There came the crack of a whip, and the horses—four gorgeous white mares, with long flowing hair, the most beautiful she had ever seen—suddenly broke into action. They took off at a fast walk, and Gwen was surprised to feel no bumps. She looked down and saw the carriage was of a superior construction, one she had never seen, and the roads were so smooth, it was like riding on air. She was impressed, once again, by these people, whoever they were.
They passed through immaculate streets as they traversed the harbor town, filled with people dressed in elaborate outfits. The streets were overflowing with people peddling wares, sampling foods, walking about in a hurry, all walking about freely with no sense of danger. Gwen was amazed by all the fashions, the brightly colored outfits cut in unusual designs on all the women, and by the hairstyles of the men; they all seemed to have shaved heads and bright blond beards. It appeared to be the custom here.
All the people seemed relaxed and friendly, many leaning back and laughing aloud good-naturedly. They appeared to be an open and friendly people, quick to laugh, the men and women tall and broad-shouldered, well-tanned and relaxed, children running and giggling at their feet. It reminded her of King’s Court in its heyday.
Gwen studied the buildings for any sign of a castle, taking in this whole place with fascination, and saw no sight of it. The roads, in fact, soon twisted and turned their way out of the town, and before her she saw it leading to open country and sky, leading to gently rolling green hills. She was surprised to see they were leaving the city.
The castle, she realized, must be someplace else—perhaps more inland.
Gwen leaned forward, closer to the cart driver, who was holding the horses’ reins, his back to her.
“Where is the castle?” Gwen asked him.
He looked back over his shoulder good-naturedly and shook his head.
“Not for quite a while, my dear,” he said. “It’s on the far end of the Ridge. Could take most of the day to get there. Just sit back and relax and enjoy our land.”
The road led to another road as one land shifted to another, more rural, lush trees lining the path. They traveled up and down smooth, rolling hills, gently twisting and turning, birds singing, passing orchards and vineyards and farms the likes of which she’d never seen. Gwen saw entire fields filled with glowing red fruits, dripping juice. She saw other fields filled with blueberries the size of her hand. She saw vineyards heavy with grapes, saw happy farmers pushing carts, whistling; she saw lush grass fields and an entire horizon filled with cattle, horses, and goats grazing freely beneath the glowing suns, which were a softer orange here.
This was a land of splendor.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” came a voice beside her.
She saw Kendrick sitting beside her, looking at it all, as were the others, equally amazed.
Gwen shook her head.
“I almost don’t think it’s real,” said Illepra, sitting on her other side, still holding the baby, who, Gwen was elated to see, looked well again.
“And what if this King should not allow us to stay?” Steffen asked.
It was the very questions burning on Gwen’s mind.
“We have been graced with a second chance at life,” she said. “Whatever god brings us, that we shall accept.”
Gwen turned to Aberthol, who studied the land with his meaningful eyes.
“Is this the Second Ring?” she asked him.
He sighed.
“I cannot say for sure, my lady,” he said. “If the second ring exists, surely this must be it.”
Gwendolyn turned and looked at Argon, dying for answers. She was burning more than ever to ask him, for him to tell her everything about this place, about their destiny, about what would be. Yet he still lay there, breathing but unconscious.
There were passed around sacks water, left for them by the knights, and Gwen felt one placed in her hand by Steffen, nice and cold. She drank and it was a sweet taste, perhaps mixed with honey, and she felt a wave of relief. She also felt sleepy.
The gentle breezes of this place got to her, and she lay back, despite herself, and found herself closing her eyes, each step of the horse lulling her more and more deeply to sleep.
*
When Gwen finally opened her eyes again, she did not know how many hours later, she saw the two suns low in the sky, a soft reddish glow cast over the lands. She looked around and saw the others were all fast asleep as well. She slowly shook her dreams from her mind, dreams of Thorgrin, of Guwayne, both of them reaching out to her on some faraway sea. A heaviness sat in her heart as she thought of them. She felt consumed by sadness as she looked all around, searching for them, wishing more than anything that they were here now, by her side.
Gwendolyn heard a whine, looked down, and stroked Krohn’s head in her lap. She looked out and saw the carriage still moving, and realized they’d been traveling all day. How big was this land? she wondered. She marveled at how it never seemed to end, at how such abundance could cover such a broad area.
Gwen looked up, the only one awake, as the carriage slowly crested a hill and then came to a stop at its peak. As they rounded it, Gwen leaned forward, stunned at the sight before her: there, on the horizon, lay the most beautiful city she had ever seen, everything built of silver, shiny silver spires rising high into the sky, reflected in the late sun of the afternoon. It all sparkled, and looked positively magical. It was the most beautiful place she had ever seen.
The city, sprawling forever, was ringed by low, stone walls, by a series of moats with bridges spanning them, and interspersed with grazing meadows and fields. And at its center, rising above it all, was a gleaming silver castle, replete with spires, parapets, a drawbridge, and hundreds of knights standing guard.
Her heart beat faster as she took it all in. Who were these people? she wondered. Would they find a new home here?
“My lady,” the driver said, turning to her as he came to a stop. “Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ridge Castle.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Thor stood at the bow of the sleek, black pirate ship, now in their control, grasped the rail, and looked out at the fast-moving seas beneath him, wondering. Somewhere out there, he knew, was his child, Guwayne. Somewhere out there was his destination, was what would put an end to this mission and return him to Gwendolyn.
But where?
As their ship rose up and down on the high seas, the ocean spraying his face, they cruised at a fast clip, their sails full, faster now than they ever had, given this powerful ship. It was what they’d needed to have from the start. It was still, of course, not nearly as fast as Thor could have traveled with a dragon beneath him and, missing Mycoples, Thor searched the skies for Lycoples, hoping beyond hope that she would return to them, help him.
But she was nowhere to be found.
Thor reflected. He had felt so certain of finding Guwayne when he had first set out, so certain that he was just around the bend. He had felt clear on where he was, knew that he was so close to finding him.
But now, after the trek through the underworld, after that storm, after the battle with the pirates, Thor was not so sure; he felt as if he were picking up the pieces, starting from scratch again. Yet this time, he had no idea where to search for his son. None of them did. He could not help but feel as if now, even with the faster ship, they were sailing this boat aimlessly.
Thor did not know where they were going, but at least they were going somewhere; after all, sitting still in those seas would not yield his boy. This ship, faster and bigger than any he’d ever ridden on, cut through the water like butter, and Thor thought it ironic that pirates, renegades, should have the nicest boats for themselves. At least some measure of justice had been done.
It felt good to finally be in a substantial ship, one that would take them easily across the seas, that could weather any storm—and one stocked with provisions. Thor and his brothers had been pleasantly surprised to discover, after they had taken over the ship,
the hold was filled not only all manner of loot, of jewelry and gold and priceless artifacts, but also barrels of rum, of wine, of fresh water, of beer, and box after box filled with canned foods, jams jellies, crackers, and other goods. These pirates clearly did not starve. God knows who they stole it from, but Thor no longer cared. It was theirs now, all of it, and Thor finally felt equipped to cross the world if he had to, to find his boy.
“Look here!” came a young girl’s voice. “Look what I found!”
Thor snapped out of it and turned to see Angel tugging on his leg, standing beside him. He knelt down and looked at her, she so proudly holding out some sort of delicacy she had found. It was long and red and appeared to be soft.
“What is it?” Thor asked.
She beamed.
“Candy!” she exclaimed. “It’s soft and chewy. It tastes like raspberries. Taste it!”
She held it out to Thorgrin with her arm covered in the white leprosy, and he winced inside, seeing her condition. He had grown to love Angel more than he could say, just like his own daughter, and it pained him to see her suffering from her affliction. Thor inwardly resolved to find a cure for her—even if he had to cross the world to find it. There had to be a way; he would not let her die.
But Angel did not seem pained—on the contrary, she was so joyful holding our her candy.
Outwardly, Thor smiled. He held it to his mouth and took a bite and it was delicious, tasting like raspberries exploding in his mouth.
“Those pirates,” she said with a giggle, “at least they had good taste!”
Thor was delighted to see Angel in such good spirits, and he turned and surveyed the ship. He saw all of his men were in good spirits, all of them looking relaxed and relieved for the first time since they had embarked. He understood. Finally, after all they’d been through, they had the comfort and safety of a big, luxurious ship, all the food they could eat, all the wine they could drink, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, they were not in danger. Thor started to feel relaxed, too, and would have been completely at ease were if not for the knowledge that his son and wife were out there somewhere, waiting for him—and possibly in danger.
With little to do, the others lounged on deck, Elden sharpening his ax, O’Connor polishing his bow and adjusting the aim, each man engaged with their weaponry, each lost in his own world. Thor was elated to have their weapons back, and most of all, he was grateful for Angel, who had saved his life more than once now. The funny thing was, he realized, that he thought he’d been saving her—but it was she who was saving him.
He turned to her, intent on showing his gratitude.
“As long as I live, I shall protect you. I shall always put your life before mine. Stay close to me, and I promise you no harm shall ever become you.”
Angel looked back at him, tears in her eyes, and she rushed forward and hugged him.
“You have already given me back my life,” she said, “when you took me from that island. You are the only one I’ve met who was not afraid of me. Not afraid to touch or hug me. You treat me like a normal person, as though nothing were wrong with me. And that is what has made me want to live again.”
Thor held her back and looked at her meaningfully.
“And that is because there is nothing wrong with you,” he said. “You are perfect. And whatever the cause of your affliction, I vow to you, I shall find a cure. Do you trust me?”
She nodded back, and he could see the hope welling in her eyes, and she hugged him again, wrapping her little arms around his legs.
“I love you,” she said.
Thor felt shocked at her words, and they went right through him, especially after all he’d been through.
“I love you too,” he said back as he held her, and he meant every word of it.
Reece made his way over, coming up beside him, and Thor turned and looked out at the sea with him.
“It looks like we sail north,” Reece said to Thorgrin, clasping an arm on his shoulder. “Have you any destination in mind?”
Thor slowly, sadly, shook his head.
“Wherever my son may be,” he said. “I suppose I am waiting for the fates to point the way.”
“Since that storm,” Matus chimed in, coming over, “we’ve been blown so far off course—none of us even know where we are now.”
“We weren’t even on course when that storm hit,” O’Connor added, joining them. “Once we picked up Angel, once we left the Isle of the Lepers, we had no real destination anymore.”
“Perhaps we should give up the search,” Elden said, joining them, “and set sail for the Empire. Try at least to find a place we know exists. We can reunite with Gwendolyn and the others and decide from there. Perhaps they’ve heard something—perhaps they have an idea.”
Thor grimaced as he slowly shook his head.
“I cannot return without my boy,” he said gravely.
The others fell quiet, understanding, and a heavy silence blanketed them, broken by nothing but the howling of the wind. Thor sighed. Deep down, he knew the others were right. They were sailing aimlessly now in a vast sea, and it was bringing them no closer to Guwayne.
Thor left the group, walking alone over to the rail; he lowered his head as he stared down at the waves, the spray hitting him in the face, and closed his eyes. He became very quiet within himself, trying to focus, to center himself.
Please, God, he prayed. Give me a sign. Any sign. Show me. Where’s my boy? Where shall I go next?
As Thor fell silent, he felt a slow heat begin to well up inside him. It burned stronger and stronger, and he could feel it throbbing his palms, and then on his forehead, between his eyes. He felt he was getting a message.
Thor opened his eyes and looked out at the horizon and as he felt the universe talking to him, he expected to see a sign. Yet he was confused to see nothing but the endless clouds, rolling on the horizon as far as he could see.
Then, suddenly, as he waited, there came a lone screech, high up in the air.
At first Thor was not even sure if he heard it or it was just his imagination. He looked up and searched the clouds and saw nothing.
Then it came again, a lone, piercing screech.
Thor searched the skies again and this time his heart leapt to see Lycoples, circling high overhead, flapping her wings. He could not believe it: she was really here.
“A dragon!” Angel called out in amazement.
Angel came running over, as did the others, all looking up in awe as Lycoples came swooping down, flying impossibly fast. She dove down lower, swooping down right for them, so close that right before she hit them they all had to duck to miss her long talons.
She then rose up again, swooping up over the mast of the ship, and flying in the other direction. She flew, this time, in the opposite direction from where they were sailing—heading south. She let out one final screech, then she disappeared from view.
As Thor watched her go, he felt a heat within his palms. He felt it was a message. She was giving them a hint, trying to lead them where to go.
As Thor closed his eyes, he sensed the mind of the dragon, and he had a sudden flash of awareness. Someone he loved was in danger.
Thor turned to the others.
“Turn the ship around,” he commanded. “And follow her.”
They all looked back at him in shock.
“Is she leading us to Guwayne?” Reece asked.
Thor shook his head slowly as he watched her disappear into the horizon.
“No,” he replied. “She leads us to my sister.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Darius felt a strong kick in the small of his back and he went stumbling forward, still shackled, the pain shooting up his spine. He kept his feet, though, and went stumbling forward out of a long, dark tunnel and into blinding sunlight, met by a roar so deafening it shook his entire being.
The arena.
Darius squinted into the light and saw the largest crowd he’d ever seen, seated in r
ows hundreds of feet high, all jumping to their feet, roaring, shaking the very ground. It hurt his ears, made it hard to think, as he stumbled forward, trying to keep his balance, still shackled to all the others amidst a clinking of chains.
As they were prodded by Empire kicks out into the center of the arena, Darius felt his ankle jerked by his shackles, one of the other boys off balance, and he stumbled again. He looked over and took solace in the fact that at least close by were his four friends, Raj, Desmond, Kaz, and Luzi; beside them were shackled a dozen other gladiators, boys whose faces he did not know and did not want to know. He knew that soon enough they would all be dead. Better not to remember.
The deafening roars continued, and Darius, more than ever, wanted to break free, to prepare himself. But to his dismay they were all chained together, with perhaps ten feet of chain link between them, and there was nowhere to go. He could not even maneuver freely without being at the mercy of these other boys’ movements. They stood there, in the arena, all these chained boys, and he could see the fear on some of their faces; others stared out with cold, hard looks, looks of resignation. They all knew they would soon be dead, and each looked death in the face differently.
It would be hard enough, Darius knew, to fight anything that came at him—but with his feet shackled to these other boys, he would be too compromised to even put up a fight. If one of the boys stumbled, Darius would stumble, too. He was at the mercy of the others. All he had was the measly club that had been given to him and the others before he’d entered the arena, and that he clutched for dear life.
The crowd began to quiet, and Darius looked out to see Morg enter the arena through a door on the opposite end and march dramatically into the center, savoring the attention, his stark bald head gleaming beneath the sun. As he reached the center, a cruel smile on his face, the crowd roared in delight, and he held his arms out wide, palms up, and slowly turned, until the crowd gradually quieted down.
“Fellow citizens of the Empire,” he boomed out. “I present to you today’s crop of gladiators!”