A Land of Fire

CHAPTER EIGHT

Gwendolyn stood on the bow of the ship, the ocean caressing her face, surrounded by all of her people, holding the rescued baby. All were in a state of shock as they sailed on the seas, already far from the Upper Isles. They were joined by just two ships, all that was left of the great fleet that had set sail from the Ring. Gwen’s people, her nation, all the proud citizens of the Ring, had been reduced to but several hundred survivors, a nation in exile, floating, homeless, looking for some place to start again. And they were all looking to her for leadership.

Gwen stared out at the sea, examining it as she had been for hours, immune to the cold spray of the ocean mist as she peered into the fog, as she tried to keep her heart from breaking. The baby in her arms had finally fallen asleep, and all Gwen could think of was Guwayne. She hated herself; she had been so stupid to let him sail away. At the time it had seemed like the best idea, had seemed like the only way to save him from the certain imminent death. Who could have foreseen the change of events, that the dragons would have been averted? If Thor had not appeared when he had, surely they would all be dead right now—and Gwen could never have expected that.

Gwen had managed, at least, to save some of her people, some of her fleet, to save this baby, and they had managed, at least, to escape from the isle of death. Yet Gwen still shuddered each time a roar of the dragons pierced the air, growing ever distant the farther they sailed. She closed her eyes and winced; she knew there was an epic battle being waged, and that Thor was in the middle of it. More than anything, she wanted to be there, by his side. Yet at the same time, she knew that would be futile. She would be useless as Thor fought those dragons, and she would just expose her people to getting killed.

Gwen kept seeing Thor’s face, and it tore her apart to see him again, only to then see him fly off just as quickly, without even a chance to speak to him, without even a moment to tell him how much she missed him, how much she loved him.

“My lady, we follow no course.”

Gwendolyn turned and saw, standing beside her, Kendrick—and beside him, Reece, Godfrey, and Steffen, all looking at her. Kendrick, she realized, had been trying to talk to her for a while now, but she had barely heard his words. She looked down and saw her knuckles, white, gripping the wood, then peered out to the ocean, checking every wave, thinking time and again she spotted Guwayne, only to see that it was but another illusion in this cruel, cruel sea.

“My lady,” Kendrick continued, patiently, “your people look to you for direction. We are lost. We need a destination.”

Gwen looked to him sadly.

“My baby is our destination,” she replied, voice heavy with grief as she turned and looked out over the rail.

“My lady, I am the first to want to find your son,” Reece added, “and yet, we do not know where we sail. Any of us would risk our lives for Guwayne—yet you must acknowledge that we do not know where he is. We have been sailing north for half a day—but what if the tides carried him south? Or east? West? What if our ships right now take us farther from him?”

“You don’t know that,” Gwen replied, defensive.

“Exactly,” Godfrey said. “We don’t know—that is the entire point. We don’t know anything. If we sail deeper into this vast ocean, we may not ever find Guwayne. And we may lead all of our people farther from a new home.”

Gwendolyn turned and stared at him, her eyes cold and hard.

“Don’t you ever say that,” she said. “I will find Guwayne. If it’s the last thing I do, with my last dying breath, I will find him.”

Godfrey looked down, and as Gwen scanned all of their faces, she could see the grief and patience and understanding in each one. And as her flash of indignation passed, she began to realize: they loved her. They loved Guwayne. And they were right.

Gwen sighed as she wiped a tear and turned and peered into the water, wondering: had Guwayne been swallowed by a wave? A shark? Had he died from the cold? She shook her head, dreading to think of the worst scenarios.

She also wondered if they were all right: was she, indeed, leading her people to nowhere? As desperate as she was to find Guwayne, her judgment was clouded. For all she knew, she could be leading them further from him. She knew this was not the time to crumple up, as much as she may want to; now was the time to think of others, to force herself to be strong.

Guwayne will come back to me, she told herself. If I don’t find him now, I will find him some other way.

Gwen forced herself to believe her thoughts as she prepared for a fateful decision; she could not go on living otherwise.

“All right,” she said, turning to them, sighing heavily. “We will change course.” Her tone had changed; it was now the voice of a commander, of a hardened Queen who had lost too much.

Her men all seemed relieved at her decision.

“And to where shall we set course, my lady?” Srog asked.

“Surely, we cannot return to the Upper Isles,” Aberthol added. “The isles are destroyed, and the dragons may return.”

“Nor can we return to the Ring,” Kendrick added. “It, too, is destroyed, and Romulus’s million men occupy it.”

Gwendolyn thought long and hard, realizing they were all right, and feeling more homeless than she’d ever had.

“We will have to set sail to a new land, and find a new home for our people,” she finally replied. “We cannot return to where we were. But before we do, first, we must return for Thorgrin.”

They all looked at her in surprise.

“Thorgrin?” Srog asked. “But my lady, he’s in battle with the dragons, with Romulus’s army. To find him would mean to return into the heart of battle.”

“Precisely,” Gwendolyn replied, her voice filled with a new determination. “If I cannot find my child, at least I can find Thorgrin. I will not move on without him.”

The thought of returning for Thorgrin, however irrational it might be, was the only thing allowing Gwen to, in her mind, give up the search for Guwayne and change course. Otherwise, her heart would just feel too heavy.

There was a long and heavy silence amongst her men, as each looked to the other guiltily, as if all were reluctant to say something to her.

“My lady,” Srog finally said, clearing his throat, stepping forward. “We all love and admire Thor, as much as we love our own selves. He is the greatest warrior we’ve ever known. Even so, I fear to say, there is no way he can survive against all those dragons, against the Empire’s million men. Thorgrin set himself up as a sacrifice for us, to buy us time, to allow us to escape. We must accept his gift. We must save ourselves while we can—not kill ourselves. Any of us would give our lives for Thorgrin—and yet, I fear to say, he may not be alive when we return for him.”

Gwen stared back at Srog, long and hard, something hardening within her, the only sound the breeze rippling on the ocean waters.

Finally, she came to a decision, a fresh strength in her eyes.

“We are not going anywhere until I find my Thorgrin,” she said. “I have no home without him. If it brings us into the heart of battle, into the very depths of hell, then that is where we shall go. He gave us his life—and we owe him ours.”

Gwen did not wait for their response. She turned her back, holding the baby to her chest, and peered into the water, signaling their conversation was done. She heard footsteps behind her as the men slowly dispersed; she heard commands ordered, heard them to begin to turn about the ship, as she’d requested.

Before they turned, Gwen peered one last time into layers of fog so thick, she could not even see the horizon. She wondered what lay beyond, if anything. Was Guwayne out there, somewhere beyond? Or was there nothing but a vast and empty sea? As Gwen watched, she saw a small rainbow appear in the midst of the fog, and she felt her heart breaking. She felt that Guwayne was with her. That he was giving her a sign. And she knew she would never, ever stop searching until she found him.

Behind her, Gwen heard the creaking of ropes, the hoisting of sails, and she slowly felt the ship turn, heading in the opposite direction. She felt her heart remaining behind as she unwillingly was brought back in the other direction. She looked back, the entire time, over her shoulder, staring at the rainbow, wondering: was Guwayne somewhere beyond?

Guwayne rocked alone in the small boat in the vast sea, carried on the waves, up and down, as he had been for hour after hour, the ocean current pulling him in no particular direction. Above him the tattered canvas sail whipped aimlessly in the wind. Guwayne, on his back, looked straight up at it, and he watched it, mesmerized.

Guwayne had stopped crying long ago, ever since he had lost sight of his mother, and he now lay there, wrapped in his blanket, all alone in the empty sea, without his parents, with nothing left but the rocking of the waves and this tattered sail.

The rocking of his boat had relaxed him—and as it suddenly stopped, he felt a rush of panic. The bow stopped moving as it lodged itself firmly on a beach, in the sand, the waves bringing it ashore. It landed on a foreign, exotic isle way north of the Upper Isles, near the far northern edge of the Empire. Upset from the rocking motion being over, Guwayne, his boat stuck in the sand, began to cry.

Guwayne cried and cried, until the cry evolved into a piercing wail. No one came to answer him.

Guwayne looked up and saw great birds—vultures—circling again and again, looking down at him, getting closer and closer. Sensing danger, his wails increased.

One of the birds dived down for him, and Guwayne braced himself; but suddenly it flapped its wings, startled by something, and flew away.

A moment later, Guwayne saw a face looking down at him—then another, then another. Soon, dozens of faces, exotic faces, from a primitive tribe, with huge ivory hoops through their noses, stared down at him. Guwayne’s cries increased as they jabbed spears at his boat. Guwayne screamed louder and louder. He wanted his mother.

“A sign from the seas,” one of the men said. “Just as our prophecies have foretold.”

“It is a gift from the God of Amma,” another said.

“The gods must want an offering,” said another.

“It is a test! We must give back what is given to us,” said another.

“We must give back what is given to us!” repeated the rest, clacking their spears against the boat.

Guwayne wailed louder and louder, but it didn’t do any good. One of them reached down, a tall skinny man wearing no shirt, with green skin and glowing yellow eyes, and scooped Guwayne up.

Guwayne shrieked at the feel of his skin, like sandpaper, as the man held him tight and breathed down his bad breath on him.

“A sacrifice for Amma!” he cried.

The men cheered, and as one they all turned and began to carry Guwayne away from the beach, toward the mountains, their sights set on the far side of the island, on the volcano, still smoking. None of them stopped to turn around, to look back at the ocean from which they’d left.

But if they had, even for an instant, they would have seen an unusually thick fog, a rainbow in its center, hardly fifty yards away. Behind them, unnoticed by anyone, the fog slowly lifted until finally the skies were clear, revealing three ships, turning around, all with their backs to the island, and all sailing the other way.