A Reign of Steel (17 page)

Alistair
walked side-by-side with Erec’s mother, their arms locked, Erec’s mother
smiling as they wound their way along the copper-lined walkways on the edge of
the cliffs. Alistair had been overcome by how kind his mother had been to him,
so gracious, taking her in as if she were her own daughter. Alistair had never
met her mother, and had always wanted a mother in her life—and in the short
time she’d spent with Erec’s mom, she already realized how great it could be. A
part of her felt complete that had not before.

As
they walked, a dozen attendants following them, fanning the Queen, they reached
the edge of a plateau, demarcated by a high copper railing, and Alistair looked
out, awestruck at the view. It was as if the whole world were spread out below
them. In the valleys below Alistair saw thousands of dwellings, most shining
with copper roofs, like a thousand points of light reflecting the sun. The
islands were so fertile, despite their mountainous terrain, vineyards planted
on cliffs, on hills, orchards of overripe fruit blossoming everywhere, adding
color to the skyline, clinging to life on the steep terrain. The smell of their
pungent flowers hung heavy in the air.

“It
is one of the high points of the island,” Erec’s mother said softly beside her,
looking out herself. “From up here you can see the entire capital, and even the
villages hugging the shoreline. You can also see parts of the Tatrazen, where
the great fog lingers in the valley.”

Alistair
followed her finger and saw, down below, beautiful villages built along the
shoreline, hovering over the white sands, green and blue waters crashing
against them. A mist hung over the islands, and the air was the freshest she’d
ever breathed, filled with the smell of ocean and orange blossoms. The sun
shone so strongly here, she felt its caress, its rays warming her whole body.

Alistair
felt tucked in here, deeply at rest in this place. She was surprised. She had
expected to feel disoriented in the new terrain, to miss the Ring; yet for some
reason, here in the Southern Isles she felt more at home than she’d ever had.

“Your
island is beautiful,” Alistair said. “Thank you for your graciousness.”

Erec’s
mother smiled wide and wrapped an arm around Alistair’s shoulder, hugging her.

“You
are Erec’s beloved,” she said, “which means you are a daughter to me. I will
always love you, as he loves you. You can come to me with anything.”

Alistair
smiled, feeling so good to be embraced by a mother for the first time in her
life. She felt loved here, and her love for Erec, if possible, felt even
stronger.

“Are
you ready for the sacred water?” she asked.

Alistair
looked at her, puzzled.

“What
is that?” she asked.

Her
mother pointed.

Alistair
turned and saw, near the edge of the cliff, a wide hole in the smooth marble,
in which was a bubbling spring, steam rising from it. Inside it sat Erec’s
sister, Dauphine, her back to them, her head resting against the stone and her
arms spread out as she looked out over the endless vistas of the island.

“It
is the custom of the women here to immerse themselves weekly in the waters.
They are very relaxing, and they are said to have purifying elements. A bride
will always immerse herself the day before her wedding. It is said to bring
good luck.”

Alistair
looked at her, wide-eyed, wondering if she heard correctly.

His
mother nodded back.

“That’s
right. Tomorrow you will be wed.”

Alistair’s
heart suddenly started to pound.

“
Tomorrow!?
”
Alistair said, flummoxed. “But I haven’t even had time to…I haven’t even
prepared…”

His
mother smiled and held out a hand.

“Do
not worry,” she said. “Your dresses have been prepared. There is a wide
selection for you to choose from, as well as the finest royal jewels in our
vault. Our people have been preparing for this for moons. It will be the most
spectacular wedding you’ve ever seen.”

Alistair
was flabbergasted. On the one hand, she was delighted to actually be getting
married to Erec; but then again, she had no idea this was coming so soon, and
she hadn’t even had time to mentally prepare for the biggest day of her life.

“But
why so sudden?” Alistair asked. “Shouldn’t I have helped to prepare?”

Erec’s
mother shook her head.

“We
here on the Southern Islands have superstitions around weddings. We believe
they must take place immediately. It is our custom that when a bride is
proposed to, she is wed immediately. We are a people that does not delay, that follows
through instantly with what we pledge. It is one of many customs and
peculiarities you’ll come to learn about us. I hope it does not offend you?”

Alistair
smiled wide as she thought it all over. They were indeed an unusual people, yet
she didn’t mind their customs; she thought they were quirky, and she liked
them. And the idea of getting married to Erec immediately filled her heart with
love. She was also so grateful to them for all the preparation they had taken.

Alistair
shook her head.

“On
the contrary,” she replied. “I will be delighted to marry your son. Even if it
took place at this very moment.”

His
mother smiled back, and she turned and began to lead Alistair over to the hot springs.

“Dauphine,” his mother called out sharply, a harshness to her tone that Alistair had not
expected. “Turn to us. Rise and greet your sister-in-law.”

Dauphine
scoffed, keeping her back to them, still ignoring
them.

“Dauphine, did you hear me?” his mother pressed.

Gradually,
Dauphine rose from the waters. She was entirely naked, and she stood and
turned, facing them, expressionless. Alistair blushed and looked away. Dauphine stood there and stared her down coldly.

“Consider
yourself greeted,” she said, and then she turned and sat back down in the
water.

Alistair
wondered, once again, what Dauphine’s problems were; she seemed like a troubled
person. Either that, or she just truly hated Alistair.

Attendants
rushed forward and helped the Queen and Alistair undress, giving them robes as
they led them to the springs.

 As
Alistair stepped down the stone steps into the hot water, it felt so good, the
warm water bubbling all over her, filled with a lotion she did not recognize,
soaking into her muscles, making her feel completely relaxed. Alistair looked
out over the endless landscape, perched as they were at the edge of a cliff,
the soft breezes caressing her, and she felt as if she were floating in heaven.

“Dauphine,” her mother said, “be gracious to our new guest. In but hours, she will be your
Queen.”

“She
will
not
be my Queen,” Dauphine said, forceful.

“She
will,” his mother insisted. “She is Erec’s bride. If you have any love for him,
you will be gracious to her.”

Dauphine
closed her eyes and shook her head.

Alistair
sat there, feeling uncomfortable, feeling as if she were the cause of all this
upset, her relaxation disappearing.

“You
disgrace your family to treat her so rudely,” his mother pressed. “And you
should not be sitting in the center chair. That is reserved for the bride.”

Dauphine
opened her eyes, stormy, and glared at her mother.

“She
has a tongue. She can speak for herself.”

Alistair
blushed, not wanting to be caught between the two of them, not a
confrontational person. Alistair realized how much Dauphine hated her and she
did not understand why.

“You
may sit wherever you choose,” Alistair said. “I wish no special seat for
myself.”

“There,
Mother. We have spoken,” Dauphine snapped. “Is that enough for you?”

His
mother shook her head, fuming.

“Your
father would be ashamed of you.”

Dauphine
sighed, stood abruptly, and stormed out of the hot springs, the water splashing. She hurried up the steps, naked, brushing off the robe
the attendants wanted to give her, and stormed away from the plateau.

“Dauphine, get back here!” her mother called.

But
she quickly disappeared from view.

His
mother blushed as she looked at Alistair.

“Please
forgive her rudeness. It is not indicative of our people. I’m afraid I did not
raise her as harshly as I should have.”

Alistair
shook her head.

“Please,
don’t apologize.”

“It
is just that she is very attached to Erec. She always has been. And she hasn’t
seen him in so many years.”

“Please,
don’t apologize for her. You have been a most gracious host, and I am honored
to have you as a mother-in-law.”

His
mother smiled, sadly, and then the two sat back and closed their eyes.

Suddenly,
just as Alistair was beginning to relax in the silence, all throughout the land
there came the sound of bells tolling. This was followed by a huge cheer below.

The
noise rose, louder and louder, and Alistair opened her eyes in alarm.

“What
is happening?” she asked, wondering how many more strange customs these people
had. It sounded like a great celebration.

Erec’s
mother opened her eyes and smiled wide. She laughed and held up her hands to
the sky.

“Those
are death bells,” she explained. “My husband, he is dead!”

She
laughed and laughed, clearly filled with delight.

Alistair
looked at her, uncomprehending.

“Then
why is everyone celebrating?” she asked. “Why are you smiling?”

His
mother sighed and looked at her.

“In
the Southern Isles, death is not something to be mourned. It is to be
celebrated. We are forbidden to mourn death here. Instead, we celebrate the
life. In fact, for us, it is the greatest cause of all to celebrate.”

The
bells tolled and tolled, and as the cheers rose to a fever pitch, Alistair
realized how foreign this place was, and how much indeed she had left to learn
about this nation.

Thor
stood before the skywalk, holding his breath as a cold gust of wind smacked him
in the face. In the distance, at the other end of the walk, he saw great cliffs
rising up into the sky, and perched on the edge, an ancient castle, its doors
gleaming gold.

His
mother’s castle.

The
wind howled as he stood there, regarding the sight, this view from his dreams,
with a mix of anticipation and worry. The skywalk was narrow, slick with the
ocean spray and a hanging mist, and beneath it, the fall to the raging ocean
and cliffs below was several hundred feet. It was a death fall.

Thor
looked out at the vista with a sense of wonder. There was magic in the air
here, he could feel it. This entire world felt surreal; it was the landscape of
his dreams, come to life, dreams that had haunted him all his life. And now it
was real.

Or
was it real? Was this all just another creation of his mind?

Thor
could no longer be sure. But this felt more real to him anything he had seen. Certainly
more real than one of his dreams. And now that he was here, inside his dream,
he wasn’t sure how it would end.

Thor
knew that his mother was there, on the other side of that skywalk, in that
castle; he could sense it. He felt himself trembling, excited beyond belief to
finally lay eyes on her—and nervous. What would she look like? Would she be
kind and loving to him, as she had been in his dreams? Would she be happy to
see him?

And
then there was the worst thought of all, the one that Thor was afraid to entertain:
what if she was not there at all?

Thor
knew that standing here, waiting, would do him no good. The time had come.

Thor
braced himself and took his first step onto the walkway; as he did, the wind
howled. He stumbled immediately on the slick ground, then regained his balance.
He took several more steps, cautious.

The
sound of the waves grew louder, and Thor looked down and saw them, smashing
against the rocks, the mist rising up into the air, carried by the wind. He
took another step, then another, and as he did, he could not help but feel as
if he were leaving one world behind and entering a new one. He felt as if he
were walking into the very depths of his subconscious.

Thor
gained momentum, walking faster and faster, and soon he was halfway across. He
knew it could not be this easy. He began to wonder what other tests might lay
before him, what else his subconscious might create.

He
had barely thought it, when there appeared before him a lone figure. Thor blinked
several times before he realized it was his adopted father, the man who had
raised him back in his home village, the man who had been so cruel to him.
Behind him there suddenly appeared, too, Thor’s three adopted brothers.

Thor
realized his mind was bringing him back to his childhood, to his earliest days,
creating another obstacle for him. It was creating, he realized, all the people
in his life who had always tried to keep him down, the final obstacles to his getting
where he wanted to go.

“You
will come no further,” said his adopted father. “You are not worthy. And only the
worthy can cross here.”

“Who
are you to tell me I’m not worthy?” Thor replied, finally standing up to this
man, as he had not done his entire life. Thor’s inability to stand up for
himself, to express himself, to tell this father figure how he’d really felt,
had been one of his main sources of disappointment his entire life. Now,
finally, he was mustering the courage.

Thor’s
three brothers scowled behind him while Thor’s father stood there, hands on
hips, defiant.

“If
you think you can cross here, Thorgrin, you will have to get past me.”

His
father charged, and he was faster than Thor realized. Thor reached to grab the
Destiny Sword, and was horrified to see it was gone.

Thor,
defenseless against his father’s charge and reacting too late, found himself tackled
by him, driven down to the ground. The two of them went sliding along the
narrow skywalk.

Thor
slid right for the edge, when he suddenly spun around and threw his father over,
wrestling him, the two of them rolling back and forth as they slid.

Thor
finally landed on top of his father, pinning him to the ground, choking him, as
his father choked Thor back. Thor heard his three brothers charging towards
him, heard each draw their swords, each about to stab Thor in the back.

Thor
closed his eyes.

You
are not real. You do not really exist. You are my subconscious. You are my
doubts and fears. Everything I see around me, everything in the world, is me.
It is I giving you power. And now, I will stop giving you that power.

Thor
summoned the deepest part of himself to force himself to become stronger, to
fight without fighting, to wage war without weapons. It was time, he realized,
to make his mind stronger than his body.

Thor
felt a wave of heat rush over him, felt his world turn a blinding white, and as
he opened his eyes, he found himself grabbing not his father’s neck, but the
dirt on the walkway beneath him. His father had vanished.

Thor
turned, and saw his brothers were gone, too. All that was left was the howling
of the wind, and waves of mist, rolling in.

Thor
breathed out, relieved, then slowly regained his feet. He continued walking
along the skywalk, chiding himself to keep his mind strong. He was becoming, he
knew, his own worst enemy. This entire trek across the Land of the Druids had
been one long quest to master his mind and that, he was beginning to realize,
was the hardest battle of all. Thor would rather face an entire army alone. His
mind could take him to the deepest and darkest places unexpectedly, and he still
did not have the control he needed to prevent it from going there. How did one
gain that control? he wondered. It was a struggle, he realized, that he would
have to continue to train to master.

As
Thor walked, the gusts of wind knocking him off balance, he decided he could
use the power of his mind to lessen the power of the wind. He was starting to
see how he was one with nature, the universe, with everything around him. The
wind calmed, and he stood straighter, walked more proudly, had better balance
as he continued along the walkway. He felt the universe converging all around
him, his footing getting more sure.

Thor
was amazed to realize that he was approaching the end of the skywalk. When he
was just feet away from the end, from the cliff on which his mother’s castle
stood, suddenly, one more figure stood before him, blocking the way.

Thor
blinked several times, trying to process who he saw before him. It made no
sense. Facing him was a formidable foe, wearing armor unlike any other Thor had
seen.

Standing
there, facing him, was
him
.

Thorgrin.

Thor
stared back at the exact replica of himself, a fierce and formidable warrior,
who stood there, braced for battle, holding the Destiny Sword at his side. He examined
this warrior and tried to understand if he was real, or just another creation
of his mind. How could there be another one of him in the universe?

“Why
do you block me from my mother’s entrance?” Thor asked.

“Because
you are not worthy,” came the reply.

“Not
worthy to meet my own mother?” Thor asked.

The
warrior stared back, expressionless, unflinching.

“This
is a castle for the initiated,” he replied. “Only the most powerful can enter. I
am the guardian. You will have to come through me.”

Thor
stared back, puzzled.

“But
you are myself,” Thor said.

“It
is yourself you have not yet conquered,” came the reply.

The
warrior suddenly charged, raising the Destiny Sword high and bringing it down
for Thor’s head.

Thor
felt something in his palm, and he looked down with joy to realize that he,
too, was wielding the same Destiny Sword.

Thor
raised it high and charged himself.

The
two swords met in the middle, perfectly matched, sparks flying everywhere. Thor
attacked, swinging left and right, and the warrior mimicked every exact blow,
move for move. Whatever Thor did, the warrior did exactly, and Thor realized
quickly that it was futile; there was no way he could win. This warrior knew
what he knew. He anticipated his moves, and there was no way to defeat him.

Back
and forth they went, Thor breathing hard, his arms and shoulders growing tired,
until suddenly, as Thor slashed, the warrior did something Thor did not expect:
he leaned back and kicked Thor in the chest.

Thor
went flying, sliding on his back, along the walkway, all the way to the edge.
He continued sliding on his slick armor, unable to stop himself, fearing he
would slide off the edge.

Thor
panicked as he slid over the edge, and began to fall.

Suddenly,
the warrior was there, grabbing Thor’s ankle, holding him by one hand, preventing
him from falling. Thor looked down over his shoulder and saw the raging ocean
below. He then looked up and saw has reflection staring down, as if debating
whether or not to help him.

“Help
me,” Thor said, reaching up for him, upside down.

“And
why should I?”

“I
must see my mother,” Thorgrin said. “I have not come all this way to die so
close.”

“And
yet you lost in battle,” the warrior said.

“But
I lost to myself.”

He
shook his head.

“I
am sorry,” the warrior said. “You are still not strong enough.”

Suddenly,
the warrior let go.

Thor
shrieked as he felt himself falling backwards, into the air, end over end, his
screams echoing off the canyon as he plummeted towards the ocean, the rocks,
and the sure death below.