A Land of Fire. Morgan Rice

We found the bloody sword in your hand, our dying brother in your arms, and you dare to speak of justice? Justice has been served.”

      “But I tell you, I did not kill him!” Alistair pleaded.

      “That’s right,” Dauphine said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “a magical mystery man entered the room and killed him, then disappeared and placed a weapon in your hands.”

      “It was not a mystery man,” Alistair insisted. “It was Bowyer. I saw with my own eyes. He killed Erec.”

      Dauphine grimaced.

      “Bowyer showed us the scroll that you penned to him. You pleaded for his hand in marriage and planned to kill Erec and marry him instead. You are a sick woman. Was not having my brother and having the Queenship enough for you?”

      Dauphine handed Alistair the scroll, and Alistair’s heart sank as she read:

      Once Erec is dead, we shall spend our lives together.

      “But that is not my hand!” Alistair protested. “The scroll is forged!”

      “Yes, I’m sure it is,” Dauphine said. “I’m sure you have a convenient explanation for everything.”

      “I penned no such scroll!” Alistair insisted. “Don’t you hear yourselves? This makes no sense. Why would I murder Erec? I love him with all my soul. We were nearly wed.”

      “And thank the heavens you were not,” Dauphine said.

      “You must believe me!” Alistair insisted, turning to Erec’s mother. “Bowyer tried to kill Erec. He wants the kingship. I want nothing of being Queen. I never have.”

      “Don’t you worry,” Dauphine said. “You shall never be. In fact, you shall not even live. We here on the Southern Isles serve justice quickly. Tomorrow, you shall be executed.”

      Alistair shook her head, realizing they could not be reasoned with. She sighed, her heart heavy.

      “Is that why you’ve come?” she asked weakly. “To tell me that?”

      Dauphine sneered back in the silence, and Alistair could feel the hatred in her gaze.

      “No,” Dauphine finally replied, after a long, heavy silence. “It was to pronounce your sentence to you, and to take one long last look at your face before you are sent to hell. You will be made to suffer, the same way our brother was made to suffer.”

      Suddenly, Dauphine reddened, lunged forward, reached out her fingernails, and grabbed Alistair’s hair. It happened so quickly, Alistair had no time to react. Dauphine let out a guttural scream as she scratched Alistair’s face. Alistair raised her hands to block herself, as others stepped forward to pull Dauphine off.

      “Let go of me!” Dauphine yelled. “I want to kill her now!”

      “Justice will be served tomorrow,” Strom said.

      “Lead her out of here,” Erec’s mother commanded.

      Guards stepped forward and yanked Dauphine from the room as she kicked and screamed in protest. Strom joined them, and soon the room was completely empty except for Alistair and Erec’s mother. She stopped at the door, slowly turned, and faced Alistair. Alistair searched her face for any trace left of kindness and compassion.

      “Please, you must believe me,” Alistair said earnestly. “I don’t care what the others think of me. But I do care about you. You were kind to me from the moment you met me. You know how much I love your son. You know I could never have done this.”

      Erec’s mother examined her, and as her eyes watered, she seemed to vacillate.

      “That is why you stayed behind, isn’t it?” Alistair pressed. “That is why you’ve lingered. Because you want to believe me. Because you know I am right.”

      After a long silence, his mother finally nodded. As if coming to a decision, she took several steps toward her. Alistair could see that Erec’s mother really did believe her, and she was elated.

      His mother rushed forward and embraced her, and Alistair hugged her back and cried over her shoulder. Erec’s mother cried, too, and finally, she stepped back.

      “You must listen to me,” Alistair said urgently. “I care not for what happens to me, or what others think of me. But Erec – I must get to him. Now. He is dying. I’ve only partially healed him, and I need to finish. If I do not, he will die.”

      His mother looked her up and down, as if finally realizing she was speaking the truth.

      “After all that’s happened,” she said, “all you care about is my son. I can see now that you really do care for him – and that you could never have done this.”

      “Of course not,” Alistair said. “I’ve been set up by that barbarian, Bowyer.”

      “I will get you to Erec,” she said. “It may cost us our lives, but if so, we will die trying. Follow me.”

      His mother unlocked her shackles, and Alistair quickly followed her out the cell, into the dungeons, and on their way to risk it all for Erec.

      Chapter Eight

      Gwendolyn stood on the bow of the ship, the ocean caressing her face, surrounded by all of her people, holding the rescued baby. All were in a state of shock as they sailed on the seas, already far from the Upper Isles. They were joined by just two ships, all that was left of the great fleet that had set sail from the Ring. Gwen’s people, her nation, all the proud citizens of the Ring, had been reduced to but several hundred survivors, a nation in exile, floating, homeless, looking for some place to start again. And they were all looking to her for leadership.

      Gwen stared out at the sea, examining it as she had been for hours, immune to the cold spray of the ocean mist as she peered into the fog, as she tried to keep her heart from breaking. The baby in her arms had finally fallen asleep, and all Gwen could think of was Guwayne. She hated herself; she had been so stupid to let him sail away. At the time it had seemed like the best idea, had seemed like the only way to save him from the certain imminent death. Who could have foreseen the change of events, that the dragons would have been averted? If Thor had not appeared when he had, surely they would all be dead right now – and Gwen could never have expected that.

      Gwen had managed, at least, to save some of her people, some of her fleet, to save this baby, and they had managed, at least, to escape from the isle of death. Yet Gwen still shuddered each time a roar of the dragons pierced the air, growing ever distant the farther they sailed. She closed her eyes and winced; she knew there was an epic battle being waged, and that Thor was in the middle of it. More than anything, she wanted to be there, by his side. Yet at the same time, she knew that would be futile. She would be useless as Thor fought those dragons, and she would just expose her people to getting killed.

      Gwen kept seeing Thor’s face, and it tore her apart to see him again, only to then see him fly off just as quickly, without even a chance to speak to him, without even a moment to tell him how much she missed him, how much she loved him.

      “My lady, we follow no course.”

      Gwendolyn turned and saw, standing beside her, Kendrick – and beside him, Reece, Godfrey, and Steffen, all looking at her. Kendrick, she realized, had been trying to talk to her for a while now, but she had barely heard his words. She looked down and saw her knuckles, white, gripping the wood, then peered out to the ocean, checking every wave, thinking time and again she spotted Guwayne, only to see that it was but another illusion in this cruel, cruel sea.