A Sea of Shields

CHAPTER THIRTY

Thor stood in the center of the Legion training grounds, watching recruit after recruit race past him, galloping on their horses, holding out their lances as they tried to pierce the center of a small hoop. As Thor stood there in his new, shining Silver armor, his new dagger at his belt, he replayed in his mind again and again his initiation into the Silver. Being recognized amongst all those men. It was surreal. It was the greatest honor he could have ever hoped for, one he would not even dare to dream of his entire life. Now, wearing this armor, he felt like a different man. He looked down, saw himself gleaming in the afternoon suns, and he felt invincible.

Thor heard galloping horses and looked up to see several Legion recruits galloping past him, charging earnestly for the hoop, but missing. One after the next missed, and Thor shook his head, worried at the sorry state of some of these boys.

As he watched, a few managed to pierce the larger hoop with their lance, collecting the metal rings on the tip; but as they kept charging on to the next hoop, even smaller, they missed. Only one recruit, Ario, the small boy from the Empire, managed to pierce one hoop after the next with his lance. Thor watched in surprise as he finished the entire course in a broad circle, triumphantly holding up his lance, filled with small metal rings.

They all dismounted, and the other boys, breathing hard, looked over at him, envious.

Thor walked up and down the lines, examining them. After many days of trials, he was starting to see some of the recruits excelling at certain exercises, and failing at others. It was a mixed crop. Thor saw promise in many of them; but for some others, it was already clear they would not make the cut.

Thor felt bad sending anyone away, but he knew there was no point prolonging the inevitable.

“You, you, and you,” Thor said, signaling out three recruits. “I’m sorry. But it’s best if you leave now.”

A tense silence filled the air as the three recruits came forward and walked, dejected, for the gates. One of them stopped and turned to Thor.

“But Thorgrin, sir, I do not understand,” he said. “I hooped the rings. Many of the other boys did not. Why would you choose to send me home?”

Thor shook his head.

“You do not understand,” Thor replied. “This exercise was not about hooping the rings. That was incidental.”

The boy looked at him, puzzled.

“Then what was it about?” he asked.

“Your lance,” Thor said. “Is it yours?”

The boy looked over at the lance he’d left behind, and seemed flustered.

“It is. I retrieved it as we all rushed for the weapons.”

Thor stared back at him, evenly, calmly, waiting for the proper response. A different response.

Finally, the boy seemed to realize what Thor knew, and he looked to the ground, ashamed.

“I grabbed it from a boy’s hands,” he admitted.

Thor nodded, satisfied.

“Being a member of the Legion is not just about being a skilled warrior,” Thor explained. “It is about looking after your brothers. When you’re in battle, what makes you strong is each other. The finest warrior is he who thinks of his brothers first. Only by thinking of others will you save yourself. That is valor. That is what we strive for here. I don’t want only the best warriors; I want the best band of brothers.”

The boy finally walked away, head down, realizing.

Thor turned to the others. They all looked back at Thor with fear and respect.

Thor surveyed the training ground, looking over all the weapons, wanting to test the boys with something they had not yet tried. His exercises and trials were winnowing the boys out, one at a time.

“Heavy swords!” Thor commanded.

As one, they all ran to a rack lined up with long swords, twice as long and thick as the others, so heavy, they needed to be wielded with two hands. Thor watched as each struggled to hold one.

“They are heavy,” Thor called out, watching them hold these swords with effort, wobbling. “They are designed to be. They are training swords, heavier than anything you’ll wield in battle. Now, I want each of you to hoist a second sword, and hold these two swords together.”

They all turned and looked at Thor as if he were crazy.

“Two swords, my liege?” one boy asked. “It will be too heavy.”

Thor stared back, unwavering, until they all did as he commanded, each grabbing two heavy swords and struggling to lift them.

“These two swords you hold are heavier than any sword you will wield. These are the swords that will make you strong. Each of you will turn to the man beside him, and with those ropes you see lying there, you will bind his two swords together, and make them one.”

The boys broke into action, binding each other’s swords. When they were done, each boy held up two swords, bound together, struggling with both hands to raise it into the air, twice as thick as any sword.

Thor nodded with satisfaction.

“Each of you raise your swords high, and hold them still before you.”

As Thor watched, each boy raised the double swords, arms trembling, struggling to keep them steady. They wavered in the wind, some boys dropping them down with a grunt. Only a handful of boys were able to hold them. Thor took note.

“But it is too heavy, sire!” one boy, sweating, shaking, called out. “No one will ever be able to wield a sword like this!” His sword crashed to the ground. “What is the point?”

Thor turned and marched over to him, staring him down.

“That is exactly the point,” Thor said. “In battle, you must be able to wield weapons twice as heavy as your opponent. You must become faster than them, stronger than them. You must be able to wield a sword heavier than one you’ll ever wield. Only then will you be able to outfight your opponent. It is speed, even a second, that will save you from life and death.”

Thor turned and surveyed the line, and he saw that only a dozen boys remained still holding their swords, groaning and struggling. The boys that remained were all the biggest, tallest, broadest-shouldered boys, clearly stronger than the others.

All except for one: Merek. The thief. He was not as big as these others, and yet he proved himself to be even stronger than most. He managed to hold the sword steadier, and higher, than boys twice his size. Thor was impressed.

“Good!” Thor called out.

The remaining boys dropped their swords with relief, all breathing hard, exhausted.

“We lasted longer than the others,” one boy said. “Does that mean that we get into the Legion?” he asked hopefully.

Thor shook his head and smiled.

“That means only that you get to fight each other. Everyone, form a circle around them!”

The dozen boys turned to Thor in wonder as the others gathered around them.

“You are now going to spar with each other,” Thor said, “using your double swords! Pair off, and let’s see what you can do!”

The boys rushed to formation, pairing off with each other. Their swords were so heavy they could barely lift them, and when they did manage to lift them high overhead, some fell backwards, while others slashed in such a slow and clumsy way that they did not come anywhere near their opponent.

Their opponent, though, was equally slow, barely able to lift his own sword to block or parry.

Thor walked between the sparring boys, shaking his head in disgust.

“You are so slow,” he called out, “I can walk between you!”

As one boy raised his sword high, Thor leaned back and used his foot to shove him in the chest, sending him backwards. Thor bumped another boy with his shoulder as he raised his sword, knocking him down.

One at a time, Thor knocked each of them down onto their butts, each dropping with their heavy swords. Soon, they were all collapsed on the ground, gasping, exhausted.

“And could you do any better?” one of the recruits, sitting there red-faced, barked out to Thor.

All boys turned, aghast at the show of disrespect to Thor. It was a large, pockmarked kid from a northwestern province, a kid Thor did not like. He had kept him on because of his size, but he was not surprised by his disrespect.

“Let’s find out,” Thor said. “Take a single sword, and hand me a double.”

The boy lit up at the idea; he rushed and grabbed a single light sword and faced off with Thor with an arrogant smile, certain of victory.

Thor raised the double sword easily; then he switched hands, throwing it back and forth between them, holding it with just one hand, to the shocked stares of all the boys.

“A third sword!” Thor called out.

The boys looked on in wonder as one rushed forward, took a third sword, and bound it with ropes to Thor’s two.

The boys watched, mouths agape, as Thor wielded three swords with both hands, red-faced from the effort of it.

The boy opposite Thor looked back, now looking very unsure—and very afraid.

Thor did not wait; he charged the boy, raising his triple sword high and swinging it down with such speed that, as the boy raised his single sword, Thor chopped it in half, the sound cutting through the air.

Thor then plunged his sword down into the earth and used it as a pole, grabbing the hilt and pushing himself up and over it, and kicking the boy in the chest, sending him flying back down to the ground, onto his butt.

Thor stood over him as the boy looked up at him, shocked.

“You can go home now, too,” Thorgrin said. “You may return if you learn to speak to your superiors with respect.”

The boy turned and crawled off, running at a jog to get away from the Legion training grounds. All the other recruits turned and looked at Thor with awe.

“Only three swords then?” called out a gleeful voice.

Thor turned, elated at the sound of the familiar voice, and was thrilled to see his closest friends, his Legion brothers Elden and O’Connor, approaching.

Elden walked right to the double swords, picked one up, and held it high overhead with a single hand.

“It seems the standard for Legion training is slipping then, from what I remember,” he said with a smile.

Elden rushed forward, holding the swords high, and with a battle cry sliced a log hanging in the training ground. With a great splitting noise, the thick log slice in half.

All of the boys stared at Elden in wonder.

Elden dropped the swords, came over to Thor, and embraced him, as did O’Connor. Thor was thrilled to see his old Legion members again. All this training, every day, had kept them close to his thoughts.

“It seems you have a sorry group of recruits here,” Elden said out loud, so all the boys could hear. “I wonder if any shall make the cut?”

“Perhaps a few,” Thor replied loudly, so the boys could hear.

“What is next on the day’s training?” O’Connor asked with a smile.

“Well, funny you should ask—it’s time for bows.”

Thor had an idea, and he turned and faced the group.

“Is there anyone here who thinks they could fire an arrow better than my friend O’Connor? If anyone can, they will be granted an immediate spot in the Legion.”

They all looked O’Connor up and down, and apparently decided, given his frail frame and his boyish smile, red hair, and freckles, that he was not a worthy opponent.

They all raced forward, grabbed one of the bows lined up along the edge of the field, and took aim at the large stacks of hay about thirty yards out. Only a handful of them hit the target, only a few came close to the inner circle, and only one of them hit a bull’s-eye. He was a tall, thin boy, twice as tall as the others, with long straggly brown hair that he wore in a ponytail. He stood there, satisfied with himself, clearly the best shot of the bunch. Thor took note.

O’Connor, smiling wide, raised his bow off his back, took a step forward, licked his finger, and held it up to the wind. He looked up, as if examining the sky, then lowered his head, raised his bow, and fired three quick arrows.

The three arrows sailed through the air in a high arc, and went flying past the target. They continued to sail, and they all landed in the farthest target, fifty yards away. All dead center.

The boys watched, mouths agape—yet O’Connor was not done. He placed one more arrow, took aim, and fired. The arrow sailed, and it hit the arrow of the boy who had landed a bull’s eye, the shot so precise that it split the boy’s arrow down the middle.

The boys all stood there in awe at O’Connor’s skills, and Thor smiled wide.

“O’Connor is the product of years of Legion training,” Thor called out. “If you have what it takes, and train hard enough, you will be fighting with us. And this is what we will demand of you. Think about this as you sleep tonight, and decide if you want to come back in the morning. Now off with you!”

The boys slowly turned and began to walk off the training grounds, each slumped over, exhausted from the grueling day.

Thor turned and looked at Elden and O’Connor. Seeing them brought back memories, and he missed them dearly.

They looked Thor’s new armor up and down, eyes aglow.

“Look at you!” Elden exclaimed. “A member of the Silver!”

“That armor of yours is so shiny, I shall have to block my eyes!” O’Connor added, pretending to shield his eyes.

“Imagine that,” Elden said, “one of our own—a Silver!”

“We knew you’d make it one day,” O’Connor said.

They clasped him on the shoulder, elated, as if they had been the ones inducted, and Thor basked in their approval.

“Thank you, my brothers,” he said, proud, “and thank you for returning here on such short notice.”

“For you, anything,” Elden said.

“My hometown visit can wait,” O’Connor said.

“I’m sorry for that,” Thor said. “But I need you here. I want you two to be the first to know: I’m leaving the Ring.”

They both stared back, clearly stunned.

“I must seek out my mother,” Thor said. “I’ll be embarking to the Land of the Druids.”

“Alone?” Elden asked.

“We shall join you!” O’Connor implored.

Thor shook his head, clasping each on the shoulder.

“There are no others I would rather join me,” he said, “but it is a journey I must take alone. I will be riding Mycoples. I must find my mother, and then I shall return. I will come back stronger. And I will help make the Ring stronger.”

Thor watched the recruits leave.

“In the meantime,” he added, “the training for the Legion must go on. Who else could I trust but my Legion brothers? I need you to take over for me while I’m gone. Can you turn these boys into men?”

Elden’s and O’Connor’s faces hardened into expressions of honor and appreciation.

“We are Legion brothers to the end,” Elden said. “What you ask is a sacred task. We are honored you should ask it.”

“When you return, these boys will be men,” O’Connor added. “Then you can choose who you want to stay.”

Thor was greatly relieved; he was about to respond, when suddenly, Merek approached, standing just a foot away, as if anxious to speak to him.

“I’m sorry, my liege, for interrupting,” Merek said. “But I bear news that cannot wait.”

“What is it, then?” Thor asked, suspicious.

Merek turned and looked at Elden and O’Connor, as if unsure whether to speak in front of them.

“Any news fit for me, my brothers can hear, too,” Thor assured.

Merek nodded and began: “One of my associates, who wallows still in the dungeons from our days of thieving, knows everyone who comes and goes down below. He has just told me that one of your Legion brothers has been imprisoned in the royal dungeon. Conven.”

Thor, Elden, and O’Connor all looked at each other, shocked.

“Conven?” Thor asked. “Are you certain?”

Merek nodded.

“Thank you,” Thor said. “You have done your duty well. I shall not forget this.”

Merek nodded and hurried off.

“I must go to him at once, and find out what has happened. He must be freed.”

“We shall come with you,” Elden and O’Connor said. “He is our Legion brother, too.”

Thor nodded back, and the three of them turned and hurried off, mounting their horses and charging for the royal dungeon, Thor determined to free his brother from whatever bondage he was in.

Thor marched up to the main gates of the royal dungeon, flanked by Elden and O’Connor, and several guards stood to attention, shocked at his presence. They saluted and threw open the gates, and they all marched through.

As the three of them hurried down the stone staircase and into a low, arched ceiling hall, their boots and armor echoing, Thor wondered what on earth Conven could have done to end up in this place. Whatever it was, he knew it was not good, and he feared, as he often had, for his brother’s future. The veil of grief, Thor was coming to realize, did not lift off of some as easily as others.

They strode down the dim, drafty corridor of the dungeon, prisoners making noises on all sides of them, banging the bars with their tin cups. They walked past them, all the way to the end of the corridor, passing cell after cell, until finally, the guards led them to a large cell at the end of the passage.

The guard hoisted his skeleton key and unlocked it, the metal reverberating in the cell corridor.

As the door swung open, Thor looked into the lonely cell and saw, slumped in the corner, barely visible beneath the flickering torchlight, his Legion brother. Conven sat hunched over, completely dejected, unshaven, his hair long and tousled, and Thor felt a pit in his stomach at the sight. How had he sunk to this? Conven, once so happy, so jovial, a proud and fearless member of the Legion. Now, here he sat, thrown into his cell as if he were just another common prisoner.

Thor could not stand the sight. No Legion member should be treated this way.

Thor still felt tremendous sadness for the death of Conval. It had never left him. But Thor had been able to move on.

Conven clearly had not. He had been on a downward spiral ever since, and it had led him to this place. Thor feared that if something didn’t change, his friend wouldn’t live much longer.

Thor walked into the cell, Elden and O’Connor following, and walked right up to Conven, standing over him. Conven barely even looked up at their presence.

Thor squatted down before Conven, looking him in the eyes. He looked like all the life and spirit had gone out of him. Whatever love and joy had once been in them was gone.

“Conven?” Thor said softly.

Conven did not budge.

Thor reached out and nudged his shoulder.

“Conven?” Thor asked again.

Slowly, Conven stirred.

“Why have you come here?” Conven asked, not meeting Thor’s eyes.

“Because I am your brother,” Thor replied.

“We are all your brothers,” Elden and O’Connor added.

Conven looked over at them, then slowly shook his head.

“You are brothers of another time,” Conven said.

“Wrong,” Thor replied. “We are brothers for all time.”

Conven shook his head.

“We are your brothers when you are at your peak of glory,” Thor added, “and your brothers when you’re at the depths of sorrow. That’s what it means to be a brother. A brother is more than a friend. Brotherhood means that when one of us is down, all of us are down.”

Thor made Conven look into his eyes.

“No man left behind,” he said, firmly, unwavering.

Conven turned and looked down, and Thor saw a tear running down his cheek.

“I am not worth saving,” Conven said. “I am happy down here. There’s nothing left for me up there.”

“We are left for you,” Elden said. “Is that nothing?”

Conven sat there, silent.

“Your entire life is still ahead of you,” O’Connor said. “You are young. You are a great warrior. You are not going to waste away down here like a common criminal.”

“I am,” Conven said.

“You will not,” Thor said emphatically. “I will not allow it.”

“You cannot stop me!” Conven said, defiant.

Thor thought about that, surprised at Conven’s response. Finally, he sighed.

“You’re right,” Thor finally said. “I cannot stop you. Your life is yours to destroy. But keep this in mind: if you destroy your life, you destroy not only yours, but something of ours. You hurt not only yourself, but those around you. We are your brothers. You need us. But what you are forgetting is that we need you, too. Maybe not today. But there will assuredly come a day when we are low, and we will need you, and you will be there for us.”

Thor paused, as he saw Conven listening, taking it all in. He could feel him thinking, debating. A long silence followed.

“The Legion must be rebuilt,” Thor finally continued. “I must depart the Ring now. Elden and O’Connor will oversee it, and they need you, too. I need you. Come with us. Join us. Help rebuild the Legion. If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for others. You would be selfish to wallow here when others look to you for help.”

Thor leaned over and reached out a single hand, waiting.

Conven sat there, hesitating, in a silence that seemed to last forever. Thor was beginning to wonder if Conven would not reply, if all his words were for nothing.

Finally, slowly, Conven looked up and met Thor’s eyes directly. Thor saw a spark of something in them, a tiny spark, possibly of hope. Of light.

Conven slowly reached out and clasped Thor’s hand. It was the clasp of the man he once knew. The clasp of a brother in arms.