Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

Gwen thought again of Guwayne, out there on the water, and her thoughts turned to Thorgrin. The farther away from them she sailed, the more she felt a heaviness in her chest, felt the likelihood increasing that she would never see them again. As she leaned over the rail, she extracted a quill and scroll of parchment from her waist, and she leaned against the wide, smooth rail and began to write:

My dearest Thorgrin:

My love for you has not waned, nor shall it ever. I love you more than I can ever say, and I know you shall reunite us with our son. I want you to know the place you hold in my heart. I think of you and dream of you, and you are right here by my side. You are the only one I’ve ever loved, and I shall never stop loving you.

Gwendolyn took the scroll and rolled it up tight. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small glass, took the cork off, put the letter inside, and sealed it back up. A tear rolling down her cheeks, she reached back and threw it. It went spinning through the air and landed with a soft splash in the sea.

As her unlikely message in a bottle floated on the waves, Gwendolyn half expected it to sink. She knew, of course, that there was no way that Thor would ever get it. And yet, she liked to think that somehow, by its entering the waters, he sensed it.

As Gwen watched the small bottle, she suddenly heard a screech high above, different from the other birds. She looked up, and her heart warmed to see her old friend, Estopheles, diving down low, zeroing in on the glass bottle. She dove down and rescued Gwen’s message from the waters, swooping up the glass in her beak. She screeched as she flipped her great wings and carried it off, westward into the sky.

As Gwendolyn watched her go, her heart filled with wonder and hope.

Estopheles, she thought. Find Thorgrin, and carry my message to him.

Gwen heard a strange noise coming from a few feet away, on the other side of the deck. She looked over to see Sandara leaning over the rail, sprinkling flowers and ashes into the waters, and chanting in a strange language. Somehow, at the sight of her, Gwendolyn felt better. There was something about her, a healing quality, that made Gwendolyn feel at peace around her.

Sandara turned to look at her with her large black soulful eyes, and Gwendolyn quickly wiped away her tears, ashamed.

Sandara smiled and walked toward her, laying a hand on her shoulder. As she did, Gwendolyn felt a warmth seep into her, felt that somehow, despite everything, all would be okay.

Sandara laid her hands on Queen Gwendolyn’s shoulders, and she closed her eyes, chanting softly. She concentrated on sending her healing energy, and as she did, she could feel Gwendolyn’s wounded spirit. She could feel all of the sadness within Gwendolyn, could feel her devastation at not being with her son, with her husband, Thorgrin. She could feel her uncertainty about the future, and she could also sense something else. She was not sure what. It felt like…regret about a decision she’d made. Something she had done in another world, a choice she’d had to make, having to do with sacrifice. She felt Gwen’s tremendous guilt and uncertainty over the fate of her husband and her son.

Sandara felt tremendous heat leaving her palms and entering Gwendolyn as she focused on healing her. She opened her eyes, and as she did, she saw Gwendolyn wipe away her tears, and watched her expression lighten. She realized that her healing had worked; she had taken Gwen’s sadness away. She shook her palms, which were burning her.

“I feel better around you,” Gwen said. “Where did you learn your craft?”

Sandara smiled back.

“I am just another healer, my lady.”

Gwendolyn shook her head and laid a hand on Sandara’s shoulder.

“No,” she replied. “You’re far more than that. You have a gift.”

Sandara smiled and looked away.

“My people,” Sandara said, “they have different customs, different ways of healing. I come from a long line of healers. Seers, my people call them.”

“Those flowers you dropped into the water earlier,” Gwendolyn said. “What were they?”

“They were prayers for your husband and your son,” Sandara said. “It is an ancient custom among my people. I prayed that the flowers would be carried on the tide, just as your boy and husband be carried on the tides back to you.”

Sandara could see by Gwen’s face how touched she was.

“I am looking forward to meeting your people,” Gwendolyn said. “What are they like?”

Sandara sighed as she turned and looked out at the sea.

“My people are a very proud people. It is something of a paradox, as they have been slaves their entire lives. Yet they carry the pride of kings. They live with this paradox, each day.”

“Sometimes the greatest pride lies within those who are subjugated,” Gwen replied.

“Your words are true, my lady,” Sandara said. “Just because one is a slave does not mean one is weak—it simply means they are outnumbered. But numbers change, and one day my people will rise up again.”

“Will your people shelter us?” Gwen asked, concern in her voice.

Sandara sighed, wondering the same thing.

“My people take the laws of hospitality very seriously,” she said. “And yet, the Empire is cruel, barbaric. If my people are caught harboring you, it will be death for them and their families.”

A flash of concern crossed Gwendolyn’s face.

“Perhaps we should go elsewhere in the Empire?”

Sandara shook her head.

“There is nowhere else,” she said. “Not on this side of the empire. There are other places within the empire, other places of rebellion, but they will be longer and harder to get to—and in other places, the slaves are subjugated worse than us.”

Gwendolyn looked at her meaningfully and nodded.

“Thank you,” she said. “Whatever happens, thank you. You have helped us. You have given us a direction. Even if it does not work.”

Sandara smiled, her eyes welling up; she felt so grateful toward Gwendolyn, who had taken her in from the start, and who had always been so kind to her.

“One day we might be sisters,” Gwen added, with a smile.

Sandara blushed, recalling all of Kendrick’s talk of marriage.

“I will do whatever I can, my lady,” Sandara said, “to convince my people. You shall have my loyalty, whatever happens.”

Several of Gwen’s councilors approached and pulled her away, needing her attention on other matters, and Sandara soon found herself standing alone, looking out at the sea. She leaned over the railing, and wondered, trying to imagine the future that lay ahead of her. It would be so strange to be back home after all this time. How would her people receive her? Surely, they would be happy to see her; and yet, she would be arm in arm with Kendrick, a man of white skin. How would her people react? They could be very judgmental, she knew. More importantly, how would they react to her arriving with the ships? Would they turn them away?

As Sandara stood there, wondering, she felt a presence beside her, and she turned to see Kendrick coming up beside her, smiling down at her, draping an arm around her waist. She leaned in as he hugged her, and as always, she felt so comfortable in his arms.

“So we get to be together after all,” he said.

Sandara smiled back.

“All that time in the Ring,” he added, “you planned your return to the Empire, without me. And yet here we are, returning together. I suspect that if we hadn’t all been exiled, you would have left without me.”

Sandara nodded.

“Indeed I would have,” she said. “Not because I do not love you, but because my people need me.”