by Morgan Rice
From up top, the view was magnificent. Thor turned, and had a sweeping view of the King’s Court in every possible direction. It was a clear blue and yellow sky, a wisp of cloud sitting gently on the horizon.
Affecting Thor even more than the sweeping vista was the site he saw as he turned the other way: King MacGil’s burial plot. Set against the dramatic Kolvian Cliffs was a fresh mound of dirt, a long pole marking it, with a circle at the end and a falcon within it, the symbol of their kingdom. There came a screech high up in the air, and as Thor watched, Ephistopheles swooped down and landed on the tip. She perched there, stared out at Thor and Gwen, and raised her wings and screeched again. She then lowered her wings and settled comfortably on the pole.
Thor and Gwen exchanged a puzzled look.
“The actions of animals will always be a mystery to me,” Thor said.
“They sense things,” she said. “They see things we do not.”
Thor marveled that they were the only two here, at this fresh grave site. The thought of it pained him. But a day ago, the king could have commanded anyone he wanted, could have summoned thousands of people at his whim; now that he was dead, there was not a single person here to pay homage.
Gwen knelt down and gently placed the bunch of turquoise flowers she had picked along the way. Thor knelt beside her, smoothing the rocks away from the mound of dirt. Krohn walked up between them, lay down on the mound of dirt, lowered his chin, and whimpered.
As Thor knelt there, the only sound that of the whipping wind, he felt an overwhelming sense of grief. Yet, in a strange way, he also felt comforted. This was where he wanted to be. With MacGil. With Gwen. Not in the court, watching the prince be crowned. Not anywhere else.
“He knew his death was coming,” she said.
Thor glanced over and saw Gwen, staring down at the grave, was tearing up.
“He sat me down, just days ago, and kept talking about his death. It was strange. It upset me. I told him to stop. But he wouldn’t. Not until I promised him.”
“Promised him what?” Thor asked.
Gwen, silent, wiped a tear, arranging the flowers perfectly on her father’s mound of dirt. After a longtime, she finally leaned back, and sighed.
“He made me vow that if he died, I would rule his kingdom.”
She turned and looked at Thor, her beautiful blue eyes wet, lit up in the morning sun, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he was shocked to realize her words were true.
“You? Rule the kingdom?” he asked, stunned.
Her face darkened.
“Do you not think I’m able?” she demanded.
Thor stammered.
“No-no-of course not. I didn’t mean it that way. I–I was just surprised. I had no idea.”
Her expression softened.
“I was surprised, too. It was not something I wanted. But I told him I would. He would not stop until I vowed.”
“So…then I don’t understand,” Thor said, confused. “Why was Gareth crowned? Why not you?”
She looked back down towards her father’s grave.
“My father’s wish was never ratified. The Council would not abide by it.”
“But that is not fair,” Thor yelled out, feeling the indignity of it rising within. “It was not what your father wanted!”
She shrugged.
“Is just as well,” she said. “It is truly not something I want.”
“But it is not just that Gareth should be the one to rule.”
She sighed, wiping back a tear, collecting herself.
“They say that each kingdom gets the king that it deserves,” she said.
Her words lingered in the air, and as Thor really thought about that, he realized that Gwen was much wiser than he thought. He realized in that moment what a good ruler she would, in fact, make. It upset him all the more that she was passed over, that her father’s wish was ignored.
“But I do worry for our kingdom,” she said, “our half of the Ring. The McClouds-when they hear that Gareth is crowned-they will be emboldened. It will embolden all of our enemies. Gareth is not a ruler, and they all know that. We will be vulnerable.”
Thor wondered about all the ramifications of the King’s assassination. They seemed endless.
“But what bothers me most of all, is not knowing who killed him,” she said. “I must know. I cannot rest until I do. I feel that my father’s soul will not rest, either. Justice must be done. I don’t trust anyone in this court. There are too many spies, and everyone lies. In fact, you’re the only one I can really trust-and that is because you are an outsider. Along with my brothers, Kendrick and Reese. Other than that, I trust no one.”
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted him killed?” Thor asked.
“I have many ideas. And many leads to pursue. I will pursue each one of them, and I will not stop until I find his killer.”
Gwen was looking at her father’s grave as she said it, and Thor felt the conviction in her words, felt that she would find out who did it.
After a long while, Gwen stood. Thor rose, too, and they stood there together, side by side, looking down at the grave.
“I want to get far away from here,” Gwen said. “I want to leave this place. A part of me wants to never come back. I hate all of this. I don’t know where it will all end. But I feel that it must all end tragically. In death. Betrayal. Assassination. I hate this court. I hate being royalty. I wish I could live a simple life. In fact, I wish my father had been a farmer. Then, he would still be alive. And that would mean more to me than the entire kingdom.”
Thor, feeling her pain, reached out his hand and held hers. She did not pull away.
“I will be far from here myself, soon,” he said.
She turned and looked to him, and he could see fear in her eyes.
“What do you mean?” she asked, urgently.
“Tomorrow we all embark, the entire Legion. The Hundred. We sail for training, for a distant isle. I won’t be back until the Fall. Assuming I make it back at all.”
Gwen looked crestfallen. She slowly shook her head.
“Life can be so cruel,” she said. “Everything at once.” She suddenly looked determined. “When does the ship sail?”
“In the morning.”
She clasped his hand.
“That gives us a day together,” she said, a smile forming. “Let’s make the most of it.”
Thor smiled back.
“But how?” he asked.
She smiled wider.
“I know the perfect place.”
She turned and led him away, and the two of them took off, holding hands, running back through the fields, Krohn beside them. Thor had no idea where she was taking him, but as long as he was with her, nothing else mattered.
*
As Thor and Gwendolyn strolled through fields of flowers, up and down gentle hills, he marveled at how good it felt to be with her. He sensed her joy, too. It wasn’t the joy she used to wear, that over-ebullient laugh and smile that lit up everything around her. That had been replaced by something more somber, more austere, since the death of her father.
They walked through fields bursting with color, a rainbow of pinks and greens and purples and whites, and Krohn ran around them, in circles, yelping and jumping, seeming even more happy than they. Finally they came to a large hill, and as they reached its top, Gwen stopped, and Thor did, too. He stopped, awestruck at the sight before him: there, on the horizon, sat a huge lake, made of a white-blue water, clearer than any water he had ever seen, sparkling beneath the sun. It was surrounded by towering mountains, and their cliffs looked alive, sparkling all different colors in the morning sunlight.
“The Lake of the Cliffs,” she said. “It is ancient. It is a hidden lake; no one ever comes here. I discovered it when I was a child. I had too much time on my hands, and I would explore. Do you see that small island, there?” she asked, pointing.
Thor squinted into the sun, shimmering off the lake, and h
e saw it. A small island sat in the center of the lake, far from shore.
“It is where I would escape as a child. I would take that small boat, there,” she said, pointing to a weathered rowboat on shore, “and row out myself. Sometimes I would spend entire days on it, far from everyone. It was a place where no one could get to me. It is the only place left for me that is pure.”
She turned and looked at Thor, and he looked at her. Her eyes were glowing, all different shades of blue, and they seemed truly alive for the first time since her father had died.
“I would like to take you there,” she said. “I would like to share it with you.”
Thor felt deeply touched, closer to her than he ever had.
“I would love to,” he said.
She took his hand, and leaned in, and he leaned in, too, and their lips met. It was a magical kiss, the sun emerging from behind a cloud as they did, and he felt his entire being warm over. Her lips were smooth, and he reached up and felt her cheek, which was even smoother.
They held the kiss for a long time, until finally she pulled away and smiling, took his hand. The two of them began to walk down the hill, sloping gently down towards the shore of the lake, towards the small boat that sat there, waiting. Thor could hardly wait.
*
Thor rowed the small boat as Gwendolyn sat opposite him, across the tranquil white-blue waters of the lake, and as they crossed it, he rowed them right up onto the sandy shore of the small island, its sand sparkling red. Thor jumped out, pulled the boat up safely, then reached out and took Gwen’s hand and helped her off. Krohn leapt out with an excited yelp, and began running on the sand.
Thor took Gwen’s hand, and she lead the way as the two of them began hiking on the small island, the sand quickly giving way to a small field of grass and flowers. The island was alive with the sound of swaying trees, towering, exotic trees which leaned all the way over, the summer breezes rocking them left and right. As they swayed they dropped down small, white flower petals, falling like snow all around them. Gwen was right: this place was magical.
Gwen giggled, her spirits clearly lifted to be here; she took Thor’s hand and led him on a small trail through the winding green paths. He could tell from how she walked that she knew every inch of this island by heart, and he wondered where she was taking him.
They twisted and turned, up-and-down trails, Thor ducking his head here and there to avoid branches, until finally she lead them to a small clearing, hidden by trees, in the center of the island. Thor was surprised to see that in its center sat the ruins of a small, crumbling stone structure, its walls still standing, but its inside hollowed out long ago. It was open to the elements on all sides, and its floor was comprised of a thick, soft moss. Inside there was a small mound of earth which curved gently upward, providing a small, naturally inclined bed.
Gwen led Thor, and they lay down on it, beside each other, their backs resting on the slope, looking up at the sky. Krohn ran over and lay down beside Gwen, and as she giggled and petted him, Thor was starting to wonder if Krohn liked Gwen more than he. As Thor leaned back, resting his head in his palms on the soft moss and looked up, high above him Thor could see the two suns, the bright turquoise and yellow sky, trees swaying in the wind, white flower petals falling. The sound of the breezes whipped through the place, and he felt for a moment like they were the only ones left. He felt as if they had escaped from the worries of the world, that they were in a safe, protected place, a place where no one could touch them. He felt more relaxed than he’d ever had, and wanted to never leave.
Beside them, he felt fingers on his, and looked over to see Gwen’s hand. They locked fingers, and the touch of her skin made him feel even more deeply at ease. He felt that everything was right in the world.
As they lay there in the silence, feeling ever more deeply relaxed, he thought of his having to leave the following day-and the thought pained him. As excited as he had been to go, now, the thought of leaving Gwen upset him. With all that had gone on, with her father’s death, with their misunderstanding and their reconciliation, finally, he felt like they were in a good place. He wondered if leaving would upset that. And he wondered what things would be like a hundred days from now, and whether she would still care for him.
“I wish I did not have to leave you tomorrow,” he said. He found himself nervous to say it, hoping he did not sound too desperate.
But to his surprise, she turned and looked right at him, her face alight with a smile.
“I was hoping you would say that,” she said. “I have been able to think of nothing else since you told me. The idea of your leaving pains me in a way I cannot describe. Seeing you again was the one thing that gave me solace.”
She squeezed his hand, leaned in and kissed him, and he kissed her back. They kissed for a long time, then lay side-by-side again.
“And what of your mother?” Thor asked. “Will she still forbid your seeing me?”
She shrugged.
“Since my father’s death, she’s a different person. I don’t recognize her anymore. She hasn’t spoken a word to anyone. She just stares. I think a part of her died with him. I can’t imagine her rousing to stop us. And if she does, I no longer care. I am my own person. I will find a way. I will leave this place if I have to.”
Thor was surprised.
“You would leave the royal court? For me?”
She looked at him and nodded, and he could see the love in her eyes. He could see that it was true, and his heart swelled with gratitude.
“But where could we go?” he asked.
“Anywhere,” she said. “As long as I am with you.”
His heart soared at her words. He couldn’t believe she had said that, because he had been thinking the same exact thing.
“Isn’t it funny,” she said softly, “how certain people come into your life at a certain time? You, coming into my life just as my father died. It is strange. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here. And to think I almost lost you, and over a silly misunderstanding.”
“I often wonder that myself,” Thor answered. “What if I hadn’t met Argon that day in the forest? What if I had not tried to come to King’s Court, to join the Legion? What if I had never met you? How would my life be different?”
A long, comfortable silence fell between them.
“It’s hard to fathom that in a day you will be so far from here,” she said. “On a ship, on an ocean, in a distant land, under a different sky.”
She sat up and turned and looked to him, fierceness in her eyes.
“Do you promise that you will come back for me?” she asked, with a sudden urgency. He could see how deeply she felt things. But it did not scare him-he was the same way.
He looked at her with equal seriousness.
“I promise,” he answered.
“Vow to me,” she said. “Vow that you will come back. That you will not leave me here. That, no matter what, you will return for me.”
She held out her hands, and Thor took hers, and looked into her eyes with a seriousness to match hers.
“I vow,” he answered. “I will come back for you. No matter what.”
She looked into his eyes for a long time, then leaned in and kissed him. It was a long, passionate kiss, and he reached up and held her cheeks, pulling her close. He tried to ingrain in his memory the feel of her skin, the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair, tied to hold it in his mind so that even in a hundred days, he would not forget it. But his new powers arose within him, and a sixth sense was whispering to him. It was telling him, even in this moment, even at the height of his greatest joy, that something dark would come between them. And that the vow he had just made might cost him his life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Erec rode from the rising of the first sun to the time the second crossed the sky when the country path widened, gradually became finer, smoother, the rough holes less frequent. Its jagged rocks were replaced by fine pebbles, then these replaced by sm
ooth, white shells, and Erec knew he was, finally, approaching a city. He started to see people pass him on foot, carrying goods and wares, sheltering their heads with wide hats from the summer heat. The road become more and more populated, people passing him in both directions on this glorious summer day, some leading oxen or riding on carts. Judging from the number of days he had ridden, Erec assumed he was nearing Savaria, the stronghold of the South. It was a city famed for its fine women, its strong wine and its magnificent horses, one that Erec had heard much about, but had never had a chance to visit. It was famed, also, for its annual jousting competition, the prize for the winner being the bride of his choice. Women gathered from all over the Ring hoping to be picked, and knights of fame and honor poured in from all the provinces, hoping to win.
Erec figured it would be a good place to begin his Selection year. He did not expect to find his bride here, so soon, but he thought, at the very least, it would keep his jousting skills sharp. Being the king’s hand, the finest knight in the kingdom, Erec had no doubt he could defeat any adversary. It was not hubris, just knowledge of his own skills compared to others. It had been years since he had been defeated by anyone. Whether he could find his bride was a different story.
Erec climbed a hill and as he reached its peak saw, spread out below him, a great city, with castles, parapets, spires, steeples and a brook running before it. It was framed by an ancient wall, as thick as two men. Savaria. It was a beautiful city, quaint, not nearly the size of King’s Court, yet still substantial. It was built low to the ground, its buildings all made of stone, with slate roofs and smoke rising from chimneys. As Erec stopped on his horse, taking in the site, he spotted a lookout, high up on one of the towers, a boy dressed in the red and green colors of the South. The boy jumped to his feet, waved frantically towards Erec, and blew a long trumpet. It was the official greeting of the King’s Guard, and as Erec watched, the metal gate beyond the drawbridge was raised. There was an excited shout, and two horses came galloping out towards him.
It occurred to Erec that members of The Silver rarely journeyed this far South, and that the arrival of one would be hailed as a major event-especially one coming right from King’s Court. And the fact that it was Erec-the most celebrated of all The Silver, and the King’s champion-would create an even greater stir. He could already see, even from here, the excitement in the boy’s eyes, the gathering crowd on the towers, the anticipation in the soldiers galloping out to greet him.