A Charge of Valor

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Thor rode the camel-like animals, Krohn in his lap and Reece, O’Connor, Conven, Elden and Indra riding beside him, the group of them charging through the vast expanse of salt fields, stirring up clouds of white dust, as they had been for hours. Driven by adrenaline, by fear of those monsters, none of them had even thought about slowing as they galloped for hours, zigzagging in and out of danger, narrowly avoiding hole after hole as one monster after the next had emerged to snap at them. Luckily, the animals they rode were well-trained and just fast enough to save their lives. Thor looked at Indra with appreciation once again; they would have not survived if she had not shown up when she did.

It had been hours since they’d passed the final hole in the desert floor, and yet still none of them had slowed, driven by fear. But now the second sun was beginning to set, there had been no sign of danger for hours, and finally, up ahead, they saw the first structure on the horizon, the first shape in this empty landscape to break up the monotony of nothingness.

They all stopped together and sat there on their animals, breathing hard, staring out at it together.

“What is it?” O’Connor asked.

“A town,” Indra answered.

“But who would live out here?” Elden asked.

Indra smiled.

“Me,” she said.

They all turned and looked at her, shocked.

“Not anymore, of course,” she said. “But it’s where I grew up.”

Thor looked at it with wonder, this small town on the horizon in the midst of nothing.

“I would extend you all a formal invitation,” she said, “but I don’t have a quill and parchment.”

Indra screamed and kicked her animal, and she charged forward. They all kicked, too, and raced to catch up with her.

As they closed the distance, Indra’s town came into view. Thor was excited to encounter an actual town in this desolate landscape, and his mind raced imagining what the town could be like, who lived there, what her people were like. He also wondered how they could survive out here, in the middle of nowhere.

That question was answered as they all approached the town wall, and Thor saw for himself: the town was abandoned. A small town, it was comprised of but a few dozen small cottages, all built of a white, hard substance that looked like dried salt, most of them dilapidated and crumbling. The town did not have a soul in it.

A lonely wind whipped through, sending large thorn bushes tumbling end over end, and they all slowed to a walk as they followed Indra through, Thor looking for any sign of life.

“There’s no one here,” Elden finally said.

“There was once,” Indra said. “The Empire came and took us all away, as slaves. I vowed to never return. This place was bad enough, even when we were free. It was terribly boring, another suffocating small town on the edge of the Empire. It was the most dull and monotonous life you could imagine. In some ways, the Empire did us a favor to clear us all out of here. Not that being a slave was fun. It sucked. But living here was worse.”

Thor was taken aback by Indra’s candor, and by her strength. She called things for how she saw them, and she never minced words.

“The only saving grace of this place,” Indra said, as they all continued to walk through on their animals, “is that these walls keep the insects out at night and they slow the wind. At night, the wind can get really bad. And the dwellings provided shade overhead. Otherwise, there’s nothing to redeem this place.”

“But I don’t understand,” Elden said, as they continued to walk through, doors hanging crookedly off their hinges, items left in the streets, clearly showing a people who had left in haste. “Why was this town ever here to begin with? I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere. What justification could there be to live out here?”

“Right over there,” she said, gesturing with her chin.

They all turned and looked and there, beside the town, were several dozen small caves. Large crops of rock rose from the ground, into which were carved huge holes, disappearing somewhere inside. The overhangs were all white, and it looked as if they had been covered in years of salt.

“The salt mines,” Indra explained, dismounting from her animal and leading it by the reigns.

They all followed and dismounted, too. Thor let Krohn down gently, then he stretched his aching legs. After so many hours, it felt good to be on his feet again.

“People moved here for the same reason they move everywhere,” Indra added, as they all walked on foot. “Money. There was a salt boom, back when I was young. People came here and mined until their fingernails fell off. They used pickaxes, shovels, chisels, anything they could get their hands on. This was where the finest salts were. They made more money than you can imagine.”

She shook her head.

“When the mines dried up and salt became cheap, life became harder and harder. Most people moved away. Not my family. My father,” she said, shaking her head, “was stubborn to the end. He kept insisting that good times would come back here, that things would be like they once were. He refused to see the reality before him. He refused to leave. I was about to run away. Until the Empire came along.”

Indra walked forward and kicked an empty bowl, sending it across the landscape.

“Ironic that I should find myself back here. It is also the only town between here and the Land of the Dragons. I told myself I’d never step foot in it again. But for you knuckleheads, here I am.”

They followed her lead as she tied her animal to a post, each of them securing theirs. Thor came over to her.

“You saved our lives back there,” Thor said, as the others gathered around. “We owe you a great debt.”

“And it is not the first time,” Reece added.

“We shall find some way,” O’Connor said.

Indra shook her head.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “After all, you saved me from boredom. What would I be doing back there? Figuring out somewhere else to go, something else to do. I’ve been a slave so long I don’t even remember how to live life. At least you guys are interesting. You’re all just reckless enough to be fun. Even with that stupid quest of yours.”

Elden stepped forward and lowered his head, bashful. Thor could see him blush.

“I, for one,” he said to her softly, “am very happy you returned.”

He looked up at her and smiled, and for the first time Thor could see the little boy inside him. It was jarring, juxtaposed with his huge muscular frame.

Indra smiled, then turned away.

“You are not so bad yourself,” she said.

Indra suddenly strutted across the small courtyard in the center of town, looking flustered, and quickly changed the topic.

“The sun will set soon,” she said. “It will be blacker than black out here. Help me gather wood, and milk. The sun sets fast out here, so follow me.”

They followed her out the other side of the town and back into the desert, which, on this side of the town wall, was dotted with strange, cactus-like plans, each about ten feet tall, in all different colors.

“What are these?” O’Connor asked.

“Qurum,” she said. “The wood inside the qurum is dry, perfect for burning.” She approached one as they followed. “If you can get past the thorns. Can I borrow your axe?” she asked Elden.

Elden stepped forward without hesitating and, too proud to let her do it and wanting to show off, he raised his axe and chopped off one side of the qurum, cutting all the thorns off at once and making one side flush and flat. It exposed the dark brown wood inside—but it also began leaking a white liquid all over the floor.

Indra shook her head.

“You are too impatient,” she said. “Now you’ve ruined it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I cut off its thorns, like you said.”

She shook her head.

“You cut too deep into it. See that liquid? That’s qurum milk. We want to collect that. Now it’s wasted. When you cut the thorns, cut just enough.”

The qurum slowly stopped leaking, then before their eyes it wilted, collapsing down to the floor.

She walked to another, a few feet away, and this time she snatched the axe from Elden’s hand, raised it high, and sliced one side of a qurum herself. She did it with perfect aim, slicing only the thorns, and this time the qurum did not wilt.

Indra then went expertly around the qurum, chopping off the thorns on all four sides, then chopped off its base, separating it from the earth. She handed Elden back his axe, then reached down and hoisted it. It looked like a large log.

“Your dagger,” she said, holding out a hand.

Thor stepped forward and placed a dagger in her hand, and she reached up and poked a small hole in it; as she did, white milk began to bubble up.

“Your helmet, quick,” she said.

She grabbed O’Connor’s helmet and turned it upside down, and collected all the milk as it flowed. Soon she had a large bowl full of milk.

“Can you drink it?” Thor asked, examining it.

She nodded.

“It’s sweet,” she answered. “And filling. It’s a complete meal in just a few sips. It also has qualities. It relaxes you. It puts you in a bit of an altered state, if you have too much. Kind of like drinking wine. You’ll feel good,” she said, smiling. “We call it truth serum. Because usually when people drink it, they say what’s on their mind. Whether they mean to or not.”

She turned and handed Elden the qurum.

“It’s heavy,” she said. “You can carry it back.”

“This isn’t heavy,” he said. “I can carry more of these.”

She smiled.

“Good, then get to work. We will need about ten of them to make it through the night.”

The boys fanned out, each going to another qurum and using their swords and daggers to strip the thorns and bring the logs back.

As Thor worked on his, he looked over at Conven standing beside him, and saw how red his eyes were; he could tell how distraught he was. Conven had barely spoken a word since his brother had died, and his actions seemed desperate and reckless, and Thor feared for his state of mind.

Thor came up beside him, ostensibly to assist him on his qurum, but really to see if he could help him.

Thor stood there for a while, scraping the thorns on the other side of Conven’s qurum; Conven barely seemed to notice, or to care. After some time passed, Thor asked: “Are you okay?”

Conven nodded, not meeting Thor’s eyes as he continued to cut away at the qurum.

Thor cleared his throat. He wondered what to say to make him feel better.

“I loved Conval, too, like a brother,” Thor said.

Conven kept cutting, with no reaction.

Thor tried again.

“I’m sorry he’s gone,” Thor said. “I can’t imagine the suffering you’re going through. I just want you to know that I am here. We are all here for you.”

Conven continued to look down, refusing to meet Thor’s eyes. He kept cutting away, and for a while Thor thought he would not respond. Then, finally, he said, in a quiet, raspy voice:

“He liked you.”

Thor looked at Conven, surprised, and Conven finally raised his eyes, fiery red, and stared back into his.

“You were one of the few people he admired,” Conven added.

Thor shook his head.

“I feel like I let him down,” Thor said. “I never should have trusted the three brothers. If I hadn’t, maybe he’d be alive today.”

Conven shook his head.

“You didn’t let him down,” he said. “I did.”

Thor did not understand what he meant by that. Conven reached up and played with his dagger, watching it gleam in the last light of the sun.

“But that’s okay,” Conven added. “Because I’ll be joining him soon enough anyway.”

Thor looked back at him with concern; he was about to say something, when Conven suddenly turned and hurried off, making his way to another qurum.

Thor figured he shouldn’t press him any further; clearly, Conven wanted to be left alone.

Thor turned and headed over to another qurum, a yellow one, and raised his sword to chop it as he had the others—when suddenly Indra’s voice rang out:

“NOT THAT ONE!” she screamed, panicked.

All the others stopped and looked at Thor, and he turned, sword in mid-air, and looked at Indra. She came running over to him and yanked back his wrist, looking at him in fear.

“Don’t touch the yellow ones,” she said, looking from him to the qurum with worry.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Poisonous,” she said. “If it’s cut, it sprays a liquid. The person cutting it will die within about two seconds.”

Thor turned and looked at the yellow qurum sitting innocently before him, and gulped. Would the dangers in this Empire ever cease?

Thor sat with the others around the raging bonfire, the flames moving every which way as the cold gusts ripped through the desert night. Thor was grateful for the warmth. Indra had been right: the desert grew oddly cold at nighttime, and the wind was much stronger. He had thought it was overkill to bring back all those logs—but now he realized it was necessary. The blazing bonfire was the only thing keeping them warm from the icy cold in this desolate wilderness.

The group of them all sat huddled close before the flames, elbows resting on their knees, each holding a small bowl of qurum milk in their laps. Thor had taken his first sip moments ago, and it had went straight to his head. Not only did the thick, sweet milk fill his stomach, satisfy all his cravings immediately, but it also made him feel relaxed. Even intoxicated. It was as if he had drank an entire sack of wine. He felt warm, and light, and his entire body felt soothed. Yet it was also a different feeling than wine: unlike being drunk, he also, oddly, felt clarity and presence of mind. It was a strange feeling of both being relaxed, drifting away, and being present.

Thor could tell by the glazed eyes of all the others that they were feeling the same. All of them leaned back a bit, relaxed, staring into the flames. Thor let Krohn drink from his bowl, and ever since then, Krohn lay at his side, resting his head in his lap, not squirming around as much as he usually did. His eyes were open, too, staring into the fire.

Elden sat beside Indra, close to each other, their legs almost touching, and Thor could see that Indra was beginning to feel more relaxed around him. Looking at them from here, the two already seemed like a couple, as if they fit perfectly together. Thor wondered if they would all ever make it back to the Ring, and if so, if Indra would come with them, and if she and Elden would end up together. He hoped that they would.

Only Conven seemed on-edge. He had abstained from the liquid. Instead he sat there, jaw set, staring into the flames with an intensity that scared Thor. He seemed as if he were lost in another world, deep inside a world of grief. Thor wondered if he would ever come back to them, ever be the same old Conven that he had been. The others saw it, too, and Thor caught Reece looking at him with concern. They exchanged a look, but neither of them knew what to do or say to make Conven feel better.

Indra looked over at Conven, and she reached over and handed another bowl to Elden and whispered something in his ear. Elden nodded, leaned forward, and held the bowl out towards Conven, sitting beside him.

But Conven not even look over at it.

“You should drink,” Elden said, his voice punctuating the silence amidst the crackling of the flames. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Now is time to rest.”

But Conven, still staring into the flames, shook his head curtly, and Elden set the bowl down, clearly sympathizing with Conven’s grief.

Elden cleared his throat.

“Conven,” he said. “Did I ever tell you about how I joined the Legion? About how I left my village?”

Conven slowly shook his head, still not looking at him.

Elden cleared his throat several times, then took a deep breath, now staring into the flames himself.

“My father, you see, he was a blacksmith. I was his apprentice. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be a warrior. To train with the Legion. I could not imagine a life in my village, being a blacksmith my entire life, at the mercy of serving others. I enjoyed the hammer and the forge, but it was not enough for me. I needed something bigger.

“The problem was, my father was deep in debt to our landlord. A certain Mister Tribble. My father was a good and decent and hard-working man, and he always paid his debts. But our village was small, and there was a limit to the amount of business we had. We were not near any crossroads, and business rarely passed through. My father tried as hard as he could to be prosperous. He worked harder than you could imagine. But even so, it just was enough to pay for our food and our rent. But Mr. Tribble kept raising the rent, every year, exorbitantly, and we just couldn’t keep up.

“Over time, my father fell deeper and deeper into debt to Mister Tribble. And when the time came for me to leave our village, to join the Legion, I was not allowed. Mister Tribble forbid my father to let me go. He insisted that I continue to work as his apprentice, to pay off the debts—or else he would kick my father out of our cottage.

“My father was furious. He told me to go—he wanted me to be happy above all. But I couldn’t. He needed me. And I knew that it was my place. So I stayed behind, to help him pay off Mister Tribble, who already owned nearly all of the town and was richer than you could imagine. This was what stopped me from joining.”

Elden fell into silence, staring into the flames.

“But I don’t understand?” Conven said, finally snapping out of it and turning to Elden. “You did join. What happened?”

Elden stared long into the flames, cleared his throat, and finally continued.

“One day, Mister Tribble came to our house. It wasn’t enough that he was squeezing every penny out of us, with interest. It wasn’t enough that he forbid me to leave and join the Legion. It wasn’t enough that my father did nothing but work to pay his rent. One day, he decided he wanted more. He decided he wanted to take over our house, and make it a bar. He showed up one day, and announced that we had to be packed up and out by morning light. On the street. He didn’t care where we went. That was that. He turned and walked out.

“My father just collapsed before me. He wept and wept, like a broken man. And that was the moment that changed my life. I could not stand to see my father like that. I could no longer stand the injustice of it all.

“I charged out of our house, mounted our horse and chased after Mister Tribble. I overcame him on the road, on the outskirts of town, and I confronted him. I pulled him down from his cart, and my goal was to talk sense into him. To make him understand. Not to hurt him. But when I pulled him down, he reached for a dagger and sliced my cheek. He left me this scar,” Elden said, pointing to the scar that ran beneath his eye, aflame against the blaze of the fire. Thor had always wondered about that scar, but had never asked.

Elden cleared his throat.

“Mr. Tribble then raised his dagger and aimed it for my heart. Even though I was weaponless, and had not struck him. My defenses kicked in. I redirected his hand away from me, and as it happened, he ended up stabbing himself in the stomach. I’ll never forget his expression as he looked into my eyes, dying, on the way to the underworld. I held him in my arms for about a minute, until he collapsed at my feet. It was the first man I had ever killed.”

Elden sighed, frowning, and it seemed he was reliving it as he spoke.

“It so happened that the law had been out patrolling, and they saw me, holding Mister Tribble, the knife in his stomach as he died. They blew their horn, and they came charging for me. If they caught me, I knew I’d be sitting in a jail right now.”

“So what did you do?” Conven asked, finally snapping out of it and engrossed in the story.

“I didn’t wait,” Elden said. “I couldn’t. No matter what I said, they would assume my guilt. So I jumped on my horse and continue riding and I never turned back. “I rode all the way to the next town, and it so happened that was the time they were coming through for the Selection. I stood with the other boys, and I stood a foot taller than all of them, and I made sure I was selected. Thank god I was. It saved my life. If I ever went back to my hometown, I’d probably be arrested.”

There came a long silence as Elden finished and they all stared into the flames.

“And whatever came of your father?” Conven asked.

Elden shook his head.

“I do not know. I have not seen him since.”

Elden sighed.

“I do not even know why I’m telling you this story,” he added.

Indra smiled.

“I warned you all. It is the qurum milk. It quickens the blood, and urges people to speak their deepest thoughts.”

They all turned and stared back into the flames, crackling in the night, as a silence fell over them. Conven did not necessarily seem happier than before, but hearing the story did seem to help snap him out of his gloom.

We all feel for your loss,” Reece said to Conven. “But you are not the only one who has lost. Each of us here, we have all lost someone dear to us. I…” he said, then lowered his head, pausing as if debating. “Well…I…I never told anyone this before, but I lost my dear cousin.”

“Your cousin?” Thor asked.

Slowly, Reece nodded, looking sadly into the flames.

“My father, King MacGil, was the eldest of three brothers. His younger brother, Lord MacGil, lives with his four children in the Upper Isles. The Upper Isles are part of the Ring, yet separated by the Tartuvian. They are not far, maybe fifty miles offshore. Have you ever been?”

The others shook their heads. Thor dimly recalled hearing of the Upper Isles, once, in school.

“They are a rough and desolate place,” Reece continued. “Stormy seas. More rain than sun, and always a driving wind. Perched on the edge of cliffs, it is a beautiful terrain, but not for the weak of heart. They say the Upper Isles breed a different breed of man. And this is where the other MacGils live.

“When I was younger, we would visit. Many times. My father and his brothers used to be close. As close as brothers could be. And I was close to my cousins. Lord MacGil had three boys and one girl. The girl, Stara, is my age. She is the most beautiful and noble girl you have ever met. Inside and out. When I was young, we were raised as close as brother and sister.”

Reece sighed, staring into the flames, seeming weighed down by the tale.

“At some point along the way,” Reece continued, “my father and his younger brother had a falling out. Apparently, so the rumor goes, his brother became ambitious. He was next in line for the throne, after all, and he had new advisors whispering in his ear. He began to hatch a plan to oust my father. Or at least, that’s what my father’s spies told him.

“We visited less and less, and on our final visit there, the mood was already tense. It broke my heart. Because you see, I never told anyone, but I was in love with Stara. And she was in love with me. We had vowed that when we grew up, we would marry each other. And every year I saw her, we would renew that vow, and our love for each other never waned.”

Reece took a deep breath.

“One night, in Lord MacGil’s castle, while he was hosting us, his oldest son died. And that’s when everything changed.”

“How?” Thor asked.

“We were all at a feast, and a glass of wine was poured for Lord MacGil and his eldest son drank it in his stead. He keeled over, dead on the spot. The wine was poisoned, and it had been meant for Lord MacGil. Given the political climate, Lord MacGil assumed his older brother was behind it. He kicked us out, and after that night, he never spoke to my father again—and forbid his family to speak to us, too.

“We all left hastily, in the dark of night, and never returned to the Upper Isles, and I never saw my cousins again. Nor did they ever come to visit us.”

Reece sighed.

“The irony is that I was close to my cousin who died; he was like an older brother to me. And as far as Stara…I still see her face every night. I want to talk to her again. To tell her that we had nothing to do with it. But I know I shall never be able to. That was the reason I have dated no other girl since. It wasn’t until I met Selese that, for the first time, I was able to see another woman’s face in her stead.”

They all settled back into a heavy silence as the wind whipped through the desert, fanning the flames. Thor looked at his brothers and realized that each was burdened by his own quiet desperation. He was not the only one; neither was Conven. They were all young, yet they were all suffering in some small way, all already weighed down by life. Some, he realized, were just better at hiding it than others.

Thor wanted to ponder his further, but his eyes began to close on him, and he let them. Tomorrow, after all, would bring the toughest leg of their quest and, perhaps, his final day.