Thor sat up, breathing hard, looking all around him. He was surprised to realize he had been dreaming. It had felt so real.
Thor lay with the other Legion members on the ground before the dying fire, where he had fallen asleep. The others still slept. He turned to see dawn breaking over the horizon, the first sun flooding the sky with yellow and purple.
He stood and wiped the sweat from his brow as he pondered his dream. It had been so vivid; his heart was still pounding. He had really felt as if he had just encountered his mother. And her words to him kept repeating in his mind. They felt like a message. More than a message-they felt like a command.
Come home.
Thor felt an urgency, felt there was some great message awaiting him in his hometown. Some great secret waiting to be unlocked. The secret of who he was. Of who his mother was.
He walked over to the gurgling creak, knelt down and splashed cold water on his face, trying to shake it. But he could not. It clung to him, this persistent feeling that he needed to go there. Was he imagining it? Was it wishful thinking? Was it just a fanciful dream? It was so hard to know what was a dream, and what was a message. When did his own unconscious get in the way of his seeing a message clearly?
“Sometimes dreams are more than dreams,” came a voice.
Thor knew that voice, and it sent a chill up his spine.
He turned slowly to see Argon standing there, holding his staff, dressed in his white robes, looking out at the breaking dawn. He did not even look Thor’s way.
Thor was so relieved to see him; it was like seeing an old friend.
“Argon,” Thor said. “Please, tell me. Was it all true? The dream? Does my mother wait for me?”
“Yes and no,” he responded.
Thor wondered.
“Must I return to my hometown?” he pressed.
“You know the answer.”
Thor did. He felt it. He had to go.
“But is she awaiting me there now? How did she get there? What is she doing there?”
“Some things you must find out on your own,” Argon said. “It is up to you to make the journey.”
Suddenly, Argon vanished. Thor turned every which way, looking for him, but he was gone.
Thor rubbed his face several times, wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing.
But he was certain that he had not. First there was the dream. Then, Argon. Thor felt it was a sign, one he could no longer ignore. He felt the same way he did on that fateful day when he’d left his village and first embarked for King’s Court. The universe was telling him something. He had to go back to his hometown. Something was awaiting him there. Some secret he needed to unlock. Was that why fate had sent Thor here, to this remote village, which shared the same road as that to his hometown? He wondered. Had the universe been giving him signs all along?
Thor stood upright, ran his wet hands through his hair, and decided. He must go. He needed answers. His hometown was hardly a day’s ride from here, and he could make it there and back before the sunset. His Legion brothers would be okay without him for the day. It was risky, because he would be leaving his post, and if the Legion commanders found out, he could be punished. But there wasn’t much to do here today, anyway, aside from some more light rebuilding. It wasn’t like they were at war, and Thor felt confident his friends would be safe.
Thor turned and headed for his horse, preparing to take off before the sun rose higher.
Suddenly, there came a voice.
“Where are you going?”
Thor turned and saw Reece, standing there, looking much more recovered, fully dressed. Thor stopped and turned to him.
“Reece,” he said. “You look well. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”
“I am,” he said, his energy returned. “Much. In fact, I’m going to go and pay a visit to the girl who helped me now.”
Thor smiled.
“Not wasting any time, are you?” Thor remarked, looking at the dawn. “Good for you.”
Thor admired his courage. He knew what it took.
Reece smiled sheepishly back.
“And you?” he asked, looking at Thor’s horse. “You look as if you’re going somewhere.”
Thor cleared his throat, wondering how much to say. He could trust Reece more than anyone, and he decided to tell him.
“I had a dream,” Thor responded. “It felt like a sign. I need to visit my hometown. I will return before the second sun sets. Can you cover for me?”
Reece nodded solemnly.
“Do what the fates tell you to do,” he said.
Reece stepped forward and clasped Thor’s forearm firmly.
“You saved my life yesterday. I shall never forget.”
As they clasped arms, Thor felt more than ever that Reece was his true brother, closer to him than anyone he’d ever known. And as he thought of returning home, to the place where he was raised with three brothers who hated him, Thor felt more grateful for that than Reece would ever know.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Luanda stood chained to a stone wall in the McCloud dungeon, each of her wrists and ankles bound with iron shackles. Her body shook from exhaustion, fear and hunger. She wondered how she, a royal princess, the firstborn of the MacGil children, had found herself in this position, had sunk to such a low. It was hard to conceive. Just weeks ago she had imagined her life to come with such joy. She had imagined herself married off to a McCloud prince, imagined becoming queen of the McCloud kingdom. And now, here she stood, a prisoner in her own court, treated like a common criminal-and even worse.
The elder McCloud was an evil creature, the lowest of mankind. She had never encountered a more crude, more vile, more vicious man in her life. He terrorized everyone and everything around him, and even though she’d taken a chance and failed and ended up where she was, she still did not regret her attempt to end his life in that house, back in her home city, when she had attempted to save that poor girl from attack. It had been a mistake to think she could kill him, as Bronson had warned. And in retrospect, it had been stupid. Yet still, she did not regret it.
Luanda closed her eyes and there flashed through her mind the horrific image of Bronson’s being attacked by his own father, of watching him lose his hand in his attempt to save her life. She felt overwhelmed with waves of guilt. She loved Bronson more than ever, admired him for finally taking a stand against his father, and appreciated his sacrifice more than he would ever know. She also felt a fresh repulsion for his father, stronger than ever.
She had to get herself out of this dungeon, and had to rescue Bronson, who was set to be executed, before he died at his own father’s hand. And she had to get them out of this city, out of McCloud territory, somehow back over the Highlands, back to the safety of the MacGil side. She had to make it back to her father’s court, and hope that they would take her back in.
But right now, all of that seemed like a far cry. Bronson might already be dead for all she knew, and as she stood there, shackled, there was no hope in sight for evading her jailers. In fact, she had more pressing things on her mind: her jailers, two cretins, had taken turns tormenting her throughout the night. One would grab her hair, the other would pull on her shirt; one would threaten her with a blade, another with a hot iron. They hadn’t raped or tortured her yet. But their threats had been ongoing for hours, and they were escalating. She felt as if they were building up to something, and if all their threats were true, she knew she would be raped and tortured and left for dead before the sun rose. They were two disgusting little men, unshaven with greasy hair, wearing the uniform of the McClouds, and she felt they were good to their word. Her hours were numbered. She had to find a way out of here, and fast. It was time to make a move. She just didn’t know what.