Morgan Rice - A Quest of Heroes

But, unlike her mother, Gwen didn’t need to study the board. She merely glanced at it and saw the perfect move in her head. She reached up and moved one of the brown pieces sideways, all the way across the board. It put her mother one move away from losing.

Her mother stared down, expressionless except for a flicker of her eyebrow, which Gwen knew indicated dismay. Gwen was smarter, and her mother would never accept that.

Her mother cleared her throat, studying the board, still not looking at her.

“I know all about your escapades with that common boy,” she said derisively. “You defy me.” Her mother looked up at her. “Why?”

Gwen took a deep breath, feeling her stomach tighten, trying to frame the best response. She would not give in. Not this time.

“My private affairs are not your business,” Gwen responded.

“Aren’t they? They are very much by business. Your private affairs will affect kingships. The fate of this family. Of the Ring. Your private affairs are political-as much as you would like to forget. You are not a commoner. Nothing is private in your world. And nothing is private from me.”

Her mother’s voice was steely and cold, and Gwen resented every moment of it. There was nothing Gwen could do but sit there and wait for her to finish. She felt trapped.

Finally, her mother cleared her throat.

“Since you refuse to listen to me, I will have to make decisions for you. You will not see that boy ever again. If you do, I will have him transferred out of the Legion, out of King’s Court, and back to his village. Then I will have him put in stocks-along with his whole family. He will be cast out in disgrace. And you will never know him again.”

Her mother looked at her, her lower lip trembling in rage.

“Do you understand me?”

Gwen breathed in sharply, for the first time comprehending the evil her mother was capable of. She hated her more than she could say. Gwen also caught the nervous glances of the attendants. It was humiliating.

Before she could respond, her mother continued.

“Furthermore, in order to prevent more of your reckless behavior, I have taken steps to arrange a rational union for you. You will be wed to Alton, on the first day of next month. You may begin your wedding preparations now. Prepare for life as a married woman. That is all,” her mother said dismissively, turning back to the board as if she had just mentioned the most common of matters.

Gwen seethed and burn inside, and wanted to scream.

“How dare you,” Gwen said back, a rage building inside. “Do you think I am some puppet on a string, to be played by you? Do you really think I will marry whomever you tell me to?”

“I don’t think,” her mother replied. “I know . You are my daughter, and you answer to me. And you will marry exactly who I say you will.”

“No I won’t!” Gwen screamed back. “And you can’t make me! Father said you can’t make me!”

“Arranged unions are still the right of every parent in this kingdom-and they are certainly the right of the king and queen. Your father postures, but you know as well as I do that he will always concede to my will. I have my ways.”

Her mother glared at her.

“So, you see, you will do as I say. Your marriage is happening. Nothing can stop it. Prepare yourself.”

“I won’t do it,” Gwen responded. “Never. And if you talk to me anymore of this, I will never speak to you again.”

Her mother looked up and smiled at her, a cold, ugly smile.

“I don’t care if you never speak to me. I’m your mother, not your friend. And I am your Queen. This may very well be our last encounter together. It does not matter. At the end of the day you will do as I say. And I will watch you from afar, as you live out the life I plan for you.”

Her mother turned back to her game.

“You are dismissed,” she said with a wave of her hand, as if Gwen were another servant.

Gwen so boiled over with rage, she could not take it anymore. She took three steps, marched to her mother’s game board, and threw it over with both hands, sending the ivory pieces and the big ivory table crashing down and shattering in pieces.

Her mother jumped back in shock as it did.

“I hate you,” Gwen hissed.

With that, Gwen turned, red-faced, and stormed from the room, brushing off the attendants’ hands, determined to walk out on her own volition-and to never see her mother’s face again.

Thor walked for hours through the winding trails of the forest, thinking about his encounter with Gwen. He could not shake her from his mind. Their time together had been magical, way beyond his expectations, and he no longer worried about the depth of her feelings for him. It was the perfect day-except, of course, for what happened at the end of their encounter.

That white snake, so rare, and such a bad omen. It was lucky they had not been bit; Thor looked down at Krohn, walking loyally beside him, happy as ever, and wondered what would’ve happened if he had not been there, had not killed the snake and saved their lives. Would they both be dead right now? He was forever grateful to Krohn, and knew he had a lifelong, trusted companion in him.

Yet the omen still bothered him: that snake was exceedingly rare, and didn’t even live in this portion of the kingdom. It lived farther south, in the marshes and swamps. How could it have traveled so far? Why did it have to come upon them at just that moment? It was too mystical: he felt absolutely certain that it was a sign. Like Gwen, he felt it was a bad omen, a harbinger of death to come. But whose?

Thor wanted to push the image from his mind, to forget about it, to think of other things-but he could not. It plagued him, gave him no rest. He knew he should return to the barracks, but he had not been able to. Today was still their day off, and so instead he had walked for hours, circling the forest trails, trying to clear his mind. He felt certain that the snake held some deep message, just for him, that he was being urged to take some action.

Making things worse, his departure with Gwen had been abrupt. When they’d reach the forest’s edge, they had parted ways quickly, with barely a word. She had seemed distraught. He assumed it was because of the snake, but he could not be sure. She had made no mention of their meeting again. Had she changed her mind about him? Had he done something wrong?

The thought tore Thor apart. He hardly knew what to do with himself, as he wandered in circles for hours. He felt that he needed to talk to someone, someone who understood these things, who understood signs and omens.

Thor stopped in his tracks. Of course. Argon. He would be perfect. He could explain it all to him, and set his mind at ease.

Thor looked out: he was standing at the northern end of the farthest ridge and from here had a sweeping view of the royal city below him. He stood near a crossroads, and he knew that Argon lived alone, in a stone cottage, on the northern outskirts of Boulder Plains. He knew that if he forked left, away from the city, one of these trails would lead him there. He began his journey.

It was far from here, and there was a good chance, Thor knew, that Argon would not even be there. But he had to try. He could not rest until he had answers.

Thor walked with a new bounce to his step, walking double-time, heading towards the plains. Morning turned into afternoon, as he walked and walked. It was a beautiful summer day, and the light shone brilliantly on the fields all around him. Krohn bounced along at his side, stopping every now and again to pounce on a squirrel, which he carried triumphantly in his mouth.

The trail became steeper, windier, and the meadows faded, giving way to a desolate landscape of rocks and boulders. Soon, the trail, too, faded. It became colder and windier up here, as the trees dropped away too, and the landscape turned rocky, craggy. It was eerie up here, nothing but small rocks, dirt and boulders as far as the eye could see; Thor felt like he was journeying on a wasted earth. As the trail completely disappeared, Thor found himself walking on gravel and rock.