The Legion had an advantage in that they were a small and nimble fighting force, the ten of them in the midst of a huge and slow-moving army. There was a bottleneck, and not all the McCloud warriors could reach them at once; Thor found himself fighting two or three men at a time, but no more. And his brothers at his back prevented him from being attacked from behind.
As a warrior caught Thor off guard and swung his flail right for Thor’s head, Krohn snarled and pounced. Krohn leapt high into the air and clamped down on his wrist; he tore it off, blood flying everywhere, forcing the soldier to change direction right before the flail impacted Thor’s skull.
It was like a blur as Thor fought and slashed and parried in all directions, using every ounce of his skill to defend, to attack, to watch out for his brothers, and to watch out for himself. He instinctively summoned his endless days of training, of being attacked from all sides, in all situations. In some ways, it felt natural to him. They had trained him well, and he felt able to handle this. His fear was always there, but he felt able to control it.
As Thor fought and fought, his arms growing heavy, his shoulders tired, Kolk’s words rang in his ears:
Your enemy will never fight on your terms. He will fight on his. War for you means war for someone else.
Thor spotted a short, broad warrior raise a spiked chain with both hands and swing for the back of Reece’s head. Reece did not see it coming; in a moment, he would be dead.
Thor leapt off his horse, jumping in mid-air and tackling the warrior right before he released the chain. The two of them went flying off the horses and landed hard on the ground in a cloud of dust, Thor rolling and rolling, the wind knocked out of him, as horses trampled all around him. He wrestled with the warrior on the ground, and as the man raised his thumbs to gouge out Thor’s eyes, Thor suddenly heard a screech – and saw Estopheles swoop down and claw the man’s eyes right before he could hurt Thor. The man screamed, clutching his eyes, and Thor elbowed him hard and knocked him off of him.
Before Thor had a chance to revel in his victory, he felt himself kicked hard in the gut, knocking him onto his back. He looked up to see a warrior raise a two-handed war hammer and bring it down for his chest.
Thor rolled, and the hammer whizzed by him, sinking into the earth all the way up to the hilt. He realized it would have crushed him to death.
Krohn pounced on the man, leaping forward and sinking his fangs into the man’s elbow; the soldier reached over and punched Krohn, again and again. But Krohn would not let go, snarling, until finally he tore the man’s arm off. The soldier shrieked and fell to the ground.
A soldier stepped forward and slashed his sword down at Krohn; but Thor rolled over with his shield and blocked the blow, his entire body shaking with the clang, saving Krohn’s life. But as Thor knelt there he was exposed, and another warrior charged over him with his horse, trampling him, knocking him down face first, the horse hooves feeling like they were crushing every bone in his body.
Several McCloud soldiers jumped down and surrounded Thor, closing in on him.
Thor realized he was in a bad place; he would give anything to be back up on his horse now. As he lay there on the ground, his head ringing with pain, out of the corner of his eye he saw his other Legion members fighting, and losing ground. One of the Legion boys he did not recognize let out a high-pitched scream, and Thor watched as a sword punctured his chest, and he slumped over, dead.
Another one of the Legion Thor did not know came to his aid, killing his attacker with a thrust of his spear – but at the same time, a McCloud attacked him from behind, thrusting a dagger into his neck. The boy screamed and fell off his horse, dead.
Thor turned and looked up to see a half dozen soldiers bearing down on him. One raised a sword and brought it down for his face, and Thor reached up and blocked it with his shield, the clang resonating in his ears. But another raised his boot and kicked Thor’s shield from his hand.
A third attacker stepped on Thor’s wrist, pinning it to the ground.
A fourth attacker stepped forward and raised a spear, preparing to drive it through Thor’s chest.
Thor heard a great snarl, and Krohn leapt on the soldier, driving him back and pinning him down. But a soldier stepped forward with a club and swiped Krohn, hitting him so hard that Krohn went tumbling over with a yelp, and landed on his back, limp.
Another soldier stepped forward, standing over Thor, and raised a trident. He scowled down, and this time there was no one to stop him. He prepared to bring it down, right for Thor’s face, and as Thor lay there, pinned, helpless, he could not help but feel that, finally, his end had come.
Chapter Seven
Gwen knelt by Godfrey’s side in the claustrophobic cottage, Illepra beside her, and could stand it no longer. She had been listening to her brother’s moans for hours, watching Illepra’s face grow increasingly grim, and it seemed certain he would die. She felt so helpless, just sitting here. She felt that she needed to do something. Anything.
Not only was she racked with guilt and worry for Godfrey – but even more so, for Thor. She could not shake from her mind the image of him charging into battle, sent into a trap by Gareth, about to die. She felt she had to help Thor in some way, too. She was going crazy sitting here.
Gwen suddenly rose to her feet, and hurried across the cottage.
“Where are you going?” Illepra asked, her voice hoarse from chanting prayers.
Gwen turned to her.
“I will be back,” she said. “There is something I must try.”
She opened the door and hurried outside, into the sunset air, and blinked at the sight before her: the sky was streaked with reds and purples, the second sun sitting as a green ball on the horizon. Akorth and Fulton, to their credit, still stood there, on guard – they jumped up and looked at her with concern on their faces.
“Will he live?” Akorth asked.
“I don’t know,” Gwen said. “Stay here. Stand guard.”
“And where are you going?” Fulton asked.
An idea had occurred to her as she looked into the blood red sky, felt the mystical feeling in the air. There was one man who might be able to help her.
Argon.
If there was one person Gwen could trust, one person who loved Thor and who had remained loyal to her father, one person who had the power to help her in some way, it was he.
“I need to seek out someone special,” she said.
She turned and hurried off, across the plains, breaking into a jog, running, retracing the steps to Argon’s cottage.
She hadn’t been here in years, ever since she was a child, but she remembered he lived high on the desolate, craggy plains. She ran and ran, barely catching her breath as the terrain became more desolate, more windy, grass giving way to pebbles, then to rocks. The wind howled, and as she went, the landscape became eerie; she felt as if she were walking on the surface of a star.
She finally reached Argon’s cottage, out of breath, and pounded on the door. There was no knob anywhere she could use, but she knew this was his place.
“Argon!” she shrieked. “It is me! MacGil’s daughter! Let me in! I command you!”
She pounded and pounded, but the only response was the howling of the wind.
Finally, she broke into tears, exhausted, feeling more helpless than she ever had. She felt hollowed out, as if she had nowhere left to turn.
As the sun sank deeper into the sky, its blood-red giving way to twilight, Gwen turned and began to walk back down the hill. She wiped tears from her face as she went, desperate to figure out where to go next.
“Please father,” she said aloud, closing her eyes. “Give me a sign. Show me where to go. Show me what to do. Please don’t let your son die on this day. And please don’t let Thor die. If you love me, answer me.”
Gwen walked in silence, listening to the wind, when suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck her.
The lake. The Lake of Sorrows.
Of course. The lake was where everyone went to pray for someone who was deathly ill. It was a pristine, small lake, in the middle of the Red Wood, surrounded by towering trees that reached into the sky. It was considered a holy place.
Thank you father, for answering me, Gwen thought.
She felt him with her now, more than ever, and burst into a sprint, racing towards Red Wood, towards the lake that would hear her sorrows.
* * *
Gwen knelt on the shore of the Lake of Sorrows, her knees resting on the soft, red pine that encased the water like a ring, and looked out at the still water, the stillest water she had ever seen, which mirrored the rising moon. It was a brilliant, full moon, more full than she had ever seen, and while the second sun was still setting, the moon was rising, casting both sunset and moonlight over the Ring. The sun and the moon reflected together, opposite each other in the lake, and she felt the sacredness of this time of day. It was the window between the close of one day and the start of another, and at this sacred time, and in this sacred place, anything was possible.
Gwen knelt there, crying, praying for all she was worth. The events of the last few days had been too much for her, and she let it all out. She prayed for her brother, but even more so for Thor. She could not stand the thought of losing them both on this night, of having no one left around her but Gareth. She could not stand the thought of being shipped off to be wed to some barbarian. She felt her life collapsing around her, and she needed answers. Even more, she needed hope.
There were many people in her kingdom who prayed to the God of the Lakes, or the God of the Woods, or the God of the Mountains, or the God of the Wind – but Gwen never believed in any of these. She, like Thor, was one of the few who went against the grain of belief in her kingdom, and followed the radical path of believing in just one God, just one being who controlled the entire universe. It was to this God that she prayed.
Please God, she prayed. Return Thor to me. Let him be safe in battle. Let him escape his ambush. Please let Godfrey live. And please protect me – don’t let me be taken away from here, wed to that savage. I will do anything. Just give me a sign. Show me what you want from me.
Gwen knelt there for a long time, hearing nothing but the howling of the wind racing through the endlessly tall pine trees of Red Wood; she listened to the gentle cracking of the branches as they swayed above her head, their needles dropping in the water.
“Be careful what you pray for,” came a voice.
She spun, flinching, and was shocked to see someone standing there, not far from her. She would have been scared, but she recognized the voice immediately – an ancient voice, older than the trees, older than the earth itself, and her heart swelled as she realized who it was.
She turned and saw him standing over her, wearing his white cloak and hood, eyes translucent, burning through her as if he were peering into her very soul. He held his staff, lit up in the sunset and the moonlight.
Argon.
She stood and faced him.
“I sought you out,” she said. “I went to your cottage. Did you hear me knock?”
“I hear everything,” he answered cryptically.
She paused, wondering. He was expressionless.
“Tell me what I have to do,” she said. “I will do anything. Please, don’t let Thor die. You can’t let him die!”
Gwen stepped forward and grasped his wrist, pleading. But as she touched him she was scorched by a burning heat, traveling through his wrist and onto her hands, and she pulled back, overwhelmed by the energy.
Argon sighed, turned from her, and took several steps towards the lake. He stood there, looking out at the water, his eyes reflected in the light.
She walked up beside him and stood there silently for she did not know how long, waiting until he was ready to speak.
“It is not impossible to change fate,” he said. “But it exacts a heavy price on the petitioner. You want to save a life. That is a noble endeavor. But you cannot save two lives. You will have to choose.”
He turned and faced her.
“Would you have Thor live on this night, or your brother? One of them must die. It is written.”
Gwen was horrified by the question.
“What kind of choice is that?” she asked. “By saving one, I condemn the other.”
“You do not,” he responded. “They are both meant to die. I am sorry. But that is their fate.”
Gwen felt as if a dagger had been plunged into her stomach. Both of them meant to die? It was too awful to imagine. Could fate really be that cruel?
“I cannot choose one over the other,” she said, finally, her voice weak. “My love for Thor is stronger, of course. But Godfrey is my flesh and blood. I cannot stomach the idea of one dying at the expense of the other. And I don’t think either of them would want that.”
“Then they both shall die,” Argon replied.
Gwen felt flooded with panic.
“Wait!” she called out, as he began to turn away.
He turned and looked at her.
“What about me?” she asked. “What if I should die in their stead? Is it possible? Can they both live, and I will die?”
Argon stared at her for a very long time, as if taking in her very essence.
“Your heart is pure,” he said. “You are the most pure-hearted of all the MacGils. Your father chose wisely. Yes, he did…”
Argon’s voice trailed off as he continued to look into her eyes. Gwen felt uncomfortable, but did not dare look away.
“Because of your choice, because of your sacrifice on this night,” Argon said, “the fates have heard you. Thor will be saved on this night. And so will your brother. You will live, too. But a small piece of your life must be taken. Remember, there is always a price. You will die a partial death in return for both of their lives.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, terror-stricken.
“Everything comes with a price,” he answered. “You have a choice. Would you rather not pay it?”
Gwen steeled herself.
“I will do anything for Thor,” she said. “And for my family.”
Argon stared right through her.
“Thor has a very great destiny,” Argon said. “But destiny can change. Our fate is in our stars. But it is also controlled by God. God can change fate. Thor was meant to die on this night. He will live only because of you. You will pay that price. And the cost will be high.”
Gwen wanted to know more, and she reached out to Argon, but as she did, suddenly, a bright light flashed before her, and Argon disappeared.
Gwen spun, looking for him in every direction, but he was nowhere to be found.
She finally turned and looked out at the lake, so serene, as if nothing had happened here on this night. She saw her reflection, and she looked so far away. She was filled with gratitude, and finally, with a sense of peace. But she couldn’t help but also feel a sense of dread for her own future. As much as she tried to put it out of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder: what price would she pay for Thor’s life?
Chapter Eight
Thor lay on the ground in the midst of the battlefield, pinned down by McCloud soldiers, helpless, hearing the clash of battle, the screams of horses, of men dying all around him. The setting sun and the rising moon – a full moon, fuller than any he had ever seen – was suddenly blocked by a huge soldier, who stepped forward, raised his trident and prepared to bring it down. Thor knew that his time had come.
Thor closed his eyes, preparing for death. He did not feel fear. Only remorse. He wanted more time to be alive; he wanted to discover who he was, what his destiny was, and most of all, he wanted more time with Gwen.
Thor felt it wasn’t fair to die like this. Not here. Not this way. Not on this day. It wasn’t his time yet. He could feel it. He was not ready yet.