A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (14 page)

Gwendolyn woke in luxurious bedding, awakened
by the distant, gentle song of the birds, a light breeze stirring through the
drapes and into her chamber—and for a moment she forgot where she was. She
opened her eyes and stretched in bed, feeling more comfortable than she ever
had, feeling as if she had slept for a million years, and she remembered: the
Ridge. She was in the King’s castle.

Gwen sat up, collecting herself. It was the
first time she had slept anywhere comfortably since abandoning the Ring, and as
she turned and looked out at the gentle rays of sunset washing over the kingdom
of the Ridge, she realized she’d slept most of the day. After the encounter
with the King and being led to her luxurious quarters, she’d expected only to lie
down and rest her head for an hour or so. Yet now she realized so much time had
passed. After that long trek through the Great Waste, she must have, she
realized, been exhausted.

Gwen had found waiting for her an assortment of
delicacies in the room—cakes and dates, nuts and fruits of every kind, jugs of water
and juices—and the first thing she had done was to share it all with Krohn, who
lay now curled up in a ball, content, at the edge of her bed, sleeping well for
the first time in as long as she could remember. She rose from the bed and crossed
the room, the cobblestones smooth on her bare feet, reached a cistern, and splashed
cold water on her face several times. She took a fresh fig, sitting beside the
cistern, and ate it as she moved to the arched open window, the curtains
billowing in the breeze. It was delicious, and filled her with energy.

Gwen looked out at this glorious city, and was even
more impressed than when she’d entered it: it was magnificent. Sunlight
streamed down, lighting up orchards as far as she could see, interspersed with
ancient stone buildings. Formal gardens extending from the castle all the way through
the city’s streets, this entire place overflowing with abundance. Citizens, donning
purple capes and fine silks, strolled about the gardens leisurely. It was
overwhelming.

As Gwen looked out at the horizon, she felt
overwhelmed with a sense of sadness and loss. In her mind she could not stop
hearing the King’s words, his pronouncement that Darius and all of his people
were dead, and she felt consumed by loss. She had been driven her to cross the
desert, to survive, for their sake, to rally an army to come back and help
them. She had given them her word. And now that she had found this place, there
was no cause left to return to. Even though she knew she had done her best, she
felt as if somehow she had abandoned them. She hated the idea of that Empire
village, of all those good men and women and children who had taken them in,
all slaughtered at the hands of the Empire. It made her feel a sense of
hopelessness, as if the Empire could never be defeated.

Gwendolyn thought of her brother, Godfrey, of the
last time she’d seen him, venturing out to the city of Volusia, against all
odds, to help the cause. She wondered if he had survived. She shook her head,
knowing that he, too, must surely be dead, and the thought pained her to no
end. If she had known all of this would come to pass, she never would have
ventured out, but would have stayed back there with them. Gwen always seemed to
survive, while others around her, those she loved, perished. The sense of guilt
Gwen felt hanging over her was growing stronger.

She studied the skies as brushed away a tear,
and what pained her most of all, more than all of this, was the thought of Guwayne
out there, somewhere in the seas, alone—if he was even alive. And, of course,
of Thorgrin. She would give anything to know that they were both alive, that they
were safe. She had a troubling thought: even if by some chance they did return
to the Empire, how could they possibly know where she was, now that she was
here, in the middle of the Great Waste, concealed behind a sand wall, behind the
Ridge? What if they returned and could not find her? Would she ever be reunited
with them again?

As Gwendolyn considered this new place, she
wondered if life could go on. Could they ever pick up the pieces, rebuild here?
Would she ever even want to without Thorgrin and Guwayne by her side? Would she
have the strength to go on?

The Ridge was a beautiful place, and she felt
blessed to be here, to be alive. But it was not her home, not the Ring. Would
she ever see the Ring again?

As she saw the setting sun, the King’s feast,
she recalled, was but a few hours away, and she was glad she had woken up in
time for it. She wanted time to get ready; after all, she looked forward to meeting
the King’s family, his entire court. She was dying to know more about this
place, more about their common ancestors and history. The fact that the Ridge
even existed was still like a dream to her. After having trekked through the Great
Waste, through so much waste and emptiness and desolation, Gwen could hardly
believe that there was any place left in the world. She would have gladly
accepted even a small cave for shelter. But to find this place—it was more than
she could possibly conceive.

Gwendolyn heard a soft crying, as if to match her
own thoughts and her own pensive mood, and she looked out and in the distance,
far below, in the royal gardens, she spotted Sandara, with Kendrick, both of
them sitting on a marble bench, Kendrick with an arm around her as she wept.
Gwendolyn sensed immediately what she was weeping for: the loss of Darius, her
brother. She felt her suffering and misery, and she sympathized with it.

Gwendolyn felt the need to comfort her. She threw
on a robe, and as Krohn rose and followed her, she hurried out of her chamber,
through the stone castle corridors, and down the spiral staircase, on the way to
the royal gardens.

Gwendolyn burst out of the castle, Krohn at her
heels, and entered the gardens, overwhelmed at their beauty. It was so quiet
here, so peaceful, especially as the sun set. The scent of flowers was heavy in
the air, and the sound of exotic birds singing filled her ears. She walked
through perfectly trimmed hedges, until she rounded the bend and came upon Kendrick
and Sandara.

They turned at her approach, and as they started
to stand, Krohn ran over to them and jumped on Kendrick, and licked Sandara’s
face. Sandara could not help but smile.

Gwendolyn looked at Kendrick, saw how gaunt his
face was, and Sandara’s, and felt an immediate pang of guilt. All those days of
not eating or drinking had taken their toll on all of them—they all looked like
walking skeletons. At least, Gwen consoled herself, they had survived.

Kendrick came over and gave her a hug, as did Sandara,
all of them bound by an invisible bond, all of whom had suffered so much
together.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Sandara said.

“For what?”

“For my tears,” she replied. “I should be
grateful. We have survived. You led us all to survival.”

Gwendolyn slowly shook her head, understanding.

“Not all of us have,” she said. “We mourn for
those who have not. You mourn for your brother, yes?”

Sandara nodded, her eyes welling with tears,
and Gwendolyn draped an arm about her shoulder as Sandara cried. Gwendolyn cried
too, but not for the same reason. Her mind filled with thoughts of Thorgrin, of
all that she had left behind. It was all the stress of the last moons, she
realized, finally leaving her body.

“Your brother was a noble warrior,” Gwendolyn
said. “He gave your people a taste of freedom. He died with honor.”

“Thank you, my Queen,” she said, “but I refuse
to believe he is dead.”

Gwendolyn looked back at her, surprised.

“Darius is not one to go down easily,” Sandara
added. “I can’t believe it, in my heart, that they’re all wiped out. I believe
he lives. I can feel it.”

“You are just exhausted, my love,” Kendrick
said, draping an arm over her.

“I can believe what I wish,” she snapped,
shrugging off his hand. “Until I see his body, I will not believe it. My lady,”
she said, turning to Gwen, “he needs our help. We must go back for them. We
must help him!”

Gwen looked to Kendrick, who blushed, seeming
embarrassed.

Gwen sighed,

“I feel for you,” she said to her. “But I cannot
take us back, even if I chose, even if your brother were alive. We are in no
position to go back ourselves—indeed, we are lucky to have survived. Losing a
brother is an awful, terrible thing. But we are alive. We need to protect what
we have left, and be thankful for that.”

Sandara burst into more tears and she turned
and walked off, crying, disappearing amongst the royal gardens.

Kendra turned to his sister apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” she replied. “I understand grief.
It is illogical; it is all-consuming; and it demands a target for your anger.”

“These people of the Ridge,” Kendrick said,
looking off reflectively, “do you think we can trust them?”

Gwendolyn was having the same thoughts.

“It seems so,” she said.

Kendrick nodded.

“It’s uncanny,” he said, “the similarities
between here and the Ring, halfway across the world. It’s almost as if we were
one family, split apart.”

He paused.

“Will we ever return to the Ring?” he asked,
his voice filled with hope, and at that moment he sounded like she’d remembered
him as a little boy.

Gwen looked at him, could see the longing his
eyes, could see that he pined for home as much she did, and that he, too, was
expecting to never return.

She sighed, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe, my brother,” she said, “this shall be
our new home.”

*

Gwen sat alone in the royal gardens as the sun
fell, Kendrick having left long ago, enjoying the quiet, reflecting—when she
heard the branches rustle and turned to find a young, pretty girl walking her
way, her face filled with a mix of determination and anxiety. As she neared,
Gwen saw that it was Stara, looking down, lost in her thoughts, too. As she
looked at her, Gwen marveled that but a few moons ago she had almost been wed
in a double wedding with Thorgrin, Reece, and Selese—all cut short because of
Stara and her love for her brother. Yet that wedding had never come to pass—and
how much had changed so quickly. Stara looked now like the survivor of a war,
lost without Reece, and lost without her family of the Upper Isles—especially
her brother Matus.

“My Queen,” Stara said, surprised to see her.

“Stara,” Gwen replied, happy to see a familiar
face, and happy to see that she had survived. Gwen still harbored some ill
feelings toward her because of Selese—and yet, Reece loved Stara, and that was
good enough for her.

“I miss your brother dearly,” Stara said.

“I miss Reece dearly, too,” Gwen said.

“Do you think he lives?” Stara asked.

Gwen sighed.

“If he does not, then it is likely Thorgrin
does not—and that is not a picture I would like to imagine,” she replied.

Stara nodded.

“I was set to marry Reece,” she said. “I still
intend to. Every day I don’t see him, it breaks my heart. I must see him—I
need
to see him.”

Gwendolyn nodded, understanding.

“I miss Thorgrin as much as you do Reece,” she
replied. “Yet they are out at sea, and we are here. There is nothing I can do.”

“There
is
something you can do,” Stara
rebuffed, suddenly fierce, determined.

Gwen was taken aback by her passion.

“We can leave this place,” Stara said. “We can
find an ocean—any ocean—and set sail for them. Not only can we do it—we
must
do it. There is no way back here for Thorgrin and Reece. How are they ever
supposed to find us now?”

Stara began to cry, and Gwen, hearing her
torment, laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I understand how you feel,” she said, “but we
will never find them at sea. We must stay here until they find us. You must
have faith.”

Stara looked at her with tear-filled eyes.

“I have little room left for faith,” she
replied. “Faith has been cruel to me. Reece is my life. Without him, I can’t
function, I can’t survive. I can think of nothing else. I want to be with him.
I cannot wait any longer.”

“I am sorry,” Gwen said, “but you have no
choice.”

Stara shot back a determined, hard look.

“There is
always
a choice,” Stara said.

As she turned and stormed off, Gwen watched her
go and had a sinking feeling that Stara was about to make a very bad decision.

Reece lay gravely wounded on the ship, deep
inside the luminescent cave, Thorgrin and the others by his side, as he writhed
in pain from his wound. The fog still hung heavy in the air, and their fleets remained
well-hidden by the wall of fog. Reece knew he should be grateful for that.

But he was not feeling grateful right now. He felt
a searing pain across his ribs, and he looked down and saw the gash from the arrow
in his chest, bleeding badly. It had been pulled out, and his bandages ever
since had been soaked with blood. He was in agony, and knew it did not bode
well; he sensed he did not have much longer to live.

Reece looked up into Selese’s eyes, and she
stared down at him, her eyes such a beautiful shade of blue, wide open, looking
down at him like an angel. She had taken on an ethereal quality ever since she’d
risen from the Land of the Dead, had an almost luminescent aura to her that
matched the aura of this cave. It was as if a part of her were here, and a part
of her still lingered down below.

Reece loved her so much that what hurt him most
about the idea of dying was leaving her. Finally, they had been reunited again,
only for him, ironically, to be the one to die.

Reece looked up and saw Thorgrin and his Legion
brothers, too, huddled around him, concern in their eyes. Moans hung in the
air, and Reece knew he hadn’t been the only one injured; he had seen dozens of wounded
laid out on Erec’s ships. Dozens more, dead, were cast overboard, the soft
splashing punctuating the nighttime air. They had achieved freedom, for now,
but at a heavy price.

And he most of all. Of all the ways to die, Reece
had never wanted to be killed by an anonymous arrow. He wanted to go down in
battle, facing his enemy, hand to hand. He squeezed Selese’s soft hand, and he
remembered her, remembered how much he’d wanted to marry her. He was not ready
yet.

Another pain wracked his body.

Thorgrin, kneeling over him, clasped his arm.

“Do not leave us, my brother,” Thorgrin said. “We
have many battles left to fight together.”

Selese squeezed her hand in his, her eyes
filled with tears.

“You cannot leave me,” she said, applying a
damp cloth to his forehead. Selese spoke slowly, fighting back tears. “Not now.
We have a whole life to spend together.”

“I do not wish to,” he answered, each word an
effort. Yet even as he spoke them, he felt his life slipping away; it wasn’t
much time now.

As he looked into Selese’s eyes, he could see
the determination in them.

“I would gladly take death for you,” she said.

“Never,” Reece replied. “I shall tell the Lord
of Death, when I see him, that he can have me, but he shall not have you yet.”

Selese reached out with her palms and laid her
hands on his wound, and as she did, suddenly, something flushed over Reece. Her
hands were icy cold, like death—and yet, strangely, they sent an icy cold
energy running into his wound. It ran through his veins, through his entire
insides, making him feel colder than he’d ever had, his teeth chattering. He
looked up and saw a white icy blue light coming from her hands, in a quick
flash, and he felt something like a freezing wind enter his body.

At first it was incredibly painful, wracking
his body from head to toe, and he shrieked as it tore through his body. He felt
it was the spirit of death, which Selese carried inside her now, entering him.

Then, just as quickly, it ended. Reece lay
there, and he looked down and watched in amazement as his wound was entirely
healed up.

Reece blinked several times, sweating, in
shock.

Then, slowly, unbelievably, he sat up. He
checked on his wound, and it was completely healed. Strangest of all, aside
from the cold sweat running down his neck, he felt normal—as if he’d never been
injured.

Reece looked over at Selese, dumbfounded, and
the others did, too.

Selese looked down at her own hands, as if shocked
herself by what had happened, and she looked down with humility.

“How did you do that?” Reece asked. “You have
saved me.”

Reece, feeling newborn, sat up joyously, as the
faces lit up of those all around him, and he grabbed Selese. He gave her a big
hug and spun her around again and again, and then they kissed. She cried tears
of joy as she kissed him back.

“I had no idea you could restore life,” he
said.

She blushed.

“Neither did I, my lord.”

Reece embraced Thorgrin, Elden, O’Connor, and
the others, all of them overjoyed to have him back, alive. He looked at Selese,
wondering. Had the underworld changed her?

Alistair stepped forward and examined her.

“You carry inside you the mysterious powers of
those who have crossed to the land of the dead,” Alistair said to her. “And from
death there brings forth life.”

Alistair turned and gestured to the wounded
lying on Erec’s ship.

“There are others who need you, too,” Alistair
said.

Selese looked out at the rows of wounded,
unsure.

“I don’t know…” she began “…if I can do it
again.”

Alistair smiled and stepped forward.

“You can,” she said.

Selese crossed the deck to Erec’s ship, walked
alongside the rows of wounded, and stopped before a man with a vicious cut
across his shoulder. Selese tentatively reached out and touched his wound; as
she did, the blue light once again flashed, and a moment later, his wound was
completely healed, no trace of it left.

Selese looked at Alistair in wonder.

“I do not understand this power,” she said to Alistair.

Alistair smiled back.

“Sometimes our greatest powers,” she replied, “are
the ones we can never comprehend.”

*

As Alistair walked along the deck of the ship, admiring
Selese’s handiwork, all the healed soldiers, she heard her brother, Thorgrin,
call out her name. She turned and her heart lifted to see him approaching. She rushed
into his arms and embraced him as he gave her a long hug. She had never
imagined she’d see him again.

They had both been through so much, had
suffered so much, since they had last seen each other in the Ring, it was
almost as if they were different people now. When she departed the Ring for the
Southern Isles, she could never have imagined so much would have happened. She
could never have imagined that the place she had loved, that had become home,
had been completely destroyed—or that the next time she would see her brother would
be halfway around the world, in a cave in the midst of an ocean, hiding from
the Empire. She felt overwhelmed with waves of remorse, wishing she could have
been there for all of them.

She was thrilled to be by Thor’s side again,
the only person in the world who could understand the upbringing she’d had, her
father, the monster Andronicus; who could understand the mother she’d only met
in her dreams. It was their joint power, she realized, as siblings, that had
allowed them to escape the clutches of the Empire, and being around Thor, she
felt stronger, more powerful, than when they were apart. She could sense that
he felt it, too.

She could also see the sadness in Thorgrin’s
eyes, could sense all the suffering he’d been through, and she felt he had
changed more than before. All of his suffering, from being apart from his wife,
his child, had shaped him. There was a much more serious, older, look in his
eyes. A warrior’s look.

“I never thought I would see you again,” Thorgrin
said.

“Nor I you,” she said.

She turned and looked out at the wall of fog
guarding them from the Empire.

“You have saved all of us by your work,” she
said.

“It is as much your work as mine,” he replied. “I
could not have done that on my own.” He looked at her questioningly. “Your
powers…do you feel stronger when we are together?”

She had been thinking the same exact thing; it
was eerie—it was as if the two of them shared thoughts. She did not like to
speak of her powers—but with Thorgrin, it was different.

“I do,” she replied. “I feel as if the other
half of my power has been restored.”

“But how did you come to be here?” he asked. “I
thought you to be safely in the Southern Isles.”

She shook her head.

“We received word of what happened to the Ring.
We set sail at once for the Empire, to help free you, Gwendolyn, and all the
others. But why are you not with her?” she asked, puzzled.

She noticed his face fall, saw his sorrow.

“My boy,” Thorgrin said, “Guwayne. He is lost.”

Alistair’s breath caught in her throat at the news.
As Thor mentioned his name, she didn’t understand what was happening to her:
she was suddenly overcome by dark, troubling visions flashing through her mind,
visions she could not quite understand.

Thor examined her.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “What is it?”

Alistair shook her head.

“It is nothing,” she replied. “I…just feel
sorrow at your news.”

“Have you seen him?” Thorgrin asked, his voice
straining with the hope of a parent. “Have you any idea where he might be?”

Slowly, sadly, she shook her head.

“I wish I could tell you otherwise,” she said.

He looked down in disappointment.

“And what of Gwendolyn?” Alistair asked.

Thor shook his head.

“I do not know,” he replied. “Last I left her,
she sailed for the Empire, to find a safe refuge for our people. I cannot return
to her until I find Guwayne.”

Thor looked at Alistair, studying her.

“And you?” Thorgrin asked. “Have you seen our
mother yet? Have you been to the Land of the Druids?”

Alistair’s heart swelled at the thought; it was
what she wanted, more than anything on earth.

“Only in my dreams,” she replied. “She visits
me every night. One day I shall venture there. But the time is not now. For
now, my fate is by Erec’s side. He needs me. And we are to marry.”

Thor nodded, understanding. She suddenly felt
like telling him the news, the news she had not yet shared with anyone, of the
child within her.

“There is something else I must tell you…” she
began.

Thor’s eyes lit up, and she was about to say
it—but then, she stopped herself. How could she? She hadn’t even told Erec yet.
It wouldn’t be fair.

Thor looked back patiently, but she shook her
head and looked away. She noticed him glance down at her stomach, and somehow
she felt he’d read her mind.

“Whatever it is, my sister,” he said, “you can
tell me when the time is right.”

Alistair was relieved that he would allow her
her silence and not press her.

“I need your help,” Thor said to her, urgency
in his voice, and she turned back to him. “I need your vision. Your power. Your
sight. I am at a loss. Can you help me find Guwayne?”

Alistair closed her eyes, trying to sense where
Guwayne could be—but she saw only darkness once again, and, afraid, she opened
them quickly.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I do not know. But I
shall pray. And I shall dwell on it. Tonight and tomorrow and every day thereafter.
I shall pray for the answer to come to you quickly.”

Thor nodded back, grateful.

Alistair suddenly felt a strong hand on her
shoulder, and she turned to see Erec approach, smiling back at Thor.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he said to her,
apologetic, “I do not wish to interrupt, but you are needed on the ships.”

Alistair hesitated, and Thor nodded to her,
understanding.

“Go, my sister,” he urged. “We shall see each
other again on the morrow.”

As Alistair turned and crossed the deck with
Erec, holding his hand, she suddenly felt a tingling in her stomach. She placed
her hand there, and felt a tremendous vibration—more powerful than any she’d
ever felt.

“What is it, my lady?” Erec asked, concerned. “Do
you feel ill?”

Alistair quickly lowered her hand and looked
away, shaking her head. She debated whether to tell him, and at that moment,
with just the two of them alone, more than anything she wanted to. She was
never more proud of anything.

Yet for some reason, she did not feel the time was
right. Not here, not now. Something was holding her back. There would be a
better time, a better place.

“No, my love,” she said, “it is nothing at all.”