by Morgan Rice
Gwen turned the heavy pages until they came to another map. This one was even more intricate, drawn in all different colors, with markings that popped off the page. The land it outline looked very beautiful. He had never seen a book like this in his life.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“The other night, when you were telling me about your mother,” Gwen said, “you got me curious. I can’t bear riddles; I always need to get to the bottom of things. When you told me that you never met her, and that you didn’t know who or where she was, it peaked my curiosity. I’ve been doing research for you into the Land of the Druids.”
Thor’s heart skipped a beat as he leaned closer.
“I found these ancient maps,” Gwen said. “I think this is the land where your mother lives.”
Thor leaned over, fascinated, looking at the maps with a whole new sense of meaning. He saw the ancient letters, and although he could not understand the ancient language, he assumed that it described the Land of the Druids. He ran his finger over every line, the blue of the ocean, the red of the cliffs. He spotted on the map a blue castle, glowing blue, perched at the top of a cliff, surrounded by a vast and empty sea. There was a long stone walkway leading to it, which curved into nothingness. Thor could feel the magic coming off of this place.
“The Castle of Lira,” Gwen said. “Rumored to be an ancient and holy place. It lies in the center of the Land of the Druids. I think this is where your mother lives.”
Thor ran his finger over it, and he could feel an intense energy rushing through his arm, and suddenly he knew she was right. He felt with every ounce of his being that this was indeed where she was. He felt a burning desire, stronger than he ever had, to meet her. He had to meet her.
“What does it say of the Druids?” Thor asked, excited.
Gwen slid over another book. This one was short and thick, and had no pictures. She flipped through the pages, heavy and crinkling, reading a text which Thor did not understand, and stopped halfway through, turning pages faster than he knew was possible, combing her finger along the edges until she stopped.
“The Druids are a kind and gentle people,” she began to read aloud. “But they can also be fierce. Their powers come not from arms, or armor, but sorcery. Druids are different from other sorcerers, however. Their powers are more mysterious, aloof. They are one with nature. It is quite common for a Druid to attract all sorts of animals, who will be more than a close companion. Animals are like an extension of the Druid. Because the Druid is at one with harmony and nature, more advanced Druids can control nature, can command animals, insects, all forces of nature around them.”
As Gwen read, Thor felt an electric jolt, thinking back to the battle against the McClouds, his ability to summon those bees, without even meaning to. He felt the truth in what she was reading.
“The power of a master Druid is nearly infinite. At the height of his power a Druid can be stopped by no one and nothing, in nature or on earth. But few Druids ever reach this level of power.”
Thor thought about that, and realized that his power was imperfect. It did not always come when he summoned it, and it did not always work. He also seemed to get tired quickly after using it. He wondered if that was because he was human, too. Did that riddle him with imperfections? He felt that it did.
As Gwen closed the book, Thor could not feel certain anymore of who or what he was, or what his place in the world was. Was he a Druid? Was he a human? He felt as if he were caught between two worlds, a half-breed perhaps, not a true Druid, yet not a true human. He wondered if Gwen thought any less of him for that.
“I hope you don’t think of me as different,” he said to her.
She shook her head.
“No, of course not,” she said softly.
“Because all I want is to be like you,” Thor said. “To be human. To be normal. I’m grateful for whatever powers I have, but I never asked for them. I just want to fight fair and square, like any other warrior. I just want to train and become great, based on my own efforts. I feel as if I am cheating when I summon a power.”
Gwen shook her head.
“You are doing nothing wrong,” she said. “This is who you are. You are meant to be who you are for a reason. All destiny has a purpose. To not fully embrace who you are-that would be wrong. That would be rejecting the fates. We are born with our special powers for a reason. And we are born with our limitations for a reason, too. They make us stronger.”
Gwen reached over and grabbed another book, a beautiful thick book, covered with a gold and silver plate, and slid it over to Thor. Thor reached out and held it with both of his hands, looked down at the incredible craftsmanship, the emblem of the falcon, of the MacGil family, and he felt a tremendous energy coming off of it.
“What is it?” he asked.
“The Chronicle of the Ring,” she answered. “It was written nearly a thousand years ago. It not only charts all the history of MacGils, it also tells the story of the Great Divide. Back when the Ring was one kingdom. Before the Highlands. Before the McClouds. It goes back even to before the Canyon. When the Empire was one. When there was no divide.”
Thor stared at the book in wonder.
“But it also goes forward, into the future. They say it was written by a council of scholars and mystics and sorcerers. This council knew everything, saw everything. And they set it all down in this book. They talk about things that happen even today. They talk of seven generations of MacGil Kings. They predict that the seventh would bring a great evil upon the Ring. They do not mention Gareth by name, but they describe him in action.”
Thor looked at the book with a new respect. He pulled back its heavy lid, and flipped through its pages, crinkling as he went, running his hand along the ancient, handwritten script which he could not understand.
“What else does it say?” he asked.
“It talks of the eighth MacGil ruler,” she said. “It says that he will bring destruction to the Ring unlike any we have ever known. Yet he will also bring great change and the Great Peace. It is a mysterious prophecy. All the others are clear, but this one is vague. I do not understand it. Neither does Aberthol. If Argon does, he is not telling us. I have checked all the sources, and I can get no clarity. Our best guess is that this book is unfinished.”
Gwen reached over, closed the book, and looked deeply into Thor’s eyes, with an intensity unlike any he’d ever seen. Her eyes shone with scholarship.
“Do you understand what this means?” she asked. “If I am to rule, I will be the eighth MacGil ruler. That is me. I do not wish to be the harbinger of destruction. This prophecy, it scares me. I can’t help but feel as if I’m a cog in the wheel of destiny, as if I’m destined to bring some great doom on my people, no matter how hard I try. Unless of course, I am killed, and the eighth MacGil ruler is someone else.”
Thor sat there, trying to follow her quick wit, her bouncing between books with a dexterity unlike any he’d ever seen, her depth of knowledge. He tried to process it all. He was about to ask her more questions, when suddenly a horn sounded from high up above, from the top floor of the building, echoing down the spiral staircase, all the way down to this chamber.
Suddenly Gwen stood, looking alarmed.
“Aberthol,” she said. “He never sounds the horn unless it is pressing, unless someone has arrived here for me.”
She hurried from the room, and the two of them climbed up the flights of stairs, circling all the way to the top, then continued down the corridor and out the front door, Krohn following.
Thor raised his hands to the harsh sunlight, squinting, as he made out the figures before him. He was surprised to see his friends-Reece, O’Connor, Elden, the twins-along with several Legion members, on horseback, waiting for him.
“Sorry to break this up,” Reece said, “but Kolk’s orders. We need to go. The Legion has been dispatched for rebuilding. Squadrons are already beginning to line up, and you are captain now. They won’t leave without you.
”
Thor felt his stomach drop at the thought of leaving Gwen, but he nodded back to the others.
“I’ll be there momentarily,” Thor said. “Go ahead without me.”
Reece nodded in understanding, and corralled the others, and they turned and galloped away, back down the hill.
Thor turned to Gwen and saw the distress in her eyes. It was their final moment, before he left. He needed to ask her the question. Now, more than ever. But he saw the sadness in her eyes, and he did not feel that the time was right.
“Will you be safe here, alone?” Thor asked.
She nodded gravely.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But you can’t stay in the castle,” Thor said, concerned. “Not with Gareth there. It is not safe.”
She shook her head.
“I will stay at my mother’s castle. No one knows of it. I’ll await your return there.”
“When I return, if you have not found a way to depose Gareth, we will flee this place together. I will bring you to a place of safety.”
“There is nothing to worry for,” she said. “Gareth tried to ship me off, and he failed. There’s no way he can harm me now. Too many soldiers are aware of his treachery. I will be fine. And you will be back in a short period of time.”
“Let me, at least, leave Krohn with you,” Thor said.
Krohn, beside them, whined, and jumped onto Gwen, licking her.
“He will watch over you here, in my absence,” Thor added. “And when I return, we will be together. Forever this time.”
Thor leaned in and kissed her, and she kissed him back. He felt transported by that kiss, and he held it as long as he could. A cool fall breeze rushed over them, and he wanted this moment to last forever.
Slowly, he pulled back. There was a tear in Gwen’s eyes.
“I love you,” Thor said.
“I love you too,” she answered.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Gwen stood there, outside the House of Scholars, and watched as Thor disappeared yet again, riding into the horizon with his Legion members. Once again, she felt a pit in her stomach. She did not feel the same sense of desperation she’d felt when he’d left for the Hundred; it was different, since at least this time he would be coming home soon, and this time he was not risking his life in a dangerous place, but merely helping villages rebuild close to home. He would also be surrounded by loyal friends, and she felt confident he’d be safe; and she, for her part, had Krohn by her side, had her mother’s castle to hide in, and had the other soldiers behind her, who were now at least aware of the depth of Gareth’s treachery.
Yet still, she could not help but feel overwhelmed with a sense of sadness, of longing. In some ways, it was harder this time. She loved him more. More than she had ever loved anybody. She loved him with a love that was hard to explain, that even she did not understand. He was so kind, and sensitive, and loyal, and protective, and proud. It hurt her when he was gone. She wanted him close all the time. And as she reached down and felt her stomach, she sensed that she carried his child. With every move she took, every gesture she made, her body felt different. She felt an energy welling within her, an ever-present feeling. She felt a sense of peace. And that made her miss him all the more.
And even though he was leaving for a peaceful mission, these were troubled times, and one never knew what could happen, even close to home, even on a peaceful mission. A part of her feared for him. And a part of her still feared for herself: she had come too close to being taken away by the Nevaruns, and it had rattled her. Gareth’s treachery never seemed to amaze her, and while she felt supported by the show of arms from the Silver, and the King’s men, she also feared her brother. She was still in danger here. Staying in her mother’s castle would provide her with some security for now-but not for the long run. She and Godfrey would have to find a legal way to oust Gareth soon-or else, she realized, she would have to leave this place for good.
More than ever, Gwen needed to see Argon, to know what the future would hold; but she knew that seeking him out would be a waste of time. He appeared when and if he wanted to, and if he didn’t, she would never find him.
So instead, Gwen walked across the hilltop, watching Thor as he disappeared, farther and farther. Krohn whined beside her and leaned against her leg, virtually sticking to her side; she looked down and smiled, and he licked her hand as she stroked his head. She felt reassured beyond words to have him there; it was like having a piece of Thor with her. He was morphing into a full-grown leopard, and while he was still just a puppy in her eyes, she could see from the frightened looks of others that he was a savage beast in the eyes of others.
She looked back up and wiped a tear as she watched Thor’s contingent fade into the horizon, swallowed in a cloud of dust.
“A horizon of faded dreams,” came a voice.
Gwen did not need to turn to know whose voice it was. She felt overwhelmed with relief. Argon.
Gwen turned slowly and saw him standing there, beside her, a few feet away, wearing his robes, holding his staff, looking out over the horizon as if watching Thor leave with her; she did not know how he got there. He was such a mystery to her. But she felt comforted by his presence.
She turned away, watching the horizon beside him, and smiled.
“Thank you for being here,” she said. “You must have sensed my desire to see you.”
“I always answer when a King summons me,” he said. “If it is a true summons. And a true King.”
She looked at him, startled by his words, but he continued to watch the horizon, expressionless.
“Are you saying that I will rule?” she asked.
“You know the answer to that yourself,” he responded.
“What of my brother, Gareth?” she pressed.
Argon’s face darkened, a slight frown at the corner of his lips.
“His reign appears to be eternal. But it will not be. He who takes the throne by blood must pay its price by blood. There is always a price for everything.”
He turned and stared back, and the intensity in his eyes forced her to look away.
“Do you remember, when you made that vow?” he asked. “To give up your life for Thor’s?”
She nodded, a tear forming at the corner of her eyes. She did not want to die now. Not now.
“Vows bear a heavy price,” he reminded. “Before you pay it, much has to happen. There will be a great future for you. But there will be a little death first,” he said. “Steel yourself and be strong. You will need strength now. More than you’ve ever had in your life. If you can survive what’s to come, you can survive anything.”
Gwen trembled inside, and felt her skin run cold.
“Your words frighten me,” she said.
“But you must learn to fear,” he said. “Rulers must be fearless. But they also must fear.”
“Please,” she pleaded, “tell me what it is I should fear. Give me some warning.”
“If I did, your destiny would change. That cannot be. Not for your sake. And not for the sake of the Ring. You know your history. Need I remind you? The seven sun cycles. The seven moon alignments. It happens once every thousand years. And when will it happen again?” he asked.
Gwen racked her brain, thinking through all the volumes of history she had ingested, all the ancient prophecies she had read.
“The sun and moon event you speak of happens in the next sun cycle,” she said. “But weeks away.”
Argon nodded, satisfied.
“Yes, very good. Very good indeed. You will be a far wiser ruler than your father. In fact, it has been generations since the MacGils have had a ruler like you. So then you know what lies ahead.”
Gwen frowned.
“But I thought those ancient prophecies were just parables, metaphors. I did not think they were meant to be taken literally. I was taught they are open to interpretation.”
“And who is to say which is the right one?” Argon
asked.
Gwen’s eyes opened wide.
“Are you saying that it’s all true? That the Ring will come to an end in a matter of weeks? That the ancient prophecies will come to be?”
Argon turned and stared into the horizon for a long time, then finally, he sighed.
“The Ring will come to an end as we know it. We live in a time of great change. Greater than you can imagine. Everything you once knew will be different. There will be a time of tremendous darkness. And a time of great light. If one can survive the darkness.”
Gwen’s mind reeled as she tried to process the gravity of his words.
“It will be up to you to lead your people through the darkness,” he said. “Ready yourself for the task.”
Argon turned to go, and Gwen reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
“Wait!” she called out.
But she felt a burning in her hand and quickly yanked it back, the energy coming off of him so intense she could not tolerate it.
“Please! Before you go, tell me one thing.”
He turned and stared at her.
“The answer is yes,” he said, before she opened her mouth. “You carry Thor’s child. And it will change your life.”
Before she could ask him more, suddenly, he disappeared.
She turned, looking everywhere for him, but saw nothing, save for a single bird, screeching high up in the air, flying farther and farther away.
Gwen turned and looked out into nothingness, over the great expense of the Ring, and she wondered. She reached up and felt her stomach.
Thor’s child.
It was real.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Thor rode with a dozen Legion members at a relaxed trot on the well paved road, already a half day’s ride from King’s Court. Riding beside him were Reece, O’Connor, Elden and the twins, along with a half-dozen Legion members Thor had just met. They had been dispersed by Kolk to rebuild villages around King’s Court, and the Legion had been broken into groups of ten, and Thor had been named to lead this group to the village of Sulpa, less than a day’s ride south, hit hard by the McCloud raid.
