by Morgan Rice
Romulus looked down at her, as Luanda bravely stood a foot away, facing him, unflinching, staring back defiantly. She felt fear but did not show it. She did not want to give Romulus the satisfaction. She wanted him to kill her when she was staring him in the face. At least that would give her something. She just wanted him to get it over with.
Instead, Romulus’s smile broadened, and he continued to stare directly at her, rather than at the bridge, as she expected he would.
“You have what you want,” she said, puzzled. “The Shield is down. The Ring is yours. Aren’t you going to kill me now?”
He shook his head.
“You are not what I expected,” he finally said, summing her up. “I might let you live. I might even take you as my wife.”
Luanda gagged inside at the thought; this was not the reaction she’d wanted.
She leaned back and spit in his face, hoping that would get him to kill her.
Romulus reached up and wiped his face with the back of his hand, and Luanda braced herself for the blow to come, expecting him to punch her as before, to shatter her jaw—to do anything but be nice to her. Instead, he stepped forward, grabbed her by the back of her hair, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard.
She felt his lips, grotesque, chapped, all muscle, like a snake, as he pressed her to him, harder and harder, so hard she could barely breathe.
Finally, he pulled away—and as he did, he backhanded her, smacking her so hard her skin stung.
She looked up at him, horrified, filled with disgust, not understanding him.
“Chain her and keep her close to me,” he commanded. He had barely finished uttering the words before his men stepped forward and bound her arms behind her back.
Romulus’s eyes widened with delight as he stepped forward in front of his men, and, bracing himself, took the first step onto the bridge.
There was no Shield to stop him. He stood there safe and sound.
Romulus broke into a wide grin, then burst out laughing, holding his muscular arms out wide as he flung back his head. He roared with laughter, with triumph, the sound echoing throughout the Canyon.
“It is mine,” he boomed. “All mine!”
His voice echoed, again and again.
“Men,” he added. “Invade!”
His troops suddenly rushed past him, letting out a great cheer that was met, high above, by the host of dragons, who flapped their wings and flew, soaring above the Canyon. They entered the swirling mist, screeching, a great noise that rose to the very heavens, that let the world know that the Ring would never be the same again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alistair lay in Erec’s arms on the bow of the huge ship, which rocked gently up and down as the huge ocean waves rolled past again and again. She looked up, mesmerized, at the million red stars blanketing the night sky, sparkling in the distance; warm ocean breezes rolled in, caressing her, lulling her to sleep. She felt content. Just being here, together with Erec, her whole world felt at peace; here, in this part of the world, on this vast ocean, it felt as if all the troubles in the world had disappeared. Endless obstacles had kept the two of them apart and now, finally, her dreams were coming true. They were together, and there was no one and nothing left to stand between them. They had already set sail, were already on their way to his islands, his homeland, and when they arrived, she would marry him. There was nothing she wanted more in the world.
Erec squeezed her tight, and she leaned in closer to him as the two of them leaned back, looking up at the universe, the gentle ocean mist washing over them. Her eyes grew heavy in the quiet ocean night.
As she looked out at the open sky, she thought of how huge the world was; she thought of her brother, Thorgrin, out there somewhere, and she wondered where he was right now. She knew he was on his way to see their mother. Would he find her? What would she be like? Did she even really exist?
A part of Alistair wanted to join him on the journey, to meet their mother, too; and another part of her missed the Ring already, and wanted to be back home on familiar ground. But the biggest part of her was excited; she was excited to start life again, together with Erec, in a new place, a new part of the world. She was excited to meet his people, to see what his homeland was like. Who lived in the Southern Isles? she wondered. What were his people like? Would his family take him in? Would they be happy to have her, or would they be threatened by her? Would they welcome the idea of their wedding? Or had they envisioned someone else, one of their own, for Erec?
Worst of all, what she dreaded most—what would they think of her once they found out about her powers? Once they found out that she was a Druid? Would they consider her a freak, an outsider, like everyone else?
“Tell me again of your people,” Alistair said to Erec.
He looked at her, then looked backed out at the sky.
“What would you like to know?”
“Tell me about your family,” she said.
Erec reflected in the silence for a long time. Finally, he spoke:
“My father, he is a great man. He’s been king of our people ever since he was my age. His looming death will change our island forever.”
“And have you any other family?”
Erec hesitated a long time, then finally nodded.
“Yes. I have a sister…and a brother.” He hesitated. “My sister and I, we were very close growing up. But I must warn you, she’s very territorial and too easily jealous. She’s wary of outsiders, and does not like new people in our family. And my brother…” Erec trailed off.
Alistair prodded him.
“What is it?”
“A finer fighter you will never meet. But he is my younger brother, and he has always set himself in competition with me. I have always viewed him as a brother, and he has always viewed me as competition, as someone who stands in his way. I do not know why. It just is how it is. I wish we could be closer.”
Alistair looked at him, surprised. She could not understand how anyone could look at Erec with anything but love.
“And is it still that way?” she asked.
Erec shrugged.
“I have not seen any of them since I was a child. It is my first return to my homeland; nearly thirty sun cycles have passed. I do not know what to expect. I am more a product of the Ring now. And yet if my father dies…I am the eldest. My people will look to me to rule.”
Alistair paused, wondering, not wanting to pry.
“And will you?”
Erec shrugged.
“It is not something I seek. But if my father wishes…I cannot say no.”
Alistair studied him.
“You love him very much.”
Erec nodded, and she could see his eyes glistening in the starlight.
“I only pray our ship arrives in time before he dies.”
Alistair considered his words.
“And what of your mother?” she asked. “Would she like me?”
Erec smiled wide.
“Like a daughter,” he said. “For she will see how much I love you.”
They kissed, and Alistair leaned back and looked at the sky, reaching over and grasping Erec’s hand.
“Just remember this, my lady. I love you. You above all else. That is all that matters. My people shall give us the greatest wedding that the Southern Isles have ever seen; they will shower us with every festivity. And you will be loved and embraced by all of them.”
Alistair studied the stars, holding Erec’s hand tight, and she wondered. She had no doubt of his love for her, but she wondered about his people, people he himself barely knew. Would they embrace her as he thought they would? She was not so sure.
Suddenly, Alistair heard heavy footsteps. She looked over to see one of the ship’s crew walk over to the edge of the railing, hoist a large dead fish over his head, and throw it overboard. There was a gentle splash below, and soon a bigger splash, as another fish leapt up and ate it.
There then followed an awful sound in the waters below, lik
e a moaning or crying, followed by another splash.
Alistair looked over at the sailor, an unsavory character, unshaven, dressed in rags, with missing teeth, as he leaned over the edge, grinning like an oaf. He turned and looked right at her, his face evil, grotesque in the starlight. Alistair got a terrible feeling as he did.
“What did you throw overboard?” Erec asked.
“The guts of a simka fish,” he replied.
“But why?”
“It’s poison,” he replied, grinning. “Any fish that eats it dies on the spot.”
Alistair looked at him, horrified.
“But why would you want to kill the fish?”
The man smiled more broadly.
“I like to watch them die. I like to hear them scream, and I like to see them float, belly up. It’s fun.”
The man turned and walked slowly back to the rest of his crew, and as Alistair watched him go, she felt her skin crawl.
“What is it?” Erec asked her.
Alistair looked away and shook her head, trying to make her feeling go away. But it would not; it was an awful premonition, she was not sure of what.
“Nothing, my lord,” she said.
She settled back into his arms, trying to tell herself that everything was all right. But she knew, deep down, that it was very far from all right.
*
Erec woke in the night, feeling the ship moving slowly up and down, and he knew immediately that something was wrong. It was the warrior within him, the part of him that had always warned him an instant before something bad happened. He’d always had the sense, ever since he was a boy.
He sat up quickly, alert, and looked all around. He turned and saw Alistair soundly asleep beside him. It was still dark, the boat still rocking on the waves, yet something was wrong. He looked all around, but saw no sign of anything amiss.
What danger could there be, he wondered, out here in the middle of nowhere? Was it just a dream?
Erec, trusting his instincts, reached down to grab his sword. But before his hand could grab the hilt, he suddenly felt a heavy net covering his body, draping down all around him. It was made of the heaviest rope he’d ever felt, nearly heavy enough to crush a man, and it landed all over him at once, tight all around him.
Before he could react, he felt himself being hoisted high into the air, the net catching him like an animal, its ropes so tight around him that he could not even move, his shoulders and arms and wrists and feet all constrained, crushed together. He was hoisted higher and higher, until he found himself a good twenty feet above the deck, dangling, like an animal caught in a trap.
Erec’s heart slammed in his chest as he tried to understand what was going on. He looked down and saw Alistair below him, waking up.
“Alistair!” Erec called out.
Down below, she looked everywhere for him, and when she finally looked up and saw him, her face fell.
“EREC!” she yelled, confused.
Erec watched as several dozen crew members, bearing torches, approached her. They all wore grotesque smiles, evil in their eyes, as they closed in on her.
“It’s about time he shared her,” one of them said.
“I’m going to teach this princess what it means to live with a sailor!” another said
The group broke into laughter.
“After me,” another one said.
“Not before I’ve had my fill first,” another said.
Erec struggled to break free with all that he had as they continued to close in on her. But it was to no avail. His shoulders and arms were clamped so tightly, he could not even wiggle them.
“ALISTAIR!” he screamed, desperate.
He was helpless to do anything but watch as he dangled above.
Three sailors suddenly pounced on Alistair from behind; Alistair screamed out as they pulled her to her feet, tore her shirt, yanked her arms behind her back. They held her tight as several more sailors approached.
Erec scanned the ship for any sign of the captain; he saw him on the upper deck, looking down, watching all of it.
“Captain!” Erec yelled. “This is your ship. Do something!”
The captain looked at him, then slowly turned his back on the whole scene, as if not wanting to watch it.
Erec watched, desperate, as a sailor pulled a knife and held it to Alistair’s throat, and Alistair cried out.
“NO!” Erec yelled.
It was like watching a nightmare unfold beneath him—and worst of all, there was nothing he could do.
CHAPTER FIVE
Thorgrin faced Andronicus, the two of them alone in the field of battle, soldiers dead all around them. He raised his sword high and brought it down on Andronicus’s chest; as he did, Andronicus dropped his weapons, smiled wide, and reached out to embrace him.
My son.
Thor tried to stop his sword slash, but it was too late. The sword cut right through his father, and as Andronicus split in two, Thor felt wracked with grief.
Thor blinked and found himself walking down an endlessly long altar, holding Gwen’s hand. He realized it was their wedding procession. They walked toward a blood-red sun, and as Thor looked to both sides, he saw all the seats were empty. He turned to look at Gwen, and as she looked at him, he was terrified as her skin dried out and she became a skeleton, collapsing to dust in his hand. She fell in a pile of ashes at his feet.
Thor found himself standing before his mother’s castle. He had somehow crossed the skywalk, and he stood before immense double doors, gold, shining, three times as tall as he. There was no handle, and he reached up and slammed his palms on them until they started to bleed. The sound echoed throughout the world. But no one came to answer.
Thor threw back his head.
“Mother!” he yelled.
Thor sank to his knees, and as he did, the ground turned into mud, and Thor slid down a cliff, falling and falling, flailing through the air, down, hundreds of feet, to a raging ocean below. He held his hands out to the sky, watched his mother’s castle disappear from view, and shrieked.
Thor opened his eyes, breathless, the wind brushing his face, and he looked all around, trying to figure out where he was. He looked down and saw an ocean passing by beneath him, at dizzying speed. He looked up and saw he that clutched something rough, and as he heard the great flapping of wings, he realized he was holding on to Mycoples’s scales, his hands cold from the nighttime air, his face numb from the gusts of sea wind. Mycoples flew with great speed, her wings ever flapping, and as Thor looked straight ahead, he realized he had fallen asleep on her. They were still flying, as they had been for days now, racing beneath the night sky, underneath a million twinkling red stars.
Thor sighed and wiped the back of his head, which was covered in sweat. He had vowed to stay alert, but it had been so many days, their trek together, flying, searching for the Land of the Druids. Luckily Mycoples, knowing him as well as she did, knew he was asleep and flew steadily, making sure he did not fall off. The two of them had been traveling so long together, they had become like one. As much as Thor missed the Ring, he was thrilled, at least, to be back with his old friend again, just the two of them, traveling the world; he could tell that she, too, was happy to be with him, purring contentedly. He knew that Mycoples would never let anything bad happen to him—and he felt the same way about her.
Thor looked below and examined the foaming, luminescent green waters of the sea; this was a strange and exotic sea, one he had never seen before, one of the many they had passed on their search. They continued to fly north, ever north, following the pointing arrow on the relic he had found in his hometown. Thor felt they were getting closer to his mother, to her land, to the Land of the Druids. He could feel it.
Thor hoped that the arrow was accurate. Deep down, he felt it was. He could sense in every fiber of his being that it was taking them closer to his mother, to his destiny.
Thor rubbed his eyes, determined to stay awake. He had thought they would have already fo
und the Land of the Druids by now; it felt as if they had already covered half the world. For moment he worried: what if it was all a fantasy? What if his mother didn’t exist? What if the Land of the Druids didn’t exist? What if he was doomed to never find her?
He tried to shake these thoughts from his mind as he urged Mycoples on.
Faster, Thor thought.
Mycoples purred and flapped her wings harder, and as she put her head down, the two of them dove into the mist, heading for some point on the horizon that, Thor knew, might not even exist.
*
The day broke as Thor had never seen it, the sky awash with not two suns, but three, all three rising together in different points of the horizon, one red, one green, one purple. They flew just above the clouds, which were spread out beneath him, so close that Thor could touch them, a blanket of color. Thor basked in the most beautiful sunrise he’d ever seen, different colors of the suns breaking through the clouds, the rays streaking over him, beneath him, above him. He felt as if he were flying into the birth of the world.
Thor directed Mycoples down, and he felt moist as they went into the cloud cover; momentarily, his world was awash in different colors, then he was blinded. As they exited the clouds, Thor expected to see yet another ocean, yet another endless expanse of nothingness.
But this time, there was something else.
Thor’s heart raced as he spotted beneath them a sight he’d always hoped to see, a sight which occupied his dreams. There, far below, a land came into view. It was an island, swirling in mist, in the midst of this incredible ocean, wide and deep. His relic vibrated, and he looked down and saw the arrow flashing, pointing straight down. But he did not even need to see it to know. He felt it, in every fiber of his being. She was here. His mother. The magical Land of the Druids existed, and he had arrived.
