by Morgan Rice
Alistair then turned and handed the bowl to Bowyer.
Bowyer stood there, scowling at her, and he looked at the bowl. She could see him trying to disguise his fear as he looked at her. Several tense moments passed, the tension in the air thick enough to cut it with a knife.
“Take the bowl!” a crowd member shouted.
“Take the bowl, take the bowl!” came a chorus of shouts, increasingly angry, as Bowyer stood there, nervous, shifting.
The crowd, irate, turned on him, yelling and heckling him, as if finally realizing that Alistair had been right.
Bowyer finally reached out—but instead of taking the bowl, he smacked it from Alistair’s hands.
The crowd gasped as the sacred marble bowl fell to the ground and shattered into pieces.
“I do not need your stupid rituals!” Bowyer yelled. “This fountain is a myth! I am King, and no one else. I am the greatest fighter amongst you—if there is anyone good enough to challenge me, step forward!”
The crowd stared, shocked by the turn of events, unsure what to do.
Bowyer shouted in rage, drew his sword, and suddenly charged Alistair, raising it to bring it down to her chest.
The crowd, now indignant, broke into action and charged to stop him.
Alistair stood there fearlessly, and felt a great heat rise within her. She closed her eyes and as she did, she sensed his sword, felt it coming toward her. She used her power, deep within, to change the sword’s direction.
Alistair opened her eyes and saw the sword stopped in midair; Bowyer stood there, grunting and groaning, trying to plunge it down with all his might. His hand shook from the effort, until finally the sword fell from his hands, landing on the stone plaza with a great clang.
Bowyer looked up at Alistair, and for the first time he showed fear.
“Devil woman!” he shouted.
Bowyer turned and ran across the plaza as the mob chased him. He mounted his horse, joined by a dozen of his tribesmen, and took off straight down the mountainside.
“I am King! And no one will stop me!”
As he and his men took off, the crowd gathered around Alistair, clearly apologetic and concerned for her welfare. Erec’s mother came up beside her, ecstatic, and draped an arm around her shoulder. They both stood there and looked out into the breaking dawn together.
“A civil war is coming,” his mother said.
Alistair looked out to the horizon, and she sensed it to be true. She sensed that, somehow, things would never be the same on the Southern Isles again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Thor rowed in the small boat, seated beside his companions, Reece, Elden, O’Connor, Conven, Indra and Matus, thrilled to be reunited with the familiar group, with his Legion brothers, and thrilled to also be joined by Matus. As the wind had died they had taken to the oars, and as they rowed, all of them settling into a gentle rhythm, the boat rocked gently on the calmly lapping waves. The rowing had been therapeutic for Thor, who found himself getting lost in the monotonous sound of the oar meeting water, leaning back and forward, feeling his muscles burn as he pulled on the oar.
Thor found himself getting lost in memories; he recalled his last battle, against Romulus and the dragons, and he found himself thinking of Mycoples and Ralibar, of all he had left behind. He felt as if he had lost so much, and he felt bad, as if he had let them down. Thor thought of the Ring, destroyed in his absence, and thought of how, if only he had stayed, perhaps he could have saved them all from the invasion, could have saved the Ring. Perhaps he could have saved Guwayne. He wished he could have done more, and sooner, and he wondered why fate had had to take the twists and turns that it had. Thor felt the guilt weighing heavily upon him.
Thor looked out at the horizon, as he had ever since they’d left, searching for any sign of Guwayne. He peered into the waters, but could see no sign of him; there had been too many false alarms, his mind tricking him again and again. Where could he be?
Thor blamed himself, of course. If he had only been here, perhaps none of this would have ever happened; yet then again, who knows if he would have been able to stop Romulus’s entire nest of dragons. And if he had not gone to seek out his mother, perhaps he would have never had the power he needed to fight all those dragons and the Empire.
They rowed for hours, barely any wind at all, heading in a general northern direction, rolling up and down in the gentle ocean waves, fog rolling in and out, the sun coming in and out of the clouds. Finally, the others put down their oars and took a break, and Thor joined them, wiping sweat from the back of his brow.
“Where are we rowing, anyway?” O’Connor finally spoke up, breaking the silence, voicing the question that was on all of their minds. “To be honest with ourselves, we don’t know where we are going.”
A heavy silence fell over them, as no one was able to disagree; Thor, too, was having the same thoughts, but trying to suppress them. A part of him was an optimist, felt that Guwayne would appear if he rowed hard enough.
“We have to head in some direction,” Reece countered. “And Gwen said the tide took him in north.”
“That tide could have shifted at any time,” Elden countered.
They all sat there, pondering.
“Well,” Indra added, “the Queen had tried searching north herself, and she couldn’t find him. As far as I know, there are no islands or any land this far north.”
“Nobody really knows that,” Matus said. “It is all uncharted.”
Thor spoke up: “At least we are heading in one direction,” he said. “At least we are searching. Whether we are going one way, or going another, we are covering ground.”
“Yet our small boat in this vast sea could easily miss the boy,” Indra said.
“Have you any better suggestions?” Matus asked.
They all fell silent. Of course, no one had any idea. Thor started to wonder if they all had faith, if they all felt, deep down, that finding Guwayne was a futile task, and if they had all just come to humor him.
“This might indeed be a futile task,” Thor said, “but that does not mean it is not worth taking. Still, I am sorry to take you all from the ships.”
Reece clasped a hand on his shoulder.
“Thorgrin, we would all go to the ends of the earth for you—and for your son. Without even any hope of finding him.”
The others nodded, and Thor could see in their eyes that it was true. And he knew he would do the same for any of them.
Thor heard a sloshing noise, and he leaned over the edge of the boat and was surprised to see, swimming beside the boat, strange creatures he had never seen before. There were luminescent yellow creatures, like frogs, and they seemed to be jumping below the water. A school of them lit up the sea from underneath.
“I’m hungry,” Elden said. “Perhaps we can catch one.”
He leaned forward, but Matus grabbed his hand. Elden looked at him.
“They’re poisonous,” Matus said. “They congregate near the Upper Isles, too. Touch one, and you’ll be dead in an instant.”
Elden looked down at him with great respect and gratitude, and retracted his hand slowly, humbled.
Reece sighed as he stared out at the waters, and Thor studied him, concerned. Thor could see that his eyes were dull, joyless; he could tell that Reece, while he was away, had suffered, and was not the same youthful person he had known before he left. Thor recalled the story Gwen told him about Selese, and he felt compassion for Reece. Thor thought of the double wedding they’d almost had, back in the bountiful, flourishing Ring, and he realized how much had changed.
“You’ve been through much,” Thor said to him.
“So have you,” Reece replied.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Thor added. “Selese was a fine woman.”
Reece nodded, grateful.
“You have lost someone, too,” Reece said. “But we shall find him—if it is the last thing we do.”
Conven, taking a break, came up and sat beside Th
or and clasped his shoulder. Thor turned and saw Conven looking at him with respect.
“You saved me back in the Ring,” Conven said, “in that prison. All the others had given up on me. I do not forget. I said I owe you, and I meant it. Now it is my turn to be by your side. I will find your son, or I shall die trying.”
Thor clasped Conven’s arm, and saw the hollow look in his face, a look of suffering, and he could see his mourning for his twin had still not left him. Thor realized that he, Reece, and Conven had all been to the edge of tragedy and back, all three of them shaped by suffering, all three not the same boys who had started in the Legion. They were all older now, more hardened. It seemed as if one by one, the Legion members were being tested, molded through suffering, each in their own way. Thor could only wonder what the future held for Elden, O’Connor, or Indra; he hoped it held nothing grim.
And then there was Matus, their new addition. Thor turned to him and nodded.
“I’m grateful to you for joining us,” he said.
Matus came over and joined them.
“It is the least I can do,” he replied. “I’ve always wanted to join the Legion, yet from my place on the Upper Isles I was never allowed to the mainland. I always wanted a chance to prove myself on the mainland, and embarking on a quest with you all is something I’ve always dreamed of.”
“Now you should have it,” Thor said. “Although it could be our quest sees few adversaries. I fear the sea and hunger might be the greatest foes before us.”
Thor pondered their meager provisions, and he knew in but a few days they would run low. He knew they had to find land. He searched the horizon and tried not to think what would come of them if they did not.
Before he could finish the thought, suddenly, Thor felt a breeze on his face. At first it was a gentle wind. When it arrived, for some reason, he thought of his mother. He felt that she was with him, looking after him. The breeze grew stronger, and their lone canvas sail set to flapping, and Thor and the others looked up with gratitude.
They quickly hoisted it, and their boat began to move again.
“The wind is taking us east, not north,” Reece observed. “Adjust the sails.”
Thor felt a sudden buzzing on his wrist, and he looked down to see his bracelet glowing, the black diamond in its center sparkling. It suddenly grew warm, and he had a strong sensation that the wind was taking them in the right direction.
“Leave the sails as they are!” Thor commanded, as the others turned and looked at him with wonder. “The wind is taking us exactly where we need to go.”
The boat began to gain speed, rocking in the waves, and Thor peered out to the horizon.
As they crested wave after wave, Thor finally saw something, a trace of something on the horizon. An outline. At first he thought it was another apparition; but then his heart skipped a beat as he realized it was real.
“Land!” O’Connor called out for all of them.
He confirmed what Thor already knew, what he had sensed from the breeze, from his bracelet. Land was before them. And Guwayne was in that direction.
*
Thor stood at the bow of the small boat, looking out with wonder as they approached the small island at full speed. The isle sat by itself in this vast sea, hardly a mile in diameter, ringed by bright white sands and gently lapping waves. Thor peered into its thick jungle, looking for any signs of his son.
It was a smooth landing as the tide carried them up right onto the sand, and Thor and the others disembarked as it did, grabbing the small boat and dragging it up firmly ashore.
Thor, excited, looked down at his bracelet; but it suddenly stopped glowing, and his heart fell as he sensed Guwayne was not on this place.
“I don’t see any sign of Guwayne’s boat landing here,” O’Connor said. “We circled the whole island from sea, and there was nothing—no boat, no debris, no prints, nothing.”
Thor shook his head as he said slowly, “My son is not here.”
“How do you know?” Reece asked.
“I just know,” Thor replied.
They all sighed with disappointment as they stood there, hands on hips, peering into the dense jungle before them.
“Well, we’re here,” Matus said. “Might as well look. Not to mention, we need food and water.”
They all made their way onto the island, its white sands soon giving way to dense jungle. As they hiked, all was eerily quiet here except for the blowing of the wind off the sea, the rustling of the trees. As Thor paused to examine them, he saw they were all tall and thin, all bent over, with orange trunks, broad orange leaves, and large round fruits at the top, swaying in the wind.
“Waterfruits!” Elden called out in delight.
He grabbed one of the trees and shook it, harder and harder, making it sway, until finally one of them fell, landing in the sand beside him with a thump.
They all gathered around. It was as large as a watermelon, its skin green and fuzzy, and Elden stepped forward, removed his dagger, and stabbed it. He gouged a hole, gradually making it bigger, until it was large enough to drink from.
Elden lifted it to his mouth with both hands, and the clear water began to trickle out as he drank and drank.
He finally set it down and sighed with satisfaction; he handed it the others.
“The water’s pure here, and sweet,” he said. “It’s delicious.”
They passed it around and each of them drank, and soon it was finished. They all looked up to the other trees, thick with the fruits, the entire island swaying with them.
“We should stock up on them before we go,” Thor said. “We can fill our boat.”
“Don’t forget the flesh,” Matus said.
He stepped forward and knelt down and smashed the fruit open with the butt of his dagger, revealing soft white flesh inside. He reached down and used the tip of his dagger to pry it out, raised it to his lips, and took a bite. He chewed with satisfaction.
Thor grabbed a piece with the others, and as he chewed the chewy, sweet fruit, he felt rejuvenated.
They each turned and, without a word, spread out, each grabbing a tree and shaking it; one tree was stubborn, and Thor climbed to the top and knocked the fruit down with his fist.
They all set about gathering the fruit, and as they turned to walk together back to the boat, there came a sudden rustling behind them, and they all stopped in their tracks as one, looked at each other, and looked back. They peered into the thick foliage, wondering.
“Did you hear something?” Matus asked.
No one said a word, as they all stood there, frozen, watching.
The rustling came again.
A bush swayed, and Thor wondered what it could be; he hadn’t heard any animal noises on the small island, or any traces of human life—and he didn’t think this small island was big enough to support anything. Was it just the wind?
The rustling came again, and this time Thor’s hairs turned on end. There was no mistaking it: something was out there.
As one, they all slowly dropped their fruits, turned, drew their swords, and faced the wall of foliage.
“I think something’s watching us,” Elden remarked.
“Then let’s not make it wait,” Conven said, and then he suddenly, without waiting, recklessly sprinted into the forest. Thor shook his head as he did, realizing that Conven was as suicidal as he had always been.
There came a shout, followed by Conven’s cry, and they all chased after him, on his heels.
Thor and the others burst into a small clearing, and as he did, he stopped short, shocked by what he saw.
It was like something out of a nightmare. There was a gigantic spider, grotesquely large, five times taller than Thor, with eight hairy, thick legs, fifty feet long. Thor was horrified to see that one of them was wrapped around Conven, lifting him, examining him, and squeezing him as it opened its huge jaws and raised him toward it.
O’Connor stepped forward boldly and fired off three arrows at the spider’s
gigantic, purple eyes. One was a direct hit, and the creature shrieked and dropped Conven; he fell through the air and landed on the soft forest floor.
The spider, enraged, reached down and swiped O’Connor before he could react; O’Connor shrieked, a gash in his arm from the spider’s razor-sharp claws. O’Connor sank to his knees, clutching his arm as it gushed blood, and as he did, the spider leaned down to eat him.
Elden rushed forward, raised his ax, and chopped the end of the spider’s leg right before it could grasp Conven. The spider shrieked, gushing a green pus, and it swung around with one of its other legs and wrapped it around Elden. Elden cried out as it squeezed him, constraining his arms, and lifted him up to its mouth.
Thor rushed forward, the others beside him, and raised his sword high and reached up and stabbed the spider in the chest; it shrieked. Beside him, Indra threw her dagger, lodging it in the spider’s eyes and Matus charged forward and sliced one of the spider’s other legs. It dropped Elden and buckled, as if about to fall.
Yet as they watched, the spider, to Thor’s shock, grew a brand new leg. It hissed, an awful sound, and as it opened its mouth wide, there suddenly emerged a massive silk web, shooting out and entangling them all. It was the stickiest thing Thor had ever felt, and as the spider wrapped it around them again and again, soon Thor found himself unable to move, completely restricted.
The spider hoisted them all up into the air, dangling before it, and examined them all, as if deciding which to eat first. It seemed to settle on Reece, and it leaned forward, opened its jaws, and prepared to eat him.
Thorgrin, helpless as the others, closed his eyes and summoned his inner power.
Please, God. Do not abandon me. Not here, in this place. Do not allow my friends to die.
Thor gradually felt a warmth rise up within him. He felt his inner power returning, recalling his time in the Land of the Druids; he began to feel the power of the spider, to feel the very fabric of the web, and inside him there grew an ancient and unmistakable power, stronger than any weapon, stronger than any man or any creature. He felt his mother’s bracelet buzzing on his wrist, and he opened his eyes and looked.
