Morgan Rice - A Sky of Spells

Thor realized he partly wanted to know more about her in order to know more about himself. He still found himself a mystery, and he hoped that she might help solve it.

As Thor wound his way through the crowd of revelers, crossing King’s Court as he searched for her, he recognized countless faces of fellow soldiers, men he respected, men he had fought with, and he braced himself, afraid they would all hate him, blame him for the time he’d spent fighting for Andronicus. To Thor’s pleasant surprise, everywhere he went he was met, instead, with warm embraces, friendly smiles, with cries of love. People clapped him on the back everywhere he went, calling out his name. He was a hero.

Thor felt the need to apologize for his actions, but the people constantly reminded him of all the good he had done for the Ring, reminded him how he had killed more Empire with the Destiny Sword and with those dragons than any other soldier. He had even killed Andronicus. And even when he faced them in battle, he had never killed any members of the Western Kingdom, but only McClouds. They knew his momentary lapse under Andronicus’ spell to be nothing more than a spell out of his control, and they did not blame him for it. On the contrary, they all viewed him as their greatest hero.

Thor spotted Godfrey in the crowd, with Akorth, Fulton and the royal healer, Illepra, with a large welt on his head. Thor went up to him, cringing, afraid the welt was his fault and that Godfrey would be furious with him, remembering the blow of the shield he had dealt him.

But instead, Godfrey smiled wide, threw out his arms and embraced Thor. Thor hugged him back, flooded with relief.

“Please accept my apology,” Thor said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m not hurt,” Godfrey said. “It is merely a lump on the head. Do not apologize, because I know very well what came over you: Andronicus’ dark magic. You were not yourself, not the Thorgrin that I knew. Do not beat yourself up: it could have happened to any of us.”

“On the contrary,” Kendrick said, joining them and clasping Thor’s shoulder, “do you not forget that it was you who risked his life to venture into the Empire to retrieve the Sword? That it was you who volunteered to face Andronicus alone and thus fell into ambush and capture? It was brave and noble of you. And you did it all for the Ring.”

Kendrick hugged him and Thor hugged him back. Thor felt his heart warm, felt his waves of guilt starting to dissipate; he was overcome with relief, especially as he had thought of these two men as brothers, and especially as he was about to propose to Gwendolyn. Having her brothers’ approval meant a lot. They would indeed be family, the only family he’d ever really had.

All of which made Thor remember the reason he had come here: to speak with his sister.

“Have you seen Alistair?” Thor asked.

“Last I saw,” Kendrick said, “she was with Erec, on the far side of King’s Court. Check the opposite side of the square.”

Thor made his way to the other side of the courtyard, stopping along the way to greet various soldiers. Finally, he reached the far side and he stopped as he saw her there, standing with Erec, engrossed in conversation. Seeing her there was like seeing a part of himself. He suddenly felt nervous. Thor also felt guilty to interrupt them, and was about to turn around and go back, when he noticed Alistair had spotted him, and beckoned him to approach.

As Thor came up to them, Erec turned, too, and his face lit up with kindness. He embraced Thor, and Thor embraced him back, overcome with guilt as he recalled that the last time he had faced him it had been in battle.

“Forgive me, sire,” Thor said to Erec, lowering his eyes. “I never meant to face you in battle. I would never mean to harm you. I was not myself.”

Erec clasped Thor on the shoulder with one hand and looked into his eyes.

“I take no offense, young Thorgrinson. And a fine fighter you are—the finest I’ve ever faced. You sharpened my skills on that day.”

Erec smiled down at him, and Thor could not help smiling back, relieved.

“I am glad to have you on our side,” Erec concluded.

Thor noticed Alistair.

“I do not mean to interrupt,” Thor said quickly, and prepared to retreat.

“No,” Erec said, “brother and sister should have some time alone. It is I who will retreat.”

Erec kissed Alistair’s hand, turned, and hurried off into the crowd, clasping arms with several soldiers, who rushed forward to embrace him.

Thor was nervous as he turned and looked at his sister, laying eyes on her up close for the first time with a clear and present mind. She stared back at him, expressionless, and for a moment, he did not know what to say. She was stunningly beautiful, and her large blue eyes transfixed him. He could recognize some of his own facial features in hers—the jaw line, the nose, lips, forehead. It was almost like looking into a mirror, but at a female version of himself. Alistair, though, was much more beautiful, having all the fine, delicate features that he did not. As he examined her, it excited him to see that there was someone else in the world that resembled him.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Thor said finally, after a long awkward silence, clearing his throat. “You brought me back.”

“I only brought you back to yourself,” she said. “I did nothing more.”

As Thor heard her words, once again he felt a vibration course through him, one that put him at ease, that seemed so familiar, so comforting.

“You are a Druid, like myself?” Thor asked, hesitant.

Alistair nodded.

“We share the same blood,” she said.

Thor felt happy, yet sorry for her at the same time. He understood the pain and mystery she must live under, to have Andronicus as a father and to have a mother they’d never met.

“Did you ever meet our father?” Thor asked her, hesitant, not wanting to upset her.

Alistair blinked several times, and Thor could see the idea pained her.

“No,” she said, sadly. “Only on the battlefield, when I was with you.”

It was strange, but Thor could almost feel her thoughts as she thought them; he almost knew what she was going to say before she said it. It was as if they were the same person.

“I live with the nightmare every day,” she added, “of knowing that he is my father. I cannot understand it; nor can I reconcile it inside myself. How can I come from such a monster? Why would our mother choose him? It makes me sick to think of it. Are his traits somewhere inside me? Will they pass on to my children? I would give anything to have a different father; yet this is the father I was given. There must be some reason, some destiny I do not understand.”

She sighed, and Thor could see the burden she lived under; it was the same one he shared, and it felt good, at least, to see he was not alone.

“At least now, thanks to you,” she added, “he is dead. And I do thank you for it. It takes some of the pain away. So you see, my brother, I have as much to thank you for,” she said, smiling.

Thor smiled back. His heart pounded as he braced himself to ask Alistair the next question, nervous to utter the words. Too much was at stake on her answer; he almost didn’t speak.

“And our mother?” Thor finally mustered the courage to ask. “Have you met her?”

Alistair looked away, and breathed deep. She fell silent for so long, Thor was unsure if she would even respond.

Finally, she said: “I do not know if I’ve ever met her or only dreamt of her. My dreams are so vivid, I do not know if they are real, or if they are memories. I still dream of her all the time. She comes to me. She lives in a castle, perched high on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a great ocean. There is a long footbridge that curves and leads up to it. Light shines from the castle, a brilliant light, different colors in different dreams. I always see her, obscured by light. Sometimes she reaches out for me. I can never quite reach her.”