Now there were nine of them against the remaining eighty or so soldiers. The odds were still terrible, but at least better than they were.
The Legion brothers fell back on their training skills, on the drills ingrained in them during the Hundred, the countless times they had been trained to fight while encircled and outnumbered; they did as Kolk and Brom had trained them to do: they fell back and formed a tight circle, backs to each other, and fought off the encroaching Empire soldiers as one unit. They were emboldened by the arrival of the three extra fighters, and they each caught a second wind, and fought back more vigorously than before.
Conval extracted his flail and swung it wide and struck the enemy again and again, managing to take out three Empire soldiers before the chain was snatched away from him. His brother Conven used a regular mace, aiming low and taking out soldiers’ legs with the studded metal ball. O’Connor couldn’t use his bow at such short range, but he managed to extract two throwing daggers from his waist and threw them into the crowd, killing two soldiers. Elden wielded his two-handed war hammer ferociously, raining great blows all around him. And Thor and Reece blocked and parried with their swords expertly. For a moment, Thor was feeling optimistic.
Then, out of the corner of Thor’s eye, he detected something that disturbed him. He spotted one of the three brothers turning and charging across the circle of Legion; Thor turned and saw Durs. He was charging, not for an Empire soldier, but for him. For Thor. Right for his back.
It happened too quickly, and Thor, fighting off two Empire soldiers before him, could not turn in time.
Thor knew he was about to die. About to be stabbed in the back by a boy he had once thought of as a brother, by a boy whom he had, naively, trusted twice.
Suddenly Conval appeared in front of Thor, to protect him.
And as Durs lowered his sword for Thor’s back, it found a target in Conval’s chest instead.
Thor turned and screamed: “CONVAL!”
Conval stood there, frozen, eyes wide in a death stare, as he looked down at the sword plunged through his heart, the blood gushing down his torso.
Durs stood there, staring back, equally surprised.
Conval collapsed to his knees, blood gushing from his chest. Thor watched, in slow motion, as Conval, a close Legion brother, a boy he had loved like a brother, fell face-first to the ground, dead. All to save Thor’s life.
Durs stood over him, looking down, appearing shocked by what he had just done.
Thor lunged forward to kill Durs – but Conven beat him to it. Conval’s twin rushed forward and swung his sword wide, decapitating Durs, whose limp body fell to the earth.
Thor stood there and felt hollowed out, crushed by guilt. He had made one too many mistakes in judgment. If he had not freed Durs, Conval might be alive right now.
With their backs exposed to the Empire, it gave the Empire soldiers an opportunity. They all rushed in through the open circle, and Thor felt a warhammer smash him on the back of the shoulder blade; the strength of the blow sent him down to the ground, face-first.
Before he could rise, several soldiers pounced on him; he felt their feet on his back, then felt one soldier reach down, grab his hair, and lean over him with a dagger.
“Say goodbye, young one,” the soldier said.
Thor closed his eyes, and as he did, he felt himself transported to another world.
Please God, Thor said to himself. Allow me to live this day. Just give me the strength to kill these soldiers. To die some other day, in some other place, with honor. To live long enough to avenge these deaths. To see Gwendolyn one last time.
As Thor lay there, watching the dagger come down, he felt time slow to a near stop. He felt a sudden rush of heat, up his legs and torso and arms, all the way through his palms, to the tips of his fingers, a tingling so intense he could not even close his fingers. The incredible rush of heat and energy was ready to burst right through him.
Thor spun around, feeling charged with a new strength, and aimed his palm at his attacker. A white orb of light emanated from his palm and sent his attacker flying across the battlefield, knocking back several other soldiers with him.
Thor stood, overflowing with energy, and aimed his palms throughout the battlefield. As he did, white orbs of light went everywhere, creating waves of destruction, so fast and intense, that within minutes, all of the Empire soldiers lay in a great heap, dead.
As the heat of the moment calmed, Thor took stock. He, Reece, O’Connor, Elden, and Conven were alive. Nearby were Krohn and Indra, also alive, Krohn breathing hard. All the Empire soldiers were dead. And at their feet lay Conval, dead.
Dross was dead, too, an Empire sword thrust through his heart.
The only one left alive was Drake. He lay there, moaning on the ground with a stomach wound from an Empire dagger. Thor marched over to him as Reece, O’Connor and Elden dragged him roughly to his feet, groaning in pain.
Drake, wincing in pain, sneered back insolently, semi-conscious.
“You should have killed us from the start,” Drake said, blood dripping from his mouth, breaking into a long cough. “You were always too naïve. Too stupid.”
Thor felt his cheeks redden, even more furious at himself for believing them. He was furious, most of all, that his naïveté resulted in Conval’s death.
“I’m only going to ask you this once,” Thor growled. “Answer me truthfully, and we will let you live. Lie to us, and you will follow the way of your two brothers. The choice is yours.”
Drake coughed several times.
“Where is the Sword?” Thor demanded. “The truth this time.”
Drake coughed again and again, then finally lifted his head. He looked up and met Thor’s eyes, and his stare was filled with hate.
“Neversink,” Drake finally answered.
Thor looked at the others, who all looked back at him, confused.
“Neversink?” Thor asked.
“It is a bottomless lake,” Indra chimed in, stepping forward. “On the far side of the Great Desert. It is a Lake of the deepest depths.”
Thor scowled back at Drake.
“Why?” he asked.
Drake coughed, getting weaker.
“Gareth’s orders,” Drake said. “He wanted it cast into a place from which it would never return.”
“But why?” Thor pressed, confused. “Why destroy the Sword?”
Drake looked up and met his eyes.
“If he could not wield it,” Drake said. “Then no one could.”
Thor looked at him long and hard, and finally, he felt satisfied that he was telling the truth.
“Then our time is short,” Thor said, preparing to go.
Drake shook his head.
“You will never get there in time,” Drake said. “They are days ahead of you. The Sword is already lost forever. Give up and return to the Ring and spare yourselves.”
Thor shook his head.
“We don’t think as you,” he replied. “We don’t live to save our lives. We live for valor, for our code. And we will go wherever that takes us.”
“You see where your valor has taken you now,” Drake said. “Even with your valor, you’re a fool, just like the rest of them. Valor is worthless.”
Thor sneered back at him. He could hardly believe that he’d been raised in a house, had spent his whole childhood, with this creature.
Thor’s knuckles whitened as he squeezed his sword hilt, wanting more than ever to kill this boy. Drake’s eyes followed his hands.
“Do it,” Drake said. “Kill me. Do it once and for all.”
Thor stared back long and hard, itching to do it. But he had given Drake his word that if he told the truth, he would not kill him. And Thor was always good to his word.
“I will not,” Thor said finally. “As much as you may deserve it. You will not die by my hand, for then I would be as low as you.”
As Thor began to turn away, Conven rushed forward and shrieked:
“For my brother!”
Before any of them could react, Conven raised his sword and thrust it through Drake’s heart. Conven’s eyes were alight with madness, with grief, as he held Drake in a death embrace and watched Drake’s limp body fall to the ground, dead.