A Reign of Steel (16 page)

“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.

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.