A Sea of Shields (Book #10 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (6 page)

Karus and Falus, Tirus’s two sons, walked quickly down the spiral stone staircase, descending deeper and deeper, heading toward the dungeon that held their father. They hated the indignity of having to descend to this place to see their father, a great warrior who had been rightful King of the Upper Isles. And they silently vowed revenge.

Yet this time, they brought news, news which could change everything. News which finally gave them cause for hope.

Karus and Falus marched right up to the soldiers standing guard at the entrance to the prison, men loyal, they knew, to the Queen. They stopped in their tracks, reddening, hating having to suffer the humiliation of needing to ask permission to see their father.

Gwendolyn’s men surveyed them, as if debating, then nodded to each other and stepped forward.

“Hold your arms out,” they commanded Karus and Falus.

Karus and Falus did so, bristling as the soldiers stripped them of their arms.

They then unlocked the iron gates, opened them slowly, and let them in, closing and slamming and locking the gates behind them.

Karus and Falus knew their time was short; they would only be allowed to visit their father for a few minutes, as they had, once a week, ever since he had been imprisoned. After that, Gwendolyn’s men would command them to leave.

They walked to the end of the long dungeon corridor, all the cells empty, their father the only one down here in this ancient prison. Finally, they reached the last cell on the left, lit dimly by a flickering torch against the wall, and they turned to the bars and peered inside, searching for their father.

Slowly, Tirus emerged from the dark corners of the cell and came to the bars. He stared back, his face gaunt, his beard untended, grim. He stared back with the hopeless expression of a man who knew he would never see daylight again.

Karus’s and Falus’s hearts broke to witness it. It made them resolve even more to find a way to free him, and to get vengeance on Gwendolyn.

“Father,” Falus said, hopefully.

“We bring urgent news,” Karus said.

Tirus stared back at them, a flicker of hope at their tone.

“Out with it, then,” he growled.

Falus cleared his throat.

“Our sister, it seems, has fallen in love again with our cousin, Reece. Our spies tell us the two plan to marry. Reece intends to call off his wedding on the mainland, and to marry Stara instead.”

“We must find a way to stop it,” Karus said, indignant.

Tirus stared back, expressionless, but they could see his eyes darting, taking it all in.

“Must we?” Tirus said slowly. “And why is that?”

They looked back at their father, confused.

“Why?” Karus asked. “We cannot have our family merge with Reece’s. It would play right into the Queen’s hand. Our families would merge, and she would gain complete control.”

“It would remove any ounce of independence our people still have,” Falus chimed in.

“The plans are already in motion,” Karus added. “And we must find a way to stop them.”

They waited for a response, but Tirus slowly shook his head.

“Stupid, stupid boys,” he said slowly, his voice dark, shaking his head again and again. “Why did I raise such stupid boys? Have I taught you nothing all these years? You still look at what’s in front of you, and not what’s beyond.”

“We do not understand, Father.”

Tirus grimaced.

“And that is why I am in this position. That is why you are not ruling now. Stopping this union would be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and the worst thing that could happen to our island. If our Stara marries Reece, that would be the greatest thing that could ever happen for all of us.”

They looked back, confused, not understanding.

“Greatest? How so?”

Tirus sighed, impatient.

“If our two families merge, Gwendolyn cannot keep me imprisoned here. She would have no choice but to set me free. It would change everything. It would not strip us of power—it would give us power. We would be legitimate MacGils, on the same footing as those on the mainland. Gwendolyn would be beholden to us. Don’t you see?” he asked. “A child of Reece and Stara would be as much our child as theirs.”

“But Father, it is not natural. They are cousins.”

Tirus shook his head.

“Politics are not natural, my son. But this union will happen,” he insisted, determination in his voice. “And you two will do everything in your power to make it happen.”

Karus cleared his throat, nervous, uncertain now.

“But Reece has already sailed for the mainland,” he said. “It is too late. Reece, we hear, has already made up his mind.”

Tirus reached up and smacked the iron bars, as if wishing to smack Karus’s face, and Karus jumped back, startled.

“You are even stupider than I thought,” Tirus said. “You will make certain it happens. Men have changed their minds over lesser things than this. And you will make certain that Reece changes his mind.”

“How?” Falus asked.

Tirus stood there thinking, stroking his beard for a long while. For the first time in many moons, his eyes were working, darting, thinking, formulating a plan. For the first time, there was hope and optimism in his eyes.

“This girl, Selese, the one he is about to marry,” Tirus said finally. “She must be gotten to. You will find her. You will bring evidence…evidence of Reece and Stara’s love. You will tell her firsthand, before he reaches her. You will be sure that she knows that Reece is in love with someone else. That way, in case Reece changes his mind before he reaches her, it will be too late. We will be assured of their breakup.”

“But what evidence do we have of their love?” Karus asked.

Tirus rubbed his beard, thinking. Finally, he perked up.

“Do you remember those scrolls? The ones we intercepted when Stara was young? The love letters she penned to Reece? The letters he penned back to her?”

Karus and Falus nodded.

“Yes,” Falus said. “We intercepted the falcons.”

Tirus nodded.

“They remain in my castle. Bring them to her. Tell her they are recent, and make it convincing. She will never guess their age—and all will be finished.”

Karus and Falus finally nodded, smiling, realizing the depth of their father’s cunning and wisdom.

Tirus smiled back, for the first time in as long as they could remember.

“Our island will rise again.”
 

Thor sat atop his horse, leading it up and down the lines of Legion recruits, all of the eager boys lined up, standing at attention before him in the Legion’s new arena.

Thor looked out at the dozens and dozens of new faces, examined each one carefully, and felt the weight of responsibility. New recruits had poured in from all over the Ring, all eager to join the newly rebuilt Legion. It was a daunting task to choose the next crop of warriors, the men upon whom the Ring would rely in the coming years.

A part of Thorgrin felt that he did not deserve to be here; after all, it was not so many moons ago that he himself was hoping to be picked by the Legion. As he thought back on it, it felt like a lifetime ago, before he’d met Gwen, before he’d had a child, before he’d become a warrior. Now here he was, tasked to rebuild it, to find replacements for all the brave souls that had been killed defending the Ring.

As Thor looked out past the boys, he saw the graveyard he’d had erected, all the markers rising from the earth shining in the late afternoon suns, reminding them always of the Legion they had known. It had been Thor’s idea to bury them here, on the periphery of the new arena, so that they could always be with them, always be remembered, and watch over the new recruits. Thor could feel their spirits hovering over him, helping him, urging him on.

Knowing that his Legion brothers, Reece and Conven and Elden and O’Connor, were all spread throughout the Ring on various tasks, Thor felt comfortable, at least, that he was the one who remained here, close to home, to focus on this task. He’d also been Captain of the Legion, so it felt almost natural he should be the one tasked with rebuilding it.

Thor looked at the dozens of boys before him, and he had high hopes for some, but not for others. They did their best to stand at attention as he came close, and he could tell that some of them were just not warriors; others could be, yet they would need much training. There was an untested look in all their eyes, a look of anxiety, of fear of what was to come.

“Men!” Thor called out. “Because you are all
men
now, regardless of your age. The day you take up arms to defend your homeland, to risk your life with your brothers, you become a man. If you join the Legion, you will fight for honor, valor. That is what forms a man, not your age. Is that understood?”

“YES SIR!” they all screamed back.

“I have fought with men twice my age who have died beside me,” Thor continued. “Being older did not make them any more of a man than I. Nor did it make them better warriors. You become a man by taking on manly duties; and you become a better warrior by bettering yourselves.”

“YES SIR!”

Thor guided his horse slowly up and down the ranks, observing, weighing each recruit, looking them in the eye.

“A spot in the Legion is a sacred thing. There is no greater honor the Ring can bestow. It will be handed to no one. It is more than position. It is a code. A code of brotherhood. Once you join it, you no longer live to defend yourself. You live to defend your brothers.”

“YES SIR!”

Thor dismounted. He walked slowly, turned and looked out to the field behind him, the newly rebuilt arena.

“There, in the distance, lie a dozen targets. Before you, spears lie on the ground. There is one spear for each of you. You have one chance to hit the target. Show me what you have,” Thor said, walking off to the side, watching.

The boys rushed forward, each racing to grab one of the spears lodged in the ground. Excited, each one hurled his spear, each wanting to be first to hit the target of hay about thirty yards away.

Thor watched their technique with a professional eye. He was not surprised to see that nearly all of them missed.

Only a small handful of boys managed to hit their targets. And none of these hit the center.

Thor shook his head slowly. This would be a long and painful process, he knew. He wondered if he would ever find boys skilled enough to fill the shoes of the others. He had to remind himself what he and his brothers were like on their first day.

“Grab your spears, come back, and try again.”

“YES SIR!”

They sprinted across the arena, heading for the spears, and as Thor watched, a voice startled him:

“Thorgrin.”

Thor looked over and saw the face of a boy he dimly recognized, a boy who looked back at him with hope.

“Do you remember me?”

Thor squinted, trying to put a name to the face.

“I remember you,” the boy said. “You saved my life. You may have forgotten, but it was something I will never forget.”

Thor narrowed his eyes, beginning to remember.

“Where was it?” Thor asked.

“We met in the dungeon,” the boy said. “You had been accused of killing King MacGil. I was there on charges of thievery. You saved my hand from dismemberment. It is a kindness I will never forget.”

Thor suddenly remembered it all.

“Merek!” Thor said. “The thief!”

Merek nodded and smiled. He extended his hand, and Thor shook it.

“I have come to repay the favor,” Merek said. “I heard you’re recruiting for the Legion, and I want to volunteer.”

Thor looked at him in surprise.

“I thought you are a thief?” Thor asked.

Merek smiled back.

“And what better skill could you want for the Legion? After all, to win battle is to steal men’s weapons, to steal men’s courage. A thief is quick and bold, willing to go where others will not, cunning, fearless. A thief takes what others want. He does not ask permission. And he does not hesitate. Aren’t these the traits of victory?”

Thor examined him carefully, thinking it over.

“You have a way with words,” Thor said. “I will give you that. And you have thought this through. But you are missing something. The most important thing, in fact, that a thief lacks. Honor. At the heart and soul of a warrior is honor. And it is honor that a thief lacks.”

Thor sighed.

“You might be the best warrior here,” Thor said. “But I cannot allow a stain upon our honor.”

Thor turned away, but Merek placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Please,” Merek said. “Give me one chance. I realize my ways have been dishonorable. Yet times were desperate for my family, and I had no choice if I was to support them. Surely I cannot be blamed for that. It is easy to speak of honor when one has the luxury of sitting in a tower and looking down on others who have nothing. No one handed me anything in life. I had to take what was mine.”

Thor grimaced.

“No one handed me anything in life, either,” he countered. “Yet I never stole from anyone.”

Merek swallowed, desperate.

“Which is why I’m asking for forgiveness,” Merek said. “And vowing to change my ways.”

Thor looked at him.

“That’s right,” Merek said. “I vow to never steal from anyone again if you accept me into your Legion. I’ve come here not to steal. I’ve come here because I want a better life. I want to leave my old life behind. I want to become a better person.”

Thor looked him over, debating. He remembered when he himself pleaded for a spot, for just one chance, whether he deserved it or not.

“You are very determined,” Thor said. “And you seem sincere. And I suppose you are correct in that everyone makes mistakes, and everyone deserves a second chance.” Thor nodded. “I will give you that chance. You may try out. Abuse it, and I assure you I will kick you out of our arena.”

Merek smiled wide and clasped Thor on the shoulder.

“Thank you!” he said. “Thank you, thank you!”

Thor smiled back.

“Now go and grab a spear with the others, and let’s see what you can do.”

Merek, jubilant, ran off into the group of boys and grabbed a spear.

Merek was the last one to throw, and Thor watched with interest as Merek’s spear sailed through the air and hit the target perfectly.

A bull’s-eye.

All the other boys looked to him in shock, and Thor stared back at him in wonder. He was shocked, too. And impressed.

“Again!” Thor called out, wanting to see if it was a fluke, and if the other boys could get closer.

The boys ran off to retrieve their spears again, and as they did, Thor turned as a lone boy walked through the Legion training ground gates, and right up to him. Thor recognized this boy, too, standing there with his face and clothes covered in dirt, but from where, he could not remember.

The boy stared back.

“I’ve come to try out for your Legion, as you invited me.”

Thor studied the boy, younger and smaller than the others, and tried to place him.

“I invited you?” Thor asked.

“You told me I could try out. Don’t you remember? In the Empire. In my father’s cottage. I saved your group from the monsters of the jungle. I’ve crossed the ocean to find you. I know I’m young. And small. But let me try, with the others.”

Thor stared back, dumbfounded, it all coming back to him.

“Ario?” Thor asked.

Ario nodded.

Thor was in shock; he could hardly believe this boy had crossed the world to come here. That said more to Thor than just about anything. He remembered the boy in the Empire as being agile, fearless, attuned to every noise in the jungle. And he recalled him saving them from that Gathorbeast. If it weren’t for him, they’d all be dead.

Yet, at the same time, Ario seemed so small, so young.

Thor kept one eye on the large group of boys, who had just finished hurling another round of spears. They all came closer this time, many more hitting targets, and Thor began to feel some hope.

“Bows and arrows!” Thor called out.

All the boys turned and ran to the long stretch of bows and arrows lined up along the side of the grounds, and all took aim for the distant targets.

One at a time, they fired, and Thor shook his head as too many of them missed.

Thor looked over at Ario, still standing there.

“I do remember,” he said. “And we do owe you our lives. Yet you are so young. And small. I fear you would get hurt, boy. I asked you to come back when you are older—and you are hardly older. I am sorry you crossed the ocean. But I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Ario frowned.

“I am more capable than any of these other boys!” he yelled, determined.

Thor smiled.

“Are you?”

Thor nodded to the bows.

“Is your aim more true than the others, then?”

Ario smiled back.

“Give me a chance.”

Thor sighed.

“Okay,” he said, giving in. “One chance.”

Ario rushed forward, grabbed a bow, set an arrow, and fired, barely pausing to take aim.

Thor watched as the arrow sailed through the air, past the target, and realized the boy had chosen the farthest target on the field—and hit it perfectly.

Thor looked back at the boy, mouth agape. He had never seen such a fine shot.

“How did you do that?” Thor asked.

The boy shrugged.

“In the jungle, you learn to fire. It is a way of life. With these other boys, it’s training. With me, it’s survival.”

Thor nodded back approvingly.

“You have proved me wrong,” he said. “Join the others.”

Ario smiled wide.

“Thank you, sire,” he said, elated. “I shall not let you down!”

Ario ran off and joined the others.

“Retrieve your arrows and fire again!” Thor boomed out, and they all broke into action.

“Thorgrin!”

Thor turned, recognizing the voice, and was surprised to see Erec and Kendrick standing there in their armor, facing him earnestly.

“Can you leave the Legion affairs for a few moments?” they asked. “We have business. Join us. We have an important matter to discuss with you.”

Thor wondered what the matter could be; they had never pulled him aside before.

Thor glanced back over his shoulder at the boys.

“Do not worry,” Kendrick said. “You will return to them shortly.”

Thor turned to the boys.

“Men, keep on firing!” he boomed out. “And don’t stop until I return.”

Thor turned and walked off with Kendrick and Erec, his heart pounding in suspense as he wondered where on earth these two men, whom he respected more than any men on earth, could be leading him.