Morgan Rice - A Sea of Shields

The crowd of soldiers dispersed, and as they did, Luanda turned to Bronson.

“That was the biggest mistake of your lifetime,” she said to him, in a rage. “Do you really think those men will be loyal? Will fight for Gwen’s cause?”

“They have suffered enough,” Bronson said. “All their leaders have been killed. Killing more men leads to nothing but more bloodshed. At a certain point, we need to trust, if we ever wish to obtain peace.”

Luanda scowled.

“Those are my sister’s policies. Not yours.”

“I am a subject of your sister,” Bronson said. “And so are you. I carry out her policies.”

“Her policies will get all of us killed. You’ve just made our kingdom unsafe.”

He shook his head.

“I disagree. I feel that we have made it safer.”

Bronson turned away as advisors led him to other matters.

Luanda stood there, watching him, then turned and watched the McCloud soldiers, so happy, reveling with each other as they dispersed. She felt, without a doubt, that none of this would lead to any good.

Thor stood before the canyon, staring out at the great divide before him, embraced in a swirl of multicolored mist, and inside, his heart was breaking. He turned and saw Gwen, standing before him, holding Guwayne, and he almost could not stand to look into her eyes. He especially could not look into Guwayne’s. As Gwen held him there, his son, wide awake, stared right back at Thor, alert. Thor sensed a power coming from him, one he did not understand.

Thor felt rooted to the spot, as if he could never leave this place. He had a strange foreboding, a sense of danger coming to the Ring; he knew it made no sense, with the Shield restored, with Ralibar staying behind, and with the Ring stronger than ever. Yet still, he worried again if his leaving could somehow endanger them.

Yet at the same time, Thor felt an urgency to seek out his mother, felt her summoning him. He felt that there was something momentous awaiting him in the Land of the Druids, some powers or weapons that would greatly strengthen the Ring. He also felt that was what he needed to complete his training, and to find out who he was.

Thor met Gwen’s eyes, glistening, yet not crying, Gwen staying strong, especially in front of all her people, the thousands of soldiers who had gathered to see Thor off. Having already said his goodbyes to the people, to his brothers in arms, Thor now faced only Gwendolyn. At Thor’s feet was Krohn, and behind him, waiting impatiently, sat Mycoples, and beside her, Ralibar, who lowered his head mournfully, rubbing it against Mycoples’s neck. It was out of character; he must have known they were all leaving.

Ralibar then suddenly arched back his neck and shrieked; it was a ferocious sound, shocking them all, so out of character. Gwen had thought she’d known him, but in that moment, she realized she did not; his face was ferocious, as if anguished, and he suddenly flapped his wings, turned his back on them all, and flew off into the horizon.

Gwen watched him go with dread, wondering where he was going. Wondering if he would return.

They all watched him go, then Thor finally turned to her.

“I do not wish to leave you, my love,” Thor said to Gwendolyn, doing his best to hold back his own tears. “Nor do I wish to leave Guwayne.”

“You will find your mother,” Gwen replied, staying strong, “and you will be back before a moon has passed. You’ll come back stronger. Go. It has been foretold in all the books, this journey of yours. The Ring needs you. Your mother needs you.”

“And yet,” Thor replied, “you need me, too.”

Gwen nodded.

“True. But most of all, I need you strong. I would not put myself before the Ring.”

Thor reached out and clasped Gwen’s hand.

“I’m sorry we did not marry, my love,” he said.

Gwen’s eyes moistened, just a bit, just enough for Thor to notice.

“The time was never right for us,” she answered, “not with a funeral in the air.”

“When I return,” Thor said, “we shall have a lifetime together.”

Gwen nodded.

“When you return,” she said.

Thorgrin bent over, laid both hands on Guwayne’s forehead, and kissed him. He felt a tremendous energy coursing through him, and he did not want to leave his child’s side.

Thor then reached up, held Gwen’s face in both his palms, and leaned in and kissed her. He held the kiss for as long as he could.

“Protect our child,” Thor said. “Protect our Ring. You have Ralibar, and the Shield at its strongest, and the finest warriors known to man. And you have Krohn. I should return, I expect, before a moon has passed.”

“There is nothing to fear,” Gwen replied.

Despite her show of strength, Thor could see Gwen’s lower lip trembling, could see that she was trying not to cry.

She quickly brushed back the formation of a tear.

“Go,” she said, clearly afraid to speak anymore for fear of bursting into tears.

It broke Thor’s heart. He wanted to change his mind, to stay here.

But he knew he could not. Thor turned and looked out at the horizon, at Mycoples waiting beside him, and knew his destiny was out there. The time had come for him to journey.

Krohn whined, and Thor leaned down and patted him, stroking his hair, kissing his face as Krohn licked him back.

“Watch over them,” Thor exhorted.

Krohn whined, as if in response.

Without another word, Thor turned, mounted Mycoples, and took one last look at his countrymen. Thousands of them stood there, watching, waiting to see him off, among them many members of the Silver. Thor’s heart filled with love for all these people who loved him so much.

“THORGRINSON!” they all yelled at once, raising their fists in a salute of respect.

Thorgrin raised his fist back.

Then Mycoples shrieked, flashed her great wings, and lifted off into the sky, turning her back on Thor’s people, on the Ring, on everything Thor knew, as they flew into the mists, above the canyon, and headed for a world that Thor had never known.

Godfrey sat in the small, foreign tavern in the McCloud city, Akorth and Fulton on either side of him, deep in drink. Godfrey needed a drink today more than usual, trying to immerse himself, to shake from his mind the images of his mother’s funeral. He took a look another long swig, finished yet another mug, and immediately began on another one, determined to drown himself in drink.

It had been a rough go. First, his efforts at uniting the MacGils and McClouds had culminated in that tavern brawl, blowing up in his face, all his schemes at peace resulting in failure. Then, he had been summoned back to King’s Court for his mother’s funeral, and had to stand there and watch as they lowered her body into the ground. It brought up old feelings, feelings Godfrey wished had remained buried.

Godfrey’s relationship with his mother had always been troubled at best, not much different, really, than his relationship with his father. Both had viewed him with disappointment, both had made it obvious that he was the opposite of the royal son they’d always dreamed of. Godfrey had thought he’d suppressed all his feelings for his mother years ago; but watching her be buried had brought it all back up again. He had never gained her approval in life, and while he had thought he didn’t care, watching her buried made him realize that he did, indeed, care. He had not realized how much there was still unresolved between them. He had found himself weeping and sobbing at the funeral, like an idiot, he felt; why, he did not truly understand. Perhaps he was crying for the relationship he wished he could have had.