A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

by Morgan Rice

  With the soft sound of a latch turning, the cell door opened, and Godfrey stared back, shocked, amazed it had all actually worked.

  Merek and Ario, needing no prodding, were already at the door—but Godfrey gestured toward Akorth and Fulton, and Ario turned and hurried over to them, jabbing each roughly in the back and covering their mouths so they would not call out. They awkwardly got to their feet and begin to creep their way out the prison door.

  Godfrey was impressed. Aside from Akorth and Fulton not being awake and ready, it was all going smoothly, according to the plan in his head. With a surge of optimism, he realized his crazy plan might actually work.

  Just as they were all reaching the cell door, a prisoner at the back of the cell, an overweight man with a huge belly and narrow eyes, jumped to his feet.

  “Where are you all going?” he boomed out. “Wait for me!”

  Godfrey felt a flush of rage at the stupidity of this fellow, who made a racket as he clambered through the cell. His heart pounding, Godfrey began to turn to look to see if the guard had awakened.

  He never had a chance. Godfrey felt the guard’s strong hands grab the back of his hair and suddenly felt his head slamming into the iron bars, again and again, his head killing with each assault.

  The loud prisoner rushed forward and tried to race out the open door, and as he did, the guard slammed it closed; the prisoner shrieked as his arm got flattened in it, stuck.

  Finally, the guard released his grip, and Godfrey turned to see Ario running up behind him and kicking the back of the guard’s knee, dropping him to one knee.

  Merek then lunged forward and slammed the guard’s head into the bars.

  But this guard was invincible. He bounced back, reached around, grabbed Merek, and threw him, slamming him into the bars; he then wheeled around and elbowed Ario, knocking him down to the ground. Akorth and Fulton stood there, useless, and Godfrey knew he must act quick or else risk losing it all.

  Godfrey remembered the red sash from his waist. As the guard turned his back to finish Merek off, Godfrey lunged forward, jumped on the guard’s back, and wrapped the sash around the guard’s neck. He grabbed on with all his might and pulled.

  The guard went wild, groaning, spinning, running every which way—but Godfrey held on with all his might, squeezing, refusing to let go. He knew this sash was his lifeline.

  The guard spun around and slammed his back, with Godfrey on it, into the iron bars again and again; Godfrey felt the wind knocked out of him, felt as if he were being crushed.

  And yet still, to his credit, he hung on.

  Merek regained his feet, rushed forward, and punched the guard in the gut. Finally, mercifully, he dropped to his knees, Godfrey still holding on.

  Ario, Akorth, and Fulton all rushed forward, all kicking the guard, again and again and again, until he finally fell to his stomach.

  Merek rushed forward, helped Godfrey grab the sash, and the two of them squeezed even harder.

  Still, this guard, invincible, like an animal that just refused to die, kept gasping.

  Finally, Ario pulled a small dagger from his belt, stepped forward calmly, took a knee, and stabbed the guard in the back of his neck.

  Finally, he stopped moving.

  Godfrey released his grip, his hands shaking, and the four of them all looked at each other in silence, all in shock at what just happened.

  “Open this bloody door at once!” shouted the other prisoner, his arm still stuck in the door.

  Godfrey stood and stared him down, enraged.

  “You’re lucky I don’t kill you,” he said.

  Godfrey turned with the others, and as one, the four of them, a hardened team now, ran down the corridors, gaining speed, twisting and turning, daylight up ahead.

  “Where to now?” Ario asked, looking at Godfrey, finally with respect.

  “Anywhere,” he replied, “but here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ragon stood at the edge of the grassy knoll at the far end of the Isle of Light, and he looked out at the vast ocean before him, wondering where Thorgrin could be. He had left so abruptly, it had caught Ragon off guard—and rarely in his life had Ragon been caught off guard. Somehow, for the first time in his life, he had not foreseen it.

  Ragon had been so certain of how things were going to play out: he had foreseen Thorgrin’s arrival on the island, and had thought he had foreseen Thor’s reuniting with Guwayne, though his vision on this had been hazy.

  And yet he was certain he had never foreseen Thorgrin leaving so abruptly, especially in the middle of the night. At first he had been completely baffled as to why this had happened—until he had seen, high in the skies, the passing shadow, a demon unleashed from hell, and he realized exactly what had happened. Thorgrin had been deceived; he had been led astray, had fallen prey to one of the dark forces of the underworld. They must be very powerful forces, indeed, Ragon realized, if it could reach all the way to the Isle of Light and could affect a warrior and a druid like Thorgrin.

  It all made Ragon fear for Thorgrin’s future. What monumental powers could possibly be at work in the universe, could be using Thorgrin as their plaything? Why was Thorgrin so important that they would visit him personally? Thorgrin was clearly more powerful than Ragon had realized; he had underestimated his great destiny. He had underestimated him, and had underestimated the forces at work around him.

  Guwayne, in Ragon’s arms, began to cry, and Ragon rocked him, looking down into his eyes, gray like Thorgrin’s.

  “Shhhh.”

  Ragon rocked Guwayne, and Guwayne immediately fell silent. He felt the young child’s warmth in his arms as he soothed him to sleep. He felt it a great honor to hold this child, of whom he had foreseen an even greater fate.

  Yet Ragon was baffled that he was still holding Guwayne, that Thorgrin had not reunited with him and taken him away. He had expected to harbor Guwayne only for a short period of time, only until Thorgrin had returned. And now here he was, still with the child, while Thorgrin was out there somewhere searching for him. Ragon knew something wasn’t right. A great wrong had been perpetuated in the universe, and Thorgrin, led astray, had to be set straight. He had to be given clarity and reunited with his boy.

  Ragon looked up to the skies, saw Lycoples circling, and he closed his eyes and commanded her silently:

  Go, my child.

  High above there came a screech in response, and Lycoples circled, again and again, flying away—but then, curiously, turning back. Ragon was baffled; Lycoples had always obeyed his commands. And yet now, she seemed hesitant.

  Go. Search the seas. Find Thorgrin. Bring him back to me.

  Ragon opened his eyes and expected Lycoples to do his bidding—yet she would not go.

  Ragon could not understand. Why would Lycoples be reluctant to leave? He could sense her trying to tell him something, and yet this, too, was obscured. Was he being kept in the dark? Did Lycoples foresee a dark future that he could not?

  Ragon closed his eyes and tried to see the future, tried to see Thor returning, reuniting with Guwayne…. But for some reason, his vision was obscured. He could see nothing. Only blackness.

  “GO!” Ragon shouted, his voice unearthly, firm, raising his voice and his staff. Guwayne started crying.

  This time, Lycoples screeched in protest, then suddenly she turned, flapped her wings, and flew off into the horizon.

  Ragon watched her go, fading into the scarlet sky, and despite himself, he could not help but feel as if some great darkness were coming.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Thor stood at the bow of the ship as they sailed through the black ocean night, sailing faster than they’d ever had, a strong wind at their back, as he peered out into the blackness and thought of his sister.

  Alistair. Where are you?

  They sailed through choppy waters, mist from the waves spraying his face, heading their way south, following Thor’s instinct. Thor sensed Alistair was out there; he sensed her being
in danger, so intense, it was as if she were right here with him. He knew that’s where the dragon had been leading him, and he could be nowhere else until he’d helped her.

  But what was she doing out here, on this vast and empty sea?

  He tried to recall the last time he had seen her. She had been leaving the Ring, on her way south, to embark for the Southern Isles with Erec. She had seemed so happy, and so had he. The one point Thor had always found solace in since the destruction of the Ring was his sister, knowing she had gotten out before the invasion, knowing she was somewhere safe in the Southern Isles with Erec.

  And now this. How could she possibly be here?

  Thor did not know the answer. He did not need to—he had learned to trust his gut.

  “Are you sure we head the right way?” came a voice.

  Thor turned to see Angel standing beside him, looking up at him with eyes full of trust and hope.

  Thor reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sure of nothing, Angel,” he said, “only what my instinct tells me.”

  She nodded back, solemnly.

  “That is as sure of anything as we can be,” she replied.

  As always, Thor was surprised by her wisdom; sometimes he felt when he talked to her as if he were speaking with an elderly man, filled with insight.

  “Thor!” shouted a voice.

  Thorgrin looked back to see O’Connor, standing high up on the mast, pointing into the darkness.

  Thor turned and checked the horizon again, and he saw nothing.

  But then, as they continued to sail, he began to see a faint glow in the horizon. He saw smoke, and smelled a fire at sea. He could see there wasn’t land up ahead, so he was confused; he could not understand how there could be a fire.

  Unless something else was out there. Ships. Ships caught on fire.

  Thor’s senses were heightened.

  “FASTER!” Thor commanded. “Full sail!”

  Reece, Elden, and Matus all worked the sails, and as they gained speed, Thor readied his weapons.

  “Prepare yourselves!” Thor yelled out. “We sail into battle!”

  As they neared, the clouds of smoke getting greater, perhaps a few hundred yards away, Thorgrin could begin to make out what was unfolding before them: there was a glow of flames, a fleet of ships on fire, and shouts of men. There were hundreds of Empire ships, an immense fleet, and within this fleet, he could see a half dozen other ships, blockaded but bursting free. And on these ships flew, his heart leapt to see, the banner of the Southern Isles.

  Without even needing to see, Thor knew immediately that Alistair and Erec were on those ships, in danger, trapped by the Empire. He saw the Empire fleet drawing their bows, raising their arrows, aiming for Erec’s fleet, as they fired off volley after volley. He could see the massive ships that blocked their way, and could see that they were all about to be destroyed for good.

  “Faster!” Thor commanded, feeling their sleek ship leaning into the wind, the spray getting stronger.

  They were now fifty yards away and as they closed in, Thor realized they had an advantage: the Empire did not expect to be attacked from behind, from the open sea, and with all eyes turned inward, for Erec’s fleet, they had no one on watch even bothering to look.

  Even so, it was not fast enough; Thor knew they would not reach them in time. His sister and Erec and all of their people would be killed.

  Thor closed his eyes and focused, trying to sense his sister in the darkness.

  The strangest thing happened. As they got closer, as he focused on his sister, Thor slowly felt a power welling within him, a greater power than he’d ever felt. It was as if being near Alistair enabled him to access his powers more easily. It shifted them, made them stronger.

  Thor closed his eyes and felt the power surge within him, a joint power between him and Alistair, and as he raised both arms, he felt a power fly through them without even trying. He opened his eyes and directed his two palms, and from each there emitted a flaming orange ball of light. They shot through the air, each one aimed for each of the two massive Empire ships that blocked Erec’s escape.

  The balls hit right before the archers could release their arrows. Each ship was rocked by an explosion, bursting into flames that lit up the entire night, and sending chunks of wood splintering, flying up in the air and raining down into the sea in every direction.

  The two ships immediately splintered, began to list, and to sink quickly into the sea.

  Erec, seeing his opportunity, raised his sails and rammed right through the remains of the flaming debris, creating a passageway for the rest of his ships, all sailing single file behind him.

  Within moments they were out the other side, joining Thorgrin’s ship, coming up beside them.

  Thorgrin looked out into the astonished faces of Alistair and Erec and all his men, lit up by the torchlight, and they all looked back at him, astonished. Alistair’s face was aglow with tears.

  “Thorgrin!” she called out.

  He could see their faces fall in relief.

  But there was no time for a reunion. Thor joined Erec’s fleet as he immediately turned his ship around and set sail with them, fleeing from the Empire.

  Behind them, the hundreds of Empire ships gave chase. Thor looked over his shoulder and saw them bearing down and knew, as they all headed out to the open sea, that they had little hope of escape. But at least they were together. And if need be, they would all fight, together, to the death.

  They sailed and sailed through the night, Thor pushing his sleek pirate ship to go as fast as it could, and Alistair and Erec keeping up beside him. A fog had descended, coming in and out, and as it momentarily cleared, Thor checked back over his shoulder, as he did every few minutes, and saw the Empire fleet was still there, but a few hundred yards away. They just could not lose them; in fact, they were slowly but surely closing the gap. Thor and the others were lucky to have a strong wind at their backs now—but if that wind were to die, he knew, they would all be surrounded and killed.

  Worse, Thor was spent from his use of energy, from those fireballs, and while he tried to summon more power, this time when he closed his eyes, nothing came. He knew he had no other option but to fight them hand to hand, man to man—and that, he knew, was a fight he could not win.

  Thor looked over the ship, and he took assurance in seeing Alistair’s face, so calm, tranquil, standing beside Erec; Thor sensed that together, with their powers combined, there was no danger they could not face.

  Yet as the Empire ships closed in, the air filled with the sound of arrows whizzing by, and Thor and the others took cover.

  “They’re in range!” Ere called out.

  A sea of arrows and spears descended upon them, and Erec’s men cried out, as too many were hit, falling over the rail.

  There came a shriek beside Thor, and he looked over, horrified, to see his friend Reece kneeling beside him, an arrow stuck in his chest.

  Thor’s heart stopped to see the wound. He knew, without a doubt, that it was fatal.

  “Hang in there,” Thor said to Reece, holding his head. “You’re going to be OK!”

  There came a great bang, and Thor suddenly felt the ship hit something hard, the bottom of it scraping, as if sailing over something—then just as quickly, it disappeared. Thor looked at the others and they looked back at him, equally baffled.

  Yet as it happened again, Thor rushed to the rail and looked down at the waters, and he was shocked by what he saw: there, before them, spread out as far as the eye could see, were shallow shoals, rocks interspersed in the water, every fifty feet or so. He looked up and, through the fog, he saw them reaching as far as the eye could see. As he peered through the fog, Thor saw something else that surprised him. There was a huge rock formation rising up out of the ocean, and within one of the massive boulders was the entrance to a cave, its arched entrance tall enough to hide their ships. He looked beyond it, and saw another cave—then another. While there wa
s no land in sight, this entire stretch of ocean was filled with shoals and caves, strange rock outcroppings in the midst of the ocean.

  Thor had an idea.

  “What about the caves?” Thorgrin yelled out across the rail, to Erec and Alistair.

  They looked out and examined them, too.

  “If we can hide in them, maybe they will pass us by,” Thor added.

  Erec checked back over his shoulder, then shook his head.

  “They’re too close,” he called back. “They would see us.”

  Alistair reached out and laid a hand on Erec’s wrist, and he looked over at her.

  “There are other ways,” she replied.

  Alistair stepped forward, looked at Thorgrin, and held a single palm out toward his boat.

  “My brother,” she called out to Thor, “bring your boat closer. Raise your palm and join mine.”

  Thorgrin directed his boat, and they sailed closer, and as he came to the edge of his boat and did as she said, holding one palm out for hers, he felt a tremendous heat rise from it.

  As all the others watched, transfixed, brother and sister joined palms—and slowly, a white light began to form between them. The light began to morph, to take the shape of a cloud, and it began to sweep through all the ships at once, then pass behind them.

  Thor looked back and saw that it formed a perfect wall of fog behind their fleet, obscuring them all from Empire view.

  “To the cave!” Alistair called out.

  All the ships turned and sailed together into the cave, deeper and deeper. It was quiet in here, and lit up by the strange, light-blue waters, reflecting off its walls, providing enough light to see by.

  As the last of their ships sailed in, Alistair held out her palm, and she and Thor joined palms again.

  Again the cloud appeared, and this time it concealed the entrance of the cave—and then, the entire cave itself.

  Thor heard the sound of the Empire fleet, just beyond the cave, cutting through the waters, sailing right past them.