A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

this?”
    Argon smiled back, but did not
respond.
    Thor was suddenly filled with
curiosity.
    “How…” Thor added, fumbling for
words, “…how do you know my mother? Have you met her? Who was she?”
    Argon turned and walked away.
    “Questions for another time,” he
said.
    Thor watched him go, puzzled. It
was such a dizzying and mysterious encounter, and it was all happening so fast.
He decided he could not let Argon leave; he hurried after him.
    “What are you doing here?” Thor
asked, hurrying to catch up. Argon, using his staff, an ancient ivory thing,
walked deceptively fast. “You were not waiting for me , were you?”
    “Who else?” Argon asked.
    Thor hurried to catch up,
following him into the wood, leaving the clearing behind.
    “But why me? How did you know I
would be here? What is it that you want?”
    “So many questions,” Argon said.
“You fill the air. You should listen instead.”
    Thor followed as they continued
through the thick wood, doing his best to remain silent.
    “You come in search of your lost
sheep,” Argon stated. “A noble effort. But you waste your time. She will not
survive.”
    Thor’s eyes opened wide.
    “How do you know this?”
    “I know worlds you will never
know, boy. At least, not yet.”
    Thor wondered as he hiked to
catch up.
    “You won’t listen, though. That
is your nature. Stubborn. Like your mother. You will continue after your sheep,
determined to rescue her.”
    Thor reddened as Argon read his
thoughts.
    “You are a feisty boy,” he added.
“Strong-willed. Too proud. Positive traits. But one day it may be your
downfall.”
    Argon began to hike up a mossy
ridge, and Thor followed.
    “You want to join the King’s
Legion,” Argon said.
    “Yes!” Thor answered, excitedly.
“Is there any chance for me? Can you make that happen?”
    Argon laughed, a deep, hollow
sound that sent a chill up Thor’s spine.
    “I can make everything and
nothing happen. Your destiny was already written. But it is up to you to choose
it.”
    Thor did not understand.
    They reached the top of the
ridge, and as they did Argon stopped and faced him. Thor stood only feet away,
and Argon’s energy burned through him.
    “Your destiny is an important
one,” he said. “Do not abandon it.”
    Thor’s eyed widened. His destiny?
Important? He felt himself well with pride.
    “I do not understand. You speak
in riddles. Please, tell me more.”
    Suddenly, Argon vanished.
    Thor could hardly believe it. He
stood there looking every which way, listening, wondering. Had he imagined it
all? Was it some delusion?
    Thor turned and examined the
wood; from this vantage point, high up on the ridge, he could see farther than
before. As he looked, he spotted motion, in the distance. He heard a noise and
felt sure it was his sheep.
    He stumbled down the mossy ridge
and hurried in the direction of the sound, back through the wood. As he went,
he could not shake his encounter with Argon. He could hardly conceive it had
happened. What was the King’s druid doing here, of all places? He had been
waiting for him. But why? And what had he meant about his destiny?
    The more Thor tried to unravel
it, the less he understood. Argon was both warning him not to continue and at
the same time tempting him to do so. Now, as he went, Thor felt an increasing
sense of foreboding, as if something momentous were about to happen.
    He turned a bend and stopped cold
in his tracks at the view before him. All his worst nightmares were confirmed
in a single moment. His hair stood on end, and he realized he had made a grave
mistake in coming this deep into Darkwood.
    There, opposite him, hardly
thirty paces away, was a Sybold. Hulking, muscular, standing on all fours,
nearly the size of a horse, it was the most feared animal of Darkwood, maybe
even of the kingdom. Thor had never seen one, but had heard the legends. It
resembled a lion, but was bigger, broader, its hide a deep scarlet and its eyes
a glowing yellow. Legend had it that its scarlet color came from the blood of
innocent children.
    Thor had heard of few sightings
of this beast his entire life, and even these were thought to be dubious. Maybe
that was because no one ever actually survived an encounter. Some considered
the Sybold to be the God of the Woods, and an omen. What that omen was, Thor had
no idea.
    He took a careful step back.
    The Sybold stood, its huge jaws
half-open, its fangs dripping saliva, staring back with its yellow eyes. In its
mouth