by Morgan Rice
Thor set to work making a fire, salvaging the dry branches he found on the floor of the cave, and soon it was roaring, the twigs crackling. Thor remembered the pieces of dried meat in his saddle, and he fed the horse, then Krohn, then himself.
Thor sat before the flames, rubbing his hands, trying to dry off, and Krohn came up beside him and lay his head in his lap, while the horse stood by the cave’s entrance, lowering his head and chewing the grass. Thor chewed his dried meat, warming himself on the surprisingly cool summer night. He felt sleepy from the long day, and soon, his eyes were closing on him.
“Thorgrin,” came a voice.
Thor opened his eyes to see Argon standing over him, looking down at him in the cave. Argon stood there, eyes opened wide, shining, holding his staff, dressed in his robe and cloak. Thor was shocked to see him here. He looked over and saw Krohn sleeping, beside the embers of the dying fire, and he wondered if it were all real.
“Thorgrin,” Argon repeated.
“What are you doing here?” Thor asked.
“You have come to me,” Argon said. “You sought me out. In this cave.”
Thor furrowed his brows, confused.
“I thought I was lost,” he said. “I thought I made a wrong turn. I did not mean to come here.”
Argon shook his head.
“There are no wrong turns,” he said. “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”
“But where am I?” Thor asked.
“Follow me and see.”
Argon turned, and Thor rose to his feet and followed him as he marched outside the cave. Thor still did not know if he was awake or asleep.
Outside, the rain had stopped. All was silent. The forest was eerie, dim, not dark and not light, as if it were twilight, or the time before dawn. It felt as if the entire world were still asleep.
Argon continued walking, and Thor struggled to keep up with him through the forest trail. He was beginning to get concerned about finding his way back to the cave.
“Where are we going, Argon?” Thor asked.
“To complete your training,” Argon replied.
“I thought my training was complete,” Thor said.
“Only one stage of it,” Argon said. “It is no longer about what you need to learn. Now it is about what you need to do.”
“To do?” Thor asked, puzzled.
“This journey, this road, your town, the storm—it’s all come for a reason. You’ve come here for a reason. The time has come for you to tap into a part of yourself you have not yet reached.”
They finally broke free from the woods, and before them lay a vista of rolling hills.
Thor followed Argon to the top of a small hill. He stopped, and Thor stopped beside him.
“Your problem, Thorgrin,” Argon said, standing beside him, looking out, eyes aglow, “is that you do not realize how powerful you are. You never have. You still don’t trust it. You still don’t trust who you are. You are so reliant upon human weapons and training, upon swords and spears and shields…. But you have all the power you need, right inside you. And yet you are afraid of it.”
Thor looked down, reddening, realizing Argon was right.
“I am,” Thor admitted.
“Why?”
“I feel that to use my powers would not be fighting fairly,” Thor said. “I feel that I need to prove myself, on the same terms as everyone else. I guess I still feel that my powers are…something to be ashamed of.”
Argon shook his head.
“That is where you are wrong. What is different about you is precisely what you should be most proud of.”
Argon closed his eyes, breathed deeply, raised both arms, and waited. Thor heard a trickling noise, then felt a raindrop, and looked up to the sky and watched it begin to pour.
He looked back at Argon, amazed.
“Can you feel it, Thorgrin? Can you feel the water pouring down on us? Permeating everything? Feel it in your skin and hair and eyes. Breathe it in.”
Thor closed his eyes and held out his palms, and felt the drops hitting them. He tried to focus, tried to become one with the rain.
“Now stop it,” Argon commanded. “Stop all of it. Stop this rain.”
Thor gasped, unsure of himself.
“I can’t do that,” Thor said.
“You can,” Argon said. “Rain is just water, and water is simply the universe. It is us. Now do it. Raise your hands and stop it.”
Thor closed his eyes tighter, concentrating, and raised his arms. As he did, he felt his palms tingling, and he began to feel the energy of the rain in the air. It was intense. Heavy. Limitless.
Thor slowly pushed his palms higher and higher, taking on the energy, and as he did, the rain began to slow. Then it stopped, the water hovering in the air. Then, Thor reversed it, shooting it back up to the sky.
The sound of the rain stopped, and Thor opened his eyes, amazed, to see the land dry all around him.
“I did that?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes,” Argon replied. “You and you alone.”
Argon turned his back, and held his arms up to the sky.
“There is more you can do, Thorgrin,” he said. “Do you see the night? Do you see the darkness? It is but a veil. Lift that veil. Allow it to be day.”
Thor stood there, flabbergasted.
“Me?” he asked. “Turn night into day?”
“Night is but the absence of light. Let there be light. You are advanced enough now.”
Thor gulped and closed his eyes. It was hard for him to imagine himself with that sort of power, but nonetheless, he held out his arms and raised his palms to the sky.
“Feel the fibers of night,” Argon said. “Feel the threads of blackness. They are but illusion. The whole world is but illusion. This, the sky we live under, the sky we breathe every day, it is not a sky of man—it is a sky of magic, a sky of wonder. It is a sky of spells.”
Thor tried to follow the instruction, tried to feel the blackness. He felt a tremendous heaviness weighing on the tips of his fingers.
“Now, Thorgrin,” Argon added, “transcend the illusion.”
Thor felt his fingertips burning, nearly on fire, and he closed his hands and bunched his fists. He squeezed his fists as hard as he could, and felt a heat searing his entire body. He leaned back his head and screamed.
When he opened his eyes, Thor was awestruck. There, before him, it was daylight. Night was gone.
“All of nature is under your control,” Argon said, turning to him, as Thor stared out in wonder. “The fox and the mouse, the eagle and the owl. There, up high, on that branch. Do you see that owl? It, too, is under your control. Command it. Leave your limited world behind, and see the world through its eyes.”
Thor looked up at the huge, black owl, a magnificent creature, and he closed his eyes and focused, concentrating. Thor opened the owl’s eyes, and its eyes were his own. He saw the world through its eyes. It was incredible.
Thor turned the owl’s neck, and it looked out in every direction, at the limitless landscape. He saw beyond the forest, above the tips of the trees. In the distance, he saw a road.
“Excellent,” Argon said, beside him. “Now see where that road takes you.”
Thor kept his eyes closed, seeing the world through the eyes of the owl, and silently commanded the owl to lift off. He could feel the great owl flapping its wings above him, and soon it soared through the air, flying along the tops of the trees. Thor watched the landscape through its eyes, looking down through the trees, following the road that led through the forest.
The road twisted and turned, and soon it led him to a familiar place. Thor was surprised to see his hometown below.
Standing there, alone in its center, was a woman he was shocked to recognize.
His mother.
She stood there and looked up the sky, as if looking for him, and held up her arms.
“Thorgrin!” she called.
“Mother!” he called back.
Thor opened his eyes with a start, jolted out of the vision, and looked over to Argon.
“My mother,” he said, breathing hard. “Is she there? In my village? How can it be?”
“She waits for you,” Argon said. “It is time to meet her. Your very life depends on it. The final clue you need lies there. In your home town.”
Thor turned and looked out at the road before him, wondering.
“But how can it—” he began to ask Argon.
But as Thor turned, he saw no one. Argon was gone.
“ARGON!” he screamed out.
There came no reply save for the sound of a lone owl, screeching high up in the air.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Selese walked slowly down the aisle on her wedding day, and she knew something was not quite right. All the chairs were empty on either side of the aisle; she looked over and saw, instead, rows of thorn bushes, black and ominous. She looked down and saw that mice scurried beneath her feet, and that the aisle, instead of being lined with flowers, was lined with mud. She was terrified.
As she reached the end of the aisle, Selese looked up and saw Reece standing there, at the altar, waiting for her. But as she approached, desperate to get close to him, she noticed a huge spider web between them, and she found herself walking face-first into it, it wrapping all over her face and body, sticking to her. She flailed, hysterical, trying to peel it away. She finally managed to tear it off, but as she did, she noticed she was tearing off her wedding dress instead, leaving her in rags.
Selese stepped onto the altar, shaking from fear, and looked across at Reece.
He stood there, staring back blankly, expressionless.
“I wish we could marry,” he said. “But I love someone else.”
Selese gaped, not understanding—then suddenly, there appeared a woman next to Reece, a beautiful girl, Reece’s age, who reached up and wrapped one arm around his, turned him and led him away.
The two of them walked back down the aisle, and Selese just stood there, horrified, and watched them go.
Selese felt the ground tremble beneath her, and she looked down and watched in disbelief as a hole opened in the earth. The hole grew greater and greater, and before she could get out of the way, she found herself falling, into the blackness.
She shrieked, flailing, raising her hands for someone, anyone, to save her. But no one did.
Selese woke screaming.
She sat straight up in bed, sweating despite the cool summer night. She looked all about her, trying to understand where she was, what had happened.
It was a dream. It had seemed so real—too real. She sat there, gasping. She reached up and rubbed her face and hair, trying to feel for the spider web. But there was none—nothing but her cool, clammy skin.
Selese surveyed her surroundings and saw she was still in the safety of the Queen’s castle, in the luxurious room given to her by the queen, lying on a pile of furs. A slight breeze stirred through the window, it was a perfect summer night, and absolutely nothing in the world was wrong.
She got up, crossed the room, and splashed water on her face. She breathed deeply, rubbing her eyes again and again, trying to understand.
How could she have had such a dream? She had never had nightmares in her life. Why now? And why had it been so vivid?
Selese walked over to the open-air window and stood there, looking out at the night. Beneath the faint light of the second moon, there was King’s Court, in all its splendor. She could see her wedding preparations, perfect below, everything in order for her double wedding with Gwendolyn. Even at night everything was so beautiful, the flowers glowing beneath the moonlight. The wedding was still a half moon away, and yet all was ready. Selese was in awe at the spectacle it would be.
Selese was so honored to be getting married together with Gwendolyn, so grateful for the kindness that her future sister-in-law had shared with her. She also felt overwhelmed with a surge of love for Reece. She did not need any of this lavishness; all she wanted was to be with Reece.
But as Selese stared down below, all she could see was her dream. That horrible aisle; the thorns; the web; falling through the earth; the other woman. Could any of it be true? Was it just a horrible dream—or was it some sort of omen?
Selese stared out at the clouds racing beneath the moon, and she wanted to tell herself it was all just fancies of the night. Perhaps it was just the stress of preparing for the wedding.
But deep down, Selese could not help but fear it was something more. She could not help but feel that Reece, out there somewhere, was in terrible danger.
And as she looked down at the beauty of all those wedding preparations, she could not help feeling, with a deep sense of dread, that their wedding would never come to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Reece grabbed hold of the thick, knotted rope, leaned over the edge of the ship, and threw up yet again, as the ship tossed and turned on the rolling seas, as it had been ever since he left the mainland. He grabbed hold of the thick knotted rope and did his best to straighten himself. He leaned back and wiped his mouth, grateful that they were close.
Despite the summer month, Reece shivered. It was unforgiving here in the Upper Isles, at least twenty degrees colder than it had been on the mainland; the currents, too, were more turbulent, and the cool ocean spray hung in the wind, keeping him wet. It had been an awful journey, sailing into a driving wind, the boat carried high, then low, on the sea the entire way, nearly all of its passengers throwing up.
Reece did not know how they had made it this far, in this raging ocean, in this desolate place. It had not been a long journey, and yet it felt like years. There was something about the climate here, the endless, monotonous grey, that just put him in a foul mood. The damp cold had sunk into his bones, and he could not wait to set foot on shore and get himself beside a roaring fire.
Beside Reece stood Krog, also grabbing the railing, but not throwing up as the others. On the contrary, he smiled down at Reece.
“Looks like one of us has a stronger stomach than the other,” Krog mocked, grinning wide.
Reece caught his breath, wiping his mouth. Krog’s mockery made it all worse.
“I hate you,” Reece said.
Krog smiled wider.
“Why have you joined me on this journey?” Reece asked. “To help me? Or to torture me?”
Krog grinned, patting Reece on the shoulder.
“Maybe a little bit of both,” Krog replied.
Reece shook his head, overcome with yet another wave of nausea. He was not in the mood for Krog.
“I never should have saved your life,” Reece said.
“You’re right,” Krog replied. “That was your first mistake. Now you’re stuck with me. Loyalty dies hard.”
“You call this loyalty?” Reece asked. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
Krog shrugged and turned away.
The ship jerked, and Reece looked up and watched as they narrowly avoided a long stretch of rocks, then finally touched shore, the ship landing on the sand with a jolt. All hands rushed forward and dropped the anchor beside Gwendolyn’s fleet, then hurried to lower the planks and secure the sails.
Horns sounded up and down Gwendolyn’s fleet of ships, their unique pattern heralding the arrival of a member of the royal family, and on the shore below Reece could see, lined up, dozens of Gwen’s soldiers, ready to greet him in a show of respect. Reece noticed that Tirus’ people were conspicuously absent from welcoming him.
Standing before all the men, Reece spotted Matus, Tirus’ eldest, his cousin, the one person here he had remembered most fondly from his youth. He hurried forward, shielding his eyes from the mist and helping the others secure the planks, clearly excited for Reece’s arrival.
Reece’s men lowered the plank and Reece hurried down it, Krog and the others following; the wind picked up and sheets of rain poured down as Reece reached the shore.
Matus hurried forward and Reece embraced him, clasping
forearms.
“Welcome, my Lord,” Matus said.
“I am not a lord,” Reece said, “I am merely a member of the royal family, as are you, cousin. Thank you for greeting me.”
Matus smiled.
“I would have it no other way. Srog asked me to apologize on his behalf—he was detained by an urgent matter at court and asked me to give you a tour first, then bring you to the castle—if you don’t mind my company.”
Now it was Reece’s turn to smile.
“I would have it no other way,” he said. “I wish to tour the isle first anyway.”
The two of them turned and set off, Reece walking side-by-side with Matus, all of their men falling in behind them.
They walked for hours, covering all the landscapes of the Upper Isles, the sun finally breaking through the clouds as Matus filled him in on everything. The two of them talked like brothers, and it all came back to Reece, how close they had been as children, how well they had always gotten along. They were each the youngest of their siblings, and each the same age, and each knew what it meant to grow up in an ambitious royal family.
They caught up on their childhood, on all the affairs of the MacGil families, and as Reece passed through various towns and villages, some childhood memories came back to him in flashes. He remembered playing in certain places, waiting for his father outside certain forts. He remembered, even back then, it being a cold, hard place, a climate he did not wish to return to.
As he went, Reece took in all the stares of all the locals, observed as much as he could, and noticed they were not all that friendly. He sensed some tension in the air.
“It is quite different being here now than it was when we were young,” Reece said. “When I was a child, there was harmony upon our arrival, a great respect and fanfare shown my father. Now, I observe a certain coldness in your people.”
Matus shook his head apologetically.
“I apologize for them,” he said. “You indeed have a keen eye. Our people are still upset about Tirus. They are humiliated about the failed invasion of the Ring. They are malcontents. That is their nature. They are an obstinate people. I am from here, and yet I still don’t completely understand them. Then again, I’ve never felt much like one of them.”
