A Land Of Fire (Book 12) (6 page)

Gwendolyn stood on the bow of the ship,
the ocean caressing her face, surrounded by all of her people, holding the
rescued baby. All were in a state of shock as they sailed on the seas, already
far from the Upper Isles. They were joined by just two ships, all that was left
of the great fleet that had set sail from the Ring. Gwen’s people, her nation,
all the proud citizens of the Ring, had been reduced to but several hundred
survivors, a nation in exile, floating, homeless, looking for some place to
start again. And they were all looking to her for leadership.

Gwen stared out at the sea, examining it
as she had been for hours, immune to the cold spray of the ocean mist as she
peered into the fog, as she tried to keep her heart from breaking. The baby in
her arms had finally fallen asleep, and all Gwen could think of was Guwayne.
She hated herself; she had been so stupid to let him sail away. At the time it
had seemed like the best idea, had seemed like the only way to save him from
the certain imminent death. Who could have foreseen the change of events, that
the dragons would have been averted? If Thor had not appeared when he had,
surely they would all be dead right now—and Gwen could never have expected
that.

Gwen had managed, at least, to save some
of her people, some of her fleet, to save this baby, and they had managed, at
least, to escape from the isle of death. Yet Gwen still shuddered each time a
roar of the dragons pierced the air, growing ever distant the farther they sailed.
She closed her eyes and winced; she knew there was an epic battle being waged,
and that Thor was in the middle of it. More than anything, she wanted to be
there, by his side. Yet at the same time, she knew that would be futile. She
would be useless as Thor fought those dragons, and she would just expose her
people to getting killed.

Gwen kept seeing Thor’s face, and it
tore her apart to see him again, only to then see him fly off just as quickly,
without even a chance to speak to him, without even a moment to tell him how
much she missed him, how much she loved him.

“My lady, we follow no course.”

Gwendolyn turned and saw, standing
beside her, Kendrick—and beside him, Reece, Godfrey, and Steffen, all looking
at her. Kendrick, she realized, had been trying to talk to her for a while now,
but she had barely heard his words. She looked down and saw her knuckles,
white, gripping the wood, then peered out to the ocean, checking every wave,
thinking time and again she spotted Guwayne, only to see that it was but
another illusion in this cruel, cruel sea.

“My lady,” Kendrick continued,
patiently, “your people look to you for direction. We are lost. We need a
destination.”

Gwen looked to him sadly.

“My baby is our destination,” she
replied, voice heavy with grief as she turned and looked out over the rail.

“My lady, I am the first to want to find
your son,” Reece added, “and yet, we do not know where we sail. Any of us would
risk our lives for Guwayne—yet you must acknowledge that we do not know where
he is.  We have been sailing north for half a day—but what if the tides carried
him south? Or east? West? What if our ships right now take us farther from
him?”

“You don’t know that,” Gwen replied,
defensive.

“Exactly,” Godfrey said. “We
don’t
know—that is the entire point. We don’t know anything. If we sail deeper into
this vast ocean, we may not ever find Guwayne. And we may lead all of our
people farther from a new home.”

Gwendolyn turned and stared at him, her
eyes cold and hard.

“Don’t you ever say that,” she said. “I
will
find Guwayne. If it’s the last thing I do, with my last dying breath, I will
find him.”

Godfrey looked down, and as Gwen scanned
all of their faces, she could see the grief and patience and understanding in
each one. And as her flash of indignation passed, she began to realize: they
loved her. They loved Guwayne. And they were right.

Gwen sighed as she wiped a tear and
turned and peered into the water, wondering: had Guwayne been swallowed by a
wave? A shark? Had he died from the cold? She shook her head, dreading to think
of the worst scenarios.

She also wondered if they were all
right: was she, indeed, leading her people to nowhere? As desperate as she was
to find Guwayne, her judgment was clouded. For all she knew, she could be
leading them further from him. She knew this was not the time to crumple up, as
much as she may want to; now was the time to think of others, to force herself
to be strong.

Guwayne will come back to me
, she told
herself.
If I don’t find him now, I will find him some other way.

Gwen forced herself to believe her
thoughts as she prepared for a fateful decision; she could not go on living
otherwise.

“All right,” she said, turning to them,
sighing heavily. “We will change course.” Her tone had changed; it was now the
voice of a commander, of a hardened Queen who had lost too much.

Her men all seemed relieved at her
decision.

“And to where shall we set course, my
lady?” Srog asked.

“Surely, we cannot return to the Upper
Isles,” Aberthol added. “The isles are destroyed, and the dragons may return.”

“Nor can we return to the Ring,”
Kendrick added. “It, too, is destroyed, and Romulus’s million men occupy it.”

Gwendolyn thought long and hard,
realizing they were all right, and feeling more homeless than she’d ever had.

“We will have to set sail to a new land,
and find a new home for our people,” she finally replied. “We cannot return to
where we were. But before we do, first, we must return for Thorgrin.”

They all looked at her in surprise.

“Thorgrin?” Srog asked. “But my lady,
he’s in battle with the dragons, with Romulus’s army. To find him would mean to
return into the heart of battle.”

“Precisely,” Gwendolyn replied, her
voice filled with a new determination. “If I cannot find my child, at least I
can find Thorgrin. I will not move on without him.”

The thought of returning for Thorgrin,
however irrational it might be, was the only thing allowing Gwen to, in her
mind, give up the search for Guwayne and change course. Otherwise, her heart
would just feel too heavy.

There was a long and heavy silence
amongst her men, as each looked to the other guiltily, as if all were reluctant
to say something to her.

“My lady,” Srog finally said, clearing
his throat, stepping forward. “We all love and admire Thor, as much as we love
our own selves. He is the greatest warrior we’ve ever known. Even so, I fear to
say, there is no way he can survive against all those dragons, against the
Empire’s million men. Thorgrin set himself up as a sacrifice for us, to buy us
time, to allow us to escape. We must accept his gift. We must save ourselves
while we can—not kill ourselves. Any of us would give our lives for
Thorgrin—and yet, I fear to say, he may not be alive when we return for him.”

Gwen stared back at Srog, long and hard,
something hardening within her, the only sound the breeze rippling on the ocean
waters.

Finally, she came to a decision, a fresh
strength in her eyes.

“We are not going anywhere until I find
my Thorgrin,” she said. “I have no home without him. If it brings us into the
heart of battle, into the very depths of hell, then that is where we shall go.
He gave us his life—and we owe him ours.”

Gwen did not wait for their response.
She turned her back, holding the baby to her chest, and peered into the water,
signaling their conversation was done. She heard footsteps behind her as the
men slowly dispersed; she heard commands ordered, heard them to begin to turn
about the ship, as she’d requested.

Before they turned, Gwen peered one last
time into layers of fog so thick, she could not even see the horizon. She
wondered what lay beyond, if anything. Was Guwayne out there, somewhere beyond?
Or was there nothing but a vast and empty sea? As Gwen watched, she saw a small
rainbow appear in the midst of the fog, and she felt her heart breaking. She
felt that Guwayne was with her. That he was giving her a sign. And she knew she
would never, ever stop searching until she found him.

Behind her, Gwen heard the creaking of
ropes, the hoisting of sails, and she slowly felt the ship turn, heading in the
opposite direction. She felt her heart remaining behind as she unwillingly was
brought back in the other direction. She looked back, the entire time, over her
shoulder, staring at the rainbow, wondering: was Guwayne somewhere beyond?

*

Guwayne rocked alone in the small boat
in the vast sea, carried on the waves, up and down, as he had been for hour
after hour, the ocean current pulling him in no particular direction. Above him
the tattered canvas sail whipped aimlessly in the wind. Guwayne, on his back,
looked straight up at it, and he watched it, mesmerized.

Guwayne had stopped crying long ago,
ever since he had lost sight of his mother, and he now lay there, wrapped in
his blanket, all alone in the empty sea, without his parents, with nothing left
but the rocking of the waves and this tattered sail.

The rocking of his boat had relaxed
him—and as it suddenly stopped, he felt a rush of panic. The bow stopped moving
as it lodged itself firmly on a beach, in the sand, the waves bringing it
ashore. It landed on a foreign, exotic isle way north of the Upper Isles, near
the far northern edge of the Empire. Upset from the rocking motion being over,
Guwayne, his boat stuck in the sand, began to cry.

Guwayne cried and cried, until the cry
evolved into a piercing wail. No one came to answer him.

Guwayne looked up and saw great
birds—vultures—circling again and again, looking down at him, getting closer
and closer. Sensing danger, his wails increased.

One of the birds dived down for him, and
Guwayne braced himself; but suddenly it flapped its wings, startled by
something, and flew away.

A moment later, Guwayne saw a face
looking down at him—then another, then another. Soon, dozens of faces, exotic
faces, from a primitive tribe, with huge ivory hoops through their noses,
stared down at him. Guwayne’s cries increased as they jabbed spears at his
boat. Guwayne screamed louder and louder. He wanted his mother.

“A sign from the seas,” one of the men
said. “Just as our prophecies have foretold.”

“It is a gift from the God of Amma,” another
said.

“The gods must want an offering,” said
another.

“It is a test! We must give back what is
given to us,” said another.

“We must give back what is given to us!”
repeated the rest, clacking their spears against the boat.

Guwayne wailed louder and louder, but it
didn’t do any good. One of them reached down, a tall skinny man wearing no
shirt, with green skin and glowing yellow eyes, and scooped Guwayne up.

Guwayne shrieked at the feel of his
skin, like sandpaper, as the man held him tight and breathed down his bad
breath on him.

“A sacrifice for Amma!” he cried.

The men cheered, and as one they all
turned and began to carry Guwayne away from the beach, toward the mountains,
their sights set on the far side of the island, on the volcano, still smoking.
None of them stopped to turn around, to look back at the ocean from which
they’d left.

But if they had, even for an instant,
they would have seen an unusually thick fog, a rainbow in its center, hardly
fifty yards away. Behind them, unnoticed by anyone, the fog slowly lifted until
finally the skies were clear, revealing three ships, turning around, all with
their backs to the island, and all sailing the other way.

Thor lay atop Mycoples, both bobbing in
the waves, slowly sinking into the ocean, completely surrounded by the Empire’s
fleet. Thor lay there, his body pierced by dozens of arrows, dripping blood, in
excruciating pain. He felt the life force seeping out of him, and as he held
onto Mycoples, he felt her life force leaving her, too. There was blood in the
water everywhere, and small, glowing fish came to the surface and lapped it up.

Slowly, they sank, the water submerging
Thor up to his ankles, then his knees, then his stomach, as Mycoples sank and
went under. Neither had the strength to resist.

Finally, Thor let himself go and he went
under, his head dunking beneath the surface, too weak to stop it. As he did, he
heard the distant sound of arrows piercing the water, striking him even beneath
the surface. Thor felt as if he were being struck by thousands of them, as if
everyone he’d ever fought in battle was taking their vengeance. He wondered, as
he sank further, why he had to suffer this much before he died.

As Thor sank deeper and deeper toward
the bottom of the ocean, he felt his life could not end this way. It was too
soon. He had too much left to live. He wanted more time with Gwendolyn; he
wanted to marry her. He wanted time with Guwayne; he wanted to watch him grow
up. Wanted to teach him what it meant to be a great warrior.

Thor had barely begun to live, had just
stepped into his true stride as a warrior and as a Druid, and now his life was
ending. He had finally met his mother, who had granted him powers greater than
he’d ever known, and who had foreseen more quests for him—even greater quests.
She had also seen him become a King. Yet she had also seen how his destiny
could be changed at any moment. Had she been seeing truly? Or was his life
really meant to end now?

Thor willed that he not die, with every
ounce of his being. As he did, he recalled his mother’s words:
You are
destined to die twelve times. Each moment, fate will intervene, or it will not.
It will depend on you, and whether you’ve passed the test. These moments of
death might also become moments of life. You will be supremely tested and
tormented. More than any warrior has ever been tested before. If you have the
internal strength to withstand it. Ask yourself, how much suffering can you
tolerate? The more you can handle, the greater you will become.

As Thor felt himself sinking, he
wondered: was this one of those tests? Was this one of his twelve deaths? He
felt that it was, that it was a supreme test of physical strength and courage
and stamina. As he sank, his body pierced by arrows, he did not know if he was
strong enough to pass it.

Thor, his lungs bursting, was determined
to summon a reserve strength. He was determined to become bigger than he was,
to tap into some internal power.

You are bigger than your body. Your
spirit is greater than your strength. Strength is finite; spirit knows no
bounds.

Thor suddenly opened his eyes
underwater, feeling a burning heat within him, feeling himself reborn. He
kicked, overcoming the pain of the arrows piercing his body, and forced himself
to swim to the surface. Covered with arrows, he swam and swam, heading for
daylight, his lungs bursting, and finally he surfaced, like a giant porcupine,
from the waters, gasping for air.

Thor used his power and momentum, and
with a great shriek he lifted up into the air and landed on the deck of the
nearest boat, on his feet.

Thor summoned some ancient part of
himself, and he turned off the pain. He reached over, grabbed the arrows
piercing his arms, shoulders, chest, thighs, and two, three, four at a time, he
yanked them out. He shrieked a great battle cry, and he felt bigger than the
pain as he removed every arrow.

Standing before Thor were two shocked
Empire soldiers, who stared back at him, eyes wide in fear. Thor reached out,
grabbed them both, and smashed them together, knocking them out.

Thor charged the group of soldiers on
the ship; he kicked the one closest to him, sending him stumbling backwards
into the others—but not before he snatched the sword from the soldier’s
scabbard. Thor raised the sword high and charged forward into the stunned
crowd, slashing and killing everyone in his path. They tried to fight back, but
Thor was like a whirlwind, racing through the ship, killing two soldiers before
one had time to try to block a blow.

Thor raced through the ship and he
fought and fought until there was not a soul left on board. As Thor reached the
bow, he looked out and found himself facing Romulus, on the bow of another
ship, who was staring back at him in shock. Thor did not hesitate; he let out a
shriek as he pulled back his sword and threw it.

The sword spun end over end, shimmering
in the light, aiming right for Romulus.

Romulus, still in shock, realized what
was happening too late, and turned his back and tried to run.

Romulus dodged as he ran, trying to
escape the deadly blow—and he spared himself a certain death. But he was not
quick enough to escape injury: the sword grazed his head and sliced off one of
Romulus’s ears.

Romulus shrieked as he sank to his knees
and reached up to his missing ear, blood gushing down on his fingers.

Thor grimaced back. At least he had some
satisfaction—yet still Romulus was not dead.

Suddenly, all of the Empire soldiers on
the other ships began to regroup, and they fired arrows and hurled spears at
Thorgrin, who stood there, exposed.

Thor saw them all coming, a sea of black
ready to kill him, and this time, he closed his eyes and raised his palms and
summoned an inner power. He cast an orb of light around him, a yellow shield,
and as the arrows and spears neared, they bounced harmlessly off it.

Thor stood there, invincible, in the
midst of all these men, and he leaned back and raised his palms to the
sky—determined to kill them all.

Thor felt the energy of the sky entering
his palms; he also felt the energy of the ocean below, mirroring the heavens.
Thor felt one with the power running through the universe; it was a great
current, greater than he could ever imagine. He felt the very fabric of the
air, of the waters, and he felt that he could harness it.

Heavens rage; oceans churn
, Thor commanded
silently.
I will you. For the sake of justice. Purge this evil I see before
me, once and for all.

As Thor stood there, slowly, he could
feel something happening: he felt a great wind pick up, tickling his palms, and
as he opened his eyes, he watched as the sunny day turned black. Thick, dark
clouds rolled in, thunder clapped, and lightning flashed. The waters churned,
and his ship began to rock and sway as the ocean became stormy.

Another clap of thunder, and Thor felt
the waves get stronger, his ship rising and falling, as the wind became louder
and rain fell.

Universe, I summon you. You are one with
me. And I with you. Your fight is my fight, and my battle is your battle.

Thor let out a great shriek, and the
entire horizon lit with lightning, not disappearing. Thunder clapped again and
again, so loud it shook the boats, and Romulus and all the Empire turned, fear
in their eyes, and faced the horizon lit by lightning.

Thor watched with awe as suddenly, a
massive tidal wave came their way.

Romulus and the others all cried out in
terror as they raised their arms to their faces, cowering.

But there was nothing they could do.
They were in the path of the wrath of the seas, and as the great wave rushed
forward, in moments the ships were all caught up in it, climbing higher and
higher to its crest, getting lost, like ants in the great wave.

It was the biggest wave Thor had ever
seen—as tall as a mountain—and he, too, became caught up in it, rising and
rising with the rest of the Empire fleet. Thor rose a hundred feet, then
another hundred, and another—and he watched in shock as the wave began to
crash, as he began to plummet down with all the others, his stomach dropping.
The shrieks of all the Empire were drowned out by the wind and the rain, and
Thor’s shriek, too, was swallowed up. As he looked down, plummeting back into
the ocean, he knew the impact would crush him. He had summoned a storm that
even he could not control.

As Thor prepared to die, once again, he
felt that, if he could take any solace in his death, it was that he had, at
least, taken the Empire out with him.

Thank you, God
, he thought,
for
this victory.