guards, knights—staring at him, as if they had been waiting for him to wake. He also saw something new in their eyes, something like respect. It was the first time he had seen it. Up until now, he had seen something else in people’s eyes: something like disdain. Now they looked at him as if he were one of them.

“What exactly happened?” Though racked his brain, trying to remember.

“Don’t you remember any of it?” Reece asked.

Thor tried to think.

“I remember running into the wood. Fighting with that beast. And then…” He tried to think, but was drawing a blank.

“You saved Elden’s life,” Reece said. “You ran fearlessly into the wood, on your own. I don’t know why you wasted energy on saving that prim’s life. But you did. The King is very, very pleased with you. Not because he cares about Elden. But he cares very much about bravery. He loves to celebrate. It’s important to him, to celebrate stories like this, to inspire the others. And it reflects well on the king, and on the Legion. He wants to celebrate. You’re here because he’s going to reward you.”

“Reward me?” Thor asked, dumbfounded. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“You saved Elden’s life.”

“I only reacted. I only did what came naturally.”

“And that’s exactly why the King wants to reward you.”

Thor felt embarrassed. He didn’t think that his actions deserved rewarding. After all, if it hadn’t have been for Erec, Thor would be dead right now. Thor thought about it, and his heart filled with gratitude for Erec, once again. He hoped that one day he could repay him.

“But what about our patrol duty?” Thor asked. “We didn’t finish it.”

Reece put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Friend, you saved a boy’s life. A member of the Legion. That’s more important than our patrol.” Reece laughed. “So much for an uneventful first patrol!” he added.

They finished walking down yet another corridor, and two guards opened a door for them, and Thor blinked and found himself in the royal chamber. There must have been a hundred knights standing about the room, with its soaring cathedral ceilings, stained glass, its weapons and suits of armor hung everywhere on the walls, like trophies. The Hall of Arms. It was the place where all the greatest warriors met, all the men of the Silver. Thor’s heart raced as he surveyed the walls, all the famous weaponry, the armor of heroic and legendary knights. Thor had heard rumors of this place, his entire life. It had been his dream to see it for himself one day. He could hardly believe he was here. He knew that normally no squires were allowed here—no one but the Silver.

Even more surprising, as he entered, real knights turned and looked at him—
him
—from all sides. And they wore looks of admiration. Thor had never seen so many knights in one room, and he had never felt so accepted. It was like walking into a dream. Especially since just moments before, he had been fast asleep.

Reece must have noticed Thor’s dumbfounded face.

“The finest of the Silver have gathered here to honor you.”

Thor felt himself well with pride and disbelief. “Honor me? But I’ve done nothing.”

“Wrong,” came a voice.

Thor turned and felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was Erec, grinning down.

“You have displayed bravery and honor and courage, beyond what was expected of you. You nearly gave up your life to save one of your brethren. That is what we look for in the Legion, and this is what we look for in the Silver.”

“You saved my life,” Thor said to Erec. “If it weren’t for you, that beast would have killed me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

Erec grinned down.

“You already have,” he answered. “Don’t you remember the joust? I believe we are even.”

Thor marched down the walkway towards MacGil’s throne, at the far end of the hall, Reece on one side of him and Erec on the other. He felt hundreds of eyes on him, and it all felt like a dream.

Standing around the King were his dozens of counselors, along with his eldest son, Kendrick. As Thor approached, his heart swelled with pride. He could hardly believe the King was granting him an audience for the second time in as many days—and that so many important men were here to witness it.

They reached the king’s throne, MacGil stood, and a muted hush overcame the room. MacGil’s ponderous expression broke into a wide smile, as he took three steps forward and to Thor’s surprise, gave him a hug.

A great cheer rose up in the room.

He pulled back, held Thor firmly by the shoulders, and grinned down.

“You served the Legion well,” he said.

A servant handed the king a goblet, and the King raised it and looked all around. In a loud voice, he called out:

“TO COURAGE!”

“TO COURAGE!” shouted back the hundreds of men in the room. An excited murmur followed, then the room once again fell quiet.

“In honor of your exploits today,” the King bellowed, “I grant you a great gift.”

The King gestured, and an attendant stepped forward, wearing a long, black gauntlet, on which sat a magnificent falcon. It sat there, its claws resting on the gauntlet, and turned, and stared right Thor—as if he knew him.

It took Thor’s breath away. He could hardly believe it. It was the exact falcon from his dream, with its silver body and the single black stripe running down its forehead.

“The falcon is the symbol of our kingdom, and of our Royal family,” MacGil boomed. “It is a bird of prey, of pride and honor. Yet it is also a bird of skill, of cunning. It is loyal, and fierce, and it soars above all other animals. It is also a sacred creature. It is said that he who owns a falcon is also owned by one. It will guide you on all your ways. It will leave you, but it will always come back. And now, it is yours.”