Morgan Rice - An Oath of Brothers

“You are correct,” he said, as he locked eyes with Thorgrin and walked right up to him. He stood but a few feet away, and his translucent green eyes felt as if they burned right through him. “To think of my brother.”

“Your brother?” Thor asked, confused.

The man nodded back.

“Argon.”

Thor gaped at the man, shocked.

“Argon!?” Thor said. “Your brother?” he added, barely able to get the words out.

The man nodded back, examining him, and Thor felt as if he were seeing into his very soul.

“Ragon is my name,” he said. “I am Argon’s twin. Although of course, we don’t look much alike. I believe I am the more handsome one,” he added with a smile.

Thor stared, speechless. He did not know where to begin; he’d had no idea that Argon had a brother.

Slowly, it all began to make sense.

“You brought us here,” Thor said, processing it all. “Those currents, this island, those ropes… You planned for us to come here.” Thor pieced it all together. “You’ve been watching us.”

Ragon nodded back.

“Indeed I have,” he said. “And I am very proud of you. I did control the tides here—it was my way of extending hospitality. Those who arrive here, on this isle, can only arrive because they deserve it. Being here is a reward: a reward to those who have displayed great valor. And you— all of you—have passed the test.”

Thor suddenly heard the loud, definitive screech of a dragon—he was certain this time—and he looked up and was in awe to see a baby dragon, its wingspan hardly ten feet, diving down low, circling. It screeched, a young dragon’s screech, and extended its wings as it flew in broad circles; then finally it landed, setting down just a few feet beside Ragon.

It sat there, facing Thor and the others, and lowered its wings, still and calm, staring back proudly.

Thor stared back in wonder.

“It can’t be,” he whispered, breathless, examining it. It was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. It looked positively ancient. “I saw the last of the dragons die. It saw it myself.”

“But you did not see the egg,” Ragon said.

Thor looked at him, puzzled.

“The egg?”

Ragon nodded.

“Of Mycoples and Ralibar. Their child. A girl.”

Thor’s mouth fell open in shock, and he felt tears well up as he examined the dragon in a whole new light, as he realized, for the first time, how much she resembled Mycoples. He knew there was something familiar about her.

“She’s beautiful,” Thorgrin said.

“You can pet her,” Ragon said. “In fact, she has been looking forward to meeting you, very much. She knows all about what you did for her mother. She’s been waiting for this day.”

Thorgrin stepped forward, one step at a time, wary of her, yet anxious to meet her. She stared back at him proudly, unblinking, with light-red scales and glowing green eyes, and stood perhaps ten feet tall. He could not tell if she liked him or not, and he felt an intense energy radiating off of her.

As he approached, Thor raised a hand and gently stroked the side of her face, his palm touching her long scales. She purred contentedly as he did, lifted her chin as if to acknowledge him, and then suddenly lowered her head and, to Thor’s delight, brushed it against his chest. With her long, scratchy tongue, she licked Thor’s face.

It scratched the side of Thor’s cheek, but he didn’t mind. He knew it was a sign of affection, and he leaned down and kissed her on the head. Her scales were strong and smooth, young, still needing to be formed, softer than her parents’ were. Seeing her brought back all his memories, made him realize how much he’d missed Mycoples—and made him feel as if he had her back again.

“I loved your mother,” Thor said softly to her. “And I shall love you just as much.”

The dragon purred again.

“You’ve made her quite happy, Thorgrin,” Ragon said. “The only thing she needs now is a name.”

Thor looked at him questioningly.

“Are you asking me to name her?”

Ragon nodded.

“She is young, after all,” he replied. “And no one has come along to name her. I could have. But the task, I knew, awaited you.”

Thor closed his eyes, trying to allow a name to come to him. As he did, he thought of Mycoples and Ralibar, and wondered what name they would have wanted, what name would best honor her parents.

“Lycoples,” Thor heard himself blurt out. “We shall name her Lycoples.”

Lycoples raised her neck and screeched, breathing fire straight up into the sky, a small flame, still young, and Thor jumped back, startled. She spread her wings wide, lowered her head, and she suddenly leapt up into the air, circling, flying high above, higher and higher, until Thor watched her disappear from sight, in wonder.

“Have I offended her?” Thor asked.

Ragon smiled and shook his head.

“On the contrary,” he said. “She quite approves.”

Ragon reached out and clasped a hand on Thor’s shoulder and began to lead him on a walk.

“Come, young Thorgrin,” he said. “We have much to discuss, and this isle is far bigger than it seems.”

Thor and the others followed Ragon, winding their way through the island, taking everything in as they went. Thor could not believe how comforted he felt being here, in Ragon’s presence, especially after their long sojourn across an endless, unforgiving ocean, after so many days with no hope or land in sight, and with their provisions running so low. And especially after emerging from the land of the dead. He felt as if he had been reborn, as if he had emerged from the deepest rungs of hell to the highest levels of paradise.

But there was more to it than that. Thor also felt deeply at home with Ragon, felt comforted in his presence, the same way he had always felt around Argon. In some ways he felt that having Ragon here was like having Argon back.

Thor also felt incredibly comforted by the sight of Lycoples, circling high above, screeching every so often to make her presence known. He looked up and spotted her and was thrilled to see her. It made him feel as if Mycoples were back with him again, as if a piece of himself had been restored.

And yet, even with all of this, there was still something more to this place, something else that Thor could not quite detect, lingering just beneath the surface. He sensed something here, a presence, something he could not quite put his finger on. He felt as if there were something here waiting for him, something that would make him whole again. He did not understand what it could be, here in this empty place the middle of nowhere, but it kept gnawing at him, his senses screaming at him that there was something crucial here, somewhere on this island.

They marched for hours, and yet strangely enough, Thor found that his legs were not tired in this place. It was the most idyllic place he’d ever seen, and they strolled through rolling hills, through lush fields of green, and Thor felt as if he were being cradled in the very arms of paradise.

They crested a hill, and as they did, Ragon came to a stop, and Thor stopped beside him. He looked out, and was shocked by the vista: there, in the distance, sat a castle made of light. It shone in the sun, sparkling, looking like a golden cloud, yet in the shape of a castle. It had a translucent feel to it, and Thor realized the castle was entirely composed of light.

He turned to Ragon in wonder.

“The Castle of Light,” Ragon explained.

They all stared, silent, Thor not knowing what to say.

“Is it real?” Thor asked, finally breaking the silence.

“As real as you and I,” Ragon replied.

“But it looks to be made of light,” Reece said, stepping forward. “Can one enter?”