Morgan Rice - A Sea of Shields

“I am proud of you,” Gwen whispered to him, turning to him and smiling and laying a gentle hand on his wrist.

“For what, my love?” Thor asked, puzzled.

“The Silver,” she said. “I heard. Sir Thorgrinson,” she added, her smile broadening.

Thor smiled back; he had been so preoccupied with Guwayne, he had not even thought of it. But now that she mentioned it, it all came rushing back, and he replayed in his mind the ceremony, the armor. He felt like a new man inside. Stronger. More substantial.

As they walked, circling higher and higher up the mountain, Thor was taken aback at the sweeping vistas, the views from up here in the Valley of Fire. This was a strange and haunting place, just west of King’s Court, a valley of ancient and dried up volcanoes, dozens and dozens of them, rising up from the earth, dormant, as they had been for thousands of years. They towered over King’s Court, an ancient reminder of what had once been. It also, of course, made for a natural defense for the city, which was why, Thor figured, King’s Court had been built here to begin with.

As Thor ascended higher and higher, he could see the peaks of the dried up volcanoes, none of which he had ever seen in his lifetime. They were beautiful, gaping. There was a slight smell in the air, as if of a sulfur that had once been, that had seeped into the ground. Thor’s boots slid in the dry dirt and gravel beneath his feet as they neared the mountain top, a strong breeze getting stronger as they crested its peak, carrying a cool wind despite the summer day.

Thor looked down and saw summer’s bounty spreading out all over King’s Court, fields of grain swaying in the wind, entire valleys of orchards, abundance beyond belief. Except for here, this dead Valley of Fire, like a stark reminder that all this bounty could one day disappear.

“He’s here,” Gwen said, beside him.

Thor looked up and saw Argon standing at the top, dressed in his white cloak and hood, holding his staff, looking down on them all, expressionless, like a shepherd awaiting his flock. Thor flooded with relief. Without Argon, the ceremony could not take place—and one never knew if Argon would appear.

They crested the very top of the ancient volcano, and as Thor and Gwen took their place at its peak, beside Argon, the three of them turned and looked down into the center of the volcano. The terrain sloped down gently, for about twenty feet, loose sand and rock, then leveled out in a plateau at the top, shaped in a perfect circle, perhaps a hundred yards in diameter, on which sat an ice-blue lake. It reflected the sky, the clouds, and the two suns, and the sight took Thor’s breath away. They made their way to the water’s edge, and behind them, Thor heard the gentle footsteps of thousands of people cresting the ridge, coming up behind them to the shores of the lake.

As they stood there, Argon turned to Thor, held out both hands, and looked to the child.

Thor found himself clutching his boy, reluctant to let him go; he felt a gentle hand on his forearm, and looked over at Gwen, and she nodded back.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Let him go.”

Thor reluctantly reached out and placed Guwayne in Argon’s arms.

The second he did, the silent sky filled with the sound of Guwayne’s screams and cries. Thor felt his heart break at the sound. Thor felt an emptiness, a hollow feeling, as Guwayne’s warmth left his arms.

Argon held Guwayne close, and slowly, his crying stopped. Argon unswaddled him, one layer at a time, until Guwayne was completely naked. Argon then held the boy up high to the sky, over his head, and he turned and faced the people.

“In the name of the seven forefathers, in the name of the ancient pillars, in the name of the fields of light and the fields of gray, of all four winds and the great divide, I call upon all the gods that ever were and all the gods there will ever be to bless this child. Endow him with the strength of his father, the spirit of his mother. Infuse him to carry on the royal bloodline of the MacGils. Give us all a great warrior, and a great leader of men.”

The congregation cheered in approval, and Argon turned, knelt beside the water, lay the baby on his back, and immersed him in the water.

Gwen gasped and rushed forward instinctively to save him—but Thor clutched her wrist. It was now his time to reassure her.

Argon raised him from the water, and Guwayne screamed. Argon immersed him again. Then, a third time.

As Argon finally raised him up high overhead, the crowd all took a knee and lowered their heads. Guwayne screamed, and as he did, Thor was shocked as the earth beneath him suddenly began to shake. Everyone looked to each other in fear and wonder, as a great earthquake shook the ground, all of them stumbling, Gwen clutching Thor’s wrist.

“What is happening?” she asked. “Is it the boy?”

Suddenly, all around them, there came tremendous explosions.

Thor looked up, and he was amazed to see all the volcanoes around them exploding, bursting up into the air, great plumes of smoke filling the summer sky, and sparks and molten fire following. The volcanoes were far enough away that Thor could not feel their heat from here. But he was in awe at the sight, at their beauty, dozens of volcanoes shooting molten fire into the air, volcanoes that had been dormant for centuries. It had happened at an auspicious moment, and Thor knew it had tremendous meaning. All the people looked to each other in terror and wonder. Even Argon looked down at the boy in wonder, clearly awestruck.

Who was this boy?

Thor did not know. But he did know, he could sense it in every ounce of his being, that his child was more powerful than anything he had ever known.

Alistair stood on the roof of the small fort, running her hand along the ancient stone parapets as she looked out over the countryside of the Ring on this brilliant, beautiful summer day. From up here, surrounded by nothing but rolling hills, she looked out and saw fields of tall lime-green and violet grass, swaying in the wind, shining in the sun, rustling, as if happy to be alive. The weather was perfect, the two suns shining, and Alistair leaned back and breathed deep, and took it all in.

For once, Alistair felt relaxed, content, at home in the world. Finally, she had love in her life, had met a man who loved her, and had also met her brother. Soon, she would marry. And Argon was helping her understand who she truly was. For the first time in her life, Alistair was beginning to feel that she was not some sort of freak, not an outcast. She was starting to understand that what was different about her was what made her special. That her powers were a normal, natural part of her. A part of her she did not have to be ashamed to claim. She felt empowered, especially after her trip to the Netherworld, after their battle against the Empire, and seeing just how powerful she was.

Ever since Thor had killed her father, Alistair had felt an immense sense of peace in the world. She felt relieved that everyone, especially Erec, knew her secret, knew that her father was a monster. She’d been so afraid that if he discovered it, he would leave her. And she would not blame him. But Erec had remained loyally at her side. Never once had he blamed her, or looked at her differently; on the contrary, his compassion for her had only deepened, and she could feel that he didn’t see her any differently. After all, he had insisted, we are not our parents. For the first time in her life, she was beginning to realize that.

Alistair had taken a break from all the wedding preparations to ride down here and visit Erec, a half-day’s ride from King’s Court, as he was immersed in the work of the Silver, rebuilding and re-arming fortifications, as he had been for moons. Alistair looked out over the parapets and saw below dozens of members of the Silver, their armor shining in the morning suns, and Erec in the middle of them, as he always was, directing the men as they were hard at work on rebuilding fortifcations. Other knights charged on their horses in their impromptu training grounds, engaged in exercises, sparring, keeping their skills sharp.