Merek stood there, shocked, and Thor knew exactly what he had to do. He grabbed the axe, hurried over, held his shackle up against the stone, and chopped it. A great spark flew through the air, as the chain-link was severed. Merek flinched, then raised his head and looked at the chain dangling down to his feet, and realized he was free.
He stared back at Thor, open-mouthed.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Merek said. “I don’t know how you did that, whatever it is, or who you are—or what you are—but you saved my life. I owe you one. And that is something I do not take lightly.”
“You owe me nothing,” Thor said.
“Wrong,” Merek said, reaching out and clasping Thor’s forearm. “You’re my brother now. And I will repay you. Somehow. Someday.”
With that, Merek turned, hurried out the open cell door, and ran down the corridor, to the shouts of the other prisoners.
Thor looked over, saw the unconscious guard, the open cell door, and knew he had to act, too. The shouts of prisoners were growing louder.
Thor stepped out, looked both ways, and decided to run the opposite way of Merek. After all, they couldn’t catch them both at once.
CHAPTER THREE
Thor ran through the night, through the chaotic streets of King’s Court, amazed at the commotion around him. The streets were more crowded than ever, throngs of people hurrying about in an agitated stir. Many carried torches, lighting up the night, casting stark shadows on faces, while the castle bells tolled incessantly. It was a low ring, coming once a minute, and Thor knew what that meant: death. Death bells. And there was only one person in the kingdom for whom the bells would toll on this night: the king.
Thor’s heart pounded as he wondered. He saw that dagger from his dream flash before his eyes. Had it been true?
He had to know for sure. He reached out and grabbed a passerby, a boy running the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” Thor demanded. “What is all this commotion?”
“Haven’t you heard?” the boy shot back, frantic. “Our king is dying. Stabbed. Mobs are forming outside King’s Gate, trying to get the news. If it’s true, it’s terrible for us all. Can you imagine? A land without a king?”
With that, the boy shoved Thor’s hand off and turned and ran back into the night.
Thor stood there, his heart pounding, not wanting to acknowledge the reality all around him. He could hardly believe it. His dreams, his premonitions—they were more than fancies. He had seen the future. Twice. And that scared him. His powers were deeper than he knew, and seemed to be getting stronger with each passing day. Where would this all lead?
Thor stood there, trying to figure out where to go next. He had escaped, but now he had no idea where to turn. Surely within moments the royal guards—and possibly all of King’s Court—would be out looking out for him. The fact that Thor escaped would just make him seem more guilty. But then again, the fact that MacGil was stabbed while Thor was in prison—wouldn’t that vindicate him? Or would it make him seem like part of a conspiracy?
Thor couldn’t take any chances. Clearly, the kingdom wasn’t in the mood to hear rational thought—it seemed that everyone around him was out for blood. And he would probably be the scapegoat. He needed to find shelter, some place to go where he could ride out the storm and clear his name. The safest place to go, he knew, would be far from here. He should flee, take refuge in his village—or even farther, as far from here as he could get.
But Thor did not want to take the safest route; it was not who he was. He wanted to stay here, to clear his name, and to keep his position in the Legion. He was not a coward, and he did not run. Most of all, he wanted to see MacGil before he died, assuming he was still alive. He needed to see him. He felt overwhelmed with guilt that he hadn’t been able to stop the assassination. Why had he been doomed to see the king’s death if there was nothing he could do about it? And why had he envisioned him being poisoned when he was, in fact, stabbed?
As Thor stood there, debating, it came to him: Reese. Reese was the one person he could trust not to turn him into the authorities, maybe even to give him safe harbor. He sensed that Reese would believe him. He knew that Thor’s love for his father was genuine, and if anyone had a chance of clearing Thor’s name, it would be Reese. He had to find him.
Thor took off at a sprint through the back alleys, twisting and turning against the crowd, as he ran away from King’s Gate, towards the castle. He knew where Reese’s room was—on the eastern wing, close to the outer city wall—and he only hoped that Reese was inside. If he was, maybe he could catch his attention, help him find a way into the castle. Thor had a sinking feeling that if he lingered here, in the streets, he would soon be recognized. And when this mob recognized him, it would tear him to bits.
As Thor turned down street after street, his feet slipping in the mud of the cool summer night, he finally reached the stone wall of the outer ramparts. He stuck close, running alongside it, just beneath the eyes of the watchful soldiers who stood every few feet.
As he neared Reese’s window, he reached down and picked up a smooth rock. Luckily, the one weapon they had forgotten to strip him of was his old, trusted sling, and he extracted it from his waist, placed the stone, reached back, and hurled it.
With his flawless aim, Thor managed to send the stone flying over the castle wall and perfectly into the open-air window of Reese’s room. Thor heard the stone clack into the inner wall, then waited, ducking low along the wall to escape detection by the King’s guards, who flinched at the noise.
Nothing happened for several moments, and Thor’s heart dropped, as he wondered if Reese was not in his room after all. If not, Thor would have to flee this place; there was no other way for him to gain safe harbor. He held his breath, his heart pounding, as he waited, watching the opening by Reese’s window.
After what felt like an eternity, Thor was about to turn away, when he saw a figure lean his head out the window, brace both palms on the windowsill, and look around with a puzzled expression.
Thor stood, darting out several steps away from the wall, and waved one arm high.
Reese looked down and noticed him. Reese’s face lit up in recognition, visible in the torchlight even from here, and, Thor was relieved to see joy on his face. That told him all he needed to know: Reese would not turn him in.
Reese signaled for him to wait, and Thor hurried back to the wall, squatting low just as a guard turned his way.