Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

They all looked at her in surprise.

“Thorgrin?” Srog asked. “But my lady, he’s in battle with the dragons, with Romulus’s army. To find him would mean to return into the heart of battle.”

“Precisely,” Gwendolyn replied, her voice filled with a new determination. “If I cannot find my child, at least I can find Thorgrin. I will not move on without him.”

The thought of returning for Thorgrin, however irrational it might be, was the only thing allowing Gwen to, in her mind, give up the search for Guwayne and change course. Otherwise, her heart would just feel too heavy.

There was a long and heavy silence amongst her men, as each looked to the other guiltily, as if all were reluctant to say something to her.

“My lady,” Srog finally said, clearing his throat, stepping forward. “We all love and admire Thor, as much as we love our own selves. He is the greatest warrior we’ve ever known. Even so, I fear to say, there is no way he can survive against all those dragons, against the Empire’s million men. Thorgrin set himself up as a sacrifice for us, to buy us time, to allow us to escape. We must accept his gift. We must save ourselves while we can—not kill ourselves. Any of us would give our lives for Thorgrin—and yet, I fear to say, he may not be alive when we return for him.”

Gwen stared back at Srog, long and hard, something hardening within her, the only sound the breeze rippling on the ocean waters.

Finally, she came to a decision, a fresh strength in her eyes.

“We are not going anywhere until I find my Thorgrin,” she said. “I have no home without him. If it brings us into the heart of battle, into the very depths of hell, then that is where we shall go. He gave us his life—and we owe him ours.”

Gwen did not wait for their response. She turned her back, holding the baby to her chest, and peered into the water, signaling their conversation was done. She heard footsteps behind her as the men slowly dispersed; she heard commands ordered, heard them to begin to turn about the ship, as she’d requested.

Before they turned, Gwen peered one last time into layers of fog so thick, she could not even see the horizon. She wondered what lay beyond, if anything. Was Guwayne out there, somewhere beyond? Or was there nothing but a vast and empty sea? As Gwen watched, she saw a small rainbow appear in the midst of the fog, and she felt her heart breaking. She felt that Guwayne was with her. That he was giving her a sign. And she knew she would never, ever stop searching until she found him.

Behind her, Gwen heard the creaking of ropes, the hoisting of sails, and she slowly felt the ship turn, heading in the opposite direction. She felt her heart remaining behind as she unwillingly was brought back in the other direction. She looked back, the entire time, over her shoulder, staring at the rainbow, wondering: was Guwayne somewhere beyond?

Guwayne rocked alone in the small boat in the vast sea, carried on the waves, up and down, as he had been for hour after hour, the ocean current pulling him in no particular direction. Above him the tattered canvas sail whipped aimlessly in the wind. Guwayne, on his back, looked straight up at it, and he watched it, mesmerized.

Guwayne had stopped crying long ago, ever since he had lost sight of his mother, and he now lay there, wrapped in his blanket, all alone in the empty sea, without his parents, with nothing left but the rocking of the waves and this tattered sail.

The rocking of his boat had relaxed him—and as it suddenly stopped, he felt a rush of panic. The bow stopped moving as it lodged itself firmly on a beach, in the sand, the waves bringing it ashore. It landed on a foreign, exotic isle way north of the Upper Isles, near the far northern edge of the Empire. Upset from the rocking motion being over, Guwayne, his boat stuck in the sand, began to cry.

Guwayne cried and cried, until the cry evolved into a piercing wail. No one came to answer him.

Guwayne looked up and saw great birds—vultures—circling again and again, looking down at him, getting closer and closer. Sensing danger, his wails increased.

One of the birds dived down for him, and Guwayne braced himself; but suddenly it flapped its wings, startled by something, and flew away.

A moment later, Guwayne saw a face looking down at him—then another, then another. Soon, dozens of faces, exotic faces, from a primitive tribe, with huge ivory hoops through their noses, stared down at him. Guwayne’s cries increased as they jabbed spears at his boat. Guwayne screamed louder and louder. He wanted his mother.

“A sign from the seas,” one of the men said. “Just as our prophecies have foretold.”

“It is a gift from the God of Amma,” another said.

“The gods must want an offering,” said another.

“It is a test! We must give back what is given to us,” said another.

“We must give back what is given to us!” repeated the rest, clacking their spears against the boat.

Guwayne wailed louder and louder, but it didn’t do any good. One of them reached down, a tall skinny man wearing no shirt, with green skin and glowing yellow eyes, and scooped Guwayne up.

Guwayne shrieked at the feel of his skin, like sandpaper, as the man held him tight and breathed down his bad breath on him.

“A sacrifice for Amma!” he cried.

The men cheered, and as one they all turned and began to carry Guwayne away from the beach, toward the mountains, their sights set on the far side of the island, on the volcano, still smoking. None of them stopped to turn around, to look back at the ocean from which they’d left.

But if they had, even for an instant, they would have seen an unusually thick fog, a rainbow in its center, hardly fifty yards away. Behind them, unnoticed by anyone, the fog slowly lifted until finally the skies were clear, revealing three ships, turning around, all with their backs to the island, and all sailing the other way.

Thor lay atop Mycoples, both bobbing in the waves, slowly sinking into the ocean, completely surrounded by the Empire’s fleet. Thor lay there, his body pierced by dozens of arrows, dripping blood, in excruciating pain. He felt the life force seeping out of him, and as he held onto Mycoples, he felt her life force leaving her, too. There was blood in the water everywhere, and small, glowing fish came to the surface and lapped it up.

Slowly, they sank, the water submerging Thor up to his ankles, then his knees, then his stomach, as Mycoples sank and went under. Neither had the strength to resist.

Finally, Thor let himself go and he went under, his head dunking beneath the surface, too weak to stop it. As he did, he heard the distant sound of arrows piercing the water, striking him even beneath the surface. Thor felt as if he were being struck by thousands of them, as if everyone he’d ever fought in battle was taking their vengeance. He wondered, as he sank further, why he had to suffer this much before he died.

As Thor sank deeper and deeper toward the bottom of the ocean, he felt his life could not end this way. It was too soon. He had too much left to live. He wanted more time with Gwendolyn; he wanted to marry her. He wanted time with Guwayne; he wanted to watch him grow up. Wanted to teach him what it meant to be a great warrior.

Thor had barely begun to live, had just stepped into his true stride as a warrior and as a Druid, and now his life was ending. He had finally met his mother, who had granted him powers greater than he’d ever known, and who had foreseen more quests for him—even greater quests. She had also seen him become a King. Yet she had also seen how his destiny could be changed at any moment. Had she been seeing truly? Or was his life really meant to end now?