A Rite of Swords (Book #7 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (18 page)

Silesia was awash in activity as
Reece hurried through the courtyard, Elden, O’Connor and Conven at his side,
all of them merging with the others, making their way from the hall of arms
towards the main army in the city square. All around them thousands of knights
were mobilizing, breaking up into four camps, one lead by Kendrick, one by Erec,
one by Tirus and one by Godfrey. Reece and Conven and O’Connor and Elden stuck
together, as they always had, and they were joined by the two other Legion
members—Serna and Krog—along with Indra, who stayed by Elden’s side. They
decided to join Kendrick’s division, as Reece wanted to be close to his eldest
brother when battle came.

After so many months battling
enemies alone in the Empire, with just their small group to rely on, it felt
good to have the support of this vast army and to be fighting back home in the
Ring. Even if the odds were worse, Reece felt more protected now than ever. He
also felt more determined. Reece was devastated to hear that his best friend
had been captured, and he had no reservations about riding into battle,
whatever the odds. He would happily give his life for Thor’s. He knew they were
vastly outnumbered, but he felt as if that had always been the case, ever since
he had joined the Legion. Battle was not easy. Nor was glory. But it was
precisely these odds which made battle glorious.

The crowd swelled as they all
reached the main gate of Silesia. They all began to funnel their way through,
beneath the soaring arches, and hundreds of Silesian citizens stood there,
waving banners, cheering them on.

“Return home to us!”

“Save the Ring!”

“Kill Andronicus!”

“Free Thorgrin!”

“Silesia awaits your return.”

These citizens were brave: they
cheered the soldiers, knowing full well that their departure would leave them
unprotected and that Silesia would be vulnerable to attack once again.

Reece, fully dressed in his ring
mail, prepared himself, feeling that nervous excitement and anticipation of
battle in his gut, checking and tightening his weapons around his belt, testing
his long sword, his short sword, making sure his daggers were there, feeling
the shaft of his flail. He had more weapons on his horse, up ahead, and felt
ready for every contingency.

“Were you just going to leave
without saying goodbye then?” came a voice.

Reece turned to Selese standing
there, in the midst of the crowd, but a few feet away, looking back at him
sadly.

He forked away from his friends
and went to her, lowering his head, ashamed. He hadn’t known what to say to
her. He felt bad leaving her, especially as they had grown close over these
last two days and nights together. Reece was falling in love with her. He did
not know what to make of his feelings. They had been inseparable, relaxing
together by the bonfires, taking in the feasts and celebrations. He had hoped
it would stay like that forever.

But once again he found his life
upended, found himself back on the road to battle. Once again, he found himself
leaving her, and hoping he would see her before long. Before, her love had been
a fantasy; but now it was real, and that made it even more painful to leave her.

“I am sorry,” he said to her. “I
didn’t know what to say. Or if I’d be coming back.”

She looked into his eyes.

“All you had to say was that you
cared about me.”

Reece met her gaze.

“More than you shall ever know,
my lady.”

She smiled back, and her whole face
lit up, covered in freckles.

“If I return,” Reece added, “we
shall marry.”

Her eyes opened wide in surprise.

“
When
you return,” she
said, reaching out and fixing his breastplate, adjusting it, running her hands
over. He saw a tear roll down her cheek.

“You have no choice,” she said.
“Return to me. We’re not married, but if you die, I shall be a widow.”

She looked up and met his eyes,
and Reece met hers, and he felt his world melt. It meant the world to him to
hear that she cared for him as much as he did for her. It was painful for him
to leave, looking at that face, knowing she would be left here alone,
unprotected. He felt more of a burden than ever to be victorious on this day,
and he resolved that he would.

She grabbed his breastplate,
leaned in and kissed him, and he held the kiss for as long as he possibly
could.

Finally, jostled by his men, he
turned and melted back into the parade of humanity heading out the gates. He
turned back and watched her, and she him, for as long as he was able, until
finally she receded from sight.

Reece saw he was not alone in
saying goodbye to someone he loved: up ahead, Kendrick walked hand-in-hand with
Sandara, and he watched them saying their goodbyes. She was tall, with broad
shoulders, had a proud bearing, and the dark skin of the Empire. Reece could
see that she and Kendrick were well-matched.

As he got closer, he overheard
their conversation.

“I wish for you to stay here,
behind the safety of these walls,” Kendrick said to her.

“It is not my way, my lord,” she
replied. “I go with the men, as I’ve done my entire life. When the wounded
fall, I shall be there to heal them. The same way I was there to heal you. It
is what I do. It is who I am.”

“I will be with my men, at the
front of battle,” Kendrick said. “I will not be able to protect you.”

“I do not seek your protection,”
she said. “I have fended for myself my entire life.”

They continued walking in
silence. Kendrick turned to join his men, and she stopped and said to him:

“I don’t know where we shall find
each other. But promise me one thing.”

Kendrick turned to her.

“You will not be among the
wounded.”

He smiled.

“That is one promise I cannot
make.”

They kissed.

As Reece rejoined his legion
brothers, he found Elden embroiled in a similar conversation with Indra, who stood
proudly by his side and who shook off his hand as he tried to hold hers. She
was too masculine, too much of a warrior for that.

“You cannot fight with us,” Elden
insisted. “It is not safe.”

“You are a woman,” Krog said.
“You should know your place.”

She turned and have him a look of
death.

“I am as good of warrior as you,”
she replied defiantly. “I carry weapons as fine as yours, my daggers are just
as quick, and my arrows as fast. I can slice any man’s throat as well as you. I
may just slice yours. In fact, perhaps it is you who should stay behind.”

Krog stared back, red-faced.

Indra turned back to Elden.

“I will fight by your side, or
you will not see my face again. The decision is yours.”

Elden sighed, and eventually
shrugged. Indra was as strong-willed as they came, and there was no use trying
to convince her. Besides, after all this time together with her in the Empire,
after all the times she had saved their lives, she had become like a member of
the legion. Indra was a survivor, and he had no worries about her.

Reece came up beside Conven, who
looked as morose as ever; he blended in well, with all the somber faces around
him, the men mentally preparing for battle. Reece could see in his eyes that he
had nothing to lose, that he was ready to throw down his life, and Reece
seriously wondered if Conven would survive this battle. He could sense that he
did not want to. Not without his twin brother.

O’Connor oiled his new long bow
and wore his ever present smile, in his chipper mood, as always. Whether he was
in the Empire or back in the Ring, O’Connor seemed at home everywhere. Reece
was glad to have his steady hand at his side as they all rode into battle.

Serna and Krog walked tentatively
beside them. Reece could see the anxiety in their strides; they had not
undergone the quest they had in the Empire, had not faced the same travails
that they had undergone. Reece could recognize in them their anxiety, the way
he’d once felt. It made Reece feel like a veteran.

There was Godfrey, not far off,
his older brother, and Reece was proud to see him in a suit of armor, even if
it did not seem to fit him quite perfectly. Godfrey marched with a swagger,
flanked by Akorth and Fulton, leading several hundred men. Reece wondered if
they were drunk; certainly Akorth and Fulton were, obvious from their gait. It
was funny to see Godfrey in charge: on the one hand, it didn’t quite fit him,
yet at the same time, somehow it did. Reece thought that he could see something
of their father in him. Godfrey might not be a warrior, but he was a survivor,
and a crafty one. Reece felt that Godfrey could outwit anyone. And he had a
feeling that no matter what, he would find a way to survive, even if he did it
his own way.

They all finally reached their
horses, Reece picking out his in the vast sea of animals.

Reece stood there, about to mount
his horse, when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye that made him
turn. It was a face, staring back at him from the sea of onlookers. He did a
double-take, assuming he was imagining it.

But as he looked closer, his
heart stopped as he saw who it was. Standing there, in the midst of the people,
was a girl whose face he had etched into his mind for most of his childhood. A
girl who had never been far from his thoughts, at least not until he met
Selese. Standing there was his cousin, Tirus’ only daughter.

Stara.

She stared back at him, her
glowing green eyes clearly locked just on his, even in the mass of people. She
was too far away to speak to, and with the tide of soldiers coming in and out,
he lost sight of her, then regained her again. She looked like an apparition,
floating in a sea.

It pained him to see her. Why did
she have to be here? Why now? After he had already fallen in love with someone
else? It had taken him years to let her go. But seeing her brought it all back
again, the pain fresh.

Reece forced himself to turn and
look away. He loved Selese now; it wouldn’t be fair to her to look at anyone
else.

As he mounted his horse, despite
himself, he turned and glanced back for Stara. He was flooded with both relief
and upset to see that she was gone.

A horn sounded, and a messenger
came galloping across the landscape, racing right up to Kendrick. Reece and the
others gathered close, listening.

“My Lord,” the messenger said,
gasping for breath. “I have news…the Destiny Sword—Andronicus has sent it
away.”

There came a horrified gasp from
the men as the messenger stood there, heaving, catching his breath.

“Speak clearly,” Kendrick
ordered. “What do you mean, ‘sent it away’?”

“It is being sent now to the
other side of the Canyon. If it crosses, the Shield will be down. All will be
lost!”

“We must retrieve it at once!”
Tirus, close by, called out.

“It must be out foremost
objective,” Erec called out.

“But we cannot spare the men,”
Kendrick said.

“We need but a small group to go
after the Sword,” Godfrey said. “Not an entire division.”

“I will go,” Reece volunteered,
stepping forward.

Immediately, Elden, Conven and
O’Connor stepped forward by his side.

“And we,” they said.

“After all,” Reece added, “it is
we who chased that Sword halfway across the Empire. If anyone should know how
to get it back, it should be us.”

“Let our small group of legion
go,” Elden said. “That way you will not detract from the main battle, from
saving Thor.”

Kendrick looked Reece up and down
with a new look of respect. He nodded back solemnly.

“You make our father proud,”
Kendrick said.

Reece felt a swelling of pride,
elated to be so raised up in Kendrick’s eyes.

“We will meet again, my brother,”
Reece said.

“I know that we will,” answered
Kendrick.

Without a word, Reece and the
other legion mounted their horses and were the first to ride, following the
messenger as he led them down a separate road, forking off to the side, away
from the road the army would take.

Reece felt the wind in his hair,
the ground moving fast beneath him, and knew already that battle had begun.

Thor lay deep in the blackness of
the pit, the smell of earth in his nose, his entire body aching. Somewhere up
above he heard the muffled shouts of soldiers. He managed to open his one good
eye, the other swollen shut, as he strayed in and out of consciousness. It was
dark and cold down here, at least a dozen feet below ground, and the light that
filtered down, although not bright, made him squint. He tried to move, but
every part of his body felt too bruised and broken. He had never known what
aching was until this moment. He felt as if he had battled a million men.

He tried to move his wrists but
felt them still shackled by the Akdon cuffs; all the strength he’d once had
sapped from his body. He could feel all of his energy leaving him, right at the
spot where the shackles held his wrists together tight. There was something
about this metal—he’d never felt so weak, so vulnerable, in his life.

As Thor squinted, looking up into
the sky, he dimly saw soldiers up above, jeering down, throwing clumps of dirt.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head, unable to expend the effort.

Thor shut his eyes and saw
himself standing in a land far away. He was in the Land of the Dragons, back in
the Empire, and he stood atop the highest peak. Sitting on a mountain across
from him was Mycoples. She looked at him and flapped her massive wings, then
leapt from the peak and flew towards him. He could read her thoughts, and could
feel that she was coming to rescue him.

She flew closer, and as she flew
beside him, he reached out for her.        

But as he did, he looked up to
see his hands were clasped in the Akdon shackles; he could not summon the
strength to reach her.

A huge net suddenly fell,
entangling Mycoples, and she tumbled down through the sky, falling end over
end, screeching. She called out for him, needing his help as much as he needed
hers.

Thor blinked and found himself in
a vast desert, baking under the sun. He looked down and saw the desert floor,
blanketed in thousands of snakes. Stretched before him was an endless trail
that weaved through the snakes; he knew instinctively that he had to stay on
that trail if he wanted to live. It was a trail made up of ossified dragon
bones.

Thor walked down the trail,
deeper and deeper into the desert, feeling as if he were walking to the end of
the world. On the horizon a stone cottage came into view, and as he came
closer, he looked up, and was surprised to see Argon’s face.

“Argon, help me,” Thor whispered,
gasping for air, reaching out for him with his shackled hands.

But Argon stood behind a
protective wall, an invisible shield, and Thor could not get closer. Argon
stared back from the other side, staff in hand, concern etched across his face.

“I wish I could,” Argon replied.
“But I am of help to no one now.”

“Teach me,” Thor said. “Teach me
to be free.”

Argon shook his head.

“I have already trained you,” he
said. “All the powers you have left, they lie deep within you. Now, you must
train yourself.”

Argon’s eyes lit up, a fiery glow
so intense that Thor nearly had to look away.

“Search within yourself,
Thorgrin. Therein lies the last frontier. You must come to know who you are.
Not who your father is, not who your mother is. But who
you
are.”

Thor reached out for him, trying
to get through, but found himself falling backwards.

Thor was lying face down on a
long, narrow footbridge, spanning a massive Canyon. The footbridge crossed the
sky, stretching for miles, and he lay there in the middle. It rose in an arc
and led to a cliff, on top of which sat a castle, shining blue. He rolled over,
looked to one side, and saw the Destiny Sword. He reached for it, grasping its
hilt. He held it up high, and as he did, he was horrified to see the Sword had
been snapped in half. He examined it, hardly comprehending.

It was now just a useless piece
of metal.

Thor turned and hurled the Sword,
and it went flying over the edge. He watched it tumble through the sky, drop
down to nothingness.

“Thorgrin,” came a woman’s voice.

Thor looked up. In the distance,
atop the castle, stood his mother, arms wide at her sides, smiling down
compassionately at him.

“Mother!” Thor called out.

“I am here, my son,” she said
back, her voice filled with love.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Thor
said. “Why didn’t you tell me who my father was?”

She shook her head.

“None of that matters now,
Thorgrin,” she said. “Come home. Come home to me. Come and gain powers greater
than you ever knew. Learn the secret of who you are. Only then will you be
free. Only then can you overcome your father.”

With a supreme effort, Thor got
to his hands and knees and began to crawl his way down the bridge, towards her.
But the bridge was so long, and she seemed to stand in another realm, getting
farther away from him the more he crawled.

“Mother!” he screamed.

The footbridge suddenly snapped,
and Thor went tumbling, end over end, screaming as he plunged downward, towards
the depths of the world.

Thor woke screaming.

He was still in the darkness of
the pit, his face still swollen, one eye swollen shut, and his arm still
throbbed where he had been branded. He wondered how long he’d slept; from the
pain throbbing all over his face and body, he figured it wasn’t long enough.

He looked up to see Empire men
still jeering down at him. Nothing had changed.

He was disappointed. He thought
he had died, and a part of him wished that he had, and as he looked up at all
these men, he had a sinking feeling that the worst of his suffering was yet to
come.