Sorcerer's Ring (Books 1 ,2, and 3). Morgan Rice
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And he will be a far greater king than you. It is his destiny.”
For a brief moment, MacGil burned with envy. He turned and examined the boy, laughing harmlessly with Reece, at a table for squires, the commoner, the weak outsider, the youngest of the bunch. He didn’t imagine how it was possible. Looking at him now, he looked barely eligible to join the Legion. He wondered for a moment if Argon was wrong.
But Argon had never been wrong and never made pronouncements without a reason.
“Why are you telling me this?” MacGil asked.
Argon turned and stared at him.
“Because it is your time to prepare. The boy needs to be trained. He needs to be given the best of everything. It is your responsibility.”
“Mine? And what of his father?”
“What of him?” Argon asked.
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.”
The boys were all marched out of their barracks and Thor and Reece fell in with them. As they stepped outside, the bright sunlight struck Thor and he squinted and held up his hands. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with a wave of nausea, and he turned, bent over, and threw up.
He could hear the snicker of boys all around him. A guard pushed him, and Thor stumbled forward, back in line with the others, wiping his mouth. Thor had never felt more awful.
Beside him, Reece smiled.
“Rough night, was it?” he asked Thor, grinning widely, elbowing him in the ribs. “I told you to stop after the second goblet.”
Thor felt queasy as the light pierced his eyes; it had never felt so strong as today. It was a hot day already, and he could feel drops of sweat forming beneath his leathermail.
Thor tried to remember back, to Reece’s warning of the night before—but for the life of him, he could not remember.
“I don’t remember any such advice,” Thor retorted.
Reece grinned wider. “Precisely. That is because you did not listen.” Reece chuckled. “And those ham-handed attempts to speak to my sister,” he added. “It was positively pathetic. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy so fearful of a girl in my life.”
Thor reddened as he tried to remember. But he could not. It was all hazy to him.
“I mean you no offense,” Thor said. “With your sister.”
“You cannot offend me. If she should choose you, I would be thrilled.”
The two of them marched faster, as the group turned up a hill. The sun seemed to be getting stronger with each step.
“But I must warn you: every hand in the kingdom is after her. The chances of her choosing you… Well, let’s just say they are remote.”
As they walked faster, marching across the rolling green hills of King’s Court, Thor felt reassured. He felt accepted by Reece. It was amazing, but he continued to feel Reece was more of a brother to him than he’d ever had. As they walked, Thor noticed his three real brothers, marching close by. One of them turned and scowled back to him, then nudged his other brother, who looked back with a mocking grin. They shook their heads and turned away. They had not so much as one kind word for Thor. But he hardly expected anything else.
“Get in line, Legion! Now!”
Thor looked up and saw several more of The Silver crowd around them, pushing the fifty of them into a tight line, double file. One man came up behind and struck the boy in front of Thor with a large bamboo rod, cracking him hard on the back; the boy cried out, and fell more tightly in line. Soon they were in two neat rows, marching steadily through the King’s ground.
“When you march into battle, you march as one!” called out Kolk, walking up and down the sides. “This is not your mother’s yard. You are marching to war!”
Thor marched and marched beside Reece, sweating in the sun, wondering where they were being led. His stomach still turned from the ale, and he wondered when he would have breakfast, when he would get something to drink. Once again, he cursed himself for drinking the night before.
As they went up and down the hills, through an arched stone gate, they finally reached the surrounding