A Sky of Spells (Book #9 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (10 page)

Gwendolyn marched with her
entourage of advisors, all of them following the two girls as they led them
twisting and turning through the burnt-out back streets of King’s Court and
finally through the rear gates of the city.

They continued along a
narrow path, leading them just outside the city walls, and Gwen was beginning
to wonder where they were going, if this were all just a fantasy. Suddenly,
they stopped before a structure which Gwen recognized: the crypt of the MacGils.

Ironically, of all the things
that were destroyed, this ancient and beautiful crypt, carved of marble, dating
back seven centuries, still stood perfectly intact. Somehow, it had escaped the
ravages of war. It sat there, built into the hill, half-submerged beneath the
earth, its roof covered in grass, rising up in a semi-circular shape. Her
father’s body had been transferred here after the funeral, and he lay inside, with
all of his ancestors.

But why had the girls led
them here?

The eldest girl, Sarka,
stopped and pointed.

“He’s in there, my lady. I
saw him enter. And he never came out.”

Gwendolyn peered at the entrance
of the crypt, disappearing in blackness, baffled.

“Are you sure you are not
mistaken?” she asked, doubtful.

“Yes,” Sarka answered.

“That is a crypt, young girl,”
Aberthol said. “That is where bodies are brought to be buried. Why would Gareth
come here?”

Sarka shrugged, and began to
look nervous as she turned to Gwen.

“I do not know, my lady. But
I am certain of what I saw. He went in there and he never came out.”

Gwendolyn turned and looked
at Thor and Kendrick and Erec and all her other advisors, who stared back at
her doubtfully.

“This girl has a fanciful imagination,”
Kendrick said. “I doubt that our brother, of all places, would choose to take
refuge beside our father’s corpse.”

“Stranger things have
happened,” Erec said.

“We are wasting time here,”
Srog said. “Let us move on and get on with affairs of state.”

“No,” Gwen said. “I want to
know. We shall see for ourselves.”

Gwendolyn turned and nodded
to Kendrick.

“Would you like to see if
our brother lies inside?”

Kendrick hurried for the
crypt, ducking his head and descending the steps to the blackness.

Aberthol turned to the
girls, who seemed increasingly nervous.

“Do you know the punishment
for misleading the queen?”

“I know what I saw!” Sarka
insisted, “he went—”

They were interrupted by a
sudden shout from inside the crypt, followed by the sound of a scuffle down
below.

Gwendolyn’s men burst into
action: Thor, Erec and the others all rushed down the steps, to Kendrick’s aid.
Gwendolyn peered into the blackness in surprise, wondering what on earth could
have happened down there, especially if the crypt were empty. Had he
encountered an animal?

Kendrick emerged moments
later, with the others, and Gwen was in absolute shock to see him dragging
Gareth. It was like a dream.

Gareth emerged into the day
like a rat from a hole, looking more pale and sickly than she’d ever seen,
looking more dead than alive. Gareth. The former king. Her father’s usurper. Alive.
Somehow, he had survived.

It all came rushing back to Gwen:
Gareth’s repeated attempts to have her killed, and her body flushed with a hot
rage. Vengeance was long overdue. She studied him, and she saw that her former older
brother was gone. He had been replaced by this wasted piece of decaying flesh,
nearly unrecognizable from the boy he once was.

Gareth squinted into the
sunlight as he looked back at her, arms and body trembling.

Gwen took a step forward and
examined him, as the others held his arms.

“So, you live after all,”
she said with contempt. “What a shame.”

Gwen’s eyes slowly opened,
as he scowled back at her, eyes darting, taking in all the men around him with
fear. Yet still, somehow, he managed to exude arrogance.

“Guards, arrest her!” Gareth
screamed to the soldiers. “I am still lawful King! She has no claim! My
lordship was ratified by the council! You break the law to lay a hand upon me!”

The soldiers looked at each
other in confusion, yet none made a move towards Gwen. They were all obedient
to her.

Gwen shook her head slowly.

“Pathetic to the end,” she
said to him. “No one here is loyal to you. No one ever has been. You are not a
King—you never were. You are merely the assassin of our father. And your day of
judgment has come.”

Aberthol cleared his throat.

“My lady, if I may,” he
chimed in. “Technically, Gareth is correct. He was ratified, and the strength
of our Ring lies in our upholding our law. Even if we do not reinstate his
kingship, we cannot execute him without witnesses to his crime. If we are to
follow the strict letter of the law, you have no legal right to kill Gareth.”

Gwen studied Gareth, feeling
all the eyes of the men on her. It was one of those moments in her reign, she
could feel it, all men looking to her to see what she would do. Would she
follow the strict letter of the law? It was a moment like this that would let
all of her subjects know what sort of leader she would be.

“You are right,” she finally
replied. “It is against the law. And as such, I shall not have any of my men
kill Gareth.”

Gareth slumped in relief.

Gwen leaned over, drew the
shining sword from Thor’ scabbard, a clang ringing through the air, then stepped
forward, pulled back her hand, and stabbed her brother through the heart.

All the men gasped, as
Gareth collapsed silently to his knees, the sword up to the hilt in his chest.

He fell to his face, his
head turned sideways, eyes wide open.

Dead.

Gwen looked up and slowly studied
all the faces looking back at her. She could see a fresh look of respect on
them.

“There is a time to follow
laws,” she said. “And a time to write them.”

Thorgrin walked through the
jubilant crowd in the center of King’s Court, winding his way through the
festivities, thousands of soldiers celebrating in a great throng. The city was in
ruin, but one could not tell from the high spirits of these revelers. It warmed
Thor’s heart to see King’s Court alive again with the spirit of his countrymen,
all celebrating, all elated to be alive, to be liberated from the Empire.

Having just left Gwendolyn,
Thor’s mind was consumed by thoughts of her. He had been so impressed by how
she had stepped into the role of Queen, handling it all so seamlessly. He had
also been impressed by her strength, her courage, her fearlessness, and her
wisdom. It took a lot of courage to deal with Gareth—and all the others—the way
she had.

Ever since they had returned
to King’s Court, Thor had wanted nothing more than to be with her, to spend
time alone. After the crypt, he thought perhaps he’d have his chance to find
time alone with her, to take her away someplace special so he could, finally,
propose. His mother’s ring was burning in his pocket.

But Gwen had been detained
by several advisors and counselors, all pulling her in different directions, needing
her to make urgent decisions and pass judgment on various matters. He knew she
would be detained for quite a while, and he wanted to give her time and space to
handle her matters. In the meantime, he had matters of his own he wanted to
tend to.

His sister. Alistair.

Ever since she had saved him
on the battlefield and had brought him back to his self, Thor had desperately
wanted to see his sister. He needed to thank her, to know more about her, to
find out everything.

Thor could still hardly
believe he had a sister in this world. A
real
sister. The thought
thrilled him. He could not explain it, but somehow he felt less alone in the
world. He wanted to know everything about her, where she hailed from, whether
she had ever met their mother, what powers she had, how she was different from
him—and how she was the same.

Thor realized he partly wanted
to know more about her in order to know more about himself. He still found
himself a mystery, and he hoped that she might help solve it.

As Thor wound his way
through the crowd of revelers, crossing King’s Court as he searched for her, he
recognized countless faces of fellow soldiers, men he respected, men he had
fought with, and he braced himself, afraid they would all hate him, blame him
for the time he’d spent fighting for Andronicus. To Thor’s pleasant surprise, everywhere
he went he was met, instead, with warm embraces, friendly smiles, with cries of
love. People clapped him on the back everywhere he went, calling out his name.
He was a hero.

Thor felt the need to apologize
for his actions, but the people constantly reminded him of all the good he had
done for the Ring, reminded him how he had killed more Empire with the Destiny
Sword and with those dragons than any other soldier. He had even killed
Andronicus. And even when he faced them in battle, he had never killed any
members of the Western Kingdom, but only McClouds. They knew his momentary
lapse under Andronicus’ spell to be nothing more than a spell out of his control,
and they did not blame him for it. On the contrary, they all viewed him as their
greatest hero.

Thor spotted Godfrey in the
crowd, with Akorth, Fulton and the royal healer, Illepra, with a large welt on
his head. Thor went up to him, cringing, afraid the welt was his fault and that
Godfrey would be furious with him, remembering the blow of the shield he had
dealt him.

But instead, Godfrey smiled
wide, threw out his arms and embraced Thor. Thor hugged him back, flooded with relief.

“Please accept my apology,” Thor
said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m not hurt,” Godfrey
said. “It is merely a lump on the head. Do not apologize, because I know very
well what came over you: Andronicus’ dark magic. You were not yourself, not the
Thorgrin that I knew. Do not beat yourself up: it could have happened to any of
us.”

“On the contrary,” Kendrick
said, joining them and clasping Thor’s shoulder, “do you not forget that it was
you
who risked his life to venture into the Empire to retrieve the
Sword? That it was
you
who volunteered to face Andronicus alone and thus
fell into ambush and capture? It was brave and noble of you. And you did it all
for the Ring.”

Kendrick hugged him and Thor
hugged him back. Thor felt his heart warm, felt his waves of guilt starting to
dissipate; he was overcome with relief, especially as he had thought of these
two men as brothers, and especially as he was about to propose to Gwendolyn.
Having her brothers’ approval meant a lot. They would indeed be family, the
only family he’d ever really had.

All of which made Thor
remember the reason he had come here: to speak with his sister.

“Have you seen Alistair?” Thor
asked.

“Last I saw,” Kendrick said,
“she was with Erec, on the far side of King’s Court. Check the opposite side of
the square.”

Thor made his way to the
other side of the courtyard, stopping along the way to greet various soldiers.
Finally, he reached the far side and he stopped as he saw her there, standing with
Erec, engrossed in conversation. Seeing her there was like seeing a part of
himself. He suddenly felt nervous. Thor also felt guilty to interrupt them, and
was about to turn around and go back, when he noticed Alistair had spotted him,
and beckoned him to approach.

As Thor came up to them, Erec
turned, too, and his face lit up with kindness. He embraced Thor, and Thor
embraced him back, overcome with guilt as he recalled that the last time he had
faced him it had been in battle.

“Forgive me, sire,” Thor
said to Erec, lowering his eyes. “I never meant to face you in battle. I would
never mean to harm you. I was not myself.”

Erec clasped Thor on the
shoulder with one hand and looked into his eyes.

“I take no offense, young
Thorgrinson. And a fine fighter you are—the finest I’ve ever faced. You
sharpened my skills on that day.”

Erec smiled down at him, and
Thor could not help smiling back, relieved.

“I am glad to have you on our
side,” Erec concluded.

Thor noticed Alistair.

“I do not mean to interrupt,”
Thor said quickly, and prepared to retreat.

“No,” Erec said, “brother
and sister should have some time alone. It is
I
who will retreat.”

Erec kissed Alistair’s hand,
turned, and hurried off into the crowd, clasping arms with several soldiers,
who rushed forward to embrace him.

Thor was nervous as he
turned and looked at his sister, laying eyes on her up close for the first time
with a clear and present mind. She stared back at him, expressionless, and for
a moment, he did not know what to say. She was stunningly beautiful, and her
large blue eyes transfixed him. He could recognize some of his own facial
features in hers—the jaw line, the nose, lips, forehead. It was almost like
looking into a mirror, but at a female version of himself. Alistair, though,
was much more beautiful, having all the fine, delicate features that he did not.
As he examined her, it excited him to see that there was someone else in the
world that resembled him.

“I don’t know how to thank
you,” Thor said finally, after a long awkward silence, clearing his throat. “You
brought me back.”

“I only brought you back to yourself,”
she said. “I did nothing more.”

As Thor heard her words, once
again he felt a vibration course through him, one that put him at ease, that
seemed so familiar, so comforting.

“You are a Druid, like
myself?” Thor asked, hesitant.

Alistair nodded.

“We share the same blood,”
she said.

Thor felt happy, yet sorry
for her at the same time. He understood the pain and mystery she must live
under, to have Andronicus as a father and to have a mother they’d never met.

“Did you ever meet our
father?” Thor asked her, hesitant, not wanting to upset her.

Alistair blinked several
times, and Thor could see the idea pained her.

“No,” she said, sadly. “Only
on the battlefield, when I was with you.”

It was strange, but Thor
could almost feel her thoughts as she thought them; he almost knew what she was
going to say before she said it. It was as if they were the same person.

“I live with the nightmare
every day,” she added, “of knowing that he is my father. I cannot understand it;
nor can I reconcile it inside myself. How can I come from such a monster? Why
would our mother choose him? It makes me sick to think of it. Are his traits somewhere
inside me? Will they pass on to my children? I would give anything to have a
different father; yet this is the father I was given. There must be some
reason, some destiny I do not understand.”

She sighed, and Thor could
see the burden she lived under; it was the same one he shared, and it felt
good, at least, to see he was not alone.

“At least now, thanks to you,”
she added, “he is dead. And I do thank you for it. It takes some of the pain
away. So you see, my brother, I have as much to thank you for,” she said,
smiling.

Thor smiled back. His heart
pounded as he braced himself to ask Alistair the next question, nervous to utter
the words. Too much was at stake on her answer; he almost didn’t speak.

“And our mother?” Thor
finally mustered the courage to ask. “Have you met her?”

Alistair looked away, and breathed
deep. She fell silent for so long, Thor was unsure if she would even respond.

Finally, she said: “I do not
know if I’ve ever met her or only dreamt of her. My dreams are so vivid, I do
not know if they are real, or if they are memories. I still dream of her all
the time. She comes to me. She lives in a castle, perched high on the edge of a
cliff, overlooking a great ocean. There is a long footbridge that curves and
leads up to it. Light shines from the castle, a brilliant light, different
colors in different dreams. I always see her, obscured by light. Sometimes she
reaches out for me. I can never quite reach her.”

She sighed.

“I have had this dream so
long, I no longer know if it’s real. My entire life I’ve seen her—yet I’ve
never really seen her.”

Thor breathed deep,
overwhelmed to hear that someone else had the same experience, even the same
dreams, as he.

“It is the same with me,” he
said.

She looked back at him, eyes
wide in shock.

“Then you’ve never met her,
either?” she asked in wonder.

Thor shook his head.

“I must,” he said. “I’m
determined to meet her. It is a journey I feel called to make. I feel there is
some great mystery lurking at the edge of my consciousness, about who I am, who
I am meant to be, that I will never fully understand until I meet her.”

She gasped.

“I feel the same. Every day
I wake up, I feel it, and yet, a part of me is afraid to. The timing is never
right. Now is not the time to make the journey; now is the time for me to be at
Erec’s side. He is my husband-to-be, and we are finally united again, after all
these wars.”

“I understand,” Thor said. “Nor
do I want to leave Gwendolyn’s side. Something is burning inside me, something
greater than I can understand. It is more than just about meeting her: it is
about meeting myself.”

Alistair nodded.

“Whenever I use my powers,”
she said, “I feel it is her, coming through me. I feel connected to her. Though
they are powers I do not even understand, and sometimes cannot control.”

“Nor do I understand mine,” Thor
said.

“All my life, growing up, I
had been afraid of it,” Alistair said. “I assumed something was wrong with me,
that I was some sort of freak. Others would look at me differently. I would
have to leave, to move, to go from town to town. I had many foster families.
Few of them were kind.”

Alistair sighed.

“Finally, I just stopped
using my powers. I suppressed them. It was only recently, when I met Erec, when
I fell in love for the first time, that I felt comfortable to use them again. And
then, again, once I met Gwendolyn. And then, for you.”

Thor understood all of her
words, all too well.

“Now I realize that they are
nothing to be ashamed of,” Alistair said. “They are part of who we are. They
are a part of us.”

Thor nodded, understanding.

“Do you know where she
lives?” Thor asked.

Allison look back, then
finally nodded.

“She left me something—” she
began to say, but then was interrupted.

“Thorgrin! There you are!” came
a jolly voice.

Thor turned to see Reece,
standing there, smiling, clasping his shoulder. He embraced Thor, and Thor
embraced him back.

Thor was thrilled to be
reunited with his friend, but he also turned to Alistair, dying to hear what
she was about to say.