A Sky of Spells

CHAPTER TEN

Thor rode on the back of Mycoples, Gwen behind him, clutching his waist. The two of them soared high above the Ring, circling through all the territories, taking it all in from above. They cut through the cool winter air, through parting clouds, but Thor did not feel the cold. All he felt was Gwen, her hands clutching him from behind, holding him tight, and moment by moment, he felt himself restored. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt at peace again. He felt that all was right in the world, and he never wanted this moment to end. Gwendolyn behind him, riding Mycoples, Andronicus dead, Thor felt a sense of completeness that he had always hoped for.

They dove down low, nearly skimming the tops of the trees, taking in all the devastation of the Ring, entire lands covered with the charred corpses of Empire. Thor could see how hard at work Mycoples and Ralibar had been, unleashing a wave of destruction unlike any the Ring had ever known.

They flew over ravaged towns and cities, torn apart from the Empire’s invasion, fields of MacGil corpses, those brave souls who had lost their lives trying to fend off the invasion. Thor felt overwhelmed with guilt that he had fought on the wrong side for a time. He wished he could make it better, could go back, could make things play out differently. He thought back to the day when he had flown to accept Andronicus’ surrender; he had felt in his stomach that something was wrong. He remembered Mycoples’ foreboding, her reluctance to land, all the signs that pointed to danger. He realized now that he should have listened. He wished that he never would have been caught, never would have been brainwashed, that none of his men would have had to suffer and die.

But it was meant to be. He realized that now. No matter how much he may want things to be different, the world had its own destiny. That was the cruelty of the world. Yet it could also, sometimes, be the kindness of the world, too.

Thor flashed back to the moment before they had flown off, when he and Gwendolyn had embraced all of their people. Many tears of joy had been shed, as Thor, wracked with guilt, had begged their forgiveness. They had been all too happy to grant it: after all, he had not killed any of them, and he had, in fact, done more to kill the Empire than any of them. But he still felt he needed Gwen’s forgiveness most of all: he still could not believe he had raised a sword to her. Just the thought of it made him want to kill himself.

Gwendolyn had been gracious. She had not been hurt by him, nor had anyone else, and she was willing to forgive him. She even understood, and recognized that he had been under a spell, one not of his control. Thor had apologized to Krohn, too, who had been all too quick to accept his apology, licking him and jumping into his arms as Thor hugged him back. Thor apologized to Erec, too, for facing off with him, and to Kendrick, and to all the men he’d known and fought with, asking for forgiveness. They had all been quick to oblige, knowing he had been under a spell. Their kindness made Thor feel even more guilty.

Thor had mounted Mycoples, eager to fly her again; the men had agreed they would all rendezvous at King’s Court. It had been their original capitol, and now, with the Empire gone, they all concurred there was no more fitting place for them to return to.

Thor had mounted Mycoples, Gwen behind him, and had flown off. Ralibar had taken a liking to Gwen, and for a moment, it seemed that he might even let her ride him; but then he’d suddenly, unpredictably, leapt into the air and taken off, heading in his own direction. Gwen was happy he had: she wanted to ride with Thor, to be close again.

The two of them had been flying now for what felt like hours, taking stock of all the landscapes of the Ring, realizing the immensity of the work that lay ahead of them, of all the rebuilding that needed to be done. Finally, down below, through the clouds, there appeared the vestige of King’s Court, and Thor directed Mycoples to dive down low.

Mycoples obliged, breaking through the clouds, flying so low to King’s Court that Thor and Gwen could nearly touch its remaining parapets. Thor saw the outlines of the vast complex, of King’s Castle, of the Legion training grounds, the halls of the Silver, the Hall of Arms, dozens of buildings, the moats and ramparts and endless dwellings of the extended city—and it broke his heart. Here was a place that had once been so dear to him, so resplendent, the very backbone of the kingdom, the bastion of strength, of everything that Thor knew to be power. Here was the place he had always aspired to, the place he had first met and trained with the Legion. It was the place that had once loomed so indomitable in his mind.

And now here it lay: in ruin, a fragment of what it once was. Thor could hardly conceive that anything so powerful could be reduced to this. The foundations remained, the remnants of stone walls, the outline of the greater city; there was certainly a foundation left to build on. But most of its great, ancient stones and statues were toppled in heaps of rubble. Only half of King’s Castle stood.

“Seven generations of MacGils,” Gwendolyn said, shaking her head, “all wiped out because the Shield had been lowered, because the Sword had been stolen. It all started with her brother, Gareth. And now there lies my father’s kingdom. Gareth always wanted to destroy our father: and now, somehow, he has.”

Thor could feel her tears down the back of his neck.

“We will rebuild it,” Thor said.

“Yes, we will,” she replied confidently.

As they dove down lower, circling again and again, this place brought back so many memories for Thor. Here was a place he had been afraid and intimidated to enter as a boy, its gates and powerful sentries looming larger than life. And yet now here he was, no longer a boy, but a man, riding on the back of a dragon, the head of the Legion and already one of the Kingdom’s famed warriors. It was hard for Thor to process all that had happened in his life, and so quickly: it was surreal. Was anything in life, he wondered, stable? Was everything always changing, shifting? Was there ever anything that one could really hold onto?

The sight below brought Thor great sadness—yet it also brought him great hope. Here was a place they could build again, a place they could make even more resplendent. With the Empire finally gone, the Ring finally secure, Thor felt every cause for hope. They were all alive and safe, and that was all that mattered. The stones, they could all go back to the way they were. And with Gwendolyn at his side, Thor felt that anything was possible.

Thor felt his mother’s ring, bulging inside his pocket, and he knew the time had come to propose. The time had come for them to be together, forever. He did not want to wait another moment. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Set down there,” Gwendolyn suddenly called aloud to Mycoples. “I see the knights approaching.”

Thor looked down and saw the men traveling down the road, beginning to filter in through the gates of King’s Court. Mycoples dove down, as Gwen had requested.

They landed right before the incoming army, Mycoples setting down in the center of the courtyard, the men rushing out to greet them. Thor knew that his moment to propose was gone. But it would come again. He’d be sure of it. Before the day had passed, he would find a way to make Gwendolyn his wife.