A Rule of Queens

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Thor sat in the small vessel with his Legion brothers, as the man in the cloak and hood silently rowed them across the phosphorus waters, the only sound that of the dripping water echoing off the cave walls. Down below, Thor watched the murky waters change colors, from a glowing green to an aqua blue, and saw something swirling beneath the surface, he was not sure what, teeming as if it were alive with creatures. Before them, the air swirled with mist, scarlet, thick, drifting in and out. With each gentle splash of the water, their boat glided deeper and deeper into the cave, toward the blackness on the other side. Thor felt a finality with each row, felt as if he were entering another realm, never to turn back. As long as Guwayne was up ahead, he would venture anywhere.

Thor could feel the anxiety and tension amongst all his brothers, all of them silent, one hand clutching the edge of the boat, the other on their weapons. They had ventured to the ends of the earth together, but never into a realm like this. He could sense their fear. They could battle anything—but could they battle death?

The rowing finally stopped, and their boat continued to glide, all of them silent, until it came to a stop on the far shore with a gentle bump. Thor looked out and saw a small strip of black rock, perhaps twenty feet wide, and beyond that, a narrow footbridge, leading across a great divide, inside of which swirled the mist, even thicker here.

Thor turned and looked at the man, who kept his head down, his cloak covering his face. Thor could not see his face, and wondered what sort of creature lurked behind it.

“The path to death lies before you,” the man said, his voice dark, ancient. “Cross the Canyon of Blood, and if you dare to enter, knock three times on the Gates of Death. They will open for you—once. And they will never open for you again.”

Thor felt a sense of apprehension, all of his friends looking to him, all pale. He knew it was now or never.

Thor took the step off the vessel and onto the black rock, and his friends followed.

The boat pushed off, the riverkeeper returning from where he’d come, and as he did, he called out for the last time: “If you pass through those gates, beware: our sense of time here is not as yours. A few steps can last many moons.”

With that, the man rowed one last time, and disappeared into the blackness.

Thor and his brothers exchanged a worried look.

Thor looked out and could see a footbridge in the mist. It looked precarious, a narrow bridge of rotting wooden planks, leading across a great abyss, perhaps fifty feet. All around it hung a swirling red mist, reflecting some light source far below. Thor did not want to know what lay at the bottom.

Conven stepped forward to go first, but Thor held out a hand.

“You are brave,” Thorgrin said, “but I will go first. The bridge might give. And if it does, I shall go down alone.”

“I do not fear death,” Conven said, looking at him with hollowed eyes.

“Nor do I,” Thor said, meaning it.

Conven nodded, seeing the seriousness on Thor’s face, and as the others watched, Thor took the first step onto the narrow footbridge, only a few feet wide, with no handrails. It would be a balancing act.

Thor hesitated, as he could feel the wood wobbling beneath his feet. He took another step, then another, trying to keep his eyes fixed before him, and not on the drop below.

He felt the wood shake and he knew that, one by one, his Legion brothers were following behind him.

As he crossed the bridge, the hairs rose on Thor’s neck as he began to hear the awful sound of planks cracking.

He turned and saw that the last person, O’Connor, was walking quickly, and with every step he took, the planks, one at a time, fell behind him, hurling down into the abyss. With each step they took more planks fell. It was a one-way bridge, a bridge that would never appear again. Somehow, the bridge magically stayed stable, and they were continue to cross, each step erasing another plank forever.

Thor knew there was no turning back. Ever.

Thor stepped onto the black rock on the far side of the canyon, and he looked up to see himself standing before a massive arched entrance, carved out of black rock: the entrance rose a hundred feet high, and it was blocked by huge gates, the largest iron gates Thor had ever seen, putting even the other ones to shame.

Before it stood two creatures, trolls, perhaps, twice the size of Thor, wearing black hoods and cloaks, scowling back, their faces disfigured. Each held a long, scarlet trident, with black shafts and short silver spikes, pointing straight up to the sky.

Thor looked up and saw the iron knocker, as large as he, in the center of the gates, and he knew what he had to do.

He stepped forward and grabbed the knocker.

The trolls stood there silently, staring out, as if Thor and his brothers were not even there.

With all his might, Thor pulled on the knocker. As he struggled, his brothers rushed forward and grabbed it, helping him. Together, with all their might, they all managed to pull it back, this knocker on the gates of death.

Finally, they could pull it back no longer, and they all let go and sent it flying forward. It crashed into the metal, and the reverberation nearly knocked them all off their feet.

They all did it again.

And again.

The ground trembled beneath them, Thor’s ears ringing with the noise, his hands shaking from the vibration. But he had knocked three times, as instructed, and now all he had to do was wait.

Slowly, there came a tremendous groaning noise, and the massive gates began to open inward, a few inches at a time, until finally, they opened the entire way.

Thor saw, lying before them, a massive cave lit by sporadic torches, filled with the sound of a million screeching bats. The entrance to the land of death. A threshold beyond which he could never return.

Thinking only of Guwayne, Thor took a fateful step forward, across the threshold.

Then another.

He stood inside, and beside him, his brothers appeared, one by one, until he heard a great groan and the massive doors slowly, definitively, slammed shut behind them.

As it echoed and echoed, and as he looked before him at the endless tunnel leading into the earth, he knew he would never return to the land of the living again.