Hector's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

Hector reached the canyon floor at dawn. Layered red stone stretched flat and cracked in every direction. He clutched the golden sword and turned in a slow circle. No butterfly waited to guide him now. No sign pointed toward the first scattered guardian. Each hour he stood still, the assassin drew closer. He knew this in his bones. Boots crunched on the stone behind him. Hector spun, sword up. Thorgrim stood there, brass knuckles on both fists, black hair tied back. He had followed through the crack in Vulcan's wall. "You told me never to come back," Hector said. "I said don't. I didn't." Thorgrim's orange eyes swept the empty canyon. "You'll die out here alone, boy. You don't know this land." Hector lowered the blade a little. His hands still glowed faint gold under the robe's sleeves. "Then help me. Come with me." He stepped closer. "You don't have to serve King Algar. You don't have to hunt me for a demon's gold. Join the light." Thorgrim's jaw tightened. He looked back the way he had come, toward the red mountains that hid his home. "My whole clan is back there. My mother. My brothers." His voice dropped. "If I run with you, they name me traitor. Algar burns traitors' families." "And if you stay, you help Vaphos take Lumera." Hector held out his open hand. The gold flared brighter. "You gave me water once when nobody watched. That was the true you. Not the orc who bows to a demon." A horn blew, far off but real. Both froze. Thorgrim crouched and pressed his palm to the cracked stone. "Riders. Six, maybe more. They tracked my footprints out." He rose fast. "They'll reach the canyon mouth by midday." Hector's stomach dropped. "Then choose now." Thorgrim stared at Hector's glowing hand a long moment. Then he pulled something from his pack. A folded robe, dark purple, its trim stitched with old gold symbols. "Shaman's ceremony robe. I stole it before I left." He shoved it into Hector's arms. "Wear it. They won't fire on a shaman." "You're coming, then?" Thorgrim cracked his brass knuckles together. "I answered. Yes." He turned toward a narrow gap in the canyon wall. "There's a dry pass west. It runs to the coast, to open sand where no orc rides. From there you can reach Lumera's road." Hector pulled the shaman's robe over his shoulders. It hung heavy and strange, its symbols cold against him. He sheathed the golden sword beneath it. For the first time since Vulcan, he was not alone. They moved into the gap as the second horn sounded. Behind them, hooves rang on stone. Ahead, the pass opened toward the sea. Hector had gained an ally and lost his hiding place in the same breath. Six riders now knew exactly where he ran.