A Vow of Glory

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Thor stood alone in a vast field of scarlet flowers, lit by a blood red sunset. Over his head, somewhere high up, circled Estopheles, screeching. Up ahead, in the distance, there was a lone figure, lying limp in the grass. He could not tell who it was.

Thor walked towards it, his heart pounding as he went. The sky darkened with each step, and he felt an increasing sense of foreboding. Something inside told him it was the body of someone he loved.

As he approached, he could tell, from the flowing white lace spilled on the ground, that it was a woman. He saw her long, blonde hair, spilling out around her shoulders, with dread, and before he reached her, he knew who it was.

Gwendolyn.

Thor reached out with a trembling hand, grabbed her shoulder, and slowly turned her over, afraid to see what he might find. He was breathless at the site.

There Gwendolyn lay, her body covered in blood, not moving.

Thor began to weep uncontrollably, unable to stop himself. He leaned down, scooped her up in his arms, stood, and leaned back and shouted to the heavens.

“NO!” Thor shouted.

His cry soared up, echoing, reaching to the very heavens, as he held her limp, in his arms, the love of his life. The one woman who had meant more to him than anyone he had ever known. The woman he had planned on marrying. Somehow, dead. And he not there to save her.

“NO!” he shrieked again.

Thor’s cry was met by a screech, as Estopheles circled and swooped down, claws out, right for his face.

Thor woke breathing hard, sitting straight up, looking all around, his heart slamming in his chest. Disoriented, he had a hard time discerning what was real, where he was.

Thor gradually realized that he was still in the boat, that he had fallen asleep in it—that all his Legion brothers had. The whole group of them were lying there, sleeping, as the boat slowly drifted down the river, carried on the slow current. He tried to remember, wondering how long they had been sleeping, how far they had drifted, where they were going. He felt as if they had been on this journey forever.

Thor took a deep breath, thinking of his dream, of Gwendolyn, trying to shake the awful image. It had seemed so real. Too real. The image terrified him.

He knew it was just a dream, yet at the same time he sensed that it was more than that. He sensed, in every fabric of his body, that she was in danger. That something horrible had happened to her.

It tore him up inside. More than ever he wanted to jump from the boat and run to her, to rescue her from whatever it was.

But he was a world away, and there was nothing he could do. He had never felt more helpless. A part of him hated himself for going on this quest. Should he have stayed behind?

Thor sat up straighter, and Krohn sat up beside him, whining, leaning his head into Thor’s chest as Thor stroked him. Krohn kept whining, and Thor knew that Krohn sensed it, too, that Krohn, too, knew that something had happened to Gwendolyn. After all, Krohn was almost as attached to her as Thor was.

Thor felt a pit in his stomach that would not go away. He felt as if he had abandoned her in her time of need.

Thor looked up and saw yet another breaking dawn here on this side of the world; it broke as a day of gloom. There was no sun to be seen anywhere, only thick black clouds, with a muted light struggling to appear through them. They floated past vast stretches of wasteland, nothing but those dead black trees everywhere, those eerie birds, staring back, watching them. Apparently they did not sing in the morning. Instead, they watched them silently, their glowing eyes moving slowly, following the tides of the boat.

Thor looked straight ahead, and as he did, he was surprised to see that the river was coming to an end. In a few feet, their boat slammed into land, startling him, and waking the others.

The others all sat up with a jolt, one by one, and looked around, startled. Without waiting, Thor gained his feet, walked to the front of the boat and jumped onto dry land, Krohn on his heels. The other boys followed him.

“Where are we?” Reece asked, jumping onto dry land beside him, looking around in wonder.

“Is this where the river ends?” O’Connor asked.

“I have no idea,” Thor said.

The three brothers jumped off the boat, too, Drake holding out the map and looking around.

“Is this where your golden map has lead us?” Indra asked sarcastically.

“We are exactly where we are supposed to be,” Drake answered defensively.

“And where is that, exactly?” she said. “In the middle of nowhere?”

“Actually, our destination is close,” Dross said, leaning in. “According to this map, it’s not much farther now.”

“Follow us,” Drake said, setting off with his two brothers.

“I don’t like this place,” Conval said to Conven, standing close.

Thor was just thinking the same thing. It was hard to see far ahead, with the thick fog rolling in and out. He could only catch glimpses of the trees, of a barren wasteland.

After trekking for some time, finally, the fog cleared, and Thor spotted a huge, circular clearing open up before them. The landscape changed abruptly from dirt to a purple grass, as if one land was being demarcated by the other. It was as if they stood at an intersection: in one direction was a land of green, in another a yellow desert.

“What is this place?” Elden asked.

“It looks like a crossroads of sorts,” Reece said.

“The crossroads of the dead,” Indra said. “From here the land leads to three terrains. It is the edge of the underworld.”

“Now what?” Thor asked, turning to Drake.

But something strange happened: as Thor turned to look at Drake, he saw the three brothers suddenly retreating, taking several steps backwards, away from the others.

Before Thor could process what was happening, the fog lifted again, and he suddenly saw, bearing down on them, a hundred Empire soldiers.

Before Thor could reach to draw his sword, he felt himself pounced upon from behind, grabbed by several soldiers and slammed down to the floor. All around him, his Legion brothers were ambushed, too.

In the blink of an eye, they were captured and bound, rendered helpless. They had been setup.

Everyone, except for Drake and Dross and Durs. The Empire did not touch them.

The three brothers came forward and stood over Thor. All with malicious smiles across their faces.

Thor could not believe it. He had been betrayed. By his own brothers.

“I trusted you,” Thor said to Drake.

Drake smiled and shook his head.

“You never had good judgment,” he responded.

“But why?” Reece asked. “Why would you betray us? Your own Legion brothers?”

“You are not our brothers,” Dross answered, then turned to Thor. “And especially you. We have waited half our lives to see you dead. And now your day has come.”

“Say goodbye, little brother,” Durs said.

He drew his sword with a distinctive ring, as the Empire soldiers held Thor down tight.

Thor tried to struggle, but it was useless. There was something about these ropes that nullified his power. He could not even muster the strength to squirm.

He had nothing left to do but watch helplessly as Durs stepped forward and raised his sword high, aiming for Thor’s exposed neck. Thor knew that his time had come.

And he had but one wish left in the world: if only he could see Gwendolyn again.