Morgan Rice - A Sky of Spells

Thor sat there and thought for a moment. How ironic it would be to return to his old village, to see his former peers, to be the one to decide if they would join the Legion. He knew there were good boys back there, and he knew that’s where he should go. That’s where his duties demanded he be.

Yet somehow, deep down, he just couldn’t bring himself to return there. He had vowed never to lay eyes on his hometown again. Surely, his father was still there, his disparaging, sour father, and he didn’t want to see him. Surely most of those boys were still there, too, the ones who had been so scornful of him growing up, who had viewed him, and treated him, as a cattle herder’s son. He had never been taken seriously by any of them.

Thor did not want to see them. He did not want to go back and have his petty revenge. He did not want to go back at all. He just wanted to wipe that village from his memory, even if it meant shirking his duty.

Thor finally kicked his horse and turned away from the road that led to his village, forking instead, to parts unknown.

Hours passed as Thor rode through wooded, unfamiliar territory, searching for a new village, venturing deeper into a part of the Ring he had never been. Night began to fall, the second sun disappearing below the horizon, and it was getting darker. Thick clouds gathered around him, soon the sky turned black, and thundered clapped overhead, as it began to pour.

Thor was getting soaked, as was Krohn and his horse, and he knew they couldn’t continue on like this; they’d have to find shelter for the night. He peered into the thick woods on either side of the narrow road, and he decided to turn off and seek shelter beneath a canopy of trees.

The forest was wet and dank, thick with trees, and Thor dismounted, not wanting his horse to get hurt in the darkness. He walked alongside it, tripping on gnarled roots, Krohn beside him, as they all ventured deeper and deeper into the dark forest.

Thor wiped rainwater from his eyes, wiped the hair from his face, trying to see where he was going. There was no sign of shelter anywhere, and the rain poured through the trees.

Finally, up ahead, Thor spotted a cave, a huge rock emerging from the earth, black inside. As the rain poured down harder, he lead the others to it.

They entered, Thor relieved to finally be dry, quieter in here, the only sound that of the rain pouring outside. Krohn shook his hair and the horse neighed, all of them clearly happy to be out from the wet.

Thor walked to the end of the cave, on guard, making sure they were not sharing it with anyone, then finally stopped about twenty feet in, satisfied. It was a shallow cave, but dry, and large enough for them to take shelter from the storm.

Thor set to work making a fire, salvaging the dry branches he found on the floor of the cave, and soon it was roaring, the twigs crackling. Thor remembered the pieces of dried meat in his saddle, and he fed the horse, then Krohn, then himself.

Thor sat before the flames, rubbing his hands, trying to dry off, and Krohn came up beside him and lay his head in his lap, while the horse stood by the cave’s entrance, lowering his head and chewing the grass. Thor chewed his dried meat, warming himself on the surprisingly cool summer night. He felt sleepy from the long day, and soon, his eyes were closing on him.

“Thorgrin,” came a voice.

Thor opened his eyes to see Argon standing over him, looking down at him in the cave. Argon stood there, eyes opened wide, shining, holding his staff, dressed in his robe and cloak. Thor was shocked to see him here. He looked over and saw Krohn sleeping, beside the embers of the dying fire, and he wondered if it were all real.

“Thorgrin,” Argon repeated.

“What are you doing here?” Thor asked.

“You have come to me,” Argon said. “You sought me out. In this cave.”

Thor furrowed his brows, confused.

“I thought I was lost,” he said. “I thought I made a wrong turn. I did not mean to come here.”

Argon shook his head.

“There are no wrong turns,” he said. “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”

“But where am I?” Thor asked.

“Follow me and see.”

Argon turned, and Thor rose to his feet and followed him as he marched outside the cave. Thor still did not know if he was awake or asleep.

Outside, the rain had stopped. All was silent. The forest was eerie, dim, not dark and not light, as if it were twilight, or the time before dawn. It felt as if the entire world were still asleep.

Argon continued walking, and Thor struggled to keep up with him through the forest trail. He was beginning to get concerned about finding his way back to the cave.

“Where are we going, Argon?” Thor asked.

“To complete your training,” Argon replied.

“I thought my training was complete,” Thor said.

“Only one stage of it,” Argon said. “It is no longer about what you need to learn. Now it is about what you need to do.”

“To do?” Thor asked, puzzled.

“This journey, this road, your town, the storm—it’s all come for a reason. You’ve come here for a reason. The time has come for you to tap into a part of yourself you have not yet reached.”

They finally broke free from the woods, and before them lay a vista of rolling hills.

Thor followed Argon to the top of a small hill. He stopped, and Thor stopped beside him.

“Your problem, Thorgrin,” Argon said, standing beside him, looking out, eyes aglow, “is that you do not realize how powerful you are. You never have. You still don’t trust it. You still don’t trust who you are. You are so reliant upon human weapons and training, upon swords and spears and shields…. But you have all the power you need, right inside you. And yet you are afraid of it.”

Thor looked down, reddening, realizing Argon was right.

“I am,” Thor admitted.

“Why?”

“I feel that to use my powers would not be fighting fairly,” Thor said. “I feel that I need to prove myself, on the same terms as everyone else. I guess I still feel that my powers are…something to be ashamed of.”

Argon shook his head.

“That is where you are wrong. What is different about you is precisely what you should be most proud of.”

Argon closed his eyes, breathed deeply, raised both arms, and waited. Thor heard a trickling noise, then felt a raindrop, and looked up to the sky and watched it begin to pour.

He looked back at Argon, amazed.

“Can you feel it, Thorgrin? Can you feel the water pouring down on us? Permeating everything? Feel it in your skin and hair and eyes. Breathe it in.”

Thor closed his eyes and held out his palms, and felt the drops hitting them. He tried to focus, tried to become one with the rain.

“Now stop it,” Argon commanded. “Stop all of it. Stop this rain.”

Thor gasped, unsure of himself.

“I can’t do that,” Thor said.

“You can,” Argon said. “Rain is just water, and water is simply the universe. It is us. Now do it. Raise your hands and stop it.”

Thor closed his eyes tighter, concentrating, and raised his arms. As he did, he felt his palms tingling, and he began to feel the energy of the rain in the air. It was intense. Heavy. Limitless.

Thor slowly pushed his palms higher and higher, taking on the energy, and as he did, the rain began to slow. Then it stopped, the water hovering in the air. Then, Thor reversed it, shooting it back up to the sky.

The sound of the rain stopped, and Thor opened his eyes, amazed, to see the land dry all around him.

“I did that?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Argon replied. “You and you alone.”

Argon turned his back, and held his arms up to the sky.