She shook her head, and her face grew serious.
“Your father was born into rank and privilege,” she said. “He was born to be a king. You, on the other hand, had nothing expected of you, being the middle child. You came to it on your own. You did not accept the status quo, but rather you sought out for yourself the best way to live, and you came to your conclusions in your own right. Not because anyone forced you to. Not because anyone expected anything of you. You were going on one track, and you turned it around, all by yourself. You transcended who you were. It is easy to become a warrior when being a warrior is all that one’s ever done; it is much harder, though, when one comes to it later in life, when one decides on one’s own that he can be a warrior, too, just like anybody else.”
Godfrey felt touched by her words as he processed them; it was the first time in his life that anyone had ever showered him with praise. He blushed.
“There are many warriors who can wield a sword and spear better than I,” he said humbly. “I shall never be able to match their skill, not this late in life.”
Illepra shook her head.
“That is not the point, and that alone is not what makes a warrior,” she said. “It takes honor. Will. Sacrifice. And that is what you now have. Whether you see it in yourself or not, I see it in you.”
Illepra surprised Godfrey as she suddenly leaned in and kissed him on the lips. He did not resist.
And then, after a stunned moment, he kissed her back.
They held the kiss for a long time, until finally, Illepra pulled back, smiling at him.
“It’s been a long time since I kissed anyone,” she said.
“Then we must do it again,” Godfrey said with a smile, and he leaned in and kissed her again. As they held the kiss, their warm lips meeting on this cold night, Godfrey soon forgot all about the pain in his arm. For the first time in as long as he could remember, on this rocking ship in the middle of nowhere, he felt at home in the world.
Maybe, he thought, this warrior thing was not so bad after all.
*
Steffen stood on the deck of the ship in the rain and wind as the gloom gave way to twilight, standing not far from Gwendolyn. He stood just far enough away to give her privacy as she stood looking out at the sea, as if looking for some long-lost friend, clutching Guwayne. He had remained up here long after the others had gone below, unable to part from her, to leave her here all by herself.
Beside him stood Arliss, who had stayed by his side for most of the trip, as she had ever since they’d met. Steffen was flattered that she cared about him; he had never experienced anything like it before, and he was overwhelmed with love for her.
“She wants to be alone,” Arliss said to Steffen. “We should go down below, with the others.” Her voice was filled with caring and concern for him.
It was such a foreign feeling for Steffen to have anyone care about him; he kept doubting whether Arliss really loved him, or whether she was just playing a cruel trick on him, just pretending to love him—like everyone else in his life had.
But the more time Steffen had spent with her, the more sincere he could feel she was. She really loved him. It was a hard feeling for him to accept. No one in his life had ever, truly, unconditionally loved him for exactly who he was. He almost didn’t know how to react. All that he knew was that he felt an overwhelming rush of love and gratitude for her.
“Please go below, my love,” he said to her. “You will get cold and wet up here, too. I myself cannot go below. Not with Gwendolyn above.”
“But she urged you to go below.”
He shrugged.
“I don’t like having her out of my sight. At least not when Thorgrin is not here. I owe her a great debt.”
Arliss nodded.
“I understand. Our Queen is most endearing; she has taken me in like a sister, and I feel the same loyalty to her as you do. But no danger could befall her here. She is amongst her own people. On a ship, in the middle of an ocean.”
“I know,” Steffen said. “But it is my duty. And my duty I take very seriously.”
Arliss clutched the rail, looking out to sea, and Steffen detected sadness in her face.
“What is it, my love?” Steffen asked.
She sighed.
“When I think of the Ring, of all we’ve left behind, it is overwhelming. It is hard to conceive. Everyone we’ve known and loved, everything, completely destroyed. The Ring is now a wasteland. How can it be?”
Steffen shook his head, understanding, feeling hollow out himself. There was nothing he could say. He thought back to his hometown, to all his family, now surely dead, and while they were never kind to him, still he felt sadness.
“Isn’t it hard for you to think of?” she pressed. “That life will never be the same? That that we can never return home?”
Steffen looked out to the horizon and sighed.
“For me, I’ve nothing left behind,” he said. “Everything we left back home, all those towns of the Ring, they hold nothing for me. As for the people I care about, they are here. We can reinvent our hometown. It is a chance to start life over again. All that I care about in this world is my duty. Which means Gwendolyn. And now, of course, you,” he said as he lowered his head and blushed.
Arliss, clearly touched, looked at him and smiled, then kissed him.
They held the kiss for a long time.
She sighed as she looked out to sea.
“The people we grew up with were cruel,” she said. “They do not deserve our tears. Yet still, a part of me feels guilty. After all, we’re the only ones that escaped. What if I hadn’t come to King’s Court? What if I had never met you? I would be dead right now.”
Steffen gazed out at the horizon and realized he hadn’t thought of that.
“I love you,” she said. “I owe you my life.”
Steffen shook his head.
“You owe me nothing. I did not save you. The fates did.”
“But the fates brought you to me.”
She leaned in close, and Steffen put his arm around her shoulder, holding her tight, rubbing her shoulder which was trembling. It was an amazing feeling, to hold a girl tight, to feel wanted, loved. He felt as if his life mattered more than it had before, and he felt less alone in the world.
“My love, you’re trembling,” he said. “The mist thickens. Please. Go down below.”
“Only if you promise to join me.”
Needing her to go below, finally, he nodded.
“I will,” he said. “Soon enough.”
Arliss leaned in, gave him a kiss, and quickly descended below deck.
Steffen turned back to Gwendolyn. She was still standing there, alone, her back to him, gazing out at the ocean, holding Guwayne. He wondered what thoughts were racing through her mind.
Steffen could not let her stand here like this, all alone, freezing cold. He resolved to go to her once again, and to implore her to come below. He knew she would not, proud and stubborn as she was, and with so much on her mind. She felt as if she had to stay up here, he knew, to sacrifice herself for her people; she always had. Steffen loved and admired her for that. But he wanted her safe.
As Steffen began to approach her, he suddenly spotted motion out of the corner of his eye. Something moved quickly in the darkness, on the other side of the deck, and his heart leapt as he saw a figure wearing a black hood. He was sprinting in the gloom and fog, heading along the side of the ship—and running right for Gwendolyn.
Steffen saw a gleam in the light, and he realized, with dread, what it was: a dagger. The man, he realized, was an assassin, a blade shining in his hands, on his way to kill Gwendolyn.
“Gwendolyn!” Steffen shouted.
Steffen broke into a run, sprinting for her—but he realized the assassin already had a wide lead on him.
Gwen turned at his shout, and as she did, she saw the assassin racing for her. She clutched Guwayne tight, then she waited until the last moment and dodged the knife; the assassin
charged past her, just missing, his knife cutting through the air as he stumbled across the bow.
That was all the time Steffen needed. He raced forward as the assassin circled around, and without hesitating, he drew his sword and plunged it through the assassin’s heart.
The man cried out, gasping, blood gurgling from his mouth and throat, and collapsed in Steffen’s arms, as if hugging him. Steffen dropped him, and the man collapsed to the deck, dead.
Alarm horns sounded on deck, and within moments, dozens of knights, led by Kendrick and Godfrey, came rushing out of the bowels of the ship, racing toward Gwendolyn, who stood there, ashen.
“Are you okay?” Kendrick asked her, breathing hard. He looked down at the dead body in horror, then looked in every direction for any signs of another attacker. But there were none.
Gwendolyn nodded.
Kendrick reached down and pulled the dead assassin to his feet. He yanked back his hood and examined his face with disgust.
“One of Tirus’s men,” Godfrey said, stepping forward. “A spy.”
Kendrick picked him up high overhead and hurled him over the side of the ship. They watched as his body splashed in the ocean and was quickly carried away by the waves.
“Steffen saved my life,” Gwen said.
All eyes turned to Steffen, and he blushed from the attention, looking down.
“You are a true soldier,” Kendrick said to him, placing a grateful hand on his shoulder. “Our family owes you a great debt.”
Gwendolyn faced him.
“I owe you my life, once again,” she said. “And this time, my baby’s life, too. You are more than a servant. From this day forward, you are a knight.”
Steffen flushed in shock.
“Kneel,” she said.
He did so, and she took Kendrick’s sword and touched the tip to each of his shoulders.
“And rise, Sir Steffen,” she said.
Steffen rose slowly, as the men all around him let out an approving cheer, each rushing forward to clap him on the back. The world felt like it was spinning around him; he had never anticipated anything like this in his lifetime.
The storm picked up, and Steffen joined the others as they all, including Gwendolyn, went below deck, and as he went, he took one long last look out to the raging oceans, and wondered what other dangers this trek would have in store for them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Thor lay in the mud on his back, looking up at Andronicus, who raised a battle-ax high with both hands and prepared to split him in two.
Thor sensed his father’s hatred for him, his rage, felt that he was about to be destroyed—and worst of all, he knew this was all his own creation. He knew that everything he saw before him was but a reflection of his own consciousness, and yet he could not turn it off. He would die here, in this place, and all because of his own subconscious, his own worst fears.
Thor closed his eyes and forced himself to summon his inner power. He summoned all of his training sessions with Argon, heard Argon’s words ringing through his ears.
You’re stronger than any evil in the universe. You and the universe are not separate. Do not resist the energy around you. And most of all, do not resist yourself.
So many times Thor had heard Argon’s words, had tried to contemplate their meaning, had trained and tried to put them into action. Sometimes he had been successful, and other times not. Thor had never gained perfect mastery over his powers, over the universe. As he focused, went into his deepest depths, Thor realized that there was always something inside him holding him back; he had never fully embraced his powers. He had never truly embraced who he was. Always, he’d seen his powers as separate from himself. Now, for the first time, he realized that he and his powers were one. They were tied to the very fabric of his being.
Thor felt a surge of strength as he realized that he was proud to embrace his powers, proud of who he was.
Thor opened his eyes to see the ax coming down for him—but this time, it was different. This time, he saw it all in slow motion; this time he was a part of it, not separate from it. And as it came down, Thor suddenly felt complete control of his mind. He rolled out of the way, and at the same time, he turned the mud beside him into water; Andronicus’s ax came plunging down, just missing him, instead disappearing into a puddle of water.
Andronicus stumbled forward as the ax plunged in, and he fell face first into the mud.
Thor rolled to his feet on the muddy landscape, and his intuition took over. Instead of searching for a weapon, instead of combing the landscape, Thor felt that he could change the landscape to suit him. He could control it.
Thor turned and his eyes locked on the Destiny Sword, still embedded in the mud. As Andronicus regained his feet, Thor walked casually over to the sword, gently laid both hands on the hilt, and closed his eyes. He felt the power of it throbbing, coursing through his veins.
I shall wield this sword. I shall wield it because I and the sword are not separate. I and the sword are one.
Thor, eyes closed, heard the distinct sound of metal, felt the vibration in his hand, and he looked up to see himself holding the blade high overhead, sparkling above him. His old friend was back in his hand.
Andronicus charged and swung with his ax, and Thorgrin calmly stepped forward and slashed, cutting Andronicus’s ax in half by the staff. The ax head detached and went flying into the mud, as Andronicus swung harmlessly with the other half of it.
Andronicus stumbled past Thor, then regained his balance and turned and faced him. This time, Andronicus faced Thor with dread, fear in his eyes, as he looked at Thor wielding the Destiny Sword. Thor felt more powerful than he’d ever had. He felt he finally had complete control over his surroundings.
“You are my father,” Thor said. “But that does not mean that I am your son. We choose our fathers. We have the power to choose. And I do not choose you.”
Thor charged and let out a great battle cry as he brought his Destiny Sword down for Andronicus, determined to wipe him out once and for all. Andronicus raised his shaft in defense, and Thor sliced it in half, the blade continuing down and slicing Andronicus’s chest, drawing blood.
Andronicus cried out in pain from the wound and stumbled, landing on his back.
As Andronicus lay there, bleeding, Thor stood over him, wielding the sword. Andronicus looked up at him as Thor raised the sword to finish him off.
Suddenly, though, the view before Thor changed, and for the first time, Thor felt uncertain. Andronicus changed before Thor’s eyes. He began to shrink, and his grotesque body and face changed to one that was very human.
By the time the transformation was finished, Andronicus was a regular man, a proud and noble warrior, wearing the royal uniform and crest of the MacGils. The elder brother of King MacGil. He resembled King MacGil, and he looked uncannily like Thor.
Andronicus raised a hand to Thorgrin.
“Here I am,” he said. “You are seeing me. I am the man that was once your father, before I changed. I am the man who your mother met and fell in love with. It is I, your original father. Save me, Thorgrin. Save me for all time.”
Thor hesitated. He felt something was wrong, and yet he could not let his father just lay there, wounded. So Thor reached down, grasped his hand, and pulled him to his feet.
As he did, his father grasped his arm so hard it hurt, and he would not let go. Thor tried to free himself, but he could not. Andronicus smiled, raised a dagger hidden in his belt, and stabbed Thor in the chest.
Thor gasped as the blade pierced him, feeling pain beyond what he had ever felt. He had been tricked, and he realized that he was dying.
As Thor felt his world ebbing away, light-headed, weak, he forced himself to focus. He knew that he could stop this. He knew he had the power to transcend the physical plane, to find another way. This land was forcing him to become greater than himself, to use powers he never had before.
Thor closed his eyes and summoned the universe to extract the blade
from his chest.
Suddenly the dagger popped out, and Andronicus stepped back, holding it, looking shocked. Thor used the energy of the air to heal his wound, to stop the blood. As he closed his eyes he placed his palms over his chest, his hands glowing with unreal power and heat, and as he moved them away, his wound was completely healed.
Andronicus stared back, open-mouthed in shock.
Thor raised the Destiny Sword once again, and this time, he stuck it in the ground beside him, letting it go. For the first time, he realized he did not need it. He was more sorcerer than human. He was a Druid after all. He had the power of the entire universe at his fingertips, and that was more powerful than any piece of steel.
“I don’t need a sword to kill you, Father. I need only the power of my mind. You exist in the deepest levels of my mind. Aside from that, you’re powerless.”
Thor then aimed a single palm at his father, and as he did, a ball of light shot through it, engulfing him. Andronicus shouted as he flew backwards through the air, the shout fading as he went farther and farther away, at the speed of light, flying to the horizon, before he finally disappeared completely.
As Thor stood there in the stillness, suddenly the fog all around him lifted. The skies opened up, the sun came through, and slowly, the landscape before him transformed. The mud transformed into grass, bright, shiny, vibrant grass, the dead trees blossomed, and birds arrived, singing. Winter turned to summer, desolation to bounty.
As Thor looked to the horizon, he no longer saw emptiness. Instead, he saw, in the distance, a castle, perched on the edge of a cliff, a great walkway leading to it.
He felt his heart pounding as he recognized the place of his dreams as he knew, he just knew, that his mother lay on the road before him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alistair walked side-by-side with Erec’s mother, their arms locked, Erec’s mother smiling as they wound their way along the copper-lined walkways on the edge of the cliffs. Alistair had been overcome by how kind his mother had been to him, so gracious, taking her in as if she were her own daughter. Alistair had never met her mother, and had always wanted a mother in her life—and in the short time she’d spent with Erec’s mom, she already realized how great it could be. A part of her felt complete that had not before.