by Morgan Rice
It had become even colder, too, and despite her furs, Gwendolyn felt the cold seeping into her bones. Her hands were already numb.
She looked over and saw the others shivering, too, all fighting against the cold, and she began to wonder if she had made a grave mistake coming here. Even if Argon were here, with no markers of any sort on the horizon, how could they ever find him? There was no trail, no path, and Gwen felt a sinking sense of desperation as she had no idea where they were all heading. All she knew was that they were heading away from the Canyon, ever farther north. Even if they found Argon, how could they ever free him? Could he even be freed?
Gwen felt as if she had journeyed to a place not meant for humans, a supernatural place meant for sorcerers and druids and mysterious forces of magic she did not understand. She felt as if she were trespassing.
Gwen felt another sharp pain in her stomach, and felt the baby turn within her again and again. This one was so intense she nearly lost her breath, and she stumbled for a moment.
She felt a reassuring hand grab her wrist and steady her.
“My lady, are you all right?” Steffen asked, quickly coming to her side.
Gwen closed her eyes, breathed deep, her eyes watery from the pain, and nodded back. She stopped a moment and placed a hand on her stomach and waited. Her baby clearly was not happy to be here. Neither was she.
Gwen stood there for a few moments, breathing deeply, until the pain finally passed. She wondered again if she had been wrong to venture here; but she thought of Thor, and her desire to save him trumped all else.
They began walking again, and as the pain subsided, Gwendolyn feared not only for her baby, but for the others, too. In these conditions, she did not know how long they could all last; she did not even know if they could turn back at this point. They were stuck. This was all uncharted territory, with no map, and no end in sight.
The sky was tinged with a purple light, everything tainted in amber and violet, making her feel even more disoriented. There was no sense of day or night here. Just an endless march into nothingness.
Aberthol had been right: this was truly another world, an abyss of snow and emptiness, the most desolate place she’d ever seen.
Gwendolyn paused for a moment to catch her breath and as she did, she felt a warm, reassuring hand on her stomach, and was surprised by the heat.
She turned to see Alistair standing beside her, laying a hand on her stomach, looking over at her with concern.
“You are with child,” she said. It was more a statement than a question.
Gwendolyn stared back at her, shocked that she knew, especially as her stomach still looked flat. She no longer had the strength to keep it a secret, though, and she nodded yes.
Alistair nodded back knowingly.
“How did you know?” Gwen asked.
But Alistair merely closed her eyes and breathed deep, keeping her palm on Gwen’s stomach. Gwen was comforted by the feeling, and felt a healing warmth spread through her.
“A very powerful child,” Alistair said, her eyes still closed. “He’s scared. But not sick. He will be fine. I am taking away his fears now.”
Gwendolyn felt waves of light and heat rushing through her. Soon, she felt entirely restored.
Gwen was overwhelmed with gratitude and love for Alistair; she felt inexplicably close to her.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Gwendolyn said as she stood up, feeling almost normal again, as Alistair removed her hand.
Alistair lowered her head humbly.
“There is nothing to thank me for,” she answered. “It is what I do.”
“You did not tell me you were pregnant, my lady,” Aberthol said sternly. “If I knew, I would have never advised this trip.”
“My lady, I had no idea,” Steffen said.
Gwendolyn shrugged, superstitious, not wanting all this attention on her baby.
“And who is the father?” Aberthol asked.
Gwen felt a deep sense of ambivalence as she said the word:
“Thorgrin.”
Gwen felt torn. She felt waves of guilt for what she had done to Thor, for how they had said goodbye; she also felt mixed feelings about the child’s lineage. She pictured Andronicus’ face and shuddered.
Aberthol nodded.
“A most excellent lineage,” he said. “You carry a warrior inside you.”
“My lady, I would give my life to protect your child,” Steffen said.
Krohn walked up, leaned his head into her stomach, and licked it several times, whining.
Gwen was overwhelmed by their kindness and felt supported.
Suddenly, Krohn turned and surprised them all by snarling viciously. He took several steps forward into the blinding snow, his hairs on-end. He peered into the snow, ignoring them.
Gwen and the others looked at each other, puzzled. Gwen peered into the snow but could see nothing. She had never heard Krohn snarl like that.
“What is it, Krohn?” she asked, nervous.
Krohn continued to snarl, inching forward, and Gwen, nervous, lowered her hand to the dagger at her waist as the others laid their hands on their weapons, too.
They waited and watched.
Finally, out of the blinding snow there emerged a dozen creatures. They were terrifying, entirely white, with huge yellow eyes and four long, yellow fangs, larger than wolves. They were bigger than Krohn, and each had two heads with long fangs, descending nearly a foot. They emitted a low, constant, vicious noise as they approached the group, spread out in a wide semi-circle.
“Lorks,” Aberthol said with fear, stepping back.
Gwendolyn heard the distinctive ring of metal as Steffen drew his sword. Aberthol clutched his staff out before him with both hands, while Alistair just stood there, staring, intense. Gwendolyn clutched her dagger and held it tight, prepared to lay down her life to defend her baby.
Krohn wasted no time: with a snarl, he charged forward and initiated the attack. He leapt into the air and sank his fangs into the throat of a lork, and even though it was bigger, Krohn was determined and wrestled it down to the ground in a snarling match. The sounds were vicious as they rolled and rolled. Soon the snow stained red, and Gwen was relieved to see it was with the blood of the lork. Krohn pinned it down, victorious.
The other lorks jumped into action. Two of them pounced on Krohn, while the others charged right for Gwendolyn and the others.
Steffen ran forward, swinging his sword down on a lork as it charged for Gwendolyn, managing to chop off one of its two heads. But that left him exposed, and the other lork pounced on him and sank its long fangs into Steffen’s arm. Steffen screamed out, his blood squirting everywhere, as the creature pinned him down to the ground.
Gwendolyn stepped forward with her dagger and stabbed the lork in its back; it arched its back as it screamed out. It kept one set of fangs inside Steffen’s arm, while with its other head it turned and snapped at Gwen. It arched back just enough for Steffen to break free, and as Gwen retreated, holding her dagger before her with shaking hands, Steffen retrieved his sword and chopped off both its heads.
A lork set its sights on Alistair and charged; it leapt into the air, aiming to sink its fangs into her throat.
Alistair stood calmly in place, though, unfazed, and raised one hand out in front of her; a yellow light emanated from her palm and flew through the air and struck the lork in its chest. It hovered there, frozen in midair, as Alistair held her arm out.
Finally, after several seconds floating in the air, the creature fell to her feet, harmless, dead.
Another lork charged for Aberthol, and he raised his staff and struck it in the air, as he sidestepped out of its way. The lork immediately regained its feet, though, and leapt onto Aberthol’s back.
Aberthol screamed as the lork sank its fangs into his shoulder and pinned him down, face-first, into the snow.
Gwendolyn turned to help, but Steffen beat her to it, drawing his bow and landing an arrow in the creature’s jaw
s before it landed a fatal blow on the back of Aberthol’s exposed neck.
Steffen then turned to fire at the two lorks pinning Krohn down, but a sudden gale of snow made aiming impossible.
Gwendolyn ran for Krohn. She drew her dagger and stabbed one lork in its back, while Krohn leapt off and sank his fangs in the other lork’s throat. Steffen rushed forward and stabbed the lork in its other face before it could kill Krohn.
Finally, the lorks were all dead. They all grew silent.
Krohn, covered in wounds, regained his feet and limped over to Gwendolyn. He licked her hand and then her stomach.
Gwendolyn, crying to see Krohn wounded and so touched by his loyalty, knelt down by his side and rubbed his fur, feeling all his wounds and seeing all the blood on her palms. Her heart broke. Alistair knelt beside Krohn, lay her hands on him, and as a soft yellow glow covered his body, he looked up at her, and licked her face. His wounds were healed.
Alistair helped Aberthol up, and he regained his feet shakily. The five of them, all rattled, turned and looked at each other, at the carnage, taking it all in. It had all happened so fast, Gwen could barely process it. It reminded her once again of the dangers of this place.
“My lady, look!” Steffen called out, excitement in his voice.
Gwen turned and looked at the horizon, and saw a temporary lull in the snowstorm. Slowly, a small burst of sunshine emerged between the clouds, a glimmer of hope on the horizon.
As she watched, to her shock, there suddenly appeared, floating on the horizon, a rainbow, all its colors glowing in the air. It was unlike any rainbow Gwen had ever seen: instead of being shaped in an arc, it was shaped in a perfect circle, hollow in the middle, floating high in the sky.
It also illuminated the landscape, and for the first time, she had a glimpse of her surroundings.
“There,” Gwen said. “Do you see that ridge? The wall of snow ends. We must make it there.”
Invigorated, the group increased their pace.
They marched in unison, up a high ridge, Gwen breathing hard, each of them supporting each other as they nurtured their wounds.
Finally, Aberthol stopped.
“I can’t go on,” he said.
“You must,” Gwen implored.
She came over, draped one arm around his, and helped him up the hill, as Alistair came over and helped with the other. If they could just reach the top of the ridge, Gwendolyn hoped all would become clear. Perhaps they would see Argon somewhere; or perhaps, at least, there would be some indicator, some sign to point the way.
They climbed and climbed, and finally, breathing hard, they reached the very top. Gwendolyn stood at the peak with the others and looked down below. She was shocked at what she saw.
There, spread out below her as far as the eye could see, was a view unlike any she had seen in her life. It was an endless valley, the sky above it a clear yellow and red, no more snow to be seen. Instead, beneath the sky was a sparkling, frozen landscape. It was like a frozen city, but instead of buildings were mounds of ice, all different shapes and sizes, each a different color—violets, blues, reds, pinks. All of it sparkled in the sun, a million flashes of light.
It was a frozen city, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It did not look real.
Gwen had no idea what it was, or where it led. But she felt a magical sheen over it, felt that time and place were trapped here.
And she knew, she just knew, that Argon was somewhere below.
CHAPTER TEN
Reece balanced on the edge of the cliff, pressed up against the stone, hands shaking, clutching for dear life and looking down over his shoulder in horror as he watched Krog plummet past him, screaming and flailing into the mist. Reece’s heart sank. Krog was surely dead. They had already lost one of their valued Legion members, and Reece could not help but feel that it was his fault; after all, he was the one who had led the rest down here.
Reece’s hands and feet were shaking, and he wondered how much longer he himself could hold on—and how much longer the rest of them could, too. He didn’t feel like they could make it much longer—and he still didn’t know if the bottom even existed. Had he been reckless to pursue this?
But suddenly there came a nice surprise—Krog’s screams ended abruptly and were replaced with the sound of Krog impacting something. It sounded like branches, like twigs snapping, and it was all closer than Reece could have ever imagined. He was shocked: had Krog hit bottom? Was it so close?
Reece felt encouraged as he looked down into the swirling mist, knowing Krog was not too far below. Maybe even, Reece hoped, he had lived. Maybe something had cushioned his fall.
“KROG!?” Reece called down.
There came no response.
Reece looked up and saw the others, Elden, O’Connor, Conven, Indra, and Serna, all clinging to the side of the cliff, hands shaking, and all looking down with the same expression of shock and fear. Reece could tell from their bodies, from their desperate expressions, that they would not make it much farther either. He felt obliged to set an example as their leader.
“The bottom is close!” Reece called out, mustering confidence in his tone. “Krog hit it. He will be okay—and so will we! Hang on just a little bit more, and we will all be to safety. Follow me!”
Reece scurried down, hands slipping, knees shaking, but determined to make it and to set an example. When he thought only of himself, it felt too hard; but when he thought of others, he felt renewed energy.
Breathing hard, Reece looked below and focused. He just tried to make it from one foothold to the next; sometimes there was just enough room for his toes. His boots luckily gave him support, allowing him to cram his toes into tiny spots and lodge them there, giving him the strength he needed to support his body. He scrambled down the cliff with his final burst of energy, praying this was the end.
Finally, the swirling mist began to lift, and as Reece looked down, his heart soared to see land. Real land! Hardly twenty feet below was the canyon bottom.
And lying there, on a bed of what look liked soft pine needles, bright turquoise in color, lay Krog. He groaned and writhed on the floor. Reece sighed with relief. He was alive.
As he neared, Reece was shocked at the landscape down below: it was more exotic than anything he had ever seen, and it looked like he had arrived on another world. He caught only glimpses of it between the swirling mists, but from what he could see, the canyon bottom was littered with pine trees with bright orange trunks and bright turquoise needles, their branches purple and gold and laden with exotic, small fruits that sparkled. The soil looked like mud.
As Reece reached the last few feet, he jumped down off the wall, his hands barely able to hold on one more second. His feet landed in the soil and sank a few inches. He looked down and saw a strange sticky substance, not quite mud, but not quite soil. It felt so good to have his feet on real ground again.
All around him, his fellow Legion followed his example, jumping down off the last few feet of wall and landing beside him.
Reece hurried to Krog’s side. As he approached, a flash of anger burst through Reece: Krog had been a thorn in his side the whole time. Yet despite that, Reece was determined not to treat Krog the same way he had been treated by him. He had to rise above that, and regardless of what Krog deserved, it was not leader-like to sink to his level. Petty revenge might be a way for boys—but not for men. And it was time for him to leave boyhood behind, to become a man.
Reece knelt beside Krog and surveyed him, determined to help.
Krog groaned, squinting his eyes, writhing in pain.
“My knee,” Krog gasped.
Reece looked down and winced as he saw a large, purple branch impaled through Krog’s knee, through one side and out the other. Reece’s stomach churned at the site; it looked beyond painful.
“How does it look?” Krog asked.
Reece forced himself to look back at Krog with a steady expression of calm and cool confidence, not wanting Krog to panic.
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“I’ve seen worse,” Reece responded. “You will be fine.”
Krog, though, didn’t seem to buy it. He was sweating, and looked up at him with panic-stricken eyes. His breathing was rapid and shallow.
“Listen to me,” Reece insisted, grabbing his cheeks. “Do you hear me? Your knee will be fine. Do you trust me?”
Slowly, Krog’s breathing slowed, and he nodded back.
All the others appeared beside Reece, and they stopped short in their tracks, looking down. Reece was sure that they were looking down at Krog’s knee with the same shock he had experienced.
“You’re lucky you’re alive,” Serna said to him. “I was sure you were dead.”
“The branches cushioned my fall,” Krog said. “I think I broke half the tree.”
Reece looked up and saw indeed that half the tree was missing its branches.
Krog tried to move, but winced and shook his head.
“I can’t bend my leg. I can’t walk.” Krog breathed sharply. “Leave me here,” he said. “I’m useless to you now.”
Reece shook his head.
“Do you remember our motto?” he reminded. “No man left behind. Those aren’t empty words. We live by them. And we aren’t leaving you anywhere.”
Reece thought quick, and turned to the others.
“Elden, O’Connor, hold him down,” he commanded, using the voice of authority.
They each knelt down and grabbed a shoulder, pinning Krog down.
“What are you doing?” Krog asked.
Reece didn’t hesitate; he had to get it over with. He reached down, grabbed the branch protruding through Krog’s knee, snapped off one end of it, and then, as Krog let out a horrific scream, yanked it straight through the other side, until it was clear of his leg. Blood gushed, and Reece reached down and stopped it up with his palm.
Krog flailed, moaning, while Indra rushed down beside him, tore a strip of cloth off the end of her shirt, and wrapped his wound.
“Son of a bitch!” Krog screamed, writhing in agony, digging his hands into Reece’s forearm.