A Rite of Swords (Book #7 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (8 page)

Thor stood somberly beside his
Legion brothers—Reece, Elden, O’Connor, and Conven, along with the dozen other
Legion who survived Andronicus’ invasion—all of them lined up, holding torches.
Late in the night, the festivities winding down, they stood amongst a huge
crowd in the city square, Gwen facing them as a heavy silence overcame the
crowd. Behind him an immense funeral pyre was erected. It stood a dozen feet
high and stretched a hundred feet, and on it were laid all the brave souls who
had been murdered by Andronicus’ men.

Among them, Thor had been pained
to learn, was his former commander, Kolk, along with dozens of his Legion
brothers and Silver. It weighed heavily on his heart, to think all these brave
warriors had died defending the Ring while he had not made it back in time to
help. If only he had found the Sword sooner, he thought, perhaps none of this
would have happened.

Gwendolyn had called for this
funeral service, in the midst of the celebrations, to mark and remember the
dead, all those who had fallen defending the city. Thor was so proud of her,
standing up there, before these thousands, all looking to her with hope, all
looking to her as their leader.

She bowed her head and thousands
followed suit. In the thick silence, all that could be heard were the
flickering of the torches and the howling of the wind. In her somber
expression, Thor could see her own suffering in her face. She could truly
empathize with those in grief, and Thor knew that whatever words she was about
to utter would not be empty ones.

“In the midst of our greatest
joy,” Gwendolyn began gravely, her voice booming out, the voice of a leader,
“we must pause to honor our greatest tragedy. These brave souls gave their
lives to defend our country, our city, our honor. You fought side-by-side with
them. We were the lucky ones to survive. They were not.”

She breathed.

“May their souls be taken by the
gods, and may we make a place for each of them in our memory. They fought for a
cause which we carry on. The Empire still remains within our borders and each
one of us must fight to the death until we have driven out the invaders from
our precious Ring for good.”

“HEAR, HEAR!” screamed the crowd
as one, the chant of thousands rising up to the midnight air.

She turned and held her torch
high, and Thor followed with the others. They gravely approached the pyre, then
each leaned forward and set their flames to the wood.

In moments the flames spread
throughout the night, creating a massive fire and lighting the city square. The
flames rose high in the cold night, and Thor could feel the heat even from
here. He forced himself not to recoil, forced himself to stare into the fire,
to remember all the brothers he had lost, to remember Kolk. He owed Kolk a
great deal: he had accepted him into the Legion, even if grudgingly, and had
helped train him. They’d had their differences, but Thor never wanted to see
him dead. On the contrary, Thor had been looking forward to seeing Kolk’s
expression when he returned with the Sword in hand. It was yet another reason
for vengeance.

As the fire blazed towards the
heavens, Thor saw the distraught faces of his remaining Legion brothers. None
were more distraught than Conven, whose faced was still etched with grief for
the loss of his twin brother.

Gwendolyn rejoined Thor by his
side, and as they all stood there in the silence, staring into the flames with
thousands of others, Aberthol, using his cane, stepped forward and emerged from
the crowd. He turned and faced them, clearing his throat against the crackling
of the immense flames.

“Tonight is the Winter Solstice.
From this day forward, each day grows a little lighter, a little longer. We
have turned the corner, and it is no coincidence that our salvation has come on
this day. It was written in the stars. We are on the road to renewal, to
rebirth. We will build all that once was, once again. But we must always
remember the destruction. For only from the ashes can there grow the strongest
tree.

“The Ring has suffered under the
weight of hundreds of years of battle,” he said. “This is not the first funeral
for brave warriors. Nor will it be the last. But these brave young souls here
today died fending off an invasion on a scale unlike any other their
forefathers had known. Their deeds shall be recorded in the Annals of the
MacGils, and shall be remembered for all time.”

“HEAR, HEAR!” shouted the crowd.

Aberthol paused.

“Remember that you carry a piece
of them with you now,” he continued. “Do not think your life is permanent. The
greatest illusion we all live under is the permanence of life. You are mortal,
like they. Do not hesitate to meet your enemy, to live a life of valor. Let us
transform our grief. Let us take up their cause, seek justice, and transform
these funeral rites into a rite of swords.”

“HEAR, HEAR!” shouted the crowd.

Bells tolled, Aberthol retreated,
and as he did, the crowd began to disperse. Thor and the others slowly turned
and followed. Small bonfires were erected all throughout the city square, as
people broke off into smaller groups, the mood of the night’s festivities
having turned somber as they remembered their dead at midnight.

The crowd broke off into small
groups, and people huddled on the ground before their bonfires, passed around
wineskins, roasted desserts, and told stories. Others fell asleep where they
sat or lay, exhausted from the day of battle, from the heat of the fires, and
from bellies filled with food and wine.

Thor broke off into a small group
with Gwendolyn, Kendrick, Godfrey, Reece, Elden, O’Connor, and Conven. Reece
was accompanied by Selese, and Elden by Indra. Thor was happy to see Reece with
the girl he had not stopped talking about throughout their quest.

The group settled comfortably on
the ground, around the flames of a small fire. Gwen sat next to Thor and he
draped an arm around her, pulling her in close, her fur mantle soft on his
palm. Krohn came up close and lay his head in Gwen’s lap and Thor stroked his
head and handed him another piece of meat. Krohn ate happily. Thor had
forgotten how attached Krohn was to Gwen, and he did not know if Krohn was
happier to see him or her.

As they all sat around the fire,
a drink was passed around which Thor had never seen. Thor looked down as a cup
of foaming white liquid, warm to the touch, was placed in his hands. It was
welcome in the cold night.

“Koonta,” Srog explained to the
curious group. “The drink of the Silesians.”

Thor held it in both his hands
and raised it to his lips. It was spicy and warm, frothing at the top, and it
tasted like vanilla mixed with rum. It was delicious, and as Thor drank, it
warmed his throat and chest. It also went right to his head, and he immediately
realized he’d drunk too much. Everyone around him did the same.

Thor looked up to see two of the
surviving Legion members approach and stand over their group.

“Can we join you?” one of them
asked.

Thor had remembered meeting these
Legion members once, briefly, when he had first joined:  Serna and Krog. Serna,
the one who addressed them, was a tall, broad soldier, about Thor’s age, with
long brown hair and piercing brown eyes, wide and narrowly shaped. He looked
prematurely aged, hollow circles under his eyes, and Thor knew that if he had
been one of the few who had survived, he must be a good warrior indeed. The
other, Krog, was several years older, short, with darker skin, a shaved head
and a large hoop earring in his left ear. He wore a vest with no sleeves, even
in the cold, and his muscles were visibly bulging through it. He was unsmiling,
and Thor could see that he was a man who lived for war.

They both looked down at Thor
with respect, and indeed, Thor noticed everyone looking at him differently
since his return.

“Please do,” Thor said, always
one to be gracious and hospitable. He slid over and made room; they came and
sat beside him.

They nodded in greeting at the
other Legion in the circle, who nodded back. After so much time spent together
with Reece, Elden, O’Connor, and Conven, it felt a bit odd to see their group
expand, especially after the loss of Conval. But it felt good, too. After all,
they were all Legion, and they all needed to stick together—especially until
the Legion could be replenished with a new crop of warriors.

Serna and Krog’s eyes fell to the
Destiny Sword at his belt, and they looked at Thor as if he were a god.

“Is it heavy?” Serna asked.

The others all turned and looked
at Thor, as all eyes fell to the Destiny Sword. It was the first time he had
been asked about it, and he was not quite sure how to respond. He hadn’t really
thought about it that much—it had just felt natural.

Thor shook his head.

“Actually, it is lighter than my
other swords,” Thor replied. “It feels weightless.”

“But twenty men could not wield
it,” Krog said. “It is heavy. It is just not heavy in
your
hands.”

“That is because you are the one
meant to wield it,” Kendrick added.

Thor shrugged.

“I don’t know why,” Thor answered
humbly. “It is as much a mystery to me as to anyone else.”

“It is because you carry a great
destiny,” Aberthol said, leaning forward from across the fire, face aglow in
the flames.

“What destiny is that?” Thor
asked, eager to understand more.

Aberthol shook his head.

“No one knows,” he said. “The
Sword has been written and sung about for seven generations of MacGil Kings,
but the truth is, no one really knows its origin, or what it means. All that is
known is that it maintains the Shield. And that you’re the only one in recorded
history, of all the generations, of all the kings, to have wielded it.”

The group stared at Thor in awe,
and he felt self-conscious. He did not savor all the attention.

“All I have done is try to serve
the Ring,” Thor replied.

“And you have served it well,
indeed, my friend,” Kendrick said, reaching over and clasping a hand on his
shoulder.

“I am not done yet,” Thor said.
“Not while Andronicus remains. Tomorrow, as the sun breaks, I shall fly
Mycoples and wield the Sword, and battle whatever remains of Andronicus’ army.
I shall not give him time to regroup and escape on his ships.”

“And we shall join you,” Kendrick
chimed in.

“We may not be as fast as you,”
Atme added, “or as powerful as Mycoples. But we have men, and we have swords,
and we will kill whomever we can.”

Thor nodded.

“Then I shall welcome your
accompaniment,” Thor said.

“And when it’s done?” O’Connor
chimed in. “What shall we do when there are no more wars left to wage?”

“Rebuild,” Gwendolyn said.

They all looked to her with
respect.

“King’s Court will be
resurrected,” she added. “It will stand and shine once again.”

“And Silesia,” Srog chimed in.

“We shall rebuild the Legion,
too,” Brom said.

“I, for one, shall welcome a rest
from battle,” Elden said. “We have not stopped battling since we crossed the
Canyon. I will return to my hometown and see if my father is alive. Maybe help
rebuild his home there.”

He turned to Indra, sitting
beside him.

“I hope you will join me,” he
added.

She just shrugged.

“Domestic life is not for me,”
she said. “I would rather be waging battle.”

Elden looked disappointed.

Kendrick turned to Sandara, who
sat beside him, staring into the flames with her perfect posture, so noble. Of
the Empire race, she seemed so foreign to the group.

“I hope that you shall stay with
me here,” Kendrick said softly to her.

She glanced over at Kendrick,
then looked away.

“I do not deserve the honor, my
Lord,” she replied.

“You do, more than anyone,”
Kendrick replied. “You saved all of our lives. Stay with me, and you shall have
a life fit for a queen.”

“I am but a simple slave girl,
indentured to Andronicus,” she replied.

“Indentured no more,” Kendrick
corrected. “You are free now. Your home is here, within the Ring. If you
choose.”

She lowered her eyes.

“I have witnessed Andronicus’ men
wreak devastation on many peoples, many lands,” she said. “I will only be free
when I see him dead. Until that day, I am still a slave. I fear he will return
here.”

“Never,” Kendrick insisted.

“You heard Thor,” Reece added.
“Andronicus will be crushed tomorrow.”

But Sandara did not seem
convinced, and a heavy silence fell over the group.

“There are others who I wish
would return here,” Gwendolyn said. “Steffen is missing. He helped give me safe
passage to the Tower of Refuge, and I have not seen him since.”

“We shall send out a party for
him,” Kendrick said. “We shall find him and bring him back.”