A Rite of Swords

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Thor sat on the upper parapets of the castle, the Destiny Sword in his lap, twisting and turning it, examining it in the early morning light. The Sword sparkled, illuminated in all different colors, long and smooth, nearly translucent, made of a metal he could not understand. The hilt, solid gold, felt like butter in his palm, making his hand mold to it completely, as if he had always held it, as if he and the Sword were one. Along the edge of the hilt were embedded small rubies, and the blade was engraved with an ancient inscription he did not understand.

As he studied it, Thor wondered. The Sword felt positively ancient, and he wondered who had forged it, who had wielded it in the past, how it had gotten here. He wondered about its history. He wondered about its future. He wondered about his own future. He reflected on all they had gone through to get the Sword, on their quest, crossing the Canyon, crossing the Tartuvian, the hostile Empire, its jungles and deserts and mountains and slave cities and dragons…

All for this. This blade, this piece of metal that he held in his hand. He thought of the lives lost, and saw the faces of his friends, floating in the water. He thought of all the dead in the Ring, of Andronicus’ invasion…all for this Sword. What was it about this singular weapon?

Thor thought of all the Empire warriors he had killed with it since his return. As he had wielded it, it had felt more like it had been wielding him. He did not understand it. And Thor feared things he did not understand.

Most of all, he contemplated Aberthol’s ominous words, which rang in his head, which had kept him up all night, which had drawn him back up here, to these parapets, before dawn, to find solace, time to reflect: the legend that the wielding of the Sword would be short-lived.

Did that mean he would be defeated? That he would die soon? Without the Sword, who would he be? What would become of the Shield? Of the Ring?

Thor knew he had powers in his own right. Yet none of his powers matched those of the Sword. Already, he felt one and the same with it. He felt invincible now. What could possibly bring him down?

Thor felt the ring in his pocket, determined to propose to Gwendolyn as soon as she woke. First, though, he needed to tell her. The time had come. Before he embarked on a mission to kill his father, Gwendolyn must know who he was.

How would she react? Badly, he feared. Would that mean the end of their relationship?

Thor looked up at the breaking light of dawn, the Sword glistening, making his grey eyes sparkle, and he thought of the day’s battle ahead. Today was the day he would destroy the remainder of Andronicus’ army—and Andronicus himself. His own father. He did not know how he felt about that. He wanted him dead, more than anything in the world. But he also, he had to admit, wanted a father in this world. A part of him felt conflicted about murdering his own father. Why was this destiny thrust upon him?

Thor knew that when the time came, he would not hesitate. He would kill him. But he wished it could be otherwise, wished he could have a different sort of father. He wished he had a father he could meet for the first time in a fatherly embrace—not in an act of violence.

“There you are,” came a voice.

Thor wheeled to see Gwendolyn standing at the entrance to the parapets, smiling, sleepy, her hair tousled, Krohn by her side, looking at him with love. Gwen approached and Krohn hurried over and jumped on him, licking him.

Thor smiled, re-sheathed the Sword, walked over, and met Gwendolyn in an embrace, happy to have this welcome distraction from his dark thoughts.

“Dawn breaks,” she said, “and all our men await you down below, in the Great Hall. It is a big day of battle and they want to convene with you before you begin your attack.”

Thor nodded. He had expected as much, and he turned and walked with Gwendolyn.

The two of them left the parapets, re-entered the castle and marched down the halls, Krohn beside them. They held hands silently as they walked, Thor’s heart thumping in his chest, with so many things he wanted to tell her. He needed to tell her that he wanted to be with her forever. That he wanted her to have his mother’s ring. And who his true father was.

But his heart pounded more and more, and he found himself unable to say any of these things. Their time was too rushed.

Finally, as they descended a flights of steps and turned a corridor, Thor mustered the courage. It was now or never.

“Gwendolyn, there is something I must tell you,” he said, his voice shaking.

She looked at him with a worried glance.

He opened his mouth to speak, and as he was about to utter the words, suddenly, two huge doors opened. Thor and Gwendolyn turned and saw before them the Great Hall, a huge chamber, a hundred feet wide and high, lined with the arms and banners of all the great warriors. In its center sat a long, rectangular table, and around this, there sat and stood hundreds of warriors. All of them looked to Thor expectantly.

Thor paused at the door, as Gwendolyn looked at him, waiting.

Now, he knew, was not the right time.

“We shall talk afterwards,” he said.

He turned and took her hand, and the two of them entered the hall together. As they did, the men stood and banged the hilts of their swords on the table, a cacophony of noise, and a sign of respect.

“Thorgrinson!” they chanted.

As Thor approached, finally they quieted down. He was embraced by Kendrick, Srog, Godfrey, Reece, Elden, O’Connor, and Conven, along with several other brave warriors. The new Legion members were there too, Serna and Krog, as well as dozens of members of the Silver and of MacGil’s army. It was a large and formidable force.

“Thorgrinson,” Srog said as the crowd quieted. “Silesia’s soldiers await your disposal. And thousands more await us outside this hall.”

“And all of the Silver, and all of MacGil’s army,” Kendrick added. “You are the army’s leader now.”

Thor shook his head, as he clasped Kendrick’s shoulder.

“You are their leader,” he said. “I am but a simple boy with a dragon and a sword, and I shall do whatever I can in service to the Ring.”

Kendrick smiled.

“We will accompany you, when you attack Andronicus,” Kendrick said, “we will ride alongside, on the ground below you. You will be faster, with your dragon, but we will ride hard, and will not be far behind. As you have Andronicus’ men on the run, we will pursue on the ground, and finish off whatever men you cannot kill. As powerful as you are, even with your dragon and your sword, there are too many places—caves and nooks and crannies—where Andronicus’ men can hide.”

Thor nodded.

“I shall be honored to have you join me in battle. You are right: even with all the might in the world, I cannot do it alone. And I can think of no greater honor than to fight alongside this army.”

“After today,” Srog said, “Andronicus and his men will be no more. At the end of this day’s battle, the Ring will be free and the Empire driven back to the sea!”

“HEAR, HEAR!” came the huge shout of approval from the knights in the room.

Thor surveyed their faces, all battle-hardened men, men he had grown up hearing of and respecting, and he felt honored to be in their presence.

Thor was about to respond when, suddenly, the doors to the room burst open, and in rushed a man Thor dimly recognized. All heads turned as he strutted into the room, out of breath, marching right up to the table.

It was Bronson. Luanda’s husband.

“Forgive me, great soldiers, for intruding,” Bronson announced, gasping, trying to catch his breath. He stood there, wearing an eye patch.

“I come carrying great news,” Bronson said. “Urgent news. News that will affect this day’s events. I’ve ridden all the way from the far side of the Highlands. I was sent here by Luanda. She has spoken to Andronicus, and he has offered his surrender!”

A surprised murmur broke out amongst the room, as the knights turned and murmured amongst themselves.

“Of course he wants to surrender,” one shouted. “He’s outnumbered! And a day from death!”

“I don’t believe Andronicus would ever surrender!” another shouted.

“What choice does he have?” another called out.

“Silence!” Srog yelled, and eventually the hall quieted down enough for all eyes to focus back on Bronson.

“He said he will surrender personally,” Bronson said.

“Under what conditions?” Kendrick asked.

“He said he will surrender to Thorgrin and to Thorgrin alone. And that his armies must be allowed to leave the Ring unharmed.”

An agitated murmur broke out amongst the knights, as they looked at each other, puzzled.

“That sounds like a fair offer,” Brom said. “He wants to save his men.”

“That doesn’t sound like Andronicus,” said another.

“What choice does he have?” asked another. “He is probably being pressured by his generals. He has a half-million men and there is but one of him, and they have seen the damage Thor can do.”

“Why should we agree?” called out another. “What do we gain by letting them go free? Now is the time to kill them all!”

“With Andronicus our prisoner, and the Shield up, we have nothing to fear from his men. We would save bloodshed, ours, too. No lives will be lost today. After all, he still has half a million men next to our ten thousand.”

Arguing broke out amongst the men, as Thor stood there, listening, taking it all in.

“Even if we agree,” said Kendrick, “for Thor to go alone, it doesn’t seem right.”

“And how do we know you are not lying?” Godfrey asked Bronson.

All eyes turned back to Bronson.

“Yes, how do we know we can trust you?” Reece asked. “After all, you are a McCloud.”

“I am a MacGil now,” Bronson insisted. “I reject the McClouds. I reject my father. After all, he is the one who has maimed me. I fought for you valiantly during the siege of Silesia, and I have no reason to stain my honor. I vow with every ounce of my being that I tell the truth. I am a knight, as are you. We may have fought on other sides of battle, but we all adhere to the same code of honor.”

Bronson spoke with the utmost sincerity and Thor could see he was not lying.

“What could Thor have to fear anyway?” Elden asked. “With Mycoples by his side and the Destiny Sword in hand, all of Andronicus’ men could do him no harm.”

“I say we accept his surrender,” Srog said.

Kendrick slammed his fist on the table and the room quieted.

“The offer is Thor’s and Thor’s alone to accept or reject. It is his life that is risked for us all.”

Thor stood there, listening, wondering. On the one hand, he would gladly risk his life for the Ring; on the other, something felt wrong to him. He was not sure what. Then again, as they’d said, what could Andronicus possibly do to him? With Mycoples and the Sword, he felt invincible.

“I would rather kill Andronicus than accept his surrender,” Thor replied. “But if that is your wish, then I will honor it. I will go.”

There came a cheer from the group of knights.

“I will accept his surrender,” Thor said, “and I will make sure that every last one of his soldiers leaves the Ring.”

“No!” Gwendolyn called out.

The room grew silent as they turned and looked at her.

“You must not go,” she said to Thor. “It is not fair that you and you alone should risk your life.”

Thor turned to her, touched by her concern.

“My lady,” Srog said, “we do not wish to endanger Thorgrin, either. But how can he possibly be hurt?”

Gwendolyn shook her head.

“Send somebody else. Thorgrin had just returned from risking his life for the Ring. He has done enough.”

The room fell silent, and Thor looked at Gwendolyn, overcome with love for her. But she still did not understand. For Thor, this was more than just about confronting an enemy: it was about confronting his father. And that was something she would never understand until he told her. The time had come.

He took Gwendolyn’s hand, leaned over and kissed her fingers, and said softly:

“There’s something I need to tell you. Let us talk alone.”

Thor took Gwen’s hand and guided her from the room, to the puzzled stares of hundreds. They walked down a corridor, until they came to the privacy of a small chamber. They stepped inside, and the attendants closed the door behind them.

“You can’t trust him,” she insisted, turning to him, impassioned. “Fight him. Kill him. But do not go alone to accept his surrender. Perhaps I’m being selfish. But I have had you taken away from me once already, and I did not think you would ever come back. My life felt like it was over. Now that you are here, I feel reborn again, and I can’t have you risk your life again. I’m sorry. But let someone else go. Andronicus needn’t only to surrender to you. He could surrender to anyone. I don’t know what his fixation is with you. Please. Let anyone go but you.”

Thor slowly shook his head.

“I love you, Gwendolyn,” he said. “More than I could say. And I’m deeply touched by your care for me. But I must accept Andronicus’ surrender. It may spare the lives of thousands of our men in battle. Those men’s deaths will be on my own head. I must go. My honor compels me.”

Gwendolyn began to cry.

“You cannot go,” she insisted. “Not now. There’s too much at stake. It is not just about you.”

She cried, and Thor felt his heart breaking. He reached up and laid a hand on her shoulder and looked at her, confused.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

He sensed there was something she was not telling him, something she desperately wanted him to know, and he could not understand what it was.

“I sense you are withholding something from me,” he said. “Tell me what it is. Why shouldn’t I go?”

Gwendolyn looked at him, and he felt her about to say something—but then she turned abruptly, wiping tears away, and looked out the window instead.

“I am sorry for crying,” she said. “It is not Queen-like.”

Thor walked up to her and lay a hand on her shoulder.

“You are more Queen-like than anyone I’ve ever met,” he said.

She smiled back at him.

Thor swallowed, his heart thumping, knowing that the time had come to tell her. He could withhold it from her no longer.

“Gwendolyn,” he began, clearing his throat, “there’s another reason I alone must go to meet Andronicus.”

Thor swallowed hard, not wanting to say the words, but knowing he had to.

“It is more complicated than you think,” he continued. “There is a reason why he wants to surrender to me, and to me alone.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

“What are you speaking of?” she asked.

“You see,” he began, then stopped. “I…have learned something. Something which…I wish I had never learned. There is nothing I can do to change it. And it compels me to take the action that I must.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

She looked at him, baffled, and Thor’s heart was slamming, his throat dry. He was terrified that once he uttered the words, it would ruin their relationship forever.

“There is a reason why I must meet Andronicus…” he said, “…a reason why I must be the one to kill him.”

“To avenge me?” Gwendolyn asked.

Thor swallowed.

“Yes, to avenge you,” he said. “But for another reason as well.”

She stared into his eyes, and he stood there, trembling, wanting to get out the words, forcing himself.

“You see, Gwendolyn…” he said, then stopped.

Finally, he took a deep breath and uttered the words:

“Andronicus is my father.”

Gwendolyn stared at him, frozen, and blinked several times, completely shocked. It seemed as if, at first, she could not even process his words.

But then her stare widened, her eyes grew larger, and her mouth dropped open. She raised a hand to her open mouth, and involuntarily took several steps back, away from Thor.

Thor could see the horror and loathing in her expression, almost as if she were staring back at Andronicus himself. And his heart was crushed at the sight.

“It cannot be,” she whispered.

Thor nodded grimly.

“It is. He is my father.”

Fresh tears rolled down Gwen’s cheeks as she stared at him with whole new eyes, as if staring at a monster. Thor could not help but feel as if things would never be the same between them.

“Gwendolyn—” he began.

“Leave me!” she snapped, her voice ugly, filled with venom and hate.

“LEAVE ME!” she screamed.

Thor looked back at her, saw the anger in her eyes, and felt his entire world collapsing. He had nothing left to live for.

Thor turned on his heel and left the room, no longer caring whether he lived or not. There was only one place left for him in the world now:

It was time to meet his father.