The Gift of Battle (20 page)

Gwen took her
hand and the two of them continued running, weaving their way in and out of the
crowds, Krohn keeping pace with them as they ran toward the castle.

As they neared
it, Gwen saw its massive doors already halfway closed, kept open only by
Kendrick and Steffen, who stood there, looking out, waiting impatiently for her
return. Their faces lit up at the sight of her, and as she burst through the
doors with Jasmine, they quickly closed them, slamming them behind her with a
reverberating thud.

Gwen found
herself in a huge mob of people crowded inside, and she cut through the crowd
and reunited with Koldo in the huge castle corridors.

“I didn’t think
you’d make it,” Koldo grinned. “We couldn’t have waited much longer.”

Gwen grinned
back.

“Nor would I
want you to,” she replied.

“Where’s
Mother?” Jasmine demanded of Koldo.

Koldo looked at
her and blinked, as if just realizing.

Gwendolyn, too,
suddenly remembered the Queen, and her heart lurched in panic.

“We can’t leave
without her,” Jasmine declared. “She must be in her chamber. She would never
leave her chamber, especially in times of distress.”

Jasmine suddenly
turned, bolted through the crowd, and made her way for the grand staircase.

“Jasmine!” Koldo
called out.

But she was
already gone.

Gwen knew she
could not leave her, or the Queen, and without thinking, she took off after
her—Krohn joining at her heels.

Gwen bolted with
her up the marble steps, taking them three at a time, down twisting corridors,
until finally they burst, breathless, into the Queen’s chamber. Gwen was
surprised at first to see that no one was standing guard, the door ajar—but
then again, she knew she shouldn’t be: everyone else had already evacuated by
now.

Gwen was shocked
as she burst in and found the Queen sitting there, her touched daughter in her
lap, by the window, stroking her hair. The Queen had tears in her eyes.

“Mother!”
Jasmine called out.

“My Queen!” Gwen
chimed in. “You must come now! The Empire advances!”

But the Queen
merely sat there as they rushed for her.

“My husband,”
she said, softly, her voice filled with grief. “He is dead. Killed by my son’s
hand.”

Gwen felt her
grief, understanding too well, from one Queen to another.

“I am sorry,”
Gwen said. “I truly am. But you must come with us now. You will die here.”

But the Queen
merely shook her head.

“This is my
home,” she replied. “This is where my husband died. And this is where I shall
die.”

Gwen stood
there, shocked. Yet strangely, she understood. This was the only home the Queen
had ever known, and with her husband’s body here, she could not go on.

“Mother!”
Jasmine cried, clutching her arm, inconsolable.

But her mother
merely stared back, blankly.

“There is no
life for me without my husband,” she said. “This was my life. It was a good
one. Go on without me. Save yourselves.”

“Mother,”
Jasmine cried, hugging her tight. “You can’t!”

The Queen hugged
her too, as she stroked her other daughter’s hair, and wept as she did.

“Go on, Jasmine.
I love you. Stay with Gwendolyn. She will be a mother to you now.”

Jasmine cried,
clutching her mother, unwilling to let go. She even dropped her books to hold
her.

Finally, though,
the Queen shook her off and placed her books back in her hands.

“Take your
books. Go with Gwendolyn. And remember me. Remember this place not for what it
is now, but for what it was. Go!” she commanded firmly.

Jasmine, stung,
stood there, and Gwen stepped forward and took her arm. She turned with her and
ran, after taking one long last look at the Queen. They nodded to each other,
Queen to Queen, and Gwendolyn, as much as she wished she didn’t, understood.

*

Gwendolyn,
holding Jasmine’s hand, burst down the corridors, Krohn at their heels,
twisting and turning, then raced down the steps several at a time, hoping to
catch up with the others. As they reached the bottom she saw the main corridors
of the castle were empty now, the people having already moved through the castle
for the tunnel, and Gwen turned down the corridors, hearing their din in the
distance, and raced to catch up with them, Krohn running with them.

Finally, she and
Jasmine caught up with Kendrick, Steffen, Koldo, and the other knights, alone
with the several hundred remaining exiles of the Ridge, all of them following
Koldo into a vast chamber, down the end of a long corridor in the castle.

“Women and
children first!” Koldo yelled, as the mob pressed forward, anxious, rushing to
follow. In the distance, outside the castle walls, Gwen could hear the chaos in
the city streets worsening. She wondered if the Empire were getting closer. She
knew their time was short.

Several of
Koldo’s men turned cranks and opened a huge steel door, creaking as it went,
and the women and children rushed forward. But before they could enter it,
there suddenly came a man sprinting through the crowd, pushing past them.

A gasp spread
through the crowd, and Gwen was horrified to see it was Mardig, rushing to beat
them all into the tunnel, rushing to be first.

Mardig burst
past them all, into the crack of the open door—then just as quickly he reached
up and began to pull the doors, in an attempt to seal them behind him and keep
all of the others trapped outside.

Gwen was
outraged at his cowardice, at his cruelty, as were all the others. Kendrick,
closest to him, was first to react. He lunged forward, throwing himself between
the doors before they closed, clearly knowing that if he did not, the doors
would be closed forever, and that all of them would be trapped here to die,
leaving only Mardig to escape.

Kendrick stood
between the doors, but they were closing on him, and for a moment it looked as
if he would be crushed.

Suddenly, Krohn
snarled and raced forward, leaping through the air and pouncing on Mardig,
forcing him to loosen his grip.

Kendrick’s
brothers then stepped forward and helped, all prying back the doors.

Koldo reached
in, grabbed Mardig by the shirt, and yanked him out, sending him tumbling to
the ground. He lay there, hands up, shaking.

“Don’t kill me!”
he yelled out, his voice cracking.

Koldo sneered
down.

“You don’t
deserve death,” he replied. “You deserve worse.”

“You betrayed
us,” Ludvig said, shock in his voice. “Your brothers.”

Mardig sneered
back.

“You were never
my brothers. We hail from the same father—that is all. That does not make you
my brother.”

“He killed the
King,” Gwen said, stepping forward.

A gasp spread
through the crowd.

She looked down
at him.

“Tell them,” she
said down to him. “Tell them what you’ve done.”

Mardig sneered
back.

“What does one
more death matter now?” he asked.

Koldo sneered
and stepped forward and placed his boot on Mardig’s chest, looking down at him
with disgust.

“Death would be
too good for you,” he seethed. “You wanted power, wanted this castle, and you
should have it. You shall stay here in this castle, while all of us leave,
while the Empire invades. It shall be yours—all yours. They shall decide what
to do with you,” he grinned. “I am sure they will have many ideas.”

Several soldiers
stepped forward and pulled Mardig to his feet, shackling him to a stone wall.
He was made to stand there and watch as the steel doors opened wider, revealing
a stone staircase, and women and children, grabbing torches, filtered down,
deeper and deeper.

“NO!” Mardig
cried out. “You can’t leave me here! Please!”

But all ignored
him as they continued filtering into the tunnel.

Gwen waited
until the last of them entered, Kendrick, Steffen, Illepra and her baby and the
others beside her, and she paused and turned and looked out one last time at
the castle. The noise was deafening now, the Empire breaking through. They were
at their gates, and soon, Gwen knew, all would be destroyed.

She shared a
look with the others, the last remaining few, they all nodded solemnly to one
another, then they all entered through the steel doors just before it slammed
and locked behind them. And the last thing she heard, before being sealed in
for good, was Mardig’s screams, echoing throughout the empty castle.

Thorgrin walked
slowly up the skywalk, the mist evaporating all around him as the sun broke
through, its rays streaking down, a shaft of light illuminating him as he
went—and he looked out in awe at the castle ahead of him. Its door and windows
were burning with light, and before it, at its doorstep, lay the Sorcerer’s
Ring.

After having
completed the circle, Thor felt like a changed man. For the first time in his
life, he no longer felt a need for a weapon, realizing the power that lay
within him was far greater than that. He held within him the power to create
reality—and the power to refuse the reality he saw. He had the power to realize
that everything and everyone he saw before him—all friends, all enemies, all
brothers, and all foes—were creations of his own mind. It was deep within his
mind, he knew, that the most powerful lands lay.

As he walked on
the skywalk, he knew it was real—and yet he also knew that this land lay within
his own mind. The walls between what was real and what was in his mind were
blurring—and for the first time, he was realizing how thin those walls were.
They were two sides of the same coin, each inextricable from one another. And
with every step he took, he was walking deeper into his own mind, he knew, like
a waking dream.

As he reached
the end of the walkway and looked up, he saw his mother standing there, arms
outstretched, smiling, and he felt as if he were home. He knew he had completed
a sacred journey, that he was ready for the next and final level. He realized
now that his first trip to the Land of the Druids was just an introduction, not
a completion; he had left something unfinished. This time, though, it was a
final return. The return of a victorious warrior. A warrior who had mastered
himself.

Thor stopped
before the castle as he finished crossing the skywalk and stood on the stone
platform, just feet away from her, from the ring that lay at her feet, and he
stopped and stared. The light shining off of her was intense, and he could feel
her love and approval pouring through.

“Thorgrin, my
child,” she said, her voice immediately setting him at ease. “You have passed
every test. You have gained for yourself what I could not give you.”

She held out her
arms and he stepped forward and embraced her, and she embraced him back. He
felt the power of the world coursing through him, and as he stood back and
looked up at her, she smiled down.

“When I first
saw you, I so badly wanted to warn you of all the dangers and tribulations that
lay ahead of you,” she said. “The losses you would suffer, the victories you
would achieve. But I could not. It was for you to learn, and you to discover.”

She took a deep
breath

“I have watched
you achieve splendor. You are a true warrior. Do you understand now the
secret?” she asked. “Do you understand the essence of power?”

Thor thought it
through carefully, sensing the answer to the riddle.

“The essence of
power lies within ourselves,” he replied.

She nodded back
approvingly.

“It does not lie
in weapons,” he continued. “Weapons require someone else to craft them—and true
power comes from within. True power requires we lean on no one else.”

She smiled down,
her eyes shining, and nodded.

“You have
learned more than I could ever teach you,” she responded. “Now, my son, you are
ready. Now, you are a master. Now, you are King of the Druids.”

She raised a
long, thin, golden sword from her side and raised it high, shining in the sun.

“Kneel,” she
commanded.

Thorgrin knelt
and lowered his head before her, his heart pounding.

She lowered the
sword point, touching each of his shoulders lightly.

“Now rise,
Thorgrin,” she said. “Rise, King of the Druids.”

Thor stood
again, and as he did, he felt different. Older. Stronger. Unstoppable, filled
with the energy of the world.

She stepped to
the side and gestured, and Thor’s eyes opened wide as he saw, lying on a small
golden pedestal behind her, the Sorcerer’s Ring.

“It is time for
you to complete your destiny,” she said, “and accept the ring that will change
your life.”

She gestured for
him to step forward.

“It is a walk
you can take alone,” she said. “It is a ring meant for you, and you alone.”

Thor stepped
forward, breathless, as he approached the Ring, but feet away. A light shone
from it, so bright that he at first had to raise his hands to his eyes. As he
neared, he saw it was crafted of a metal he could not discern, appearing to be
platinum, streaked with a single thin black ring in its middle, looking to be
made of black diamonds. It shone so intensely, it made the sun seem dark.

Thor stopped
before it and reached out with a trembling hand, fearing the power coming off
of it, sensing that wearing it would change his life forever.

“You must wear
it on your right hand, Thorgrin,” his mother said. “On your index finger.”

Thorgrin reached
out and slipped it over his finger.

The second it
touched his hand, he felt alive, truly alive, for the first time. He felt a
tremendous heat pouring through it, through his finger, through his veins,
through his arm, his shoulder, and spreading through his chest, to his heart. It
was like a warmth filling him, a fire in his veins, a power he did not
recognize. It was like the energy of the sun, filling him to capacity, making
him feel so powerful, making him feel as if he could lift the sky.

It was like the
power of a thousand dragons.

His mother
looked back at him, and he could see in her face that she saw him differently.
He knew it himself: he was different now. He no longer felt like a boy, or even
a man. He felt greater than a knight, greater than a warrior, greater than a Druid.
He felt like a master. He felt like a king. He felt like the King of the
Druids.

As he stood
there, Thor felt ready to take on the Blood Lord. He felt ready to take on his
entire army.

“You are the
chosen one, Thorgrin,” his mother said. “Your people look to you now. Fulfill
your destiny. And fulfill theirs, too.”

Thorgrin reached
out to embrace her, but suddenly she was gone.

Thor stood
there, blinking, confused, and as he looked all around, the castle was gone.
The walkway, too, was gone. He stood instead atop a single, empty cliff, on the
edge of the world, the edge of nothingness, nothing but a sea of clouds all
around him.

Thor heard a
screech and he looked over to see Lycoples sitting but feet before him, staring
back with her intense yellow eyes, waiting. She looked at him, at the ring on
his finger, and he could see the new respect in her eyes.

Thor stared
back, feeling his power on par with hers.

With a single
bound, he leapt onto her back, feeling a power equal to that of the dragon—and
even greater.

“Let us go,” he
commanded, “and retrieve my son.”

As she flapped
her wings and lifted into the air, Thor felt the thrill of battle before him.
This time, he was ready.

Finally, he was
ready.