A Rite of Swords

CHAPTER FORTY

Thorgrin, free of his shackles, dressed again, feeling stronger than he’d ever had, walked together with Andronicus up a small knoll, the two of them heading towards the high point of the camp. As they crested the top they looked out together, and there sat the Empire army, a half-million soldiers looking back.

The Empire soldiers stared back in suspense, waiting. Andronicus stood beside Thorgrin, father and son. Thor was now fully dressed in the clothing of the Empire, wearing the same black and gold, the same uniform of his father, his breastplate emblazed with their symbol: a lion with an eagle in its mouth. Thor’s eyes were cold and hard, and as he looked out, he looked more like his father than ever. He was unrecognizable from the boy he once was.

Thor stood atop the hill, gripping his new sword, the one that had once belonged to his father, long and black and evil, with a silver hilt, glistening in the scarlet sun like a snake ready to strike.

“MEN OF THE EMPIRE!” Andronicus yelled out. “Meet your new commander. My son. Thornicus!”

Thorgrin stepped forward and looked down. Then he raised his new sword high above his head with a single arm.

There came a huge shout of approval, and Thor drank it in. He was ready to lead these men, to crush the Ring. He was ready to embrace who he really was. He was ready to do as his father commanded him. He was ready for the final destruction of the Ring.

“Thornicus!” echoed the army, a half million voices rising to the sky.

Thor turned slowly, raising the sword ever higher.

“THORNICUS!”

“THORNICUS!!”