The Gift of Battle

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Thorgrin walked slowly up the skywalk, the mist evaporating all around him as the sun broke through, its rays streaking down, a shaft of light illuminating him as he went—and he looked out in awe at the castle ahead of him. Its door and windows were burning with light, and before it, at its doorstep, lay the Sorcerer’s Ring.

After having completed the circle, Thor felt like a changed man. For the first time in his life, he no longer felt a need for a weapon, realizing the power that lay within him was far greater than that. He held within him the power to create reality—and the power to refuse the reality he saw. He had the power to realize that everything and everyone he saw before him—all friends, all enemies, all brothers, and all foes—were creations of his own mind. It was deep within his mind, he knew, that the most powerful lands lay.

As he walked on the skywalk, he knew it was real—and yet he also knew that this land lay within his own mind. The walls between what was real and what was in his mind were blurring—and for the first time, he was realizing how thin those walls were. They were two sides of the same coin, each inextricable from one another. And with every step he took, he was walking deeper into his own mind, he knew, like a waking dream.

As he reached the end of the walkway and looked up, he saw his mother standing there, arms outstretched, smiling, and he felt as if he were home. He knew he had completed a sacred journey, that he was ready for the next and final level. He realized now that his first trip to the Land of the Druids was just an introduction, not a completion; he had left something unfinished. This time, though, it was a final return. The return of a victorious warrior. A warrior who had mastered himself.

Thor stopped before the castle as he finished crossing the skywalk and stood on the stone platform, just feet away from her, from the ring that lay at her feet, and he stopped and stared. The light shining off of her was intense, and he could feel her love and approval pouring through.

“Thorgrin, my child,” she said, her voice immediately setting him at ease. “You have passed every test. You have gained for yourself what I could not give you.”

She held out her arms and he stepped forward and embraced her, and she embraced him back. He felt the power of the world coursing through him, and as he stood back and looked up at her, she smiled down.

“When I first saw you, I so badly wanted to warn you of all the dangers and tribulations that lay ahead of you,” she said. “The losses you would suffer, the victories you would achieve. But I could not. It was for you to learn, and you to discover.”

She took a deep breath

“I have watched you achieve splendor. You are a true warrior. Do you understand now the secret?” she asked. “Do you understand the essence of power?”

Thor thought it through carefully, sensing the answer to the riddle.

“The essence of power lies within ourselves,” he replied.

She nodded back approvingly.

“It does not lie in weapons,” he continued. “Weapons require someone else to craft them—and true power comes from within. True power requires we lean on no one else.”

She smiled down, her eyes shining, and nodded.

“You have learned more than I could ever teach you,” she responded. “Now, my son, you are ready. Now, you are a master. Now, you are King of the Druids.”

She raised a long, thin, golden sword from her side and raised it high, shining in the sun.

“Kneel,” she commanded.

Thorgrin knelt and lowered his head before her, his heart pounding.

She lowered the sword point, touching each of his shoulders lightly.

“Now rise, Thorgrin,” she said. “Rise, King of the Druids.”

Thor stood again, and as he did, he felt different. Older. Stronger. Unstoppable, filled with the energy of the world.

She stepped to the side and gestured, and Thor’s eyes opened wide as he saw, lying on a small golden pedestal behind her, the Sorcerer’s Ring.

“It is time for you to complete your destiny,” she said, “and accept the ring that will change your life.”

She gestured for him to step forward.

“It is a walk you can take alone,” she said. “It is a ring meant for you, and you alone.”

Thor stepped forward, breathless, as he approached the Ring, but feet away. A light shone from it, so bright that he at first had to raise his hands to his eyes. As he neared, he saw it was crafted of a metal he could not discern, appearing to be platinum, streaked with a single thin black ring in its middle, looking to be made of black diamonds. It shone so intensely, it made the sun seem dark.

Thor stopped before it and reached out with a trembling hand, fearing the power coming off of it, sensing that wearing it would change his life forever.

“You must wear it on your right hand, Thorgrin,” his mother said. “On your index finger.”

Thorgrin reached out and slipped it over his finger.

The second it touched his hand, he felt alive, truly alive, for the first time. He felt a tremendous heat pouring through it, through his finger, through his veins, through his arm, his shoulder, and spreading through his chest, to his heart. It was like a warmth filling him, a fire in his veins, a power he did not recognize. It was like the energy of the sun, filling him to capacity, making him feel so powerful, making him feel as if he could lift the sky.

It was like the power of a thousand dragons.

His mother looked back at him, and he could see in her face that she saw him differently. He knew it himself: he was different now. He no longer felt like a boy, or even a man. He felt greater than a knight, greater than a warrior, greater than a Druid. He felt like a master. He felt like a king. He felt like the King of the Druids.

As he stood there, Thor felt ready to take on the Blood Lord. He felt ready to take on his entire army.

“You are the chosen one, Thorgrin,” his mother said. “Your people look to you now. Fulfill your destiny. And fulfill theirs, too.”

Thorgrin reached out to embrace her, but suddenly she was gone.

Thor stood there, blinking, confused, and as he looked all around, the castle was gone. The walkway, too, was gone. He stood instead atop a single, empty cliff, on the edge of the world, the edge of nothingness, nothing but a sea of clouds all around him.

Thor heard a screech and he looked over to see Lycoples sitting but feet before him, staring back with her intense yellow eyes, waiting. She looked at him, at the ring on his finger, and he could see the new respect in her eyes.

Thor stared back, feeling his power on par with hers.

With a single bound, he leapt onto her back, feeling a power equal to that of the dragon—and even greater.

“Let us go,” he commanded, “and retrieve my son.”

As she flapped her wings and lifted into the air, Thor felt the thrill of battle before him. This time, he was ready.

Finally, he was ready.