A Quest of Heroes (16 page)

Kolk stopped behind Thor and leaned over his shoulder. He reached out and yanked the wooden bow out of Thor’s grasp, the string hurting his palm as he did.

“The string is not taught enough,” he chided. “It is crooked. Use a weapon like this in battle, and you will surely die. And your partner will die besides you.”

Kolk slammed the bow back down, then moved on; several other boys snickered. Thor reddened as he grabbed the string again, pulled it as taught as he possibly could, and wrapped it around the notch in the bow. He’d been at work on this for hours, the cap to an exhausting day of labor and menial tasks.

Most of the others were out and about, training, sparring, sword fighting. He looked out and in the distance saw his brothers, the three of them, laughing as they clacked wooden swords; as usual, Thor felt that they were gaining the upper hand and he was being left behind, in their shadow. Thor thought it unfair. He felt increasingly that he was unwanted here, as if he were not a true member of the Legion.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” O’Connor said beside him.

Thor’s palms were chafed from trying; he pulled back the string one last time, this time with all his might, and finally, to his surprise, it clicked. The string fit neatly in the notch, as he pulled with all his might, sweating. He felt a great sense of satisfaction, as the bow finally felt as strong as it should be.

The sun grew longer in the sky and he looked up, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and wondered how much longer this would go on. He contemplated what it meant to be a warrior. In his head, he had seen it differently. He had only imagined training, all the time. But, he guessed, this was also a form of training.

“This was not what I signed up for, either,” O’Connor said, as if reading his mind.

Thor turned, and was reassured to find his constant smile.

“I come from the Northern Province,” he continued. “I, too, dreamed of joining the Legion my entire life. I guess I imagined constant sparring, battle. Not all of these menial tasks. But it will get better. It is just because we are new. It is a form of initiation. There seems to be a hierarchy here. We are also the youngest. I don’t see the nineteen-year-olds doing this. This can’t last forever. Besides, it’s a useful skill to learn.”

A horn sounded. Thor looked over and saw the rest of the Legion gathering together, beside a huge stone wall in the middle of the field. Ropes were draped across it, spaced every ten feet. The wall must have rose thirty feet and piled at its base were stacks of hay.

“What are you waiting for?” Kolk screamed. “MOVE!”

The Silver appeared all around them, screaming, and before Thor knew it he and all the others jumped from their benches and ran across the field, for the wall.

Soon they were all gathered there, standing before the ropes. There was an excited buzz in the air, as all of the Legion members stood there, together. Thor was ecstatic to finally be included with the others, and he found himself gravitating to Reece, who stood with another friend of his. O’Connor joined them.

“You will find in battle that most towns are fortified,” Kolk boomed out, looking over the faces of the boys. “Breaching fortifications is the work of a soldier. In a typical siege, ropes and grappling hooks are used, much like the ones we have thrown over this wall, and climbing a wall is one of the most dangerous things you will encounter in battle. In few cases will you be more exposed, more vulnerable. The enemy will pour down molten lead on you. They will shoot down arrows. Drop rocks. You don’t climb a wall until the moment is perfect. And when you do, you must climb for your life—or else risk death.”

Kolk took a deep breath, then screamed out: “BEGIN!”

All around him the boys broke into action, each charging for a rope. Thor sprinted for a free rope; he was about to grab it, when an older boy reached it first, bumping him out of the way. Thor scrambled, and grabbed the closest one he could find. He grabbed the thick knotted twine, his heart pounding, as he began to scramble his way up the wall.

The day had turned misty, and Thor’s feet slipped on the stone as he climbed. Still, he made good time, and he couldn’t help but notice that he was faster than many of the others, nearly taking the lead as he scrambled his way up. He was, for the first time today, starting to feel good, starting to feel a sense of pride.

Suddenly, he felt something hard slam into his shoulder. He looked up, and saw members of the Silver at the top of the wall, throwing down small rocks, sticks, all manner of debris. The boy on the rope beside Thor reached up with one hand to block his face and lost his grip and fell backwards, down to the ground. He fell a good twenty feet, and landed in the pile of hay below.

Thor was losing his grip, too, but somehow managed to hang on. A club hailed down and hit Thor hard on the back, but he continued to climb. He was making good time and was starting to think he might even be the first one to the top, when suddenly, he felt himself kicked hard in the ribs. He couldn’t even understand where it came from, until he looked over and saw one of the boys beside him, swinging sideways. Before Thor could react, the boy kicked him again.

Thor lost his grip this time and found himself hurling backwards, through the air, flailing. He landed on his back in the hay, shocked, but unhurt.

Thor scrambled to his hands and knees, catching his breath, and looked about: all around him, boys were dropping like flies from the ropes, landing in the hay, kicked or shoved by each other—or if not, then kicked off by members of the Silver up top. Those who weren’t had their ropes cut, so they went flying, too. Not a single member reached the top.

“On your feet!” yelled Kolk. Thor jumped up, as did the others.

“SWORDS!”

The boys ran as one to a huge rack of wooden swords. Thor joined them and grabbed one, shocked at how heavy it was. It weighed twice as much as any weapon he had lifted. He could barely hold it.

“Heavy swords, begin!” came a shout.

Thor looked up and saw that huge oaf, Elden, the one who had first attacked him when he met the Legion. Thor remembered him too well: his face was still hurting from the bruises he had given him. He was bearing down on him, sword held high, a look of fury on his face.

Thor raised his sword at the last moment; he managed to block Elden’s blow, but the sword was so heavy, he was barely able to hold it back. Elden, bigger and stronger, reached around and kicked Thor hard in the ribs.

Thor dropped to his knees, in pain. Elden swung around again, to crack him in the face, but Thor managed to reached up and block the blow with a moment to spare. But Elden was too quick and strong, and he swung around and slashed Thor in the leg, knocking him down on his side.

A small crowd of boys gathered around them, cheering and hollering, as clearly their fight was becoming the center of attention. It seemed as if they were all rooting for Elden.

Elden came down with his sword again, slashing down hard, and Thor rolled out of the way, the blow barely missing his back. Thor had a moment’s advantage, and he took it: he swung around and hit the oaf hard behind the knee. It was a soft spot, and enough to knock him back, then down, stumbling onto his rear.

Thor used the chance to scramble to his feet. Elden rose, red-faced, more furious than ever, and now the two faced off.

Thor knew he couldn’t just stand there; he charged and swung. But this practice sword was made of a strange wood and just too heavy; his move was telegraphed. Elden blocked it easily, then jabbed Thor hard in the ribs.

It hit a soft spot, and Thor keeled over and dropped his sword, the wind knocked out of him.

The other boys screamed in delight. Thor kneeled there, unarmed, and felt the tip of Elden’s sword jammed into the base of his throat.

“Yield!” Elden demanded.

Thor glared up at him, feeling the salty taste of blood on his lip.

“Never,” he muttered, defiant.

Elden grimaced, raised his sword, and prepared to bring it down. There was nothing Thor could do. He knew that he was in for a mighty blow.

As the sword came down, Thor closed his eyes and concentrated. He felt the world slowing down, felt himself transported to another realm. He was suddenly able to feel the swing of the sword in the air, its motion, and he willed the universe to stop it.

He felt his body warming, tingling, and as he focused, he felt something happening. He felt himself able to control it.

Suddenly the sword freezed in mid-air. Thor had somehow managed to stop it using his power.

As Elden stood there, holding the sword, confused, Thor then used his mind power to grasp and squeeze Elden’s wrist. He squeezed harder and harder in his mind, and in moments, Elden cried out and dropped the sword.

All the boys quieted, as they stood there, frozen, looking down at Thor, wide-eyed in surprise and fear.

“He’s a demon!” one yelled out.

“A sorcerer,” another yelled.

Thor was overwhelmed. He had no grasp of what he had just done. But he knew it was normal. He was both proud and embarrassed, emboldened and afraid.

Kolk stepped forward, into the circle, standing between Thor and Elden.

“This is no place for spells, boy, whoever you are,” he chastised Thor. “It is a place for battle. You defied our rules of fighting. You will think about what you have done. I will send you to a place  of true danger, and we shall see how well your spells defend you there. Report to guard patrol at the Canyon.”

There was a gasp among the Legion, and they all quieted. Thor did not understand exactly what that meant, but he knew that whatever it was, it could not be good.

“You can’t send him to the Canyon!” Reece protested. “He is too new. He could get hurt.”

“I shall do whatever I choose to boy,” Kolk grimaced at Reece. “Your father is not here to protect you now. Or him. And I run this Legion. And you better mind your tongue—just because you are royalty, don’t think you can speak out of line again.”

“Fine,” Reece responded. “Then I shall join him!”

“As will I!” O’Connor chimed in, stepping forward.

Kolk looked them over, and slowly shook his head.

“Fools. That is your choice. Join him if you wish.”

Kolk turned and looked at Elden. “Don’t think you get off so easy, either,” he said to him. “You started this fight. You must pay the price, too. You will join them on patrol tonight.”

“But sire, you can’t send me to the Canyon!” Elden protested, eyes wide in fear. It was the first time Thor had seen him afraid of anything.

Kolk took a step forward, close to Elden, and raised his hands on his hips. “Can’t I?” he said. “Not only can I send you there— I can also send you away for good, out of this Legion, and to the farthest reaches of our kingdom, if you continue to talk back to me.”

Elden looked away, too flustered to respond.

“Anyone else want to join them?” Kolk called out.

The other boys, bigger and older and stronger, all looked away in fear. Thor gulped as he looked around at the nervous faces, and wondered just how bad the Canyon could be.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Thor walked along the well-trodden, dirt road, flanked by Reece, O’Connor and Elden. The four of them had barely said a word to each other since they left, still in shock. Thor looked over at Reece and O’Connor with a feeling of gratitude he had never known before. He could hardly believe that they had put themselves on the line for him like that. He felt that he had found true friends, more like brothers. He had no idea what lay in store for them at the Canyon, but whatever they should face, he was happy to have them at his side.

Elden, he tried not to look at. He could see him, kicking rocks, smoldering with rage, could see how annoyed and upset he was to be here, on patrol with them. But Thor felt no pity for him. As Kolk had said, he had started the whole thing. It served him right.

The four of them, a ragtag group, proceeded down the road, following directions. They had been walking for hours, it was getting late in the afternoon, and Thor’s legs were growing weary. He was also hungry. Had been given only a small bowl of barley for lunch, and he hoped some food might be waiting for them wherever they were going.

But he had bigger worries than that. He looked down at his new armor, and knew that it would not have been given to him if there were not an important reason. Before sending them off, the four of them had been given new squire’s armor, leather, dressed in chainmail, given short swords of a course metal. It was hardly the fine iron used to forge a knight’s sword, but it was certainly better than nothing. It felt good to have a substantial weapon at his waist—in addition, of course, to his sling, which he still carried. Though he knew that if they were to encounter real trouble tonight, the weapons and armor they were given might not suffice. He longed for the superior armor and weapons of his cohorts in the Legion: medium and long swords of the finest metal, short spears, maces, daggers, halberds. But these belonged to the boys of fame and honor, from famous families, who could afford such a thing. This was not Thor, a simple shepherd’s son.

As they all marched down the interminable road, into the second sunset, far from the welcoming gates of King’s Court, towards the distant divide of the Canyon, Thor could not help but feel as if this were all his fault. For some reason, some of the other members of the Legion had seemed to not taking a liking to him, as if they resented his presence. It didn’t make any sense. And it gave him a sinking feeling. His whole life he had wanted nothing more than to join them. Now, he felt he had crashed into it by cheating, and he wondered if he would ever be truly accepted by his peers.

Now, on top of everything, he was singled out to be marched away for Canyon duty. It was unfair. He hadn’t started the fight, and when he had used his powers, whatever they were, it had not been on purpose. He still didn’t understand them, didn’t know where they came from, how he summoned them, or how to turn them off. He shouldn’t be punished for that.