A Reign of Steel. Morgan Rice
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when Thor realized: the island was surrounded by some sort of energy shield, one so powerful that even Mycoples could not pass through. One could not fly over the wall; one had to pass through the pillars, on foot.
Thor directed Mycoples, and they dove down to the red shore. They landed before the pillars, and Thor tried to direct Mycoples to fly between them, through the vast gates, to enter with him into the Land of the Druids.
But again, Mycoples pulled back, raising her talons.
I cannot enter.
Thor felt Mycoples’s thoughts race through him. He looked at her, saw her closing her huge glowing eyes, blinking, and he understood.
She was telling him that he would have to enter the Land of the Druids alone.
Thor dismounted on the red sand and stood before the pillars, examining them.
“I can’t leave you here, my friend,” Thor said. “It is too dangerous for you. If I must go alone, then I must go. Return to the safety of home. Wait for me there.”
Mycoples shook her head and lowered her head to the ground, lying there, resigned.
I will wait for you to the ends of the earth.
Thor could see that she was determined to stay. He knew she was stubborn, that she would not budge.
Thor leaned forward, stroked Mycoples’s scales on her long nose, leaned over, and kissed her. She purred, lifted her head, and rested it on his chest.
“I will return for you, my friend,” Thor said.
Thor turned and faced the pillars, solid gold, shining in the sun and nearly blinding him, and he took the first step. He felt alive in a way he never thought he would as he passed through the gates, and, finally, into the Land of the Druids.
Chapter Six
Gwendolyn rode in the back of the carriage, jostling along the country road, leading the expedition of people that wound its way slowly west, away from King’s Court. Gwendolyn was pleased with the evacuation, which had been orderly thus far, and pleased with the progress her people had made. She hated leaving her city behind, but she was confident at least that they’d gained enough distance for her people to be safe, to be well on their way to her ultimate mission: to cross the Western Crossing of the Canyon, to board her fleet of ships on the shores of the Tartuvian, and to cross the great ocean for the Upper Isles. It was the only way, she knew, to keep her people safe.
As they marched, thousands of her people on foot all around her, thousands of others jostling in their carts, the sound of horses’ hooves filled Gwen’s ears, the sound of the steady motion of carts, of humanity. Gwen found herself getting lost in the monotony of the trek, holding Guwayne to her chest, rocking him. Beside her sat Steffen and Illepra, accompanying her the entire way.
Gwendolyn looked out to the road before her and tried to imagine herself anywhere but here. She had worked so hard to rebuild this kingdom, and now here she was, fleeing from it. She was executing her mass evacuation plan because of the McCloud invasion – but more importantly, because of all of the ancient prophecies, of Argon’s hints, because of her own dreams and feelings of pending doom. But what if, she wondered, she was wrong? What if it was all just a dream, just worries in the night? What if everything in the Ring would be fine? What if this was an overreaction, an unnecessary evacuation? After all, she could evacuate her people to another city within the Ring, like Silesia. She did not have to take them across an ocean.
Not unless she foresaw a complete and entire destruction of the Ring. Yet from everything she’d read and heard and felt, that destruction was imminent. Evacuation was the only way, she assured herself.
As Gwen looked to the horizon, she wished Thor could be here, at her side. She looked up and scanned the skies, wondering where he was now. Had he found the Land of the Druids? Had he found his mother? Would he return for her?
And would they ever marry?
Gwen looked down into Guwayne’s eyes, and she saw Thor looking back at her, saw Thor’s grey eyes, and she held her son tighter. She tried not to think of the sacrifice she’d had to make in the Netherworld. Would it all come true? Would the fates be so cruel?
“My lady?”
Gwen started at the voice; she turned and looked to see Steffen, turning in the cart, pointing up to the sky. She noticed that all around her, her people were stopping, and she suddenly felt her own carriage jostled to a halt. She was puzzled as to why the driver would stop without her command.
Gwen followed Steffen’s finger, and there, on the horizon, she was shocked to see three arrows shot up high into the air, all aflame, rising, then arching downward, falling to the ground like shooting stars. She was shocked: three arrows aflame could mean only one thing: it was the sign of the MacGils. The claws of the falcon, used to signal victory. It was a sign used by her father and his father before him, a sign meant only for the MacGils. There was no mistaking it: it meant the MacGils had won. They had taken back King’s Court.
But how was it possible? she wondered. When they’d left, there was no hope of victory, much less survival, her precious city overrun by McClouds, with no one left to stand guard.
Gwen spotted, on the distant horizon, a banner being raised, higher and higher. She squinted, and again there was no mistake: it was the banner of the MacGils. It could only mean that King’s Court was now back in the hands of the MacGils.
On the one hand, Gwen felt elated, and wanted to return at once. On the other hand, as she looked at the road they had traveled, she thought of all Argon’s predictions, of the scrolls she had read, of her own premonitions. She felt, deep down, that her people still needed to be evacuated. Perhaps the MacGils had recaptured King’s Court; but that did not mean that the Ring was safe. Gwendolyn still felt certain that something much worse was coming, and that she had to get her people out of here, to safety.
“It seems we have won,” Steffen said.
“A cause for celebration!” Aberthol called out, approaching her cart.
“King’s Court is ours again!” called out a commoner.
A great cheer arose amongst her people.
“We must turn back immediately!” called out another.
Another cheer rose up. But Gwen shook her head adamantly. She stood and faced her people, and all eyes turned to her.
“We shall not turn back!” she boomed to her people. “We have begun the evacuation, and we must stick to it. I know that a great danger lies ahead for the Ring. I must get you to safety while we still have time, while there is still a chance.”
Her people groaned, dissatisfied, and several commoners stepped forward, pointing to the horizon.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” one bellowed, “but King’s Court is my home! It is everything I know and love! I’m not about to cross the sea to some strange island while our city is intact and in the hands of the MacGils! I’m turning back for King’s Court!”
A great cheer rose up, and as he left, walking back, hundreds of people fell in and followed him, turning their carts, heading back down the road toward King’s Court.
“My lady, should I stop them?” Steffen asked, panicked, loyal to her to a fault.
“You are hearing the voice of the people, my lady,” Aberthol said, coming up beside her. “You would be foolish to deny them. Moreover, you cannot. It is their home. It is all that they know. Do not fight your own people. Do not lead them without good reason.”
“But I have good reason,” Gwen said. “I know destruction is coming.”
Aberthol shook his head.
“And yet they do not,” he replied. “I do not doubt you. But queens plan ahead, while the masses act on instinct. And a queen is only as powerful as the masses allow her to be.”
Gwen stood there, burning with frustration as she watched her people defy her command, migrating back to King’s Court. It was the first