Morgan Rice - A Grant of Arms

“In the morning, we will find and kill whomever remains of your former friends,” Andronicus stated.

“I am at your service, my father,” Thor said.

Andronicus was mollified at the words. He turned and looked over at Thornicus.

“I owe you a great debt. No one has saved my life before. Tell me what I can give you in return. Name it. Anything in the Empire is yours.”

Thor gazed out for a long time, as if lost in another world, and Andronicus wondered if he would ever reply.

Then, finally, Thor spoke softly:

“My mother’s ring,” he said.

Andronicus looked down at him in surprise.

“It was stolen from me by one of your men,” Thor said. “I want it back.”

Andronicus nodded.

“You shall have it.”

Andronicus snapped his fingers, one of his generals came running, and Andronicus whispered in his ear, and shoved him off. The general turned and sprinted, rushing to execute his command.

“It will be found quickly, my son,” Andronicus said. “Or else the general himself will be dead by morning.”

Thor nodded, pleased.

“I will also torture and execute personally the man who stole it from you,” Andronicus said.

“I do not need anyone tortured or executed,” Thor said. “I just want it back.”

“They will be tortured and executed whether you like it or not,” Andronicus said back firmly. “That is my way. Soon, it will be your way, too.”

Andronicus sighed.

“In the morning, we will battle and crush the remainder of your former people, and then our kingdom will be complete. Side by side, together, we will rule it forever.”

Thornicus turned and stared back at his father, and Andronicus sensed complete agreement in him.

“There is nothing I would cherish more, my father.”

Thornicus lay on the ground in the black of night, close to Andronicus and the rest of the Empire soldiers, beside the crackling bonfire, lying on the cold dirt and rocks. He dreamt troubled dreams.

Thor found himself standing in an open field, looking out, prepared for battle. Before him were thousands of men on horseback, and as he looked closer, he noticed they all sat oddly, slumped over to one side. He looked even closer, and realized that they were all corpses. Crows landed on them, picking at them.

Thor walked his horse between them and saw that these were all men of the Western Kingdom, all great warriors whom he had once trained with. His heart broke.

Amidst them, their walked a single person, walking out slowly to greet him. A woman. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, dressed in luminescent blue robes, and she walked slowly across the field, and reached out a hand to him.

“Thorgrin, my love,” she said. “Come to me.”

Thor squinted and realized it was Gwendolyn. He mounted his horse and tried to ride towards her, but his horse would not move. He looked down and saw that it was stuck in the mud.

“Thorgrin,” she called. “I need you.”

Thor finally broke his horse free and charged, galloping through the fields for her.

But as he reached her, she disappeared.

Thor looked about and saw that he was no longer on a battlefield, but in a wide-open desert. Riding towards him was a sole warrior, bedecked in shining gold armor, the sun radiating behind so brightly that Thor had to squint.

They rode toward each other and came to stop but a few feet away, Thor squinting, trying to see who it was against the glare of the sun.

“Who are you?” Thor called out. “Announce yourself!”

“It is me, father,” the proud warrior said. “Your son.”

The warrior removed his helmet, revealing golden hair—but the light shining behind him was so fierce, Thor could not make out his features.

Thor felt humbled at the words, ashamed that he was facing him in battle.

“My son?” he asked, shocked. “How can it be?”

Thor threw his sword down to the ground and prepared to dismount, to embrace his son.

But the boy suddenly raised a long spear, cried out, and charged toward Thor, aiming to pierce it through his chest.

Thor blinked, and found himself lying on his back, tied to a rowboat, floating in a vast ocean. The huge, rolling waves bobbed him up and down, and he was exhausted, parched, as he looked up at the passing sky. As he floated he saw a steep cliff come into view, at the ocean’s edge, with a castle perched at its peak; he saw a footbridge leading up to it, and at the top, looking down, he saw his mother. A shining blue light emanated from her, and she reached out a single hand.

“My Thorgrin,” she said, “return to me.”

Thorgrin tried to break his bonds with all his might, to reach for her. But he could not.

“I have strayed too far, mother,” he said weakly.

“It is not too late,” she said. “You have the power to return.”

“Mother!” he screamed out, “I can’t break free. My bonds are too strong!”

“You can, Thorgrin,” she said. “You have the strength. You can!”

Thor struggled with all his might, and this time, something was different. This time, he heard his leather bonds groan, then finally snap.

Thor reached up with his free hand, and as he did, his mother reached down for him. For the first time, he touched her hand. It carried a strength unlike any he had ever felt. There she was, her hand grasping his, pulling him up. He felt an overwhelming strength infuse his body. He felt all his bonds breaking. He felt himself being lifted up into the sky, soaring higher and higher, for her castle, for home.

“Mother,” he said, so relieved.

She smiled back.

“You are home now, my son. You are home now.”

Thor opened his eyes and sat up with a start, looking all about him. Something felt different inside him. Something had changed.

Dawn was breaking, and all around him were Empire soldiers, slowly rousing, preparing for the day, for the battle ahead. Thor looked up to see Andronicus approaching him. But no longer did Thor view the Empire soldiers as colleagues; and no longer did he see Andronicus as his father. Now, he had a whole new perspective; he had a moment of clarity. He saw them all as the enemy. And he saw his father as the enemy he was.

Andronicus approached, smiling, and held out his palm. Thor looked down and saw his mother’s ring.

“I promised you, my son,” Andronicus said. “And I always keep my promises.”

Andronicus reached down and placed the ring in Thor’s palm.

As he did, Thor felt an overwhelming strength race through him. He also felt a sense of clarity. He was Thorgrin, of the Western Kingdom of the Ring. He was a member of the Legion, loyal to MacGil, and he was fighting to free the Ring. And all of these men about him, they were all the enemy.

Thor drew his sword, and he suddenly charged. Andronicus lay before him, and Thor was determined.

It was time to kill his father.

Kendrick charged down the steep slope of the Highlands in the breaking dawn, into the thick mist, red sunlight of the first sun flooding the valley, Erec, Bronson, and Srog beside him, and thousands of men behind them, as they all charged for the division of Empire soldiers in the valley below. Thus far, their strategy of hit-and-run had been a success: they had attacked Highlandia, wiped out a small division of Andronicus’ men, and had taken shelter back in the mountains. They had been lucky, though, that Romulus had attacked when he had. Kendrick did not know if they could have won otherwise, especially with Thor fighting at Andronicus’ side.

It still rattled Kendrick to the core, the image of Thor riding out to greet him in battle. It left a pit in his stomach. How could Kendrick possibly face his comrade, his brother-in-arms, in battle? What would he have done if Thor had attacked him? What had they done to change Thor?