A March of Kings by Morgan Rice Page A

envy. So he decided to omit that part and just tell them how it ended.
    Thor looked him in the eye. “He said: avenge me.”
    The others looked at the floor, grim.
    “Do you have any idea who did it?” O’Connor asked.
    Thor shook his head.
    “As much as you do.”
    “I would love to catch him,” Conven said.
    “As would I,” Elden added.
    “But I don’t understand,” Thor said, looking around, “what is all this packing? It seems as if everyone is getting to leave.”
    “We are,” O’Connor said. “Including you.”
    O’Connor reached over, grabbed a canvas sack, and threw it at Thor. It hit Thor hard in the chest, and he grabbed it before it hit the ground.
    “What do you mean?” Thor asked, puzzled.
    “The Hundred starts tomorrow,” Elden answered. “We are all preparing.”
    “The Hundred?” Thor asked.
    “Do you know nothing?” Conval asked.
    “It seems we have to teach this young one everything,” Conven added.
    Conven stepped forward and draped an arm across Thor’s shoulder.
    “Don’t worry, my friend. There’s always much to learn in the Legion. The Hundred is the Legion’s way of making us all hardened warriors—and weeding us out. It is a rite of passage. Every year, at summertime, they send us for a hundred days of the most grueling training you’ll ever know. Some of us will return. Those who do are granted honors, weapons, and a permanent place in the Legion.”
    Thor looked around, still puzzled. “But why are you packing?”
    “Because the Hundred is not here,” Elden explained. “They ship us off. Literally. Far from here. We must journey across the Canyon, into the Wilds, across the Tartuvian Sea, and all the way to the Isle of Mist. It is a hundred days of hell. We all dread it. But we must go through it, if we are to stay in the Legion. Our ship sails tomorrow, so pack quickly.”
    Thor looked down at the sack in his hand, unbelieving. He could hardly imagine packing up what few things he had, crossing the Canyon into the Wilds, boarding a ship, and spending a hundred days on an island with all the Legion members. The thought of it excited him; it also terrified him. He’d never been on a ship, had never been across the sea. He loved the idea of advancing his skills, and he hoped he would make it and not be weeded out.
    “Before you pack, you should report to your knight,” Conven said. “You are squire to Kendrick now that Erec is gone, aren’t you?”
    Thor nodded back. “Yes, is he here?”
    “He was outside with some of the other Knights,” he answered. “He was preparing his horse, and I know he was looking for you.”
    As Thor stood there, his mind reeling, the thought of the Hundred excited him more than he could say. He wanted to be tested, to be pushed to the extreme, to see if he was as good as the others. And if he made it back—and he felt sure he would—he would return a stronger warrior.
    “Are you sure that I’m included, that I’m allowed to come, too?” Thor asked.
    “Of course you are,” O’Connor said. “Assuming, of course, your knight doesn’t need you here. You need his permission.”
    “Ask him,” Elden said, “and be quick of it. There is much to do to prepare, and you’re already far behind. The ships will not wait. And whoever does not go, cannot stay in the Legion.”
    “Try the armory,” O’Connor said. “I saw Kendrick there just an hour ago.”
    Thor needed no prodding. He turned and ran from the barracks, out the door and across the fields, heading for the armory, Krohn yelping and running at his heels.
    In moments he reached it, breathing hard, and there was Kendrick. He stood there alone, inside the armory, looking up at a wall of halberds. He looked pensive, intense, lost in thought. Thor felt as if he had intruded on private time, and felt guilty for interrupting.
    Kendrick turned, and his eyes were red from crying. Thor thought of his father’s funeral, remembered Kendrick lowering him into the ground,