A Quest of Heroes. Morgan Rice

guard. “It is not fair! This boy arrived uninvited!”

      “He hit that mark. That’s invitation enough for me.”

      “He is far younger and smaller than the others. This is no peewee squad,” said the general.

      “I would rather a smaller soldier who can hit his mark than an oaf who cannot,” the knight replied.

      “A lucky throw!” yelled the large boy whom Thor had just fought. “If we had more chances, we would hit, too!”

      The knight turned and stared down the boy who yelled.

      “Would you?” he asked. “Shall I see you do it now? Shall we wager your stay here on it?”

      The boy, flustered, lowered his head in shame, clearly not willing to take up the offer.

      “But this boy is a stranger,” protested the general. “We don’t even know where he hails from.”

      “He comes from the lowlands,” came a voice.

      The others turned to see who spoke, but Thor did not need to – he recognized the voice. It was the voice that had plagued him his entire childhood. The voice of his eldest brother: Drake.

      Drake stepped forward with his other two brothers, and glared down at Thor with a look of disapproval.