A Reign of Steel

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Erec opened his eyes as the gentle rocking motion shook him from his sleep. He looked about, disoriented, trying to figure out where he was. In all his years as a warrior, he had never allowed himself to fall asleep, especially in a strange environment. It was a profoundly disorienting feeling for him to now awake and have no sense at all of where he was.

Erec blinked and realized he was lying on his back in a small boat, perhaps twenty feet long, a crude canvas sail attached to a mast. The boat rocked gently in the huge, rolling ocean waves, lifting them up and down, as if lulling them to sleep.

Erec looked up at the sky above them, in awe at its beauty. He looked up and saw open sky as far as the eye could see, the entire world coming alive in the sunrise, one vast stretch of violet and pink and purple. A warm breeze stirred, and Erec breathed deep, comforted by the ocean air, and by the soft colors of the universe. It was the most peaceful scene he’d ever encountered, and Erec realized why he’d fallen asleep.

Erec looked down at the figure lying in his arms, and realized there was an even greater reason for his sense of peace: Alistair. Erec felt her body before he saw her, and he looked at her long blonde hair, spilling down to her waist, her beautiful profile, her perfectly sculpted face, her eyes closed as she slept gently, like an angel, on his chest. Lying on his back, with Alistair in his arms and the universe spread out before him, Erec had never felt more at ease. It was as if the entire universe had been created just for the two of them.

Erec thought back and remembered the events of the night before, and his heart pounded as he recalled his capture at the hands of those mercenaries, and Alistair’s nearly being attacked. He felt overwhelmed with guilt for being surprised like that, for not being able to defend her. He remembered Alistair’s powers, her summoning the storm, that monster, and his thoughts switched from fear to wonder. He gazed upon her angelic face, feeling the intense energy radiating off of her, and he knew she was not entirely of this earth. She was other-worldly. He wondered at the depth of the powers that coursed through her. He knew they were immense. Yet also, perhaps, unpredictable.

Though Erec was in awe of her, he was also perhaps, he had to admit, slightly afraid for her. What would her powers mean for their relationship? For their life together? For their children yet to come? Erec thought of how powerful Thorgrin was. Would Erec’s sons then be equally as powerful? His daughters? And would Alistair be able to love and respect him, even though he did not have the same powers as she?

And the most troubling thought of all: what if her powers somehow led to her demise? Did she have a shorter time to live?

Erec studied her face, and he felt overwhelmed with love for her, and gratitude toward her, and he prayed that she would live forever. He was looking forward to showing her off to his people, to their wedding to come. His joy at being with her, and his excitement to introduce her to his family, overshadowed even his grief for his father’s pending death.

Erec gently loosened Alistair from his chest, eager to see where they were. He rose to his knees, the boat rocking, then to his feet, balancing himself so as not to fall. He stood in the center of the boat and peered into the horizon. As he did, his heart swelled with excitement.

The Southern Isles lay just ahead, as beautiful and resplendent as Erec remembered them to be as a boy, the jagged cliffs encircling the islands rising up from the ocean like a work of art, covered in a slight mist, yellowish in color. The sun shone down directly on the isles, so strong that the islands were known as the sunny islands. They seemed as if they were glowing in the midst of the dark ocean, like giant orbs of light in the midst of darkness.

Erec sensed motion beside him, felt the boat sway slightly, and he turned to see Alistair standing beside him, smiling. She reached out and took his hand, and the two of them looked out at the islands together.

“One day you will be queen there,” he said. “We shall rule the islands together.”

“As long as we’re together,” Alistair replied, “I would go with you to the ends of the earth.”

Erec’s heart leapt with anticipation as each wave brought them closer and closer to the islands. Would his family be there to greet him? What would they think of Alistair? What would it be like to return to this place he had not seen since childhood?

As they came closer and closer, he wondered: would it be the same place that he had once known and loved?

Erec scanned the shoreline with joy as their boat touched the sand, hundreds of Southern Islanders awaiting them, cheering their arrival. His people had showed up with great fanfare, stretched out as far as the eye could see, greeting them like a king and queen. Dozens of them rushed forward and grabbed the edge of their boat and dragged it up onto the sand, as Erec jumped down and held out a hand for Alistair. She took it and stepped onto the sand.

There came a great cheer as she did, and Erec looked out, overwhelmed with pride to be so happily embraced by his people, and to be by Alistair’s side. One person after the next pressed forward to embrace him, and to kiss Alistair’s hand, as Erec scanned the faces, trying to recognize anyone from his childhood. It was all a blur.

Erec had forgotten how warm and friendly the Southern Islanders were, these people who were legendary for their warmth and hospitality, who, legend had it, were lit alive by the sun. They were quick to laugh and smile and give you a hug or a pat on the back; yet their kindness was never mistaken for weakness, as they were also known to be legendary warriors, an island of strong and proud and noble warriors, among the most skilled of all the countries. They were Erec’s people.

As Erec embraced them back, tears flowed from his face, and he realized how much he had been missing his homeland, his people, this place where he had spent his formative years, this place he still dreamt of often. It felt so good to be home again, his feet to be back on his soil, and it felt so good to be so loved. He had not been sure if his people would even remember him, and here he was, welcomed like a returning hero.

It also warmed Erec’s heart with joy to see them welcome Alistair so fondly, to treat her as if she were already one of their own, already their queen. They showered on her the same love and affection they reserved for Erec, and Erec felt eternally grateful to them for it.

During all those years Erec had spent in the Ring, ever since that day his father had shipped him off as a boy to study under the tutelage of King MacGil and his Silver, the Ring had felt like home to Erec. King MacGil had become like a father to him, and the Silver had all become his brothers. Erec had never consciously thought much of the Southern Isles, because in his mind, he had not imagined himself ever returning. In his mind, the Ring had become his home.

And yet now that he had returned, Erec felt a rush of sensations coming back to him, memories, feelings, and he realized that this place was his home, too. His first home. A place to which he owed as much loyalty as to the Ring. After all, these were his people, his blood. He had been born here, grown up here, before being shipped off to the Ring to become a great warrior.

He had achieved what his father had set out for him to achieve—had become the greatest warrior of them all—and he had done his people proud. Now, he realized, he owed his father—and his people—a debt. It was time to serve them. Duty had called, and it was time not just to see his dying father, but also to embrace the role he had been destined for since his birth: to assume the Kingship of the Southern Isles. He knew that’s what his people would demand, what his father would demand, whether he liked it or not, and he was prepared to serve. With Alistair by his side as Queen, he could think of no more fitting return.

“My brother,” came a voice.

Erec turned, thrilled to hear the familiar voice, and was happily surprised to see standing before him his younger brother, Strom, grinning wide.

“I would have expected your return in a more glorious ship than this!” Strom added with a laugh, as he stepped forward and embraced him.

Erec hugged him, then pulled him back and looked him up and down: he was shocked to see his younger brother, now, so many years later, a full-grown man, nearly as big as he, rippling with muscles. He had the countenance of a hardened warrior, one who had been tested by battle. He was now a man.

“Strom,” Erec said, eyes glistening with approval. It felt so good to see him again.

Strom, too, looked Erec up and down, sizing him up. He shook his head.

“I was sure I’d grown enough to be taller than you! Son of a bitch! I only needed one more inch!” Strom laughed, squeezing Erec’s shoulder. “But it seems I’m bigger than you at least.”

Erec shook his head. That was his brother.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” he said. “Still trying to outdo me.”

“What do you mean trying?” Strom said. “Succeeding. I shall show you later when we spar!”

Strom laughed heartily, and Erec knew that his little brother meant it. Erec laughed too, amazed at how quickly they picked up where they’d left off.

Erec loved his younger brother, and he’d never felt any competition or jealousy with him whatsoever. Yet Strom did not share the same point of view. For his little brother, Erec was always the man to beat, the target to outdo; Erec could swear that Strom had devoted his life to one-upping him any way he could.

Erec laughed it off, but for Strom it was a deadly serious business. Erec had met many people in his life, and yet he had never encountered a more intense sibling rivalry, even if it was one-way. His relationship with Strom had always been a mixed bag. Erec sensed that Strom loved him—and yet at the same time, could not control his desire to defeat him. Erec blamed it on the competitive way his father had raised them, always pitting them against each other. His father had thought that would make them better men—but it had only created divisiveness. Erec himself did not believe in fostering competition, and if he had sons he resolved to never raise them that way; instead, Erec believed it was better to raise them to look out for each other, to watch each other’s backs, and to foster loyalty and selflessness. Those, Erec believed were the true traits of a warrior. Competition was important, but not among family—competition could be learned on the field of battle, and skills could be sharpened other ways. Sometimes competition brought out the best in people, it was true—and yet other times, competition only fostered the worst.

“And bringing a bride with you?” Strom remarked, looking over Alistair, shaking his head. “Did you have to outdo me in this, too? I haven’t found my bride yet, and now I doubt I shall find one as beautiful as she,” Strom said, as he stepped up and took Alistair’s hand and kissed it.

Alistair smiled back.

“A pleasure to meet you,” she replied. “A brother to Erec is a brother to me.”

“Well, you should know, before you marry him,” Strom said, “that I am Erec’s better brother. Spend some time here, and you might decide to choose me. After all, why would you want the weaker stock?”

Strom laughed, and Erec shook his head. Strom was as opinionated and tactless as ever.

“I know I shall find myself quite content with my current choice, thank you,” Alistair replied with a smile, diplomatic as always.

Strom stepped aside as the crowd parted ways and someone stepped forward, and Erec was amazed to see who it was:

Dauphine. His younger sister.

The last time he had seen her, she had been up to his waist, and now, Erec could hardly believe how tall she had grown; she was nearly as tall as he, with broad shoulders, a perfect posture, and a dazzling smile. He could not believe how beautiful she had become, either, with her long strawberry hair and bright green eyes.

She stood there and stared back at Erec with the same intensity he remembered from when they were children. Just a few years younger, she’d always looked up to Erec as a hero, had always been intent on demanding his attention, and had always been incredibly jealous and territorial of anyone who took his attention away from her. Possibly because their father had always been absent, ruling his kingdom, Dauphine had looked to Erec as a father figure in their lonely upbringing.

Erec realized now, from her stare, and from the way she was ignoring Alistair, that after all these years she had not changed one bit.

“My brother,” Dauphine said, stepping forward, embracing him, hugging him tight, refusing to let go.

Erec held her and felt her tears run down her face and onto his neck. Erec realized he’d missed his family dearly, despite all their quirks, and it was overwhelming to see them all back here in one place. In some ways, it felt as if he’d never left. It was an eerie feeling.

“My sister,” he said. “I’ve missed you dearly.”

She pulled back and looked at him.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you. Did you receive all my letters?”

“Every one,” Erec said.

Dauphine had written to him constantly throughout the years, falcon after falcon delivering him her scrolls. Erec had replied when he could, but he was not able to write as often or as much as she. Clearly he had never been far from her thoughts, and a part of him had always felt guilty at being so far away from her, almost as if he were abandoning a daughter.

“These islands have not been the same without you,” she said. “I’m sad that it took our father’s impending death to bring you back. Was not I being here enough?”

Erec felt a twinge of guilt at her words, and did not know how to reply.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “My duties compelled me elsewhere.”

Erec turned to Alistair, not wanting her to feel left out, hoping that Dauphine would be gracious to her, but fearing otherwise. His stomach clenched as he introduced them.

“Dauphine, may I introduce you to my bride-to-be, Alistair.”

Alistair smiled graciously, not territorial in the least, and held out a hand.

Dauphine looked at it as if a snake were being handed to her. She grimaced and turned to Erec, ignoring Alistair.

“And why do you not choose a bride from your amongst own people?” Dauphine asked. “Do you mean to have a stranger rule over us?”

Erec’s face darkened, and he felt mortified with embarrassment for Alistair.

“Dauphine,” he said firmly, “Alistair is my bride. I love her with all my heart. Please show her the respect that she is due. If you love me, you will love her.”

Dauphine turned and stared at Alistair coldly, as if looking at an awful creature that washed up on shore. Then she suddenly turned her back and walked away, strutting off into the cheering crowd.

Erec reddened, embarrassed. That was his sister, always caught up in a storm of emotion, mostly of her own making, and always unpredictable. It was amazing; despite all the years that had passed, nothing had changed.

Erec turned to Alistair, who seemed crestfallen.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Please forgive her. She knows not what she does. It is not personal to you.”

Alistair nodded, lowering her eyes, but Erec could see that she was shaken by the reception. He felt terrible.

As he was about to console her further, the crowd parted and up stepped Erec’s mother. Erec was overcome to see her. It was like having a part of himself returned.

His mother held out both hands as she stepped forward, not going to embrace Erec first, but rather Alistair. That was his mother—always unpredictable, and always having impeccable timing. She always knew exactly what to do, and when. Erec was so relieved to see her, and delighted that she had given Alistair the honor of greeting her first.

“My daughter to be,” she said, holding out both hands and clasping Alistair’s warmly.

Alistair looked up at her with a surprised smile, as Erec’s mother hugged her, holding her tight, like a long-lost daughter. She pulled back and looked her up and down.

“Your beauty has been sung of, yet it does you no justice. For it is the most glorious thing I have ever seen. I am thrilled and delighted that Erec has chosen you for a wife. He has made many good choices in his life, but none better than this.”

Alistair beamed, her eyes glistening, and Erec could see how overwhelmed she was. His heart softened. His mother had managed, once again, to undo the perpetual damage that Dauphine had done.

“Thank you, my Queen,” Alistair said. “It is an honor to meet you. Any mother to Erec I shall love with all my heart.”

His mother smiled back.

“Soon, you shall be his wife, and you shall be Queen. You shall hold my title. And nothing shall make me happier.”

Erec’s mother turned to him, and she embraced him, hugging him tight.

“Mother,” he said, as she pulled back and wiped a tear from her eye. She looked so much older than when he’d left, the sight saddened him. He had been away so long, had missed so many great years of her life, and seeing her brought it all home. He saw all the new lines in her face, and he thought of his father.

“Your father awaits you,” she said, as if reading his mind. “He still lives. Yet not for much longer. He does not have much time. Come now.”

She took his hand, and she also took Alistair’s, and together, they walked through the cheering crowd, hurrying their way, as Erec braced himself, anxious to see his father in his dying moments. No matter what happened, he was home.

He was home.