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

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Thor, Reece, O'Connor, Elden, and Erec all sat on the ground, before a fire, forming a circle around it. The five of them sat glum and silent, Thor surprised it could be this cold on a summer night. There was just something about this canyon, the chill, mystical winds that swirled around, down his back, and mingled with the fog that never seemed to go away, which left him damp to the bone. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands against the fire, unable to get them warm.

Thor chewed on the piece of dried meat the others were passing around; it was tough and salty, but somehow nourished him. Erec reached over and handed him something and Thor felt a soft wineskin being pressed into his hand, the liquid sloshing in it. It was surprisingly heavy as he raised it to his lips and squirted it into the back of his mouth, for too long a time. He felt warm for the first time that night.

Everyone was quiet, staring into the flames. Thor was still on edge, being on this side of the Canyon, in enemy territory, still felt as if he should be on guard at every moment, and marveled at how calm Erec seemed to be, as if he were casually sitting in his own backyard. Thor was relieved, at least, to be out of the Wilds, reunited with Erec, and sitting around the reassurance of a fire. Erec watched the forest line, attentive to every little noise, yet confident and relaxed. Thor knew that if any danger came, Erec would protect them all.

Thor felt content around the flames; he looked around and saw the others seemed content, too—except, of course, for Elden, glum ever since returning from the forest. He had lost his confident swagger from earlier in the day, and he sat there, sour, without his sword. The commanders would never forgive such a mistake—Elden would be kicked out of the Legion upon their return. He wondered what Elden would do. He had a feeling he would not go down so easily, that he had some trick, some backup plan, up his sleeve. Thor assumed that, whatever it was, it would not be good.

Thor turned and followed Erec's gaze to the distant horizon, in the southern direction. There was a faint glow, an endless line as far as the eye could see, that lit up the night. Thor wondered.

"What is it?" he finally asked Erec. "That glow? The one you keep staring at?"

Erec was silent for a long time, and the only sound was that of the whipping of the wind. Finally, without turning, he said: "The Gorals."

Thor exchanged a glance with the others, who looked back, fearful. Thor's stomach tightened at the thought of it. The Gorals. So close. There was nothing in between them and him except for a simple forest and a vast plain. There was no longer the great Canyon separating them, keeping them safe. All his life he had heard tales of these violent savages from the Wilds who had no ambition except to attack the Ring. And now there was nothing between them. He couldn't believe how many of them there were. It was a vast and waiting army.

"Aren't you afraid?" Thor asked Erec.

Erec shook his head.

"The Gorals move as one. Their army camps out there every night. They have for years. They would only attack the Canyon if they mobilized the entire army and attacked as one. And they wouldn't dare try. The power of the Sword acts as a shield. They know they cannot breach it."

"So then why do they camp out there?" Thor asked.

"It is their way of intimidating. And preparing. There have been many times throughout the course of history, in the time of our fathers, when they attacked, tried to breach the canyon. But it hasn't happened in my time."

Thor looked up at the black sky, the yellow and blue and orange stars twinkling high overhead, and wondered. This side of the canyon was a place of nightmares, and had been ever since he could walk. The thought of it made him fearful, but he forced that from his mind. He was a member of the Legion now, and had to act like it.