A March of Kings
Thor.
    Thor swallowed, hoping it wasn’t true but sensing that it was.
    “Do you know who did this terrible act, my lord?” Thor asked the question that had been burning through his mind since he’d had the dream. He could not imagine who would want to kill the king, or why.
    MacGil looked up at the ceiling, blinking with effort.
    “I saw his face. It is a face I know well. But for some reason, I cannot place it.”
    He turned and looked at Thor.
    “It doesn’t matter now. My time has come. Whether it was by his hand, or by some other, the end is still the same. What matters now,” he said, and reached out and grabbed Thor’s wrist with a strength that surprised him, “is what happens after I’m gone. Ours will be a kingdom without a king.”
    MacGil looked at Thor with an intensity that Thor did not understand. Thor did not know precisely what he was saying, what, if anything, he was demanding of him. He wanted to ask, but he could see how hard it was for him to catch his breath, and did not want to risk interrupting him.
    “Argon was right about you,” he said, slowly releasing his grip. “Your destiny is far greater than mine.”
    Thor felt an electric shock through his body at the king’s words. His destiny? Greater than the King’s? The very idea that the King would even bother to discuss Thor with Argon was more than Thor could comprehend. And the fact that he would say that Thor’s destiny was greater than the King’s—what could he possibly mean? Was the king just being delusional in his final moments?
    “I chose you…I brought you into my family for a reason. Do you know what that reason is?”
    Thor shook his head, wanting desperately to know.
    “Don’t you know why I wanted you here, only you, in my final moments?”
    Thor racked his brain, desperately trying to understand. But he had no idea.
    “I’m sorry, my liege,” he said, shaking his head. “I do not know.”
    MacGil smiled faintly, as his eyes began to close.
    “There is a great land, far from here. Beyond the Wilds. Beyond even the land of the Dragons. It is the land of the Druids. Where your mother is from. You must go there to seek the answers.”
    MacGil’s eyes opened wide and he stared at Thor with an intensity that Thor could not comprehend.
    “Our kingdom depends on it,” he added. “You are not like the others. You are special. Until you understand who you are, our kingdom will never rest at ease.”
    MacGil’s eyes closed and his breathing grew shallow, each breath coming out with a gasp. His grip slowly weakened on Thor’s wrist, and Thor felt his own tears welling up. His mind was spinning with everything the king had said, as he tried to make sense of it all. He could barely concentrate. Had he heard it all correctly?
    MacGil began to whisper something, but it was so quiet, Thor could barely make it out. Thor leaned in close, bringing his ear to MacGil’s lips.
    The king lifted his head one last time, and with one final effort said:
    “Avenge me.”
    Then, suddenly, MacGil stiffened. He lay there for a few moments, then his head rolled to the side as his eyes opened wide, frozen.
    Dead.
    “NO!” Thor wailed.
    His wail must have been loud enough to alert the guards, because a moment later, he heard a door burst open behind him, heard the commotion of dozens of people rushing into the room. In the corner of his consciousness he understood there was motion all around him. He dimly heard the castle bells tolling out, again and again. The bells pounded, matching the pounding of the blood in his temples. But it all became a blur, as moments later the room was spinning, he fainting, heading for the stone floor in one great collapse.
     

 
    CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    A gust of wind struck Gareth in the face and he looked up, blinking back tears, into the pale light of the first rising sun. The day was just breaking, and yet at this remote spot, here on the edge of the Kolvian Cliffs, there were already gathered hundreds

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