Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

“Does it not bother you,” he asked, “knowing that tomorrow when we arise, we’ll be answering to someone else?”

Loti did not meet his eyes, but stared out in the distance and shrugged.

“Of course it bothers me,” she finally replied. “But there are some things you must learn to live with it. I have learned to.”

“I have not,” he said.

She studied him.

“Your problem,” she said, “is that you are narrow-minded. You only see one way to resist.”

He looked back at her, puzzled.

“What other way is there to resist than to throw off the chains of our oppressors?” he asked.

She smiled back.

“The highest form of resistance is to enjoy life, even in the face of oppression. If you can find a way to live a life of joy in the face of danger, if you have not let them crush your spirit, then you have defeated them. They can affect our bodies, but not our spirit. If they can’t take away your joy, then you are never oppressed. Oppression is a state of mind.”

Darius pondered her words, never considering it that way before. He had never met anyone who thought like her, who saw the world the way she did. He not know if he agreed with her, but he could understand her way of thinking.

“I think we are very different people,” he finally said.

“Maybe that is why we like each other,” she replied.

His heart beat faster at her words, and he smiled back. For the first time, he felt relaxed, more confident.

Their boat rounded a bend, and as it did, she opened her eyes wide, and he turned to look. The current had taken them under the Tree of Fire, and as Darius turned and laid eyes on it, he was awestruck, as always. The tree, hundreds of feet high and wide, was as ancient as this land. Its branches leaned over the river, all the way down until they touched it, its leaves a flaming red, bright red flowers blooming at the end of them, and all aglow in the sunset. It looked magical. Darius could smell its strong fragrance from here, like cinnamon crossed with honeysuckle.

Darius stopped their boat beneath the branches, the flowers nearly touching their heads, emitting a soft glow as evening fell, lighting up the twilight. Loti leaned forward, so close that her knees were touching Darius’s, and she reached up and placed a hand in his. He could feel her trembling, and as he looked into her eyes, his heart pounded.

“You are not like the others,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes. I want to be with you.”

Darius stared back at her, and could see the earnestness in her eyes.

“And I with you,” he said.

“I do not give out my heart lightly,” she said. “I do not want it broken.”

“I promise it shall never be,” he said.

Darius then leaned forward, and as his lips met hers, as he reached up and touched her face, as the two of them floated there, under the Tree of Fire, he felt, for the first time, that he had something to live for.

Gwen stood at the rail, looking down into the waters, and she raised her hands to her eyes to shield them as a sudden light filled the sky. The haze hanging over the sea was infused with gold, and as she squinted into the light, she suddenly spotted something sailing toward her. She narrowed her eyes and wondered if she were seeing things: there, before her, bobbing in the waters, floated a small, shining golden boat, reflecting the sun. Gwen looked closely as it came closer, and her heart soared to see who was inside. She could not believe it.

There, inside, was Thor, standing, smiling triumphantly. And in his arms he held their baby.

Gwen’s heart soared, as she burst into tears at the sight. There they were, just feet away, returned to her, both alive and safe and well.

Gwen turned for a moment to summon the others on her ship, to share the good news—yet as she did, she was confused to find her ship empty. She could not understand where everyone had gone.

Gwen stepped into the small lifeboat on deck and quickly lowered the ropes until she reached the water. As she touched down, her boat bobbed wildly in the waves, and the thick rope connecting her to the ship snapped.

Gwen craned her neck and looked up, and was horrified to see her ship floating away on the strong ocean tide.

Gwen turned back to Thor and Guwayne, and she was horrified to see that her boat was suddenly getting sucked away, faster and faster on the tides, bringing her farther from them.

“NO!” she called out.

Gwen reached out a hand for Thorgrin, who still stood there, smiling, holding Guwayne. But the ocean tide carried her faster and farther away from him, away from her ship, away from everything she knew, deep into the limitless ocean.

Gwen awoke with a start. She looked all around, breathing hard, sweating, wondering what had happened. She saw that she was still in her ship; that she lay on deck; that it was filled with people. It had all been a nightmare. Just an awful, cruel nightmare.

Gwen’s relief quickly morphed to disappointment as she saw the state of her people. A thick fog settled in over everything, carried on the wind, and Gwen could only see her people piecemeal. But she saw them slumped over their oars, lying curled up on the deck, leaning against the side rail, all of them languid, no one moving. She could tell right away that they had all been devastated by hunger. They all lay there, motionless, looking more dead than alive.

Gwen did not know how many days they had been floating here; she could no longer remember. She knew it was long enough, though. Too long. Land had never come, and here her people lay, all on the steps of death.

Gwendolyn felt hunger pains tear through her body, and it took all her might just to pull herself up to a sitting position. She sat there, holding the baby, who cried as Gwen gave her a bottle empty of milk. Gwen felt like weeping, but she was too exhausted for that. After all they been through, after having come so far, it killed her to think that now her people were all going to die here, in the middle of nowhere, from hunger. It was too much to take. For herself, she could suffer; but she hated to see her people suffer like this.

Gwen could sense the stale odor of death in the air, feel that this ship had become a floating tomb, and that, soon, they would all be dead. She could not help but feel as if it were all her fault.

“Do not blame yourself, my lady,” came the voice.

Gwen turned to see her brother, Kendrick, sitting not far away, smiling weakly back. He must have read her thoughts, as he often did growing up, as he sat there, so noble, with such a strength of spirit, even at a time of such hardship.

“You have been a remarkable Queen,” he said. “Our father would be proud. You’ve taken us further than anyone else could have dared hope. It is a miracle we lived this long.”

Gwen appreciated his kind words, yet still, she could not help but feel responsible.

“If we all die, what have I done?” she asked.

“We will all die one day,” he replied. “You have achieved honor. That is far more than we could have asked of ourselves.”

Kendrick reached out a reassuring hand, and Gwen took it, grateful for his always being there.

“I should think you would have been a better King than I a Queen,” she said. “Father should have chosen you.”

Kendrick shook his head.

“Father knew what he was doing,” he said. “He chose perfectly. It was the one great choice of his life. He chose you not for the good times—but for a time like this. He knew you would lead us out.”

Before she could ponder his words, Gwen heard a shuffling of feet, and she turned and looked over to see Steffen looking down at her, dark circles under his eyes, looking weak, Arliss at his side, holding his hand.