A Reign of Steel (22 page)

“Will
you stay, my friend?” she asked. “Or will you leave us again?”

He
lowered his head and rubbed his nose against her hand as she held it out,
blinking slowly and making an odd purring noise. She did not understand him; she
never had, and she knew she never would. She never knew when he might
disappear, or when he might come to her aid, despite how close the two had
become. She had concluded that the ways of dragons were inscrutable to her.

She
stroked Ralibar’s scales, his long nose—and at first he seemed content. But
then he surprised her by suddenly flapping his great wings, shrieking and
rising up into the air, his talons barely missing her head as he flapped.

She
turned and watched him fly off into the horizon. She wondered where he was
going, and if he would ever return. He was a greater mystery to her than ever.

Gwendolyn
turned her attention to Argon’s limp body. She knelt down beside him and
stroked his timeless face. It was frozen, cold to the touch.

“Argon,”
she said. “Can you hear me?”

He
did not move.

Gwendolyn
turned, saw her men standing behind her, and raised a hand. She sensed that
Argon needed to be alone with her.

“Please,”
she said. “Leave us.”

Her
men did as she commanded, and Gwen soon found herself kneeling alone on this
plateau, beside Argon, the wind howling. She reached up and pulled back his
hood, examining his face.

“Please,
Argon,” she said. “Come back to me.”

Still,
nothing.

Gwen
felt a tear roll down her cheek; she felt a sense of impending doom, and she
felt so helpless, and more alone than ever, here in this foreign place.

“I
need you, Argon,” she pleaded. “Now, more than ever.”

There
came a long silence, as a cold gust of wind stung her cheeks—then finally, the
rain stopped. As it did, Gwen looked down and her heart soared to see Argon’s
eyes fluttering.

Then,
slowly he opened them.

Gwen’s
heart leapt as he looked at her. His eyes shone with such intensity, she nearly
had to look away. She stared down at him in wonder.

“Argon,”
she said, laughing with relief, so overjoyed he was alive.

She
reached down and clasped his hand with both of hers.

“Are
you okay?” she asked.

He
nodded gently, and she wondered.

“Where
are you, Argon? Are you here with me?”

“Partly,”
he replied.

She
sensed that their time together was short, and that she might lose him again.
She felt a burning desire to have her questions answered.

“Argon,
your shield,” she said, “you must tell me: will it last? Please. Just answer me
this. Will it last?”

There
was a long silence, so long that Gwen suspected he would never reply.

And
then, finally, Argon shook his head softly.

As
he did, Gwen’s heart dropped.

“No,”
he declared. “Even now, it is destroyed.”

Gwen’s
heart plummeted as she pondered the ramifications. It meant that everything
would be destroyed: this island, her people—everything. Her entire life,
everyone she loved.

Her
breath caught in her throat, as her hands trembled.

“Is
there any way to restore it?” she asked. “Any way to protect this place?”

Argon
shook his head weakly.

“My
Shield—and the Ring—are destroyed forever.”

Gwen’s
blood ran cold. She hardly knew what to say.

“Even
now Romulus’s dragons approach,” Argon added. “And one million of his men.”

Gwen’s
heart was pounding, and she found her hands running cold.

“How
can we stop them?” she asked.

Argon
shook his head.

“You
can’t,” he said. “Soon, very soon, this island will be destroyed.”

Gwen
burst into tears.

“And
what of Thorgrin?” she asked, between tears. “Will he return to us? Will he
help save us?”

Argon
waited a long time, then finally shook his head.

“I’m
sorry,” he said. “He has his own destiny.”

Gwendolyn
found herself still crying, wiping back tears, despite her best efforts.

“And
what of my baby?” she asked. “What of Guwayne?”

Argon
remained silent, expressionless, as he closed his eyes. Gwen’s heart pounded,
wondering if she’d lost him.

“Argon,”
Gwen pleaded, clutching his arm, “answer me. Please. I beg you.”

Argon
opened his eyes again and stared right at her.

“You
made a choice,” he said. “In the Netherworld. I am sorry. But vows exact a
toll.”

Gwen
sobbed, unable to hold back her tears.

“You’re
been a marvelous Queen,” he said. “Your people have lived far longer than they
were destined. But even for the best of Queens, the time comes. You cannot always
outrun destiny.”

Finally,
Gwen, devastated, composed herself.

“Is
there nothing left to do then but prepare to die?” she asked, desperate.

Argon
was silent a long time, until finally, he nodded.

“I’m
sorry,” he said. “But sometimes, that is all we have.”

Luanda
stood on Romulus’s ship, not far from him, watching
his back as he watched the sea, hands on hips, smiling, victorious. Luanda heard the incessant screeching, and she looked up and watched the host of dragons on
the horizon, leading the way, disappearing as they headed north toward the Upper
Isles, on their way to destroy her sister and all her people.

Romulus
laughed and laughed as he led the fleet of ships,
thousands of them, blanketing the sea like a school of fish, sailing away from
the Ring for the Upper Isles. Luanda looked out at the horizon, and knew that
she should feel satisfaction. After all, she had finally gotten what she’d
wanted. The Ring was destroyed; she was avenged. Avenged for Bronson, avenged
for her exile from King’s Court. Avenged for never being treated the way she
deserved to be; avenged for being skipped over for the youngest. She had
avenged herself on everyone who had doubted her, on everyone who had cast her
off as meaningless.

But
Luanda was surprised to realize that she did not feel triumphant; she did not
even feel satisfaction. Instead, as she watched the events unfolding before
her, she felt hollowed out—and a deep sense of regret. Now that her plans had
become a reality, she could not help but admit that there was a part of her
that still loved her people, that still wanted to be loved and accepted by
them. That wanted them alive, that wanted things to be the way they used to be.

She
had thought all this destruction would make her so happy. But now that there was
nothing left, for some reason, she felt sad. She did not know why. Perhaps it was
because with her people and land destroyed, there was nothing left to remember her
time on earth. Nothing left that was familiar in the world. All that remained
now was Romulus and his Empire—all these awful creatures.

As
Luanda looked at Romulus’s broad back rippling with muscles, a commander at
the height of his powers, ready to conquer every last inch of the world, a
tremendous hatred for him built up inside her. He was to blame for all of this.
She hated the way he treated her. Like a piece of property. She hated how
subservient she had been forced to become to him. She despised everything about
him.

Romulus
’s soldiers were all preoccupied on deck, and Romulus stood alone at the bow of the boat, his back to all, Luanda the only one allowed
to get close to him, hardly ten feet away. She glanced around one last time to
make sure no one was looking, then, secretly she tightened her grip on the hilt
of the dagger she kept hidden in her belt. She squeezed so hard, she could feel
her knuckles turning white. She imagined herself strangling Romulus as she
squeezed.

Luanda
took a step forward, towards Romulus’s exposed back, a
cold gust of wind and ocean spray striking her in the face.

Then
another step.

Then
another.

Luanda
could not rectify wrongs, could not change what she
had already done, the mistakes she had already made. She could not bring her
homeland back. She could not restore the Shield.

But
there was still one thing she could do, time for one last remaining act of
redemption before she died. She could kill a barbarian. She could murder Romulus. She would get vengeance, at least, for herself, and vengeance, at least, for all
of them. If she could not have anything else in life, at least she could have
that.

Luanda
tightened her grip as she extracted the dagger and took
another step. She was but two steps away, seconds away from killing this
monster. She knew that she herself would be captured and killed shortly
thereafter—but she no longer cared—as long as she succeeded.

There
he stood, so smug, so arrogant.  He had underestimated her—like all of them. He
had seen her as property, as someone not to be feared. Luanda had been
underestimated her entire life. Now she was determined to make him—and every
other man in her life—pay. With one stroke of the blade, her life would find
satisfaction.

Luanda
took the last step, raised her dagger high, and
anticipated the satisfying feeling of her blade puncturing his flesh and
putting an end to this creature’s life for good. She could already see it
happening, could see him dropping to his knees, collapsing face first, dead.

Luanda
plunged the blade down with all her might—and yet,
the strangest thing happened. The blade suddenly stopped as the tip hit his
back. It was like hitting steel—it could not puncture the skin. It hovered
there in midair, and no matter how hard she tried to push it down, it just
would not enter his skin. It was as if he were protected by a magic shield.

Romulus
turned around, slowly, calmly, a smile on his face as
he shook his head and stared back at her, holding the blade in midair,
harmlessly. Luanda looked at the blade, wondering what had happened.

Romulus
shook his head.

“It
was a good attempt,” he said. “And any other time, you would have killed me.
But you see,” he said, leaning in close, his pungent breath in her face, “while
this moon lasts, I am invincible. To every man, to every blade, to everything
of this earth. Including you and your dagger.”

Romulus
leaned back and laughed, then reached out and calmly
took the blade from her hand. She was helpless to stop him. He raised it high,
grimaced, then suddenly stepped forward and plunged it into her heart.

Luanda
gasped as she felt the cold metal entering her heart.
She felt her heart stop, felt all the life and air leaving her body, felt her
body go limp, numb, felt herself collapse to the wooden deck of the ship. She
looked up and saw Romulus’s laughing face before her eyes closed for the last
time, realizing that nothing in the world would stop Romulus. Nothing.

Her
final thoughts, before all life left her, were, strangely enough, of her
father.

Father
, she thought,
I never meant to disappoint you.
Forgive me.

Thorgrin
fell through the air, yelling, flailing, feeling the cold air rush past him at
breathtaking speed as he plummeted for the ocean and the cliffs below. He fell
hundreds of feet, feeling his entire life rush by. He knew that in moments he
would land, dead, and it would all be over, here, on these rocks, at this
ocean, so close to finding his mother. Here, in this Land of Druids, land of dreams. He wondered how it could be, how it was possible that he could strive
for something his entire life only to have it slip away, just out of his grasp.

Somehow,
he had failed. He had become the greatest warrior he could be on the
battlefield; and yet, he had not conquered the depths of his own psyche. The
one opponent left in the world whom he could not defeat was himself.

He’d
been defeated by himself. What did that mean? He tried to understand it, at
lightning speed, as he fell. To him, it meant that there must be some part of
himself that was stronger than another part. A part that could defeat himself. A
part that was so strong, it could overcome anything. It was a great force
within him.

Thor
had a sudden realization: that great force, even it was destructive, was still
a part of him. It was still a force that could be harnessed. Which meant that he
could find that dark part of himself, and harness it for the good. Energy was
energy—it just needed to be redirected. Perhaps he could get that part of
himself to work for him, instead of against him. If Thor could use that power
to defeat himself, perhaps he could tap it to save himself.

Thor
closed his eyes as he fell through the air, and he tried to summon his inner
power, the power of his mind. He had been relying too much on his physical side
his entire life, he realized. He was starting to realize that his mind was just
as powerful as his body—if not more so. He could use his mind to do wonderful,
miraculous things, things that his body could not.

Thorgrin
focused, and as he did, he used the power of his mind to slow the world, to slow
the very fabric in the air.

Thorgrin
felt the world slow, then come to a stop. He felt himself floating in midair, frozen
in the fabric of time and space. He felt the part of himself that was creating
the time and space. He felt the infinite power within himself, the power that
was not separate from the universe. He tapped into the endless stream of energy
flowing through the universe, as Argon had often taught him, and he felt
himself right in the center of it.

Thor
held his hands out wide, palms up, and felt his fingertips and palms tingling through
the very fabric of the sky. They felt as if they were on fire, burning with
energy.

Thor
went deeper, until he reached the place in his mind where he began to see no
separation between his mind and the universe, between the energy flowing into
him from the universe, and the energy flowing out. He began to see that he
could control it. He could control his environment. He could also create
everything around him. He saw that he could create his circumstance. And that
his mind and his energy were more powerful than the manifestation he was in.

Thor
commanded himself, the part of himself he could not control, the darkest part
of himself. He commanded it to stop manifesting this circumstance. To change
everything around him. And in the process, he forced himself to stop resisting,
to let the universe be what it was. To let himself be who he was. Once he felt
a complete acceptance of the universe, a complete acceptance of himself, then a
deep peace overcame him, a peace unlike he had ever felt.

Thor
slowly opened his eyes, and he knew, before he saw anything, that the universe
around him had changed. He’d stopped himself from falling, and instead, was now
floating upwards, gently, higher and higher, turning to an upright position,
faster and faster, until he reached the top of the cliff. He set himself down
gently, and he stood before his mother’s castle.

There
was no longer any danger, no longer any fear. He’d gone to his deepest depths,
and he’d risen above it. Here he was, alone, facing the entrance to his mother’s
castle. He’d crossed the skywalk, the place he could never cross in his dreams.
He had finally managed to cross to the other side.

Thor
examined the castle in awe. Before him were two huge, golden arched doors, five
times as tall as he, and five times as wide. They shone so brightly they nearly
blinded him, each with massive handles carved in the shape of a falcon.

Thor
sensed intuitively that grasping those handles and trying to open the door
would do no good. He knew it was a magic door, the most powerful door in the
world. That the only way in was if the doors were opened for him.

Thor
waited for them to open, but they did not.

 “I
demand to be let in!” Thor boomed out.

 “You
are not worthy of being let in here,” boomed out a voice, dark, male.

Thor
stood his ground, determined.

“I
am worthy!” Thor yelled back, feeling worthy for the first time.

“And
why are you worthy?” came the voice.

“I
am Thorgrin. Son of my mother, Queen of the Land of the Druids. Son of
Andronicus, King of the Empire. I am he. I, and no other. I am not worthy
because of my powers. I am not worthy because of my skills. I am worthy because
of
who I am
. I
deserve
to be let inside these doors. For no other
reason than for
who I am
.”

Thor
felt his entire body vibrating as he spoke the words. He felt that he had
finally reached the deepest truth of this training. Acceptance of himself.

He
began to see that everything he manifested in the universe was a result of how
he felt about himself. All the dark forces, they were real, and yet they were
also all figments of himself he had to overcome. The deepest, hardest foe to
overcome was how he felt about himself.

He
had viewed himself his entire life, he realized it now, as undeserving. He
still did now. When he let go of that, when he accepted himself fully and
completely, just for who he was, then all doors in the universe would open for
him. That was the final step towards conquering himself.

Thor
felt a deep sense of peace as he realized all of this, as he accepted himself.

He
opened his eyes slowly, and he looked up to see the doors shining more brightly
than they ever had, and opening, slowly, wider and wider, the most beautiful sound
in the world as the hinges opened effortlessly. Light flooded him, a golden
light, pouring out from inside the castle, all-embracing, warmer, stronger than
he could imagine.

He
took his first step. Then another.

He
felt warmer and warmer, and he knew that in just a few more steps, he would be
inside this castle, with his mother. Finally, his destiny would be complete. In
just a few more steps, all would be revealed.

And
his life would never be the same again.