Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

Alistair took a tentative taste, then she drank until she finished the entire bowl.

When she was done, she turned the bowl upside down and held it out for all to see.

Alistair stood there, feeling completely fine, and the crowd gasped, clearly shocked.

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.

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.