A Cry of Honor Read online

Kendrick galloped, leaning low into the wind, his close friend Atme at his side, so grateful for the chance to fight with his brothers, to not miss this battle, and eager to liberate his home city from the McClouds—and to make them pay for invading. He rode with an urge for bloodshed, though even as he rode he knew that the real target of his wrath was not the McClouds but his brother, Gareth. He would never forgive him for imprisoning him, for accusing him of his father’s murder, for taking him away in front of his men—and for attempting to execute him. Kendrick wanted vengeance on Gareth—but since he could not have it, at least not today, he would take it out on the McClouds.

  When Kendrick returned to King’s Court, though, he would settle things. He would do whatever he could to oust his brother, and to instill his sister Gwendolyn as the new ruler.

  As they neared the sacked city, huge, billowing black clouds rolling towards them and filling Kendrick’s nostrils with acrid smoke, it pained him to see a MacGil city like this. If his father had still been alive, this would have never happened; if Gareth had not succeeded him, this would have never have happened either. It was a disgrace, a stain on the honor of the MacGils and The Silver. Kendrick prayed they were not too late to rescue these people, that the McClouds had not been here too long, and that too many people had not been injured or killed.

  He kicked his horse harder, riding out in front of the others, as they all charged, like a swarm of bees, towards the open-gate entrance to the city. They stormed through, Kendrick drawing his sword, preparing to encounter a host of the McCloud enemy as they charged into the city. He let out a great shout, as did all the men around him, steeling himself for impact.

  But as he passed through the gate, as he entered the dusty square of the city, he was stumped by what he saw: nothing. All around him were the telltale signs of an invasion—destruction, fires, looted homes, corpses piled, women crawling. There were animals killed, blood on the walls. It had been a massacre. The McClouds had ravaged these innocent folk. The thought of it made Kendrick sick. They were cowards.

  But what stumped Kendrick as he rode was that the McClouds were nowhere in sight. He could not understand it. It was as if the entire army had evacuated deliberately, as if they had known they were coming. Fires were still alight, and it was clear that they had been lit with a purpose.

  It was beginning to dawn on Kendrick that this was all a decoy. That the McClouds had wanted to lure the MacGil army to this place.

  But why?

  Kendrick suddenly spun, looked around, desperate to see if any of his men were missing, if any contingent had been lured away, to another spot. His mind was flooding with a new sense, a sense that this had all been arranged to cordon off a group of his men, to ambush them. He looked everywhere, wondering who was missing.

  And then it hit him. One person was missing. His squire.

  Thor.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thor sat on his horse, atop the hill, the group of Legion members and Krohn beside him, and looked out at the startling site before him: as far as the eye could see were McCloud troops, sitting on horseback, a vast and sprawling Army, clearly awaiting them. They had been set up. Forg must have led them here on purpose, must have betrayed them. But why?

  Thor swallowed, looking out at what appeared to be their sure death.

  A great battle cry rose up, as the McCloud army suddenly charged them. They were but a few hundred yards away, and closing in fast. Thor glanced back over his shoulder, but there were no reinforcements as far as he could see. They were completely alone.

  Thor knew they had no other choice but to make a last stand here, on this small hill, beside this deserted keep. It was impossible odds, and there was no way they could win. If he was going to go down, he would go down bravely, and face them all like a man. The Legion had taught him that much. Running was not an option, and Thor prepared himself to face his death.

  Thor turned and looked at his friends’ faces, and he could see they, too, were pale with fear; he saw death in their eyes. But to all of their credit, they remained brave. Not one of them flinched, even though their horses pranced, or made a move to turn and run. The Legion was one unit now. They were more than friends: the Hundred had forged them into one team of brothers. Not one of them would leave the other. They had all taken a vow, and their honor was at stake. And to the Legion, honor was more sacred than blood.

  “Gentlemen, I do believe we have a fight before us,” Reece announced slowly, as he reached over and drew his sword.

  Thor reached down and drew his sling, wanting to take out as many as he could before they reached them. O’Connor drew his short spear, while Elden hoisted his javelin; Conval raised a throwing hammer, and Conven a throwing pick. The other boys with them from the Legion, the ones Thor did not know, drew their swords and raised their shields. Thor could feel the fear in the air, and he felt it too, as the thunder of the horses grew, as the sound of the McClouds’ cry reached the heavens, sounding like a rolling clap of thunder about to hit them. Thor knew that they needed a strategy—but he did not know what.

  Beside Thor, Krohn snarled. Thor drew inspiration from Krohn’s fearlessness: he never whimpered or looked back once. In fact, the hairs rose on his back, and he slowly walked forward, as if to meet the army alone. Thor knew that in Krohn he had found a true battle companion.

  “Do you think the others will reinforce us?” O’Connor asked.

  “Not in time,” Elden answered. “We’ve been set up by Forg.”

  “But why?” Reece asked.

  “I don’t know,” Thor answered, stepping forward on his horse, “but I have a sinking feeling it has something to do with me. I think someone wants me dead.”

  Thor felt the others turn and look at him.

  “Why?” Reece asked.

  Thor shrugged. He did not know, but he had some inkling it had to do with all the machinations at King’s court, something to do with the assassination of MacGil. Most likely, it was Gareth. Perhaps he viewed Thor as a threat.

  Thor felt terrible for having endangered his brothers in arms, but there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do now was do his best to defend them.

  Thor had enough. He shouted and kicked his horse, and he burst forward at a gallop, charging out before the others. He would not wait here to be met by this army, by his death. He would take the first blows, maybe even divert the blows from his brothers in arms, and give them a chance to run if they decided to. If he was going to meet his death, he would meet it fearlessly, with honor.

  Shaking inside but refusing to show it, Thor kicked his horse and burst forward, farther and farther from the others, charging down the hill towards the advancing army. Beside him, Krohn sprinted, not missing a beat.

  Thor heard a shout, and behind him, his fellow Legion members raced to catch up. They were hardly twenty yards away, and they galloped after him, raising a battle cry. Thor remained way out in front, yet still, it felt good to have their support behind him.

  Before Thor a contingent of warriors broke out from the McCloud army, charging ahead to meet Thor, perhaps fifty men. They were a hundred yards ahead and closing in fast, and Thor pulled back his sling, took aim and hurled. He aimed for the lead warrior, a large man with a silver breastplate, and his aim was perfect. He hit the man at the base of the throat, between the plates of armor, and the man fell from his horse, landing on the ground before the others.

  As he fell, his horse fell with him, and the dozen horses behind him piled up, sending their soldiers hurling to the ground, face first.

  Before they could react, Thor placed another stone, reached back and hurled it. Again, his aim was true, and he hit one of the lead warriors in the temple, at the spot exposed from his raised faceplate, and knocked him sideways off his horse, into several other warriors, taking them down like dominoes.

  As Thor galloped, a javelin flew by his head, then a spear, then a throwing hammer and a throwing pick, and he knew his Legion brothers were supporting him. Their
aim was true, too, and their weapons took down the McCloud soldiers with deadly precision, several of them falling from the horses and crashing into others who fell with them.

  Thor was elated to see that they had already managed to take down dozens of McCloud soldiers, some of them with direct hits but most being tripped up by falling horses. The advance contingent of fifty men was now down on the ground, lying in great heaps of dust.

  But the McCloud army was strong, and now it was their turn to fight back. As Thor came within thirty yards of them, several threw weapons his way, too. A throwing hammer came right at his face, and Thor ducked at the last moment, the iron whizzing by his ear, missing by an inch. A spear came flying at him just as quickly and he ducked the other way, as the tip grazed the outside of his armor, luckily just missing him. A throwing pick came right for his face, and Thor raised his shield and blocked it. It stuck to his shield, and Thor reached over, pulled it off, and threw it back at his attacker. Thor’s aim was true, and it lodged in the man’s chest, piercing his chainmail; with a scream the man cried out and slumped over his horse, dead.

  Thor kept charging. He charged right into the thick of the army, into a sea of soldiers, prepared to meet his death. He shouted and raised his sword as he did, letting out a great battle cry; behind him, his brothers in arms did, too.

  With a great clash of arms, there came impact. A huge, full-grown warrior charged for him, raised a double-handed ax, and brought it down for Thor’s head. Thor ducked, the blade swinging by his head and slashed the soldier’s stomach as he rode past; the man screamed out, and slumped over on his horse. As he fell he dropped his battle ax, and it went flying end over end, into another McCloud horse, who shrieked and pranced, throwing off his rider into several others.

  Thor kept charging, right into the thick of the McCloud warriors, hundreds of them, cutting a path right through them, as one after the other swung at him with their swords, axes, maces, and he blocked with his shield or dodged them, slashing back, ducking and weaving, galloping right through. He was too quick, too nimble, for them, and they had not expected it. As a huge army, they could not maneuver fast enough to stop him.

  There rose up a great clash of metal all around him, as blows hailed down on him from every direction. He blocked one after the other with his shield and sword. But he could not stop them all. A sword slash grazed his shoulder, and he cried out in pain as it drew blood. Luckily the wound was shallow, and it did not prevent him from fighting. He continued to fight back.

  Thor, fighting with both hands, was surrounded by McCloud warriors, and soon the blows began to lighten, as other Legion members joined the pack. The clang of grew greater as the McCloud men fought against the Legion boys, swords striking shields, spears hitting horses, javelins being thrust into armor, men fighting in every way. Screams rang out on both sides.

  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 with his brothers now at his back, it 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, and Thor knew that in a moment, Reece 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, knocked 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 that 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 t
he image of him charging into battle, set up for a trap by Gareth, about to die. She felt she had to do something. 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 site 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, and they jumped up and looked at her, 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, she knew that 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 knew he lived high on the desolate, craggy planes. 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 his cottage, out of breath, and pounded on the door. There was no knob anywhere she could grab onto, but she knew this was his place.