“How about the one beyond it?” the boy asked.
Thor looked out and saw, a good thirty yards past that tree, a small, narrow tree. Thor looked back at the boy in surprise.
“I know of no Legion or even Silver who could hit that tree from here,” Thor said. “You are a dreamer. And I have no time to waste for dreamers.”
Thor turned to head back for his horse, but he heard a cry, and turned to see the boy take several steps forward, raise the spear, and hurl it.
The spear soared through the air, past the first tree, and on to the second. Thor watched in awe as the spear lodged into the center of the skinny tree, shaking it so that its small apples fell to the ground.
Thor looked back at the boy, in shock. It was the most masterful throw he had ever seen.
“What is your name, boy?” he demanded.
“Archibald,” the boy said proudly, earnest.
“Where did you learn to throw like that?”
“Many long days in the open plains, tending cattle, with nothing else to do. I swear to you, sir, joining the Legion is all I’ve ever wanted from life. Please. Allow me to join your ranks.”
Thor nodded, satisfied.
“Okay, Archibald,” he said. “Make your way to King’s Court. Seek out the training ground for the Legion. I will meet you back there in a few days’ time. You will be given a chance to try out.”
Archibald beamed, and clasped Thor’s hand.
“Thank you. Thank you so much!” he said, clasping both Thor’s hands.
Thor mounted his horse, Krohn following, and kicked, preparing for the next town. Despite the rocky start, he felt encouraged. Perhaps this Selection would not be a waste of time after all.
Thor rode and rode, until the second sun began to set, making his way ever south, on the lookout for the next village. Finally, as the second sun hung sat as a red ball on the horizon, Thor reached a crossroads atop a small hill, and he stopped. His horse, and Krohn, needed a break.
Thor sat there, all of them breathing hard, and looked down at the vista of rolling hills before him. The road forked, and if he took it to the right, he knew, it would ironically lead him to his home village, just a few miles around the bend. To the left, the road forked east and south, towards other villages.
Thor sat there and thought for a moment. How ironic it would be to return to his old village, to see his former peers, to be the one to decide if they would join the Legion. He knew there were good boys back there, and he knew that’s where he should go. That’s where his duties demanded he be.
Yet somehow, deep down, he just couldn’t bring himself to return there. He had vowed never to lay eyes on his hometown again. Surely, his father was still there, his disparaging, sour father, and he didn’t want to see him. Surely most of those boys were still there, too, the ones who had been so scornful of him growing up, who had viewed him, and treated him, as a cattle herder’s son. He had never been taken seriously by any of them.
Thor did not want to see them. He did not want to go back and have his petty revenge. He did not want to go back at all. He just wanted to wipe that village from his memory, even if it meant shirking his duty.
Thor finally kicked his horse and turned away from the road that led to his village, forking instead, to parts unknown.
Hours passed as Thor rode through wooded, unfamiliar territory, searching for a new village, venturing deeper into a part of the Ring he had never been. Night began to fall, the second sun disappearing below the horizon, and it was getting darker. Thick clouds gathered around him, soon the sky turned black, and thundered clapped overhead, as it began to pour.
Thor was getting soaked, as was Krohn and his horse, and he knew they couldn’t continue on like this; they’d have to find shelter for the night. He peered into the thick woods on either side of the narrow road, and he decided to turn off and seek shelter beneath a canopy of trees.
The forest was wet and dank, thick with trees, and Thor dismounted, not wanting his horse to get hurt in the darkness. He walked alongside it, tripping on gnarled roots, Krohn beside him, as they all ventured deeper and deeper into the dark forest.
Thor wiped rainwater from his eyes, wiped the hair from his face, trying to see where he was going. There was no sign of shelter anywhere, and the rain poured through the trees.
Finally, up ahead, Thor spotted a cave, a huge rock emerging from the earth, black inside. As the rain poured down harder, he lead the others to it.
They entered, Thor relieved to finally be dry, quieter in here, the only sound that of the rain pouring outside. Krohn shook his hair and the horse neighed, all of them clearly happy to be out from the wet.
Thor walked to the end of the cave, on guard, making sure they were not sharing it with anyone, then finally stopped about twenty feet in, satisfied. It was a shallow cave, but dry, and large enough for them to take shelter from the storm.
Thor set to work making a fire, salvaging the dry branches he found on the floor of the cave, and soon it was roaring, the twigs crackling. Thor remembered the pieces of dried meat in his saddle, and he fed the horse, then Krohn, then himself.
Thor sat before the flames, rubbing his hands, trying to dry off, and Krohn came up beside him and lay his head in his lap, while the horse stood by the cave’s entrance, lowering his head and chewing the grass. Thor chewed his dried meat, warming himself on the surprisingly cool summer night. He felt sleepy from the long day, and soon, his eyes were closing on him.
“Thorgrin,” came a voice.
Thor opened his eyes to see Argon standing over him, looking down at him in the cave. Argon stood there, eyes opened wide, shining, holding his staff, dressed in his robe and cloak. Thor was shocked to see him here. He looked over and saw Krohn sleeping, beside the embers of the dying fire, and he wondered if it were all real.
“Thorgrin,” Argon repeated.
“What are you doing here?” Thor asked.
“You have come to me,” Argon said. “You sought me out. In this cave.”
Thor furrowed his brows, confused.
“I thought I was lost,” he said. “I thought I made a wrong turn. I did not mean to come here.”
Argon shook his head.
“There are no wrong turns,” he said. “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”
“But where am I?” Thor asked.
“Follow me and see.”
Argon turned, and Thor rose to his feet and followed him as he marched outside the cave. Thor still did not know if he was awake or asleep.
Outside, the rain had stopped. All was silent. The forest was eerie, dim, not dark and not light, as if it were twilight, or the time before dawn. It felt as if the entire world were still asleep.
Argon continued walking, and Thor struggled to keep up with him through the forest trail. He was beginning to get concerned about finding his way back to the cave.
“Where are we going, Argon?” Thor asked.
“To complete your training,” Argon replied.
“I thought my training was complete,” Thor said.
“Only one stage of it,” Argon said. “It is no longer about what you need to learn. Now it is about what you need to do.”
“To do?” Thor asked, puzzled.
“This journey, this road, your town, the storm—it’s all come for a reason. You’ve come here for a reason. The time has come for you to tap into a part of yourself you have not yet reached.”
They finally broke free from the woods, and before them lay a vista of rolling hills.
Thor followed Argon to the top of a small hill. He stopped, and Thor stopped beside him.
“Your problem, Thorgrin,” Argon said, standing beside him, looking out, eyes aglow, “is that you do not realize how powerful you are. You never have. You still don’t trust it. You still don’t trust who you are. You are so reliant upon human weapons and training, upon swords and spears and shields…. But you have all the power you
