Thor turned to Steffen.
“Bring him to the healer. Right away. Waste no time! Tell her to use everything in her power to save him. GO!”
Without wasting a moment, Steffen remounted his horse, Krohn draped across the back of it, and galloped off down the hill.
Thor turned and faced the Legion members.
“I have to find Gwen,” he said grimly. “Her blood is on my head. I cannot wait another minute. If there’s any chance she’s alive, every moment counts. I don’t expect any of you to come with me. I will be up against the entire Nevarun army, and will be vastly outnumbered.”
Reece stepped forward, and clutched the hilt of his sword.
“Just the kind of odds I like,” he said.
“And I,” Elden added.
“And I,” O’Connor chimed in.
“And we,” chimed in the twins.
“We would never leave you to face an army alone,” Reece said. “Not after all we’ve been through. After all, Gwen is my sister too. And one day she will be your wife.”
“Your blood is our blood,” Elden added.
Thor nodded back, understanding and overwhelmed with gratitude. He would have done the same for any of them.
“Are you sure this is a chance you wish to take?” Thor asked. “This is my battle. I do not want to drag you into it.”
“If you ever think we would let you go alone,” Reece said, “you’re crazy. So let’s stop wasting time and bring back my sister.”
Thor looked at the faces of his Legion brothers, saw the determination. In his time of great despair, he had never been so appreciative.
As one, they all mounted the horses; Thor kicked his into a gallop, racing through the field of flowers, down towards the distant road that led farther and farther away from King’s Court. As he went, Thor unconsciously checked all of his weapons at his waist, the ones strapped to his back, on his saddle, all along his horse. He was fully armed. That was good. Where he was going, he would need every single one of them. It was a suicide mission.
And if he had to die this way, trying to save Gwen’s life, then so be it.
*
Thor rode harder than he ever had, his Legion brothers at his side, charging farther and farther south, heading towards the distant province of the Nevaruns. He had followed the tracks left by the hordes of warriors who had trampled the fields of flowers, leading them back onto the main road leaving King’s Court. It appeared from the markings that they had come for Gwen with a band of at least a hundred warriors, by the width and breadth of the crushed grass, the broken branches, the horse prints left in the dirt. It was clear the direction they were heading, and the markings still looked fresh, giving Thor hope. Maybe he could catch her in time.
As Thor continued to ride, kicking his horse yet again, he prayed he could catch them before they entered their fortified city. They had to overcome them on the road if there was to be any hope. He hoped that the group of invaders would slow at some point, giving Thor a chance to catch up. He assumed that they must; after all, once they were far from King’s Court, what could this army of a hundred Nevaruns, fierce, savage warriors, have to fear from anyone? They would probably slow to a trot, or even a walk, and take their time heading back to their province with impunity. The thought of Gwen being among them burned Thor alive; it was too much to bear. He hated Gareth with a passion unlike he’d ever felt, and vowed to take revenge.
Thor knew that Gwendolyn was strong, fierce and proud. He saw the damage she had done back in the battlefield, with Steffen, and he had been impressed, though not surprised. He prayed that somehow she could draw on that strength to stay calm as they took her away, to have faith that Thor would come get her. He assumed they wanted her alive, as a trophy wife, to rub it into the face of the MacGils for all time.
Thor was determined to change that.
They charged and charged, the second sun nearly setting, Thor and his men out of breath, their horses out of breath, charging harder and longer than he ever had in his life—and finally, they reached a plateau, high up on a hill, from which they were afforded a commanding view of the countryside. Thor saw spread out beneath them the vast array of the southern provinces of the Ring, rolling hills and valleys against an awesome fall sky, clouds streaking every color, trees of every color swaying. And there, on the horizon, he spotted the huge entourage of Nevaruns, riding south, cutting through the fields. Thor was encouraged to see that they had slowed their pace, and were now moving along at a trot.
For the first time, he knew they could catch them.
Thor kicked and screamed at his horse, and the others did too, and as one, they all charged down the hill, keeping the Nevaruns in sight as they followed their trail. Thor rode faster than he ever had, down rolling hills, over dirt roads, across meadows, and through a winding forest. They got closer and closer, the Nevaruns just a few hundred yards away.
As they got within bow and arrow range, Thor caught his first sight of Gwendolyn, just for a brief moment and was immensely relieved to see she was alive. She rode on the back of their leader’s horse, her wrists bound, her head down in shame, as he rode triumphantly in front of her, an arrogant smile on his face. They rode at the head of the contingent, several feet in front of everyone else, as the man led his victorious army home.
Thor could not help but notice that this army had left a trail of devastation in its path, pillaging small villages, from which smoke rose up on the horizon. Technically, these Nevaruns owed allegiance to the MacGils, as they were on the MacGil side of the Highlands; Thor felt certain that they would have never acted with such impunity under her father’s reign. But they were separatists, always hard to control, and now that Gareth was king—and had invited them to take away his sister— clearly, they did as they wished. They were never really loyal to the MacGils or the McClouds. They appeared to be loyal to anyone they did not feel like killing at the moment.
As they neared, still undetected, Thor realized that they needed to formulate a plan. After all, there were only nine Legion members, while there looked to be at least a hundred Nevaruns. Not only that, but the Nevaruns were huge, fierce warriors, half breeds, who lived for war, and lived for killing. Thor recalled Kolk’s stories of gaining his scars by their hand.
They could not face them head-on. Despite whatever erratic powers Thor might have, it would still be a losing battle. Thor knew it. His powers were not developed enough, and he could not rely on them. And if they gave way, it would be a slaughter. He had to come up with a strategy.
As they rode and rode, he wracked his brain, thinking of the best way to attack these men.
Thor surveyed the surrounding landscape, and he had an idea. He could see that around the bend, if they followed this road, the army would pass through a narrow strip, between two cliffs. The strip was a good hundred feet long, and for those hundred feet, the army would be vulnerable.
Thor looked up, to the top of the cliffs, and saw boulders perched at its edge. He had an idea.
“Conval, Conven!” he yelled out.
They rode up beside him.
“Do you see the top of those cliffs? I need you each to ride up to either side of them, and when I give a sign, release those boulders. It will crush the men below. Meanwhile, the rest of us will charge down below and attack whoever survives of the group. GO!” he commanded.
Conval and Conven split off from the group, and they charged up the grassy slopes leading to the top of the cliffs. Thor led the remaining men around the other side, taking the long way around so as not to be detected, and hoping to surprise the Nevaruns when they came out the other side. They took a path through the woods, circling all the way around, and he stopped at the edge of the tree line, all his men stopping with him, and waited.
Thor watched Conval and Conven take position at the cliff top, hundreds of feet above the Nevaruns, who suspected nothing. Thor sat there on his horse, waiting, watching, trying to be patient. He needed the boulders to do as much da
mage as possible, and needed to wait until the Nevaruns entered deeper into the chasm. He had to get as many of them as he could in one shot. And he also had to make sure that Gwen was first safe out the other side.
His horse prancing, Thor watched the opposite end of the chasm carefully, waiting for the first sign of Gwen’s exit, his heart pounding. He had to see Gwen’s face before he gave the signal.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the leader walked out on his horse, slowly, Gwen on it behind them—and Thor gave the signal.
Thor charged out of the woods, charging right for them, raising up a great battle cry, all his brothers charging with him. At the same time, Conval and Conven began to furiously push the boulders over the edge.
A great rumbling followed, as boulder after boulder went tumbling down, hundreds of feet, landing with a mighty crash into the chasm. There arose the cries and screams of dozens of men, as the boulders came raining down like hail, causing one great boom after the next, and the ground shook with the impact.
The Nevaruns broke out into chaos. Those that survived, narrowly dodging the boulders, burst out of the chasm, racing forward, close behind their leader and Gwen. Thor was hoping only a few would survive—but more of them escaped than he would have liked. There seem to be about thirty still alive, charging towards them, like ants, out of the chasm, and rushing to meet Thor’s group of seven. He was badly outnumbered. But he had no choice now but for a head-on confrontation. At least he had killed dozens of them; he would rather face thirty of them than a hundred.
A battle horn erupted from the Nevaruns and these fierce warriors barreled down on Thor.
Thor heard the whizzing of an arrow, and glanced over to see O’Connor firing three arrows as he rode. Thor watched them sail and was impressed by his friend’s aim, the three arrows finding their targets with deadly precision, three Nevaruns falling from their horses. Inspired, Thor raised his sling and hurled it, careful not to hit Gwen or their leader, and with his perfect aim, took out two soldiers himself, hitting each in the side of the head and knocking them off their horses.
Elden followed suit and threw his throwing hammer, and Reece threw his throwing axe, and they took out two more soldiers. The numbers of Nevaruns quickly shrank as they all braced for impact, Thor and his men now outnumbered only three to one.
Those were still tough odds, especially with warriors like the Nevaruns, who had devoted their entire lives to combat. None of them seemed afraid, and none of them even had a moment’s hesitation as they charged for Thor and his men, wielding tridents and axes and halberds as if they had been wielding them since birth. They let out a fierce battle cry themselves, and moments later, the two groups met in the middle in an ear-shattering clash of arms.
The fighting was fierce. Their leader singled out Thor and charged him directly, wielding a two-handed battle axe with a single hand and bringing it down right for Thor’s head. Thor had to be careful in how he defended himself, given that Gwen rode on the same horse. The leader, of course, knew that, and he smiled, reveling in it. Thor was compromised.
Thor raised the sword Kolk had given him, and blocked the blow at the last moment. It was one of the fiercest blows Thor had ever received, and he could feel the warrior’s strength reverberating through the handle. There was a great clang of metal, Thor’s arms shook, and he closed his eyes as he held his new sword, made of a material he did not know, praying that it did not split in two.
He was relieved that it did: it stopped the axe but inches from his head.
Normally Thor would have swung around and slashed back—but with Gwen on the back of his horse, he could not risk it. He was forced to just keep riding, past him, and as he did he caught a quick glimpse of Gwen’s eyes, wide with fear, as she sat there with her hands bound behind her.
“THOR!” she screamed out, frantic.
But there was no time for Thor to look back. As he charged into the group, two more warriors came at him, one swinging a war hammer sideways, right for his ribs. Thor leaned back at the last second, and the hammer just missed, saving him from crushed ribs; he then raised his sword and brought it down on the man’s extended arm, chopping it off, the arm and hammer falling down to the ground as the man shrieked.
The other soldier swung his axe sideways for Thor’s head, and Thor ducked at the last moment as it went whizzing by. He then swung around with his sword and chopped off the soldier’s head; it bounced off and rolled to the ground, as the man’s body continued to ride, headless, for several more feet, until it finally slumped over and fell to the ground.
Thor had no time to rest on his heels: he was attacked in quick succession by Nevaruns on all sides, and with all manner of weaponry. He felt a hard blow on his shoulder, resonating against his armor, and he realized he had been hit by a mace, the clang ringing in his ears; luckily his armor had blocked it from piercing his skin, but the pain from the deep bruise shot up and down his arm.
Another soldier charged Thor from the side, raised his shield, and used it as a battering ram, something Thor did not expect; he smashed Thor hard in the side of the head, and sent him tumbling end over end off his horse, landing hard on the ground with a clang of metal.
Thor tumbled on the ground, winded, as horses stampeded all around him, battle cries rising up in all directions. As he rolled, he looked over and saw Reece, slashing and parrying with two soldiers, holding his own, but badly outnumbered; he saw O’Connor reach up with his bow to take a shot, but watched as a Nevarun knocked the bow from his hand with a trident before he could release. He saw Elden wield his war hammer with two hands and knock a Nevarun off his horse—only to see another Nevarun jab Elden from behind with a javelin, knocking him off his horse and down to the ground face first.
Thor saw the three other Legion members they had ridden with, boys he did not know well, and watched them fight gloriously. One of them managed to stab a Nevarun in the throat, killing him—but in the same moment, he was pierced through the chest with a spear. He cried out, and Thor felt his pain as he slumped off his horse, heading to the ground, dead.
The other legion member stabbed a Nevarun with his spear in the stomach, injuring him—but he was attacked from behind by two others, one of whom cut off the legs of his horse, while the other smashed his head with a hammer, killing him instantly.
The final Legion member leapt off his horse in a brave show of glory and landed mid-air on two Nevaruns, tackling them down to the ground before they could swing at him. He drew his dagger and stabbed one in the throat, then slashed the other. But at the same moment, he himself was pierced through the back with a trident, and he let out a great cry, as he collapsed to the ground, dead.
That left just Thor, Reece, O’Connor and Elden, the four of them against the two dozen or so Nevaruns who still remained. They had done much damage, had dwindled the Nevaruns numbers greatly, but they were still badly outnumbered, and at this pace, their chances did not look good.
Thor, on his knees, reached up to block a great sword blow from a Nevarun, coming down for his head, and as he did, he looked up into the sunset sky and saw, in the distance, Conven and Conval, charging down the mountain, coming to reinforce them. The Nevaruns didn’t expect them, and as they charged for the battle, Conven and Conval each raised a spear and hurled it, killing two more men from behind. They continued to charge, raising two more spears and hurling them, killing two more Nevaruns from behind, before the group caught wind of their advance.
Now the odds had changed. Now it was six of the Legion against twenty Nevaruns, and Thor felt a renewed sense of hope.
Thor finally managed to roll out of the way of the attacker bearing down on him, then swung around and killed him. He rolled again, took out a short spear, and hurled it at another attacker who galloped towards him, piercing his throat before the attacker could unleash his trident. The man, wounded, threw his trident at Thor, but off-balance, and the weapon sailed through the air and missed him by an inch, plunging into the ground besid
e him.
Another Nevarun came for Thor, this one wielding a three-headed flail with a long chain. Thor ducked, and the three spiked, iron balls whizzed by his ear, grazing his helmet and just missing him. As the man past, Thor loaded his sling and hurled a rock, hitting the attacker on the back of his head and sending him from his horse, dropping the flail.
Thor dove to the ground as a horse rode by, just missing being trampled, and grabbed the flail lying on the ground, with its long chain, then rolled around, got to his feet, and swung it at his two oncoming attackers. He connected with them both, knocking them both off the horses, landing on the ground with a clang of metal. He swung it again, raising it high above his head, and before each could get up, knocked them back down to the ground.
Thor heard a screech overhead and looked up to see his old friend, Estopheles; as a soldier charged Thor from behind, javelin raised high, Estopheles dove down and bit the man’s wrist right before he released it. The soldier screamed out, dropping his javelin and falling from his horse with a clang of metal; Thor grabbed the javelin, spun around, and plunged it into the man’s chest.
But Thor suddenly felt the wind knocked out of him as he was tackled hard from behind, driven down, face-first, into the ground. A warrior landed on top of him, with a full plate of armor, crushing him; Thor spun, wrestling with the man and reaching up and grabbing his wrist, right before he sliced Thor’s throat with a dagger. Thor held his wrist at bay, arm shaking, then finally lifted his head and head-butted the man, breaking his nose.
The soldier cried out, and Thor threw him off of him. As he threw him, the man landed in the path of another horse, and was trampled instantly to death.
Thor was beyond exhausted, struggling to catch his breath, while all around him his six brothers were fighting for the lives; he could see they were all starting to lose the battle. O’Connor cried out as a Nevarun managed to slice the side of his bicep, blood squirting out; Elden received a mighty mace blow on his shoulder, sending him stumbling back onto the ground; Reece ducked the blow of a sword, but Thor could see his reflexes were not as quick as they should have been, and he almost lost his life. Thor knew he had to do something quickly, or else his brothers would all die.