As they walked, a dozen attendants following them, fanning the Queen, they reached the edge of a plateau, demarcated by a high copper railing, and Alistair looked out, awestruck at the view. It was as if the whole world were spread out below them. In the valleys below Alistair saw thousands of dwellings, most shining with copper roofs, like a thousand points of light reflecting the sun. The islands were so fertile, despite their mountainous terrain, vineyards planted on cliffs, on hills, orchards of overripe fruit blossoming everywhere, adding color to the skyline, clinging to life on the steep terrain. The smell of their pungent flowers hung heavy in the air.
“It is one of the high points of the island,” Erec’s mother said softly beside her, looking out herself. “From up here you can see the entire capital, and even the villages hugging the shoreline. You can also see parts of the Tatrazen, where the great fog lingers in the valley.”
Alistair followed her finger and saw, down below, beautiful villages built along the shoreline, hovering over the white sands, green and blue waters crashing against them. A mist hung over the islands, and the air was the freshest she’d ever breathed, filled with the smell of ocean and orange blossoms. The sun shone so strongly here, she felt its caress, its rays warming her whole body.
Alistair felt tucked in here, deeply at rest in this place. She was surprised. She had expected to feel disoriented in the new terrain, to miss the Ring; yet for some reason, here in the Southern Isles she felt more at home than she’d ever had.
“Your island is beautiful,” Alistair said. “Thank you for your graciousness.”
Erec’s mother smiled wide and wrapped an arm around Alistair’s shoulder, hugging her.
“You are Erec’s beloved,” she said, “which means you are a daughter to me. I will always love you, as he loves you. You can come to me with anything.”
Alistair smiled, feeling so good to be embraced by a mother for the first time in her life. She felt loved here, and her love for Erec, if possible, felt even stronger.
“Are you ready for the sacred water?” she asked.
Alistair looked at her, puzzled.
“What is that?” she asked.
Her mother pointed.
Alistair turned and saw, near the edge of the cliff, a wide hole in the smooth marble, in which was a bubbling spring, steam rising from it. Inside it sat Erec’s sister, Dauphine, her back to them, her head resting against the stone and her arms spread out as she looked out over the endless vistas of the island.
“It is the custom of the women here to immerse themselves weekly in the waters. They are very relaxing, and they are said to have purifying elements. A bride will always immerse herself the day before her wedding. It is said to bring good luck.”
Alistair looked at her, wide-eyed, wondering if she heard correctly.
His mother nodded back.
“That’s right. Tomorrow you will be wed.”
Alistair’s heart suddenly started to pound.
“Tomorrow!?” Alistair said, flummoxed. “But I haven’t even had time to…I haven’t even prepared…”
His mother smiled and held out a hand.
“Do not worry,” she said. “Your dresses have been prepared. There is a wide selection for you to choose from, as well as the finest royal jewels in our vault. Our people have been preparing for this for moons. It will be the most spectacular wedding you’ve ever seen.”
Alistair was flabbergasted. On the one hand, she was delighted to actually be getting married to Erec; but then again, she had no idea this was coming so soon, and she hadn’t even had time to mentally prepare for the biggest day of her life.
“But why so sudden?” Alistair asked. “Shouldn’t I have helped to prepare?”
Erec’s mother shook her head.
“We here on the Southern Islands have superstitions around weddings. We believe they must take place immediately. It is our custom that when a bride is proposed to, she is wed immediately. We are a people that does not delay, that follows through instantly with what we pledge. It is one of many customs and peculiarities you’ll come to learn about us. I hope it does not offend you?”
Alistair smiled wide as she thought it all over. They were indeed an unusual people, yet she didn’t mind their customs; she thought they were quirky, and she liked them. And the idea of getting married to Erec immediately filled her heart with love. She was also so grateful to them for all the preparation they had taken.
Alistair shook her head.
“On the contrary,” she replied. “I will be delighted to marry your son. Even if it took place at this very moment.”
His mother smiled back, and she turned and began to lead Alistair over to the hot springs.
“Dauphine,” his mother called out sharply, a harshness to her tone that Alistair had not expected. “Turn to us. Rise and greet your sister-in-law.”
Dauphine scoffed, keeping her back to them, still ignoring them.
“Dauphine, did you hear me?” his mother pressed.
Gradually, Dauphine rose from the waters. She was entirely naked, and she stood and turned, facing them, expressionless. Alistair blushed and looked away. Dauphine stood there and stared her down coldly.
“Consider yourself greeted,” she said, and then she turned and sat back down in the water.
Alistair wondered, once again, what Dauphine’s problems were; she seemed like a troubled person. Either that, or she just truly hated Alistair.
Attendants rushed forward and helped the Queen and Alistair undress, giving them robes as they led them to the springs.
As Alistair stepped down the stone steps into the hot water, it felt so good, the warm water bubbling all over her, filled with a lotion she did not recognize, soaking into her muscles, making her feel completely relaxed. Alistair looked out over the endless landscape, perched as they were at the edge of a cliff, the soft breezes caressing her, and she felt as if she were floating in heaven.
“Dauphine,” her mother said, “be gracious to our new guest. In but hours, she will be your Queen.”
“She will not be my Queen,” Dauphine said, forceful.
“She will,” his mother insisted. “She is Erec’s bride. If you have any love for him, you will be gracious to her.”
Dauphine closed her eyes and shook her head.
Alistair sat there, feeling uncomfortable, feeling as if she were the cause of all this upset, her relaxation disappearing.
“You disgrace your family to treat her so rudely,” his mother pressed. “And you should not be sitting in the center chair. That is reserved for the bride.”
Dauphine opened her eyes, stormy, and glared at her mother.
“She has a tongue. She can speak for herself.”
Alistair blushed, not wanting to be caught between the two of them, not a confrontational person. Alistair realized how much Dauphine hated her and she did not understand why.
“You may sit wherever you choose,” Alistair said. “I wish no special seat for myself.”
“There, Mother. We have spoken,” Dauphine snapped. “Is that enough for you?”
His mother shook her head, fuming.
“Your father would be ashamed of you.”
Dauphine sighed, stood abruptly, and stormed out of the hot springs, the water splashing. She hurried up the steps, naked, brushing off the robe the attendants wanted to give her, and stormed away from the plateau.
“Dauphine, get back here!” her mother called.
But she quickly disappeared from view.
His mother blushed as she looked at Alistair.
“Please forgive her rudeness. It is not indicative of our people. I’m afraid I did not raise her as harshly as I should have.”
Alistair shook her head.
“Please, don’t apologize.”
“It is just that she is very attached to Erec. She always has been. And she hasn’t seen him in so many years.”
“Please, don’t apologize for her. You have been a most gracious host, and
I am honored to have you as a mother-in-law.”
His mother smiled, sadly, and then the two sat back and closed their eyes.
Suddenly, just as Alistair was beginning to relax in the silence, all throughout the land there came the sound of bells tolling. This was followed by a huge cheer below.
The noise rose, louder and louder, and Alistair opened her eyes in alarm.
“What is happening?” she asked, wondering how many more strange customs these people had. It sounded like a great celebration.
Erec’s mother opened her eyes and smiled wide. She laughed and held up her hands to the sky.
“Those are death bells,” she explained. “My husband, he is dead!”
She laughed and laughed, clearly filled with delight.
Alistair looked at her, uncomprehending.
“Then why is everyone celebrating?” she asked. “Why are you smiling?”
His mother sighed and looked at her.
“In the Southern Isles, death is not something to be mourned. It is to be celebrated. We are forbidden to mourn death here. Instead, we celebrate the life. In fact, for us, it is the greatest cause of all to celebrate.”
The bells tolled and tolled, and as the cheers rose to a fever pitch, Alistair realized how foreign this place was, and how much indeed she had left to learn about this nation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Thor stood before the skywalk, holding his breath as a cold gust of wind smacked him in the face. In the distance, at the other end of the walk, he saw great cliffs rising up into the sky, and perched on the edge, an ancient castle, its doors gleaming gold.
His mother’s castle.
The wind howled as he stood there, regarding the sight, this view from his dreams, with a mix of anticipation and worry. The skywalk was narrow, slick with the ocean spray and a hanging mist, and beneath it, the fall to the raging ocean and cliffs below was several hundred feet. It was a death fall.
Thor looked out at the vista with a sense of wonder. There was magic in the air here, he could feel it. This entire world felt surreal; it was the landscape of his dreams, come to life, dreams that had haunted him all his life. And now it was real.
Or was it real? Was this all just another creation of his mind?
Thor could no longer be sure. But this felt more real to him anything he had seen. Certainly more real than one of his dreams. And now that he was here, inside his dream, he wasn’t sure how it would end.
Thor knew that his mother was there, on the other side of that skywalk, in that castle; he could sense it. He felt himself trembling, excited beyond belief to finally lay eyes on her—and nervous. What would she look like? Would she be kind and loving to him, as she had been in his dreams? Would she be happy to see him?
And then there was the worst thought of all, the one that Thor was afraid to entertain: what if she was not there at all?
Thor knew that standing here, waiting, would do him no good. The time had come.
Thor braced himself and took his first step onto the walkway; as he did, the wind howled. He stumbled immediately on the slick ground, then regained his balance. He took several more steps, cautious.
The sound of the waves grew louder, and Thor looked down and saw them, smashing against the rocks, the mist rising up into the air, carried by the wind. He took another step, then another, and as he did, he could not help but feel as if he were leaving one world behind and entering a new one. He felt as if he were walking into the very depths of his subconscious.
Thor gained momentum, walking faster and faster, and soon he was halfway across. He knew it could not be this easy. He began to wonder what other tests might lay before him, what else his subconscious might create.
He had barely thought it, when there appeared before him a lone figure. Thor blinked several times before he realized it was his adopted father, the man who had raised him back in his home village, the man who had been so cruel to him. Behind him there suddenly appeared, too, Thor’s three adopted brothers.
Thor realized his mind was bringing him back to his childhood, to his earliest days, creating another obstacle for him. It was creating, he realized, all the people in his life who had always tried to keep him down, the final obstacles to his getting where he wanted to go.
“You will come no further,” said his adopted father. “You are not worthy. And only the worthy can cross here.”
“Who are you to tell me I’m not worthy?” Thor replied, finally standing up to this man, as he had not done his entire life. Thor’s inability to stand up for himself, to express himself, to tell this father figure how he’d really felt, had been one of his main sources of disappointment his entire life. Now, finally, he was mustering the courage.
Thor’s three brothers scowled behind him while Thor’s father stood there, hands on hips, defiant.
“If you think you can cross here, Thorgrin, you will have to get past me.”
His father charged, and he was faster than Thor realized. Thor reached to grab the Destiny Sword, and was horrified to see it was gone.
Thor, defenseless against his father’s charge and reacting too late, found himself tackled by him, driven down to the ground. The two of them went sliding along the narrow skywalk.
Thor slid right for the edge, when he suddenly spun around and threw his father over, wrestling him, the two of them rolling back and forth as they slid.
Thor finally landed on top of his father, pinning him to the ground, choking him, as his father choked Thor back. Thor heard his three brothers charging towards him, heard each draw their swords, each about to stab Thor in the back.
Thor closed his eyes.
You are not real. You do not really exist. You are my subconscious. You are my doubts and fears. Everything I see around me, everything in the world, is me. It is I giving you power. And now, I will stop giving you that power.
Thor summoned the deepest part of himself to force himself to become stronger, to fight without fighting, to wage war without weapons. It was time, he realized, to make his mind stronger than his body.
Thor felt a wave of heat rush over him, felt his world turn a blinding white, and as he opened his eyes, he found himself grabbing not his father’s neck, but the dirt on the walkway beneath him. His father had vanished.
Thor turned, and saw his brothers were gone, too. All that was left was the howling of the wind, and waves of mist, rolling in.
Thor breathed out, relieved, then slowly regained his feet. He continued walking along the skywalk, chiding himself to keep his mind strong. He was becoming, he knew, his own worst enemy. This entire trek across the Land of the Druids had been one long quest to master his mind and that, he was beginning to realize, was the hardest battle of all. Thor would rather face an entire army alone. His mind could take him to the deepest and darkest places unexpectedly, and he still did not have the control he needed to prevent it from going there. How did one gain that control? he wondered. It was a struggle, he realized, that he would have to continue to train to master.
As Thor walked, the gusts of wind knocking him off balance, he decided he could use the power of his mind to lessen the power of the wind. He was starting to see how he was one with nature, the universe, with everything around him. The wind calmed, and he stood straighter, walked more proudly, had better balance as he continued along the walkway. He felt the universe converging all around him, his footing getting more sure.
Thor was amazed to realize that he was approaching the end of the skywalk. When he was just feet away from the end, from the cliff on which his mother’s castle stood, suddenly, one more figure stood before him, blocking the way.
Thor blinked several times, trying to process who he saw before him. It made no sense. Facing him was a formidable foe, wearing armor unlike any other Thor had seen.
Standing there, facing him, was him.
Thorgrin.
Thor stared back at the exact replica of himself, a fierce and formidable warrior, who stood there, braced fo
r battle, holding the Destiny Sword at his side. He examined this warrior and tried to understand if he was real, or just another creation of his mind. How could there be another one of him in the universe?
“Why do you block me from my mother’s entrance?” Thor asked.
“Because you are not worthy,” came the reply.
“Not worthy to meet my own mother?” Thor asked.
The warrior stared back, expressionless, unflinching.
“This is a castle for the initiated,” he replied. “Only the most powerful can enter. I am the guardian. You will have to come through me.”
Thor stared back, puzzled.
“But you are myself,” Thor said.
“It is yourself you have not yet conquered,” came the reply.
The warrior suddenly charged, raising the Destiny Sword high and bringing it down for Thor’s head.
Thor felt something in his palm, and he looked down with joy to realize that he, too, was wielding the same Destiny Sword.
Thor raised it high and charged himself.
The two swords met in the middle, perfectly matched, sparks flying everywhere. Thor attacked, swinging left and right, and the warrior mimicked every exact blow, move for move. Whatever Thor did, the warrior did exactly, and Thor realized quickly that it was futile; there was no way he could win. This warrior knew what he knew. He anticipated his moves, and there was no way to defeat him.
Back and forth they went, Thor breathing hard, his arms and shoulders growing tired, until suddenly, as Thor slashed, the warrior did something Thor did not expect: he leaned back and kicked Thor in the chest.
Thor went flying, sliding on his back, along the walkway, all the way to the edge. He continued sliding on his slick armor, unable to stop himself, fearing he would slide off the edge.
Thor panicked as he slid over the edge, and began to fall.
Suddenly, the warrior was there, grabbing Thor’s ankle, holding him by one hand, preventing him from falling. Thor looked down over his shoulder and saw the raging ocean below. He then looked up and saw has reflection staring down, as if debating whether or not to help him.