“There must be some way, someone who can help us get you out of here,” she said.
As he stood there, shaking his head, suddenly, she had a flash of inspiration.
“Mother,” she said, dreading it even as she spoke the words. If there was anyone she hated more than Gareth, it was her mother, and the one good thing that had come from her father’s death was her mother’s catatonic state, her leaving her alone. She had vowed to never see her again, and the idea of talking to her made her feel physically ill. But for Kendrick, she would do it.
“I don’t know how she could help,” Kendrick said. “She has been unable to speak since the death of our father. And even if she were, Gareth is king now. She is no longer queen. Her remaining influence, if any, is finite.”
“But she was queen only days ago,” Gwen countered. “Many people still answer to her, still fear and respect her and will defer to her wishes-especially those loyal to our father.”
Kendrick nodded back.
“I concede there is a chance,” he said.
He reached out, and grabbed both of her hands in his.
“Whatever happens, I want you to know that our father was right to choose you as the next ruler. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now. He had been right all along.”
Gwen looked back to him, her heart welling with gratitude.
“Also know that I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too,” she said, her eyes welling up. “Know that I will not let you die in here. I will allow myself to die first.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Thor descended down the mountain for the caves of the Cyclops, the sunset sky breaking all around him, lighting the world in a million shades of scarlet, and he felt as if he were being marched to his death-as if he were descending into hell itself.
He marched, the Legion members a safe distance behind him, Malic beside him, both of them still bound, Krohn to his side, the shouts of the beast, concealed in the cave, growing louder. The earth trembled as they went, and Thor could only imagine the ire of this beast.
Thor hated Malic with a passion reserved for no other. He had been unfairly setup because of him, unfairly accused, dragged into this, his potential death. Thor only prayed that the legend of the Cyclops held true-and that only the guilty one would be killed.
Thor thought back to that scene on the sparring field, and he remembered Malic’s trying to kill him first. He still didn’t really understand what had happened, or why.
“Before we are sent to our deaths,” Thor said to Malic, walking side by side, “tell me one thing. Why did you do it? Why did you try to kill me back there? And when you failed, why did you then kill that man?”
Malic continued walking, and, to Thor’s surprise, even as he was being marched to his death, he smiled, as if he enjoyed this. This boy was truly sick.
“I never liked you,” Malic said. “From the moment I met you. But that was not the reason. I was paid handsomely for it-to kill you.”
Thor was aghast.
“Paid?” he asked.
“You have very rich enemies. I gladly took their fee for attempting something I wanted to do myself.”
“Then why did you kill that man I was wrestling with?” Thor asked. “What has he to do with me?”
“When I missed my chance to kill you,” Malic said, “I figured my next best chance was to kill him and pin it on you. Then the warriors would kill you, and save me the trouble.”
Thor frowned.
“Well it didn’t work out that way, did it?” Thor asked.
“You will die by the Cyclops hand,” Malic said.
“But so will you,” Thor countered.
Malic shrugged.
“Everybody has to die sometime,” he said, then fell into silence.
Thor could not understand him-he truly seemed apathetic to life. He wondered what evil had befallen him to make him this way.
“Just tell me one more thing before your death,” Thor urged. “Who paid you? Who are my enemies?”
Malic continued walking, silent. Clearly, he was done speaking.
“Well,” Thor concluded, “I hope you’re satisfied. Now you’re going to get us both killed.”
“Wrong,” Malic said. “I don’t believe in legends and fairytales. The monster won’t kill me. I am stronger than any monster. It will only kill one of us. And it will be you.”
Thor looked at him with a hatred beyond calculation.
“I would kill you right now, if I could,” Thor said.
Malic smiled.
“Then too bad we are both bound.”
They continued marching, silently, getting ever closer, the sky turning darker, and the monster’s roars growing louder.
“I like you,” Malic said, surprising Thor. “In another life, we would be friends.”
Thor looked at him, unbelieving.
“You are sick,” Thor said. “I don’t understand you. You said you hated me. We would never be friends. I am not friends with liars-or murderers.”
Malic threw his head back and laughed loudly.
“Lying and murdering is the way of the world,” he answered. “At least I am bold enough to admit it. Everyone else hides and cowers behind a facade.”
The two of them continued marching, farther and farther down the hill, getting closer to the cave of the Cyclops. The sky morphed into a brilliant, glowing red, looking as if it were on fire. Thor could not help but feel as if he were walking into the very pit of hell.
Finally, the ground leveled out, the cave hardly thirty yards before them, and they stopped as two warriors came up behind them and cut their ropes, freeing their hands. The warriors turned and ran back uphill, to the large crowd of Legion members who watched at a safe distance uphill.
Thor and Malic glanced at each other, then Thor turned and marched boldly right up to the huge cave. Malic followed. If Thor was going to die, he would do so bravely. Krohn walked beside him, growling.
“Go back, Krohn!” Thor commanded, wanting to spare him.
But Krohn refused to leave his side.
There came another earth-shattering roar, and it was enough to make Thor want to stop in his tracks. Beside him, Malic continued marching, relaxed, with a smile on his face, as if happy to meet the monster. Maybe he was happy to meet his death, Thor thought. He seemed suicidal.
Thor’s mind raced as they approached the cave. The opening was so high, soaring at least thirty feet, it was ominous; it made Thor wonder about the size of the creature that lived within it. He wondered if these would be his last moments on earth, if he would die this way, down here, in this cave, on this island. All because of Malic, because of a crime he did not commit. He wondered about his fate and destiny, if it had all been wrong. After all, Argon had never seen this, had never seen his encounter with the Cyclops-or at least had never warned him of it. And Thor had never seen it himself. Was his power not as strong as he thought? Was this where it would all end? Or had his fate changed somehow?
For the first time since he had embarked, Thor took seriously the idea that he might not return. For some reason, he thought of Gwendolyn. He thought of her waiting for him, of his never showing up, of his not returning for her. It broke his heart.
Before he could finish the thought, suddenly, from out of the cave came the largest beast Thor had ever seen. The Cyclops took three huge steps, ducking his head, unbelievably, despite the thirty foot opening, then raising himself to his full height as he stepped outside. He was enormous, like looking up at a mountain.
As he stepped, the earth shook. He leaned back and roared, and it felt as if it would shatter Thor’s eardrums. Thor’s body froze with fright. Finally, Malic’s did, too. He stood there, open-mouthed, staring up, his sword hanging limp in his hand. Krohn snarled, fearless.
The Cyclops must have been fifty feet tall. He was broader and thicker than an elephant, the grey skin on his muscles rippling, his one eye blinking madly, and had two huge fangs, each the size of Thor. He leaned his head back and roared again, his hands bunched into fists, his arms rising high then coming down, too fast, like tree trunks, swinging right for Thor and Malic.