A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Thor peeled open his eyes, disoriented, wondering where he was. He lay on the floor, on a mound of straw, his face planted sideways, his arms dangling over his head. He lifted his face, wiping the drool from his mouth, and immediately felt a stab of pain in his head, behind his eyes. It was the worst headache of his life. He remembered the night before, the king's feast, the drinking, his first taste of ale. The room was spinning. His throat was dry, and at that moment he vowed he would never drink again.

Thor looked around, trying to get his bearings in the cavernous barracks. Everywhere were bodies, lying on heaps of straw, the room filled with snoring; he turned the other way, and saw Reece, a few feet away, passed out, too. It was then he realized: he was in the barracks. The Legion's barracks. All around him were boys his age, about fifty of them.

Thor vaguely remembered Reece showing him the way, in the late hours of the morning, and crashing on the mound of straw. Early morning light flooded in through the open windows, and Thor soon realized he was the only one yet awake. He looked down and saw he had slept in his clothes, and reached up and ran a hand through his greasy hair. He would give anything for a chance to bathe—although he had no idea where. And he would do anything for a pint of water. His stomach rumbled—he wanted food, too.

It was all so new to him. He barely knew where he was, where life would take him next, what the routines were of the king's Legion. But he was happy. It had been a dazzling night, one of the finest of his life. He had found a close friend in Reece, and had caught Gwendolyn looking at him once or twice. He had tried to speak with her, but each time he approached, his courage failed. He felt a pang of regret as he thought about it. There had been too many people around. If it was ever just the two of them, he would gain the courage. But would there be a next time?

Before Thor could finish the thought, there was a sudden banging on the wooden doors of the barracks, and an instant later, they crashed open, light flooding in.

"To your feet, squires!" came a shout.

In marched a dozen members of the King's Silver, chain mail rattling, banging on the wooden walls with metal staffs. The noise was deafening, and all around Thor, the other boys jumped to their feet.

Leading the group was a particularly fierce-looking soldier, who Thor recognized from the arena the day before, the stocky, bald one with the scar on his nose, whom Reece had told him was named Kolk.

He seemed to be scowling right at Thor as he raised a finger and pointed it at him.

"You there, boy!" he screamed. "I said on your feet!"

Thor was confused. He was already standing.

"But I'm already on my feet, sire," Thor answered.

Kolk stepped forward and backhanded Thor across the face. Thor stung with the indignation of it, as all eyes were on him.

"Don't you talk back to your superior again!" Kolk reprimanded.

Before Thor could respond the men moved on, roaming through the room, yanking one boy after another to his feet, kicking some in the ribs who were too slow to get up.

"Don't worry," came a reassuring voice.

He turned and saw Reece standing there.

"It is not personal to you. It is just their way. Their way of breaking us down."

"But they didn't do it to you," Thor said. 

"Of course, they won't touch me, because of my father. But they won't exactly be polite, either. They want us in shape, that's all. They think this will toughen us up. Don't pay much attention to them."