A March of Kings - By Morgan Rice Page 0,30

to be poisoned. You prevented that.”

Thor stared back, puzzled. He had never thought of that.

“But he was killed anyway,” Thor said.

“But not by poison. By dagger. And you don’t know what effect that small change will have on the destiny of this kingdom.”

Thor thought about that, his head hurting. It was too much for him to comprehend. He didn’t fully understand what Argon was hinting at.

“The King wanted to see me before he died,” Thor continued quickly, eager for answers. “Why me? Of all people? And what did he mean, when he spoke of my mother? Of my destiny being greater than his? Were these just the words of a dying man?”

“I think you know they were far more than that,” Argon replied.

“So then it’s true?” Thor asked. “My destiny is greater even than his? How is that possible? He was a king. I am nothing.”

“Are you, then?” Argon asked back.

Argon took several steps forward, standing feet away from Krohn, and stared down at him. Krohn whined, and turned and ran away. Thor felt a chill, as Argon stared right through him.

“God does not choose the arrogant for his will. He chooses the humble. The least likely. Those overlooked by everyone else. Have you not considered this? All of your days farming, tending your father’s sheep in your village. This is a warrior’s—a true warrior’s—foundation. Humility. Reflection. This is what forges a warrior. Did you never sense it? That you were greater than what you were? That you were meant for something else?”

Thor thought, and realized that he had sensed it.

“Yes,” Thor responded. “I felt that…maybe I was meant for greater things.”

“And now that they arrive, you still don’t believe it?” Argon asked.

“But why me?” Thor asked. “What are my powers? What is my destiny? Where did I come from? Who was my mother? Why must everything in life be such a riddle?”

Argon slowly shook his head.

“One day, you will discover these things. But you have much to learn first. You must first become who you are. Your powers are deep, but you know not how to wield them. A mighty river flows within you, but it still lingers beneath the surface. You must bring it forward. You will learn much in your hundred days. But remember, that will be just the beginning.”

Thor looked up at Argon, wondering how much he saw.

“I feel guilty to live,” Thor said. He wanted desperately to tell Argon what was on his mind, the one person who could understand. “The king is dead, and yet I am alive. I feel that his death is on my head. And it hurts to go on.”

Argon turned and looked at him.

“One king dies and another follows. That is the way of the world. A throne is not meant to sit empty. Kings will flow, like a river, through our Ring. All will seem permanent, and all will be fleeting. Nothing in this world—not you, not I—can stop the current. It is a parade of puppets, in the service of fate. It is a march of kings.”

Thor sighed, looking out at the horizon for a very long time.

“The ways of the universe are inscrutable,” he finally continued. “You will not understand them. Yes, it hurts to go on. But we must. We have no choice. And remember,” he said, smiling at Thor with a smile that terrified him, “one day, you will join MacGil, too. Your time here is but a flash. Don’t let life weigh you down with fear and guilt and regret. Embrace every moment of it. Do you understand me? The best thing you can do for MacGil now is to live. To really live. Do you understand me?”

Argon reached out and grabbed Thor by the shoulders, and it felt like two fires burning through his arms. He stared down with such intensity, Thor finally had to turn his head, and blink his eyes shut.

He raised up his hands to protect his eyes, and then suddenly, he felt nothing. He looked up. Argon was gone. Vanished.

Thor stood there alone in the field, turning in every direction. He saw nothing but the open sky, the open plains, and the howling of the wind.

*

Thor sat around the fire on the cool summer night, staring into the flames silently with the other Legion members as the wood cracked and popped. He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the night sky, and in the distance, countless stars twinkled red and orange. Thor wondered, as he often