A Clash of Honor (26 page)

Within moments Thor was on his horse, as were his brothers, and he kicked it harder than he’d ever had in his life. He rode from this place, riding with everything he had into the wasteland, towards King’s court.

He only prayed that Gwendolyn was still alive.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Thor galloped at the head of the small group of Legion members racing for King’s Court, all of them exhausted, riding all day, without a break, pushing their horses too hard. The second sun was now long in the sky as Thor charged across the drawbridge, through King’s Gate, and past the Royal Guard, not even slowing. His friends kept up with him as they charged beneath the tunnel and out the other side, creating a storm of dust as they entered into King’s Court.

They kept charging, cutting across the court and out a gate on the far side, Steffen leading them to the field where Gwen had been surrounded. Thor’s heart was thumping in his chest as he prayed beyond hope that maybe, just maybe he would find her here alive. And Krohn, too.

But the way Steffen described it, he knew the chances were slim. She could be dead. They both could be.

Thor had to see for himself. He felt so grateful that all of his friends backed him up and rode with him on this journey, refusing to go elsewhere. Not one of them hesitated, even for a moment. He truly felt as if these were his brothers now.

They rode and rode, across fields, up and down hills, and through an immense field of flowers. As they climbed a bend, Thor spotted Estopheles, circling high up, and he felt that they were close. They rounded another hill, and Thor’s heart stopped as he saw the carnage before him. He continued to charge, heading forward, as if into a nightmare.

There, on the hilltop, were what appeared to be several bodies, Nevarun corpses, wearing their distinctive green and yellow armor. He could see the bloodshed even from here, and even more so, he could sense it, in the very fabric of the soil. A great calamity had happened here. And he hated himself for not being here to protect Gwen.

Thor and his men charged to the hilltop, and as they reached the group of bodies, they all dismounted, Thor’s horse barely stopping as he jumped down and ran, searching all the bodies on the ground, desperate, tears flooding his eyes, hoping and praying one of them might be Gwen. He saw the frozen corpses of the Nevaruns, arrows piercing their throats, blood staining the field, and he could see what a vicious battle had happened. He could see at a glance that everything Steffen had told him was true, and he was more grateful than ever to Steffen for doing his best to defend Gwen.

He scanned the faces desperately, as did his Legion brothers, running from one body to the next; but his heart already told him what he knew to be true: Gwendolyn was not here. She had been taken away.

The realization hit him like a hammer. On the one hand he was relieved that he did not find her corpse. That meant there was at least some hope that she was alive. Yet on the other hand, he imagined her kidnapped, stolen from this place, and all the terrible things that might have happened to her since, and his body burned with a sudden desire to save her—and a desire for vengeance.

As Thor continued to scan the bloody grass, he spotted something that made his heart sink: Krohn lay there, motionless, on his side, blood pouring from his head. Thor hurried over to him, dropped to his knees, and ran a hand along Krohn’s hide. He could see him breathing, shallow, and was greatly relieved. He saw the blood on his fangs, and glancing at the corpses, he could tell the damage that Krohn had done, and he felt overwhelmed with gratitude towards him for protecting Gwen—yet also overwhelmed with guilt.

“Krohn,” Thor said softly, nudging him. His body was still warm, but Krohn did not respond.

“Krohn,” Thor urged, shaking him. “Wake up! Please!”

Thor shook Krohn harder and harder, until finally Krohn opened one eye, just a crack. Then the eye closed again. Thor could see that he was suffering, that he was badly injured. He sensed that if he did not get help soon, he would die.

Thor wasted no time. He picked up Krohn him, surprised at how heavy he had become, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him over to Steffen’s horse, draping him along the back of it. Krohn lay there, limp, like a saddlebag.

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 damage 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.