A Charge of Valor

CHAPTER NINE

Thor, on his last legs, staggered with the others deeper into the desert, each step feeling like a thousand pounds. Covered in sweat, he gasped for air, the heat from both suns radiating down on him with more strength than he thought possible. All around him he heard his fellow Legion gasping for breath, the scuffling of their feet, as it became harder for them to lift them off the ground. He could not help but feel as if they were all shuffling their way deeper into nothingness, deeper towards death.

Even Indra, the native, struggled with every step, and Krohn, beside him, had finally stopped whining; he was too exhausted for that now. He merely panted, his mouth open, his tongue hanging low, his eyes squinting, his head lowered. It did not bode well for any of them.

Thor scanned the horizon, raising his chin with one last effort, squinting into nothingness, into the harsh blinding light, hoping for the millionth time he might spot something—anything—in any direction. But there was nothing but emptiness. The desert floor was becoming increasingly hard, cracked, baked, and Indra’s warning rang in his head. She had been right all along. There was no way to cross this desert. They had been foolish to try. He was leading them all towards their deaths.

Thor felt weaker than he ever had, parched, and he lifted his empty sack, opened his mouth, and squeezed it for the millionth time. Of course, nothing came out. It had dried up long ago. He didn’t know why he kept trying; some part of his brain still hoped that maybe there was a drop left.

The only one who had any water left at this point was Indra. Despite himself, Thor could not help turning and looking at her, allowing his eyes to rove down to the sack of water dangling at her waist. He licked his dry lips, then forced himself to turn and look away immediately. It was hers. She had rationed better than the rest of them, and being smaller and lighter, didn’t need as much. She also knew these lands better. He wondered if she would be the lone survivor of the bunch.

Suddenly there came a loud sound, like a log falling, and Thor turned with the others to see Elden collapse. The biggest of them, he hit the ground hard, landing on his shoulder, stirring up dust. Then he just lay there, on his back, immobile.

The others lethargically gathered around him and looked down as if looking at themselves. There was no surprise in their eyes. Thor was only surprised that one of them had not collapsed sooner.

“Elden,” Indra called out, kneeling beside him. She was always so hardened, so guarded, so careful to let others know that she did not care. So Thor was surprised to see concern and worry in her face.

She reached down and wiped the sweat from his brow, stroking his hair. Elden’s eyes were half closed, and he licked his parched lips again and again. Indra removed the water sack from her waist, and in an act of supreme generosity, lifted Elden’s head and gave him all of her remaining water. He drank it greedily, lapping his lips, the water running down his cheeks, as he drank and drank. Within moments, her sack was empty.

She lowered his head, and Elden leaned back, coughing and gasping.

Thor saw for the first time how much she cared for him; he could also see how much he had underestimated her. They had taken her for just another slave, a thief—but it turned out that she had been the most resourceful and most generous of them all. Without her, surely Elden would have been dead.

“You do great honor upon your race,” Thor said to her.

She shook her head humbly, looking down at Elden.

“It is no honor,” she said. “Soon, we will all go the way of flesh. What I did will be inconsequential in the wheel of time.”

Indra reached over to pick up Elden, and the others crouched down to help her. She and Reece lifted him to his feet, then Thor came over and helped, draping Elden’s arms over their shoulders.

Thor and Reece walked, dragging him, continuing through the desert, Elden’s immense weight dragging them down. Elden was half-conscious, barely walking, more dragging his feet. As hard as it had been to march before, now, with Elden, it was unbearable. Thor did not know how he could make it.

But they all plodded on, marching together, one step after the next, deeper and deeper into nothingness. With every step, the sun seemed to grow stronger.

Finally, Reece’s legs gave out. He went tumbling down, bringing Elden and Thor with him. Thor’s legs were too weak to resist. He lay there, helpless. He looked around to see if the others would come to his rescue.

But Thor was surprised to realize that the others had already collapsed, some time ago, all of them laying prone on the desert floor in various positions, far away. He’d been too exhausted and delirious to even know he had been the last one standing when finally he went down.

Now they all lay there, motionless on the desert floor, beneath the sun of a hostile sky, waiting for nothing, except to die.

Thor found himself standing alone, in a small boat, drifting out to sea in the midst of a vast and empty ocean. Far off in the distance were soaring cliffs, and atop one, at the very edge, sat a castle. It seemed like a magical castle, a fantastical place, perched on the very edge of the world, high in the clouds. It seemed like a place protected from every danger of the world, a place in which anything was possible. Thor could feel the tremendous energy radiating from it, even from this great distance, and more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, he wanted to be there, inside.

Most of all, Thor sensed that up there, high up in that magical place atop the cliff, his mother lived. He knew that he was approaching the Land of the Druids.

Thor’s boat was suddenly pulled by a strong current, bringing him towards the rocky shore at the very base of the cliff, lined with jagged black rocks. The boat deposited him there and he staggered off, collapsing face-first into the rocks, too exhausted to lift his head. He knew that somewhere, high up on those cliffs above, was his mother. But he did not have the energy to get there.

“My Thorgrin,” came a voice.

It was a woman’s voice, the sweetest and most reassuring voice he’d ever heard in his life.

Thor knew it was the voice of his mother. He knew that she was standing over him now, and he could feel the intense light and energy radiating off of her. He knew that he only needed to lift his head to see her. But he was too exhausted to do even this.

“Mother,” he gasped, it coming out as a whisper.

“My son,” she added. “I have been watching over you. I have been waiting for you. It is time for you to come home. It is time for us to meet.”

“I want to,” he said. “But I can’t reach you. I can’t cross the desert. I can’t find the Sword.”

“You can,” she said, her voice resounding with confidence. “And you will. It is not yet time for you to die, brave warrior. Death will come for you soon enough. But not now. Now, it is time for you to live. Rise, and meet your destiny.”

Thor felt a hand, the softest touch of his life, under his chin, felt it slowly lift his face, so that he looked up, higher and higher, towards his mother. He wanted desperately to see her face, but the soft blue light shining off of her was so intense that he was blinded by it. It was like looking into the sun.

“I am with you, Thorgrin,” she said. “Arise, and make me proud.”

Thor suddenly opened his eyes and found himself looking at the desert floor. He blinked and turned and looked for the others. But there was no one in sight. He lay there, all alone, confused.

Thor felt a new energy course within him, and slowly, he rose to his hands and knees. He felt the presence of someone over him, blocking out the suns, and he looked up and was surprised to see Argon. He stood there, holding his staff, looking down at him with an intensity that even outshone the sun.

Thor rose to his feet, feeling renewed, and looked back, wondering where everyone else was.

“You have passed many tests,” Argon said slowly. “Yet there are always more tests. The greatest quest requires the greatest travail. And behind each quest, for the warrior, there always waits another.”

“Where are my friends?” Thor asked.

Argon shook his head.

“They live somewhere between the land of life-and-death. It is the land you walk in now. You have not died. But you are not alive. You would have died on this day if it were not for the grace of your mother. You have powerful beings watching over you, and you have been given many chances at life.”

Argon turned and stared out at the desert.

“Before you can return to the others,” Argon said, “you must further your training. You cannot go any further in this quest unless your training is deepened. The desert is vast and deep, and only a skillful spiritual warrior can cross it. Are you ready to reach the next level?”

Thor nodded back earnestly.

“I wish for nothing more. Tell me what I must do.”

“Walk with me,” Argon said.

Thor walked side-by-side with Argon, deeper into the desert, wondering where they were going. He felt an intense energy radiating through him with each step, felt as if he were slowly coming back to himself. He also felt more powerful than he ever had.

As they were walking, Thor looked down and stopped short, shocked at what he saw. The ground fell away, and he found himself standing at the edge of the Canyon.

He looked down, overwhelmed at the depth and scope of it. It seemed to stretch forever. Its strange mist swirled all around him, and Thor looked over to see Argon standing beside him, looking out, too.

“How did we get here?” Thor asked. “How did we make it back to the Ring?”

“We are everywhere and nowhere,” Argon replied. “We travel through the crack between the realms. You see, place and time are but an illusion. We now transcend these illusions. I want you to look into the Canyon, into its mist. What do you see?”

Thor squinted into the expanse, but saw nothing but swirling mist, lit with every color.

“I see nothing,” Thor responded.

“That is because you look with your eyes, and not with your mind,” Argon responded. “Now close your eyes,” he said firmly, “and look.”

Close my eyes and look? Thor wondered. He did not understand.

But he did as he was told, closing his eyes, facing out in the direction of the Canyon, feeling the swirling mist stroke his face. The moisture felt so good in the heat.

“In your mind’s eye, see it,” Argon said. “Allow it to come to you.”

Thor breathed deep and centered himself, trying to understand. And as he stood there, for he did not know how long, slowly, he began to see it.

Below him, Thor saw a red city, built on the edge of the Canyon. Its stone sparkled red, and it was divided into two cities, a lower and upper one.

“I see a red city,” Thor said.

“Good. What else?”

Thor’s heart started to pound as he saw fires raging through it. Destruction. Bloodshed. People dying.

“I see an army,” Thor said, “as fast as lightning, covering the Ring. Entering the city. Destroying it.”

“Yes. What else?”

Thor struggled. At first it was obscured, but then it came into focus.

His heart plummeted as he saw one last thing. It was too horrible, and he wanted to look away. But he could not. He saw Gwendolyn, lying on a sickbed. Close to death. He saw her surrounded by several black angels of death, waiting patiently, as if ready to take her away.

Thor opened his eyes and spun and faced Argon.

“Is it true?” he asked. “Gwendolyn? Is she dead?”

“There are many forms of death,” Argon said.

“She needs me. I must return to her.”

“No,” Argon said firmly. “Her destiny is her own.”

“I must return to her!” Thor insisted.

“The time is not now,” Argon said. “You must complete your quest. You must complete your training. If you returned to her now, she would die, and so would you.”

“What must I do?” Thor asked, desperate.

“Up until now, you have fought with your hands, sometimes, with your heart, and sometimes, with your spirit. But you are uneven. This is because you are still stuck in human nature. You still cling to this planet, to all the physical things around you, as if they are real. On one level, they are real. But on another, they are not. They are just energy forms. Until you understand that, your powers will never be complete.”

Argon turned.

“There,” he nodded, “do you see it?”

Thor heard a hissing noise and spun to find himself standing back in the desert. Racing towards him was a huge snake, with three heads, raising them and sticking out its tongues. It slithered right for him.

“Stop it!” Argon said.

Thor reached for the hilt of his sword.

“No!” Argon commanded. “Not with your sword! Use your mind. Draw on your inner force.”

Thor’s heart was pounding as the beast approached, too quickly; a part of him wanted to rely on his human side, to grab his sword and chop it in half. It took all his will to force himself to let go of the hilt, to stand there, hands at his side, and reach out a single palm, directing it towards the snake.

Thor tried to direct energy to it—but nothing happened. The snake was getting closer.

“Argon!” Thor screamed, frightened.

“Stop trying to direct your force,” Argon said calmly. “You must understand that the force to stop this creature does not come from within you; it comes from within the creature itself. Let go of you. Become one with the creature. Feel its muscles, its three heads, its tail, its tongue, its venom. Feel how it moves on the floor. Feel how much it wants to kill you. Feel its hate. Appreciate its hate.”

Thor closed his eyes and lowered his hand, and tried to do everything Argon said. As he focused, as the hissing grew louder and the animal closer, Thor began to feel something; it was slow at first, but then he felt it more and more strongly. It was the energy of this beast. Fast and slick, filled with venom and hate. It was intent on destroying Thor. Thor felt it clearly, as if he were the beast itself.

“Very good,” Argon said. “Now you are the snake, too. Change your nature. Change the nature of the snake.”

In his mind, Thor commanded the snake to stop.

Thor opened his eyes, and looked down to see the snake, twenty feet long, stopped before him, its three heads hissing but unable to reach him, as if frozen. Each of the three heads snapped towards Thor.

“You have stopped the beast,” Argon said. “But you have not changed its nature.”

Thor could feel the energy of the animal coursing through him, and as much as he tried to will it to turn around, it would not. He was stopping it, but nothing more, and it was taking a tremendous effort. His whole body shook from it, and he didn’t feel he could hold it back much longer.

Suddenly, one of the beast’s three heads extended and sank its fangs into Thor’s arm.

Thor screamed out in pain as the venom shot through him; its two long fangs remained lodged in his forearm, burning, and it was the most painful thing he’d ever experienced. He felt as if his whole arm were on fire.

“Your power is wavering,” Argon said.

“Help me!” Thor gasped, in agony.

“Not until you send away the beast,” Argon said. “Stop opposing it. You are still opposing it, even while it is biting you.”

Thor closed his eyes, in extreme pain, covered in sweat, and did everything he could to focus on Argon’s words. He tried to center himself, to calm himself, even in the midst of such pain, even in the midst of being attacked.

Finally, something within him shifted; he stopped resisting the creature. He allowed it to be what it was. And then he willed the beast to lift its teeth from his skin.

The beast listened, and as it did, Thor felt the awful pain of the fangs leaving his skin, then the release of the burning. And then, suddenly, the beast turned and darted away, across the desert floor, as Thor collapsed.

Suddenly, Thor understood. He had been resisting the beast. Resisting all the forces around him. He had failed to see that they were all one. One huge life force. He had only been seeing the separation between them; and it was the separation that was making him weak.

“Excellent,” Argon said.

Thor opened his eyes and saw Argon standing over him, reaching out his staff, and touching the golden end of it to Thor’s wound. A moment later the wound healed, his flesh returning to normal, as if he had never been bit.

“You are a fast learner,” Argon said. “Like your father.”

“My father?” Thor asked. “You know him? Who is he?”

“Of course I know him,” Argon said. “I trained him.”

“Trained him?” Thor asked. “Tell me,” he pleaded, “who is he?”

Argon shook his head.

“All will be revealed when the time is right. The question you must ask yourself now is if you want to live. Do you choose to fulfill this quest? To save Gwendolyn?”

“I do!” Thor yelled back enthusiastically.

“Your destiny is a great one,” Argon said, “but it is also a dark one. With anything great comes light, and darkness. You must be prepared to accept both.”

“I am!” Thor yelled back.

Argon stared at him for a long time, as if summing him up, then finally he nodded back in approval.

“Arise, brave warrior,” Argon said. “It is time to live.”

Thor blinked several times, opening his eyes to find himself lying face-first in the desert floor. All around him were his Legion brothers, lying near him, just as he had left them. They all lay there as the second sun grew long, the heat of the day beginning to cool, exactly as they had been.

Thor slowly rose to his hands and knees, feeling a new energy, a new strength, course through him. He felt different, in every fiber of his being. He rubbed his head and wondered. Had it all been a dream? How much of it had been real? His mother? Argon?

And who was his father?

Thor rose to his hands and knees, and he realized he was the only one awake. All the others were either unconscious or dead, he was not sure which.

Thor heard a shuffling of feet, and he looked up to see a person standing over him. He wore a brown and yellow robe, with a large white sash, and he looked down at Thor with curious and gentle eyes. This man was of a race Thor had never encountered before: he had green skin, a very narrow nose, wide lips, and huge eyes, disproportionately large for his face.

He pulled back his hood and peered down at Thor, as if examining a curiosity. From behind him, there appeared several more, just like him. They were short people, and they each held a long ruby staff.

“Help them,” said the leader.

The men scrambled, each running to one of the Legion and to Indra and Krohn and picking them up. Thor felt his arms draped over two of their shoulders, and allowed himself to be dragged.

“Who are you?” Thor asked.

“Desert dwellers,” the man responded. Thor sensed a positive energy from him, and he did not resist.

“Where are we going?” he inquired.

“Young warrior,” the man said. “It is time for you to recover.”

Thor felt himself dragged along for he did not know how long, in and out of consciousness as they went. The sun grew darker, until finally the ground beneath him, to his amazement, turned to a soft, lush grass.

There came the sound of gurgling water, of a flowing spring, and Thor opened his eyes fully, to his utter delight, to see that they were in a desert oasis. For a large perimeter, perhaps a hundred yards, there was a circle of the most lush grass and palm trees and fruits that he had ever seen. In its center was a crystal blue lake, and Thor stumbled towards it, sinking to his knees with his brothers and falling face first at the edge of the water.

They all drank and drank, and with each sip, Thor felt his life force returning.

When he drank until he could drink no more, he rolled onto his back, the water cooling the back of his neck. He looked up at the sky, the palms swaying above him, casting shade, and wondered if he’d arrived in paradise.

“Who are you?” Thor asked again, as the man smiled down.

“We have been watching you for a long time, brave warrior,” he said. “And we have decided we are not going to let you die.”