A Cry of Honor by Morgan Rice
She turned away, watching the horizon beside him, and smiled.
“Thank you for being here,” she said. “You must have sensed my desire to see you.”
“I always answer when a King summons me,” he said. “If it is a true summons. And a true King.”
She looked at him, startled by his words, but he continued to watch the horizon, expressionless.
“Are you saying that I will rule?” she asked.
“You know the answer to that yourself,” he responded.
“What of my brother, Gareth?” she pressed.
Argon’s face darkened, a slight frown at the corner of his lips.
“His reign appears to be eternal. But it will not be. He who takes the throne by blood must pay its price by blood. There is always a price for everything.”
He turned and stared back, and the intensity in his eyes forced her to look away.
“Do you remember, when you made that vow?” he asked. “To give up your life for Thor’s?”
She nodded, a tear forming at the corner of her eyes. She did not want to die now. Not now.
“Vows bear a heavy price,” he reminded. “Before you pay it, much has to happen. There will be a great future for you. But there will be a little death first,” he said. “Steel yourself and be strong. You will need strength now. More than you’ve ever had in your life. If you can survive what’s to come, you can survive anything.”
Gwen trembled inside, and felt her skin run cold.
“Your words frighten me,” she said.
“But you must learn to fear,” he said. “Rulers must be fearless. But they also must fear.”
“Please,” she pleaded, “tell me what it is I should fear. Give me some warning.”
“If I did, your destiny would change. That cannot be. Not for your sake. And not for the sake of the Ring. You know your history. Need I remind you? The seven sun cycles. The seven moon alignments. It happens once every thousand years. And when will it happen again?” he asked.
Gwen racked her brain, thinking through all the volumes of history she had ingested, all the ancient prophecies she had read.
“The sun and moon event you speak of happens in the next sun cycle,” she said. “But weeks away.”
Argon nodded, satisfied.
“Yes, very good. Very good indeed. You will be a far wiser ruler than your father. In fact, it has been generations since the MacGils have had a ruler like you. So then you know what lies ahead.”
Gwen frowned.
“But I thought those ancient prophecies were just parables, metaphors. I did not think they were meant to be taken literally. I was taught they are open to interpretation.”
“And who is to say which is the right one?” Argon asked.
Gwen’s eyes opened wide.
“Are you saying that it’s all true? That the Ring will come to an end in a matter of weeks? That the ancient prophecies will come to be?”
Argon turned and stared into the horizon for a long time, then finally, he sighed.
“The Ring will come to an end as we know it. We live in a time of great change. Greater than you can imagine. Everything you once knew will be different. There will be a time of tremendous darkness. And a time of great light. If one can survive the darkness.”
Gwen’s mind reeled as she tried to process the gravity of his words.
“It will be up to you to lead your people through the darkness,” he said. “Ready yourself for the task.”
Argon turned to go, and Gwen reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
“Wait!” she called out.
But she felt a burning in her hand and quickly yanked it back, the energy coming off of him so intense she could not tolerate it.
“Please! Before you go, tell me one thing.”
He turned and stared at her.
“The answer is yes,” he said, before she opened her mouth. “You carry Thor’s child. And it will change your life.”
Before she could ask him more, suddenly, he disappeared.
She turned, looking everywhere for him, but saw nothing, save for a single bird, screeching high up in the air, flying farther and farther away.
Gwen turned and looked out into nothingness, over the great expense of the Ring, and she wondered. She reached up and felt her stomach.
Thor’s child.
It was real.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Thor rode with a dozen Legion members at a relaxed trot on the well paved road, already a half day’s ride from King’s Court. Riding beside him were Reece, O’Connor, Elden and the twins, along with a half-dozen Legion members Thor had just met. They had been dispersed by Kolk to rebuild villages around King’s Court, and the Legion had been broken into groups of ten, and Thor had been named to lead this group to the village of Sulpa, less than a day’s ride south, hit hard by the McCloud raid.
It was an odd feeling for Thor to be heading back down this familiar road, which also led to his hometown. It was especially eerie to be traveling on it after his discussion with Gwen about his mother. He wondered if the universe were giving him a sign.
They reached a major intersection, a fork in the road, and Thor lead his men to the left, forking from the road that would have led directly to his hometown. His destiny was bringing him a different way. As they turned away, towards Sulpa, Thor could not help but glance back, over his shoulder, at the old, familiar road. He thought of home, and wondered what his father was doing there now. He wondered if he missed Thor. Probably not. He probably pined for his three other sons; he probably assumed that they were the stars of the Legion. He would be surprised to hear how well Thor had done. Thor was sure he wouldn’t even believe it.
Thor drove it from his mind; instead he thought of Gwendolyn. Her touch lingered with him, and as they had parted only hours ago, he still felt as if she were right there with him. He was distracted, found it hard to think of anything else. It hurt to have left her there, and he also felt the absence of Krohn, whom he had not been apart from since he had found him. Thor felt as if he’d left a big part of him back there, in King’s Court. And even though Krohn was with Gwendolyn, he couldn’t help but fear for her safety. He resolved to finish this mission quickly and return to her soon as he could.
Thor was kicking himself for not mustering the courage to ask her the question. Why was it so hard? He resolved that when he returned, the first thing he would do, whether the time was right or not, would be to ask her, no matter what the circumstances. He just had to force himself to. He was beginning to realize that no time was the perfect time. If she said no, then she said no. But at least he had tried, and had faced his fear.
“What’s the name of this place again?” O’Connor called out as they rode.
Thor snapped out of it.
“Kolk said it is named Sulpa,” Thor said. “A small village, but in a strategic location, between the valleys.”
“Apparently, they were hit pretty hard,” Reece added.
“Well I don’t see why we need to go and clean up after their mess,” Elden said. “We certainly have better things to do. Like training.”
“Every town is a link in the chain,” Reece answered. “We don’t want any weak links. Besides, these are our people. We owe it to them.”
“No we don’t,” Conval said. “We are warriors. Not homebuilders. We only owe it to the kingdom to protect it from threats. And to kill our attackers.”
“Part of protecting the kingdom is keeping it strong,” Reece answered. “We protect it not only by fending off attackers, but by fortifying our towns for attack.”
The boys rode on in silence for a while, and as they did, the landscape began to change. The beautiful green hills gave way to a landscape that turned desolate and dusty. It was like walking through a desert. The contrast between the two terrains was stark. Thorn bushes, ten feet high, rolled in the wind, and stuck to everything. The road faded in the dirt, and it became hard to keep sight of where they were going. Thor didn’
“Is this the only way there?” O’Connor asked.
Thor held out the map Kolk had given him, and stared at it again.
“That’s what it says,” he answered. “Kolk warned us. He said there’d be a barren stretch. The village is surrounded by desert. Then it turns fertile again.”
Thor looked around at the apprehensive faces of his brothers, who were spread out from each other, and he realized that now it was time for him to assume his role as leader, make them feel as if they were being confidently led, and put them at ease.
“Just stick close together and we’ll be fine,” Thor commanded. “One never knows what might come out at us in these parts.”
The others, respecting Thor’s command, listened to him immediately and tightened their formation, all of them riding much closer together. They all became more alert, on edge, as an odd, high-pitched wind howled through the open desert. Thor had heard stories about this wasteland. He didn’t want his men to be another victim of it.
They rode for hours in silence, and as the second sun grew long in the sky, on the horizon there appeared the first glimpse of fertile land again. Thor exhaled with relief. They had made it without incident.
“Mind if I stop?” Reece asked.
The others turned and looked at him and Reece gestured over to a small cave, nestled in a huge boulder in the empty landscape.
“Got a go,” he said, “I can’t hold it any longer.”
Thor shrugged.
“Do what you have to,” he said.
Thor sat there, on his horse, impatient in the heat of this place, as a large thorn bush went rolling past him with a loud, rustling noise. He flinched. He was too on-edge. This place was eerie. All around him his men bore arms, on guard. He was relieved to see that he was not the only one being cautious.
“So what do you think will become of the Ring?” Elden asked Thor. “Do you think Gareth’s men will—”
A shriek cut through the air, and Thor immediately dismounted, as did the others, drew his sword, and sprinted for the cave. The shriek came from inside. It was Reece’s.
Reece came flying out of the cave, running at full speed, and as he did, Thor spotted a strange animal stuck to his arm. Reece flailed, shrieking, and Thor finally realized what it was: a Forsyth, the largest and deadliest spider in the Ring. Black and furry and covered in red spots, it had twelve legs, and its body span stretched over Reece’s entire arm, from his forearm to his shoulder. It clung to him, not letting go, despite Reece’s frantic efforts to brush it off.
Thor ran to Reece and grabbed the insect with both hands, yanking its furry arms with all its might, trying to pry it off. But it did no good.
Thor drew his dagger and plunged it into the head of the beast.
The beast screamed, then let out an awful hissing noise, and reached up with one of its tentacles to try to grab Thor’s hand. Thor slashed the beast again and again, and his brothers came running up and slashed it, too. Finally, it let go of Reece and turned to the others, opening its small mouth and spitting out a liquid right for them.
Thor dodged it, but the liquid grazed the arm of one of his Legion brothers, and he screamed and clutched it, smoke rising from his sleeve as the acid ate away at it.
The beast dropped to the desert floor and scurried away. A few Legion hurled daggers at it, but it went too fast for them to hit. In moments, it was gone.
Reece clutched his arm, bent over in agony, and Thor draped an arm over his shoulder.
“You okay?” Thor asked.
Reece bit his lip and shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said.
Thor looked down and saw the wound—and was aghast. There was a large, circular spot on Thor’s arm, and the wound was deep, oozing green puss and blood. O’Connor, beside him, tore a piece of linen from his shirt with his teeth and wrapped it around Reece’s arm to staunch the bleeding.
“The venom of a Forsyth is toxic,” Elden said grimly, analyzing the wound. “It will spread through his system. It will paralyze him. If we don’t get him help soon, he’s finished.”
Thor looked over at Reece, who looked more pale than he’d ever seen and who started to shake.
Before Thor could react, suddenly there came a noise, a distinct clicking noise, and he looked over with the others and his heart stopped.
From out of the cave there slowly crawled another Forsyth, pausing at the entrance, then slowly creeping towards him.
Thor and his brothers slowly backed up, one step at a time, Thor helping Reece.
“On your horses!” Thor commanded. “Let’s get out of here. Now!”
It was the first time Thor had ever commanded his fellow Legion members, and strangely enough, it had come to him naturally. He did not seek a leadership role, but it felt comfortable to him, and he felt that he could help the others, who were paralyzed with fear, by taking charge for them.
As it crept closer, they all mounted their horses—all except one. A Legion boy, a couple of years older than Thor, who Thor did not know, the one whose arm had been sprayed. He defied Thor’s orders and stayed put.
“I will not run from an insect!” he yelled.
He reached into his waist, took out a short spear, and hurled it at the beast.
But before he could even release the spear, the Forsyth sprang into motion. It was the fastest thing Thor had ever seen, and in a split second it was in the air, lunging for the boy.
The boy, to his credit, reacted quickly—all of his training in The Hundred must have sank in. He leapt up onto his horse a second before the thing got his leg; it missed him, but it kept flying and instead clung to the leg of his horse.
The horse neighed and pranced and kicked its legs, as the beast wrapped itself around him and would not let go.
After a moment, the horse let out an awful shriek, then stiffened and fell over on its side, the boy still on it.
The boy struggled, but could not dismount in time; he found himself falling with the horse, the horse landing on top of him and crushing his leg. The boy shrieked in agony.
Thor jumped off his horse, dagger in hand, ready to plunge it into the Forsyth, but before he could reach it, an arrow sailed past him, through the air, and landed right into the center of the beast. It let out an awful scream, and acid sprayed everywhere; luckily, the acid was blocked by the horse, and it ate away at the horse’s skin instantly.
Thor looked back to see O’Connor holding his bow.
“Nice work,” Thor said to him. “Give me a hand!”
The others all rushed over to him, helping to pry the boy, moaning in pain, out from underneath the horse. Conven slung him over his shoulder, and draped him across his horse.
Before they could all remount, suddenly, a noise rose up, and Thor’s heart stopped as he looked over to see a dozen more of those things appear at the entrance of the cave. They all paused, then slowly began to inch forward.
Before Thor could issue another command, Elden let out a battle cry and burst into action. He charged forward fearlessly, right for the mouth of the cave. Thor wondered what he was doing—it seemed like suicide—until he saw him lift his huge war hammer high overhead with both hands, and smash it into a boulder perched atop the entrance to the cave.
There came a great rumbling, and boulders rolled down and covered the mouth the cave, crushing several of the Forsyths and blocking the others.
They all looked to Elden with gratitude and pride.
“Nice work,” Thor said. “You saved our lives.”
Elden shrugged and slid the hammer back into his horse’s saddle.
Without waiting another moment, Thor draped Reece, now limp, over the back of his horse, and they all remounted and rode, intent on getting Reece help and on getting as far away from this place as possible.
*
Thor and his contingent rode into Sulpa at a gallop, their leisurely journey having now become a race against time. With each passing second Thor felt increasin
As they rode, the desert landscape gave way to a small oasis: they were back on rolling green hills, the sand giving way to fields of grass, and a well-paved road appeared which led them over a gurgling stream, across a small drawbridge, unmanned, and into a small village. It was surrounded by a stone wall, demolished in places by the McCloud raid, and the village, with its several dozen cottages, looked large enough to hold only a few hundred people. Thor could tell from here that most of the buildings had been damaged. The streets were filled with debris and even one or two houses were still smoking, smoldering slowly.
There was no sentry standing guard as they rode through the open gate, which was smashed off its hinges, and headed right into the town square. But this village was beautiful: in stark contrast to the wasteland around it, it had vibrant green grass, gurgling streams, beautiful fruit orchards. Sulpa was an idyllic oasis in the midst of a vast and unforgiving terrain. Thor was not that well-traveled, and he had no idea that places like this existed in the Ring.
As they charged into the town square, a dozen of the town’s elders hurried out to greet them, concern in their eyes. These were smart people, and they spotted Reece’s condition before Thor even stopped, before he even had to say anything. They fixed grave looks of concern on him, and seemed to immediately recognize what he was suffering from.
“How long ago was he bit?” one elder called out.
“Not ten minutes ago,” Thor responded.
“There might still be time. He must to the healer’s house, and quickly. Follow us.”
The elders turned and ran through the narrow streets, and Thor and the others rode after them. The village was small, and after a few blocks the men came to a stop before a small cottage built of an ancient stone, with an arched door. The elders slammed the knocker as Thor dismounted, carrying Reece in his arms. Reece was completely limp, and Thor could not believe how sick he had become so quickly.