A Land Of Fire (Book 12) (12 page)

“Get me back!” he yelled. “Now!”

They quickly mounted him on his zerta,
and his zerta took off, racing through the clearing and disappearing back into
the forest.

Darius quickly looked around, wondering if
Raj suspected anything, and Raj looked back at him with a different look, a
somber look, perhaps a look of suspicion, or of awe. But he did not say
anything, and Darius did not know what he’d seen, if anything.

Raj turned to go, and as Darius turned to
join him, he did notice, from the periphery of his eye, one person staring back
at him with an unmistakable look of awe: he turned, and his eyes locked with Loti’s.
She had seen him. She knew what he did. She knew his secret.

Alistair stood against the wall of
Erec’s chamber, craning her neck up at the window, side-by-side with Erec’s
mother, and looked out the window in fear. She could see hundreds of torches,
an angry mob of Southern Islanders hurrying through the night, chanting, all
making their way in a procession toward the house of the sick. They were being
led by Bowyer, and she knew they were coming right for her.

“The devil girl has escaped!” one of
them yelled, “but we shall tear her apart with our own hands!”

“For the murder of Erec!” another cried
out.

The crowd chanted and roared as they
marched in procession right for her.

Erec’s mother turned to her, face grave.

“Listen to me,” she said urgently,
clutching her wrist, “stay by my side and do as I say. You will be fine. Do you
trust me?”

Alistair looked at her, her eyes welling
with tears, and nodded back. She looked over her shoulder and saw Erec, fast
asleep, and at least took solace in that.

“Will he be able to help us?” his mother
asked.

Alistair shook her head sadly.

“The healing spell I cast on him takes a
long time to take effect. He’ll be sleeping. Perhaps for days. We are on our
own.”

His mother bore the news with the
resolve of a woman who has seen it all, and she took her hand, led her across
the room, opened the door to Erec’s chamber, and closed it firmly behind them.

They marched down the stone corridors of
the house of the sick, all the way to the barred main doors, tall wooden doors
that were already buckling as the mob slammed against them.

“Let us in!” someone in the crowd
yelled. “Or we shall knock it down!”

The two guards who stood before it turned
and looked at Erec’s mother, puzzled, clearly not knowing what to do.

“My Queen?” one asked. “What do you
command?”

Erec’s mother stood proudly, fearlessly,
with the fearless countenance of a queen, and Alistair could see in that moment
where Erec got it from.

“Open those doors,” she commanded, her
voice dark and hard. “We hide from no one.”

“Stand back!” a guard yelled out, and he
then removed the iron bars on the doors and opened them wide.

The move clearly surprised the mob;
stunned, caught off guard, instead of rushing forward they stood there as the
doors opened wide, staring back at the Queen and at Alistair.

“The devil girl!” one called out. “There
she is, back to harm Erec again! Kill her!”

The crowd cheered and began to press
forward, and Erec’s mother stepped forward and held out a palm.

“You shall do nothing of the sort!” she
boomed, with the commanding voice of a queen, of a woman used to being listened
to.

The crowd stopped in their tracks and
looked at her, clearly a woman they respected. Stepping out front and facing
her was Bowyer, leading them.

“What do you mean by this?” he demanded.
“Will you protect her? The woman who tried to murder your own son?”

“My son is not murdered,” she replied.
“He is healing. Thanks to Alistair.”

The crowd mumbled, skeptical.

“Why would she heal him after she tried
to kill him?” one called out.

“I do not believe he is healing. He is
dead! She is just trying to protect the girl!” another yelled.

“He is healing, and he’s very much alive!”
Erec’s mother insisted. “You shall not lay a hand on this girl. She did not try
to murder him. It was not her.” Erec’s mother turned to Bowyer and pointed. “It
was
him
!” she boomed.

The crowd gasped in shock, as all eyes
turned to Bowyer. But he fixed his scowl on Alistair.

“All a lie!” he yelled back.

“Alistair, step forward,” the former
queen said.

The crowd quieted, now unsure, as
Alistair stepped forward humbly.

“Tell them,” she said.

“It is true,” Alistair said. “Bowyer tried
to murder him. I witnessed it with my own eyes.”

The crowd gasped and grumbled, swaying
with indecision.

“It is easy to accuse others after you have
been caught with the murder weapon!” Bowyer called out.

The crowd broke into an agitated murmur,
vacillating.

“I do not ask for you all to believe her!”
Erec’s mother called out. “I only request she have a chance to assert her right
of truth.”

She nodded, and Alistair stepped forward
and said:

“I challenge you, Bowyer, to drink from
the fountain of truth!”

The crowd gasped again, shocked by this
turn, and they then quieted, somewhat satisfied, as all eyes turned and fixed
on Bowyer.

Bowyer flushed, enraged.

“I need not accept her challenge!” he
called out. “I need not accept a challenge from anyone! I am King now, and I
demand she be executed!”

“You are
not
King!” Erec’s mother
yelled back. “Not while my son is alive! And no man in our kingdom, no honest
man, can reject a challenge to drink from the stone. It is a tradition even of
kings, of my father and his father before him. You know this as well as us. Accept
the girl’s challenge, if you’ve nothing to hide. Or reject it, and be
imprisoned for the attempted murder of my son!”

The crowd cheered in approval as they all
turned to Bowyer. He stood there, squirming, clearly on the spot, and Alistair
could see the storm of emotions within him. She could see that he wanted more
than anything to draw his sword and kill her. But he could not. Not with all
these eyes on him.

Slowly Bowyer loosened his grip on his
sword and sighed angrily.

“I accept the challenge!” he yelled.

The crowd cheered, and Bowyer turned and
stormed through the crowd as it parted ways for him.

Alistair looked at Erec’s mother, and
she nodded back solemnly.

“It is time to reveal the truth.”

*

Alistair, after ascending level after
level of steps, moving with the throng, finally reached the highest plateau on
the island, and she entered the small plaza to see before her an ancient stone
fountain. The fountain was immense, made of shining white marble streaked with
black and yellow, and unlike anything Alistair had ever seen. On it was a large
gargoyle, and through its open mouth there trickled glowing, red water. The
water was caught in a basin below and circulated back in the fountain.

The crowd fell silent upon her arrival,
and it slowly parted ways for her, clearing a space for her to approach. In the
tense silence that followed, all that could be heard was the soft gurgling of
the fountain.

Erec’s mother, standing beside her,
nodded to her reassuringly, and Alistair parted from the crowd and walked alone
toward the fountain. Hundreds of Southern Islanders stood around it, clearing a
space, and as they did, one other person stepped forward: Bowyer.

Alistair and Bowyer, standing beside
each other next to the fountain, turned and faced the crowd. The plaza was lit
by hundreds of torches, and in the distance, on the horizon, Alistair could see
dawn slowly breaking, the southern sky lighting up, turning a pale shade of
purple.

As she stood there, waiting, Bowyer scowling
at her, there appeared from the crowd an old man, wearing a ceremonial yellow
cloak, with a drawn, grave face. He held out before him, in both hands, a small,
yellow marble bowl.

His face was somber, and he looked at Alistair
and Bowyer with a grave expression.

“These are the waters of truth,” he
boomed out, his voice ancient, the silent crowd hanging on his every word. “Anyone
telling the truth cannot be affected by them. But a liar who drinks will suffer
an immediate and painful death.”

The old man turned and studied Alistair
sternly.

“Alistair, you stand accused of
attempted murder of your husband-to-be. You claim innocence. Now is your time
to prove it. You shall take this bowl and drink from the waters. If you have
done what you are accused of having done, you shall die here on the spot. Do
you have any final words?” he asked as he held the bowl to Alistair.

Alistair looked back at him proudly.

“They shall not be my last words,” she
said, “as I have nothing to hide.”

The crowd watched, engrossed, as Alistair
took the bowl and leaned forward over the fountain. The sound of trickling
water filling her ears, she reached out, placed the bowl beneath, and captured
some of the red liquid. She held the small bowl in both hands, filled with the
red water, then put it to her mouth.

Alistair took a tentative taste, then
she drank until she finished the entire bowl.

When she was done, she turned the bowl
upside down and held it out for all to see.

Alistair stood there, feeling completely
fine, and the crowd gasped, clearly shocked.

Alistair then turned and handed the bowl
to Bowyer.

Bowyer stood there, scowling at her, and
he looked at the bowl. She could see him trying to disguise his fear as he
looked at her. Several tense moments passed, the tension in the air thick
enough to cut it with a knife.

“Take the bowl!” a crowd member shouted.

“Take the bowl, take the bowl!” came a chorus
of shouts, increasingly angry, as Bowyer stood there, nervous, shifting.

The crowd, irate, turned on him, yelling
and heckling him, as if finally realizing that Alistair had been right.

Bowyer finally reached out—but instead
of taking the bowl, he smacked it from Alistair’s hands.

The crowd gasped as the sacred marble bowl
fell to the ground and shattered into pieces.

“I do not need your stupid rituals!” Bowyer
yelled. “This fountain is a myth! I am King, and no one else. I am the greatest
fighter amongst you—if there is anyone good enough to challenge me, step
forward!”

The crowd stared, shocked by the turn of
events, unsure what to do.

Bowyer shouted in rage, drew his sword,
and suddenly charged Alistair, raising it to bring it down to her chest.

The crowd, now indignant, broke into
action and charged to stop him.

Alistair stood there fearlessly, and
felt a great heat rise within her. She closed her eyes and as she did, she
sensed his sword, felt it coming toward her. She used her power, deep within,
to change the sword’s direction.

Alistair opened her eyes and saw the sword
stopped in midair; Bowyer stood there, grunting and groaning, trying to plunge
it down with all his might. His hand shook from the effort, until finally the
sword fell from his hands, landing on the stone plaza with a great clang.

Bowyer looked up at Alistair, and for
the first time he showed fear.

“Devil woman!” he shouted.

Bowyer turned and ran across the plaza
as the mob chased him. He mounted his horse, joined by a dozen of his
tribesmen, and took off straight down the mountainside.

“I am King! And no one will stop me!”

As he and his men took off, the crowd
gathered around Alistair, clearly apologetic and concerned for her welfare. Erec’s
mother came up beside her, ecstatic, and draped an arm around her shoulder.
They both stood there and looked out into the breaking dawn together.

“A civil war is coming,” his mother said.

Alistair looked out to the horizon, and
she sensed it to be true. She sensed that, somehow, things would never be the
same on the Southern Isles again.

Thor rowed in the small boat, seated
beside his companions, Reece, Elden, O’Connor, Conven, Indra and Matus,
thrilled to be reunited with the familiar group, with his Legion brothers, and
thrilled to also be joined by Matus. As the wind had died they had taken to the
oars, and as they rowed, all of them settling into a gentle rhythm, the boat
rocked gently on the calmly lapping waves. The rowing had been therapeutic for
Thor, who found himself getting lost in the monotonous sound of the oar meeting
water, leaning back and forward, feeling his muscles burn as he pulled on the
oar.

Thor found himself getting lost in
memories; he recalled his last battle, against Romulus and the dragons, and he
found himself thinking of Mycoples and Ralibar, of all he had left behind. He
felt as if he had lost so much, and he felt bad, as if he had let them down. Thor
thought of the Ring, destroyed in his absence, and thought of how, if only he
had stayed, perhaps he could have saved them all from the invasion, could have
saved the Ring. Perhaps he could have saved Guwayne. He wished he could have
done more, and sooner, and he wondered why fate had had to take the twists and
turns that it had. Thor felt the guilt weighing heavily upon him.

Thor looked out at the horizon, as he
had ever since they’d left, searching for any sign of Guwayne. He peered into
the waters, but could see no sign of him; there had been too many false alarms,
his mind tricking him again and again. Where could he be?

Thor blamed himself, of course. If he
had only been here, perhaps none of this would have ever happened; yet then
again, who knows if he would have been able to stop Romulus’s entire nest of
dragons. And if he had not gone to seek out his mother, perhaps he would have never
had the power he needed to fight all those dragons and the Empire.

They rowed for hours, barely any wind at
all, heading in a general northern direction, rolling up and down in the gentle
ocean waves, fog rolling in and out, the sun coming in and out of the clouds.
Finally, the others put down their oars and took a break, and Thor joined them,
wiping sweat from the back of his brow.

“Where are we rowing, anyway?” O’Connor finally
spoke up, breaking the silence, voicing the question that was on all of their
minds. “To be honest with ourselves, we don’t know where we are going.”

A heavy silence fell over them, as no
one was able to disagree; Thor, too, was having the same thoughts, but trying
to suppress them. A part of him was an optimist, felt that Guwayne would appear
if he rowed hard enough.

“We have to head in
some
direction,” Reece countered. “And Gwen said the tide took him in north.”

“That tide could have shifted at any
time,” Elden countered.

They all sat there, pondering.

“Well,” Indra added, “the Queen had tried
searching north herself, and she couldn’t find him. As far as I know, there are
no islands or any land this far north.”

“Nobody really knows that,” Matus said.
“It is all uncharted.”

Thor spoke up: “At least we are heading
in one direction,” he said. “At least we are searching. Whether we are going
one way, or going another, we are covering ground.”

“Yet our small boat in this vast sea
could easily miss the boy,” Indra said.

“Have you any better suggestions?” Matus
asked.

They all fell silent. Of course, no one had
any idea. Thor started to wonder if they all had faith, if they all felt, deep
down, that finding Guwayne was a futile task, and if they had all just come to
humor him.

“This might indeed be a futile task,”
Thor said, “but that does not mean it is not worth taking. Still, I am sorry to
take you all from the ships.”

Reece clasped a hand on his shoulder.

“Thorgrin, we would all go to the ends
of the earth for you—and for your son. Without even any hope of finding him.”

The others nodded, and Thor could see in
their eyes that it was true. And he knew he would do the same for any of them.

Thor heard a sloshing noise, and he leaned
over the edge of the boat and was surprised to see, swimming beside the boat,
strange creatures he had never seen before. There were luminescent yellow
creatures, like frogs, and they seemed to be jumping below the water. A school
of them lit up the sea from underneath.

“I’m hungry,” Elden said. “Perhaps we
can catch one.”

He leaned forward, but Matus grabbed his
hand. Elden looked at him.

“They’re poisonous,” Matus said. “They
congregate near the Upper Isles, too. Touch one, and you’ll be dead in an instant.”

Elden looked down at him with great
respect and gratitude, and retracted his hand slowly, humbled.

Reece sighed as he stared out at the
waters, and Thor studied him, concerned. Thor could see that his eyes were
dull, joyless; he could tell that Reece, while he was away, had suffered, and
was not the same youthful person he had known before he left. Thor recalled the
story Gwen told him about Selese, and he felt compassion for Reece. Thor
thought of the double wedding they’d almost had, back in the bountiful,
flourishing Ring, and he realized how much had changed.

“You’ve been through much,” Thor said to
him.

“So have you,” Reece replied.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Thor added.
“Selese was a fine woman.”

Reece nodded, grateful.

“You have lost someone, too,” Reece
said. “But we shall find him—if it is the last thing we do.”

Conven, taking a break, came up and sat
beside Thor and clasped his shoulder. Thor turned and saw Conven looking at him
with respect.

“You saved me back in the Ring,” Conven
said, “in that prison. All the others had given up on me. I do not forget. I
said I owe you, and I meant it. Now it is my turn to be by your side. I will
find your son, or I shall die trying.”

Thor clasped Conven’s arm, and saw the
hollow look in his face, a look of suffering, and he could see his mourning for
his twin had still not left him. Thor realized that he, Reece, and Conven had
all been to the edge of tragedy and back, all three of them shaped by
suffering, all three not the same boys who had started in the Legion. They were
all older now, more hardened. It seemed as if one by one, the Legion members were
being tested, molded through suffering, each in their own way. Thor could only
wonder what the future held for Elden, O’Connor, or Indra; he hoped it held
nothing grim.

And then there was Matus, their new
addition. Thor turned to him and nodded.

“I’m grateful to you for joining us,” he
said.

Matus came over and joined them.

“It is the least I can do,” he replied. “I’ve
always wanted to join the Legion, yet from my place on the Upper Isles I was
never allowed to the mainland. I always wanted a chance to prove myself on the
mainland, and embarking on a quest with you all is something I’ve always
dreamed of.”

“Now you should have it,” Thor said. “Although
it could be our quest sees few adversaries. I fear the sea and hunger might be
the greatest foes before us.”

Thor pondered their meager provisions,
and he knew in but a few days they would run low. He knew they had to find
land. He searched the horizon and tried not to think what would come of them if
they did not.

Before he could finish the thought,
suddenly, Thor felt a breeze on his face. At first it was a gentle wind. When it
arrived, for some reason, he thought of his mother. He felt that she was with
him, looking after him. The breeze grew stronger, and their lone canvas sail
set to flapping, and Thor and the others looked up with gratitude.

They quickly hoisted it, and their boat
began to move again.

“The wind is taking us east, not north,”
Reece observed. “Adjust the sails.”

Thor felt a sudden buzzing on his wrist,
and he looked down to see his bracelet glowing, the black diamond in its center
sparkling. It suddenly grew warm, and he had a strong sensation that the wind
was taking them in the right direction.

“Leave the sails as they are!” Thor
commanded, as the others turned and looked at him with wonder. “The wind is
taking us exactly where we need to go.”

The boat began to gain speed, rocking in
the waves, and Thor peered out to the horizon.

As they crested wave after wave, Thor
finally saw something, a trace of something on the horizon. An outline. At
first he thought it was another apparition; but then his heart skipped a beat
as he realized it was real.

“Land!” O’Connor called out for all of them.

He confirmed what Thor already knew,
what he had sensed from the breeze, from his bracelet. Land was before them. And
Guwayne was in that direction.

*

Thor stood at the bow of the small boat,
looking out with wonder as they approached the small island at full speed. The
isle sat by itself in this vast sea, hardly a mile in diameter, ringed by
bright white sands and gently lapping waves. Thor peered into its thick jungle,
looking for any signs of his son.

It was a smooth landing as the tide
carried them up right onto the sand, and Thor and the others disembarked as it
did, grabbing the small boat and dragging it up firmly ashore.

Thor, excited, looked down at his
bracelet; but it suddenly stopped glowing, and his heart fell as he sensed
Guwayne was not on this place.

“I don’t see any sign of Guwayne’s boat
landing here,” O’Connor said. “We circled the whole island from sea, and there
was nothing—no boat, no debris, no prints, nothing.”

Thor shook his head as he said slowly, “My
son is not here.”

“How do you know?” Reece asked.

“I just know,” Thor replied.

They all sighed with disappointment as
they stood there, hands on hips, peering into the dense jungle before them.

“Well, we’re here,” Matus said. “Might
as well look. Not to mention, we need food and water.”

They all made their way onto the island,
its white sands soon giving way to dense jungle. As they hiked, all was eerily
quiet here except for the blowing of the wind off the sea, the rustling of the trees.
As Thor paused to examine them, he saw they were all tall and thin, all bent
over, with orange trunks, broad orange leaves, and large round fruits at the
top, swaying in the wind.

“Waterfruits!” Elden called out in delight.

He grabbed one of the trees and shook
it, harder and harder, making it sway, until finally one of them fell, landing
in the sand beside him with a thump.

They all gathered around. It was as large
as a watermelon, its skin green and fuzzy, and Elden stepped forward, removed
his dagger, and stabbed it. He gouged a hole, gradually making it bigger, until
it was large enough to drink from.

Elden lifted it to his mouth with both
hands, and the clear water began to trickle out as he drank and drank.

He finally set it down and sighed with
satisfaction; he handed it the others.

“The water’s pure here, and sweet,” he
said. “It’s delicious.”

They passed it around and each of them
drank, and soon it was finished. They all looked up to the other trees, thick
with the fruits, the entire island swaying with them.

“We should stock up on them before we go,”
Thor said. “We can fill our boat.”

“Don’t forget the flesh,” Matus said.

He stepped forward and knelt down and
smashed the fruit open with the butt of his dagger, revealing soft white flesh inside.
He reached down and used the tip of his dagger to pry it out, raised it to his
lips, and took a bite. He chewed with satisfaction.

Thor grabbed a piece with the others,
and as he chewed the chewy, sweet fruit, he felt rejuvenated.

They each turned and, without a word,
spread out, each grabbing a tree and shaking it; one tree was stubborn, and
Thor climbed to the top and knocked the fruit down with his fist.

They all set about gathering the fruit, and
as they turned to walk together back to the boat, there came a sudden rustling
behind them, and they all stopped in their tracks as one, looked at each other,
and looked back. They peered into the thick foliage, wondering.

“Did you hear something?” Matus asked.

No one said a word, as they all stood
there, frozen, watching.

The rustling came again.

A bush swayed, and Thor wondered what it
could be; he hadn’t heard any animal noises on the small island, or any traces
of human life—and he didn’t think this small island was big enough to support
anything. Was it just the wind?

The rustling came again, and this time
Thor’s hairs turned on end. There was no mistaking it: something was out there.

As one, they all slowly dropped their
fruits, turned, drew their swords, and faced the wall of foliage.

“I think something’s watching us,” Elden
remarked.

“Then let’s not make it wait,” Conven
said, and then he suddenly, without waiting, recklessly sprinted into the
forest. Thor shook his head as he did, realizing that Conven was as suicidal as
he had always been.