LITMIR.BIZ

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gaining steam.

      An avalanche of boulders all rushed down on the zerta, crushing it just before it reached them. There was a huge cloud of dust, a tremendous noise, and finally, all was still.

      Darius stood there, nothing but silence and dust swirling in the sun, hardly understanding what he had just done. He turned and saw Loti looking at him, saw the look of horror in her face, and he knew everything had changed. He had unleashed his secret. And now, there was no turning back.

      Chapter Seven

      Thor sat erect at the edge of their small boat, legs crossed, palms resting on his thighs, his back to the others as he stared out at the cold, cruel sea. His eyes were red from crying, and he did not want the others to see him like this. His tears had dried up long ago, but his eyes were still raw as he stared out, baffled, at the sea, wondering at the mysteries of life.

      How could a son have been given to him, only to have been taken away? How could someone he loved so much disappear from him, be snatched away with no warning and no chance of return?

      Life, Thor felt, was too relentlessly cruel. Where was the justice in it all? Why couldn’t his son return to him?

      Thor would give anything – anything – walk through fire himself, die a million deaths – to have Guwayne given back to him.

      Thor closed his eyes and shook his head as he tried to blot out the image of that burning volcano, the empty bassinet, the flames. He tried to block out the idea of his son dying such a painful death. His heart burned with fury, but most of all, sorrow. And shame, for not reaching his little boy sooner.

      Thor also felt a deep pit in his stomach as he tried to imagine his encounter with Gwendolyn, his telling her the news. She would surely never look him in the eyes again. And she would never be the same person again. It was as if Thorgrin’s entire life had been snatched away from him. He did not know how to rebuild, how to pick up the pieces. How does one, he wondered, find another purpose for living?

      Thor heard footsteps and felt the weight of a body beside him as the boat shifted, creaking. He looked over and was surprised to see Conven take a seat at his side, staring out. Thor felt as if he hadn’t talked to Conven in ages, not since his twin’s death. He welcomed seeing him here. As Thor looked at him, studied the sorrow in his face, for the first time, he understood. He really understood.

      Conven didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough. He sat beside him in sympathy, brothers in grief.

      They sat there in silence for a long time, no noise but the sound of the wind ripping through, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the boat, this small boat of theirs adrift in an endless sea, their quest to find and rescue Guwayne taken away from all of them.

      Finally Conven spoke:

      “Not a day goes by when I don’t think of Conval,” he said, his voice somber.

      They sat again silence for a long time. Thor wanted to reply, but he could not, too choked up to speak.

      Finally, Conven added: “I grieve for you for Guwayne. I would have liked to see him become a great warrior, like his father. I know he would have been. Life can be tragic and cruel. It can give only to take away. I wish I could tell you I have recovered from my sorrow – but I have not.”

      Thor looked at him, Conven’s brutal honesty somehow giving him a sense of peace.

      “What keeps you living?” Thor asked.

      Conven looked out at the water for a long time, then finally sighed.

      “I think it was what Conval would have wanted,” he said. “He would have wanted me to go on. And so I go on. I do it for him. Not for myself. Sometimes we live a life for others. Sometimes we don’t care enough to live it for ourselves, so we live it for them. But, I am coming to realize, sometimes that must be enough.”

      Thor thought of Guwayne, now dead, and he wondered what his son would have wanted. Of course, he would have wanted Thorgrin to live, to take care of his mother, Gwendolyn. Thor knew that logically. But in his heart, it was a hard concept to grasp.

      Conven cleared his throat.

      “We live for our parents,” he said. “For our siblings. For our wives and sons and daughters. We live for everybody else. And sometimes, when life has beaten you down so much that you don’t want to go on for yourself, that has to be enough.”

      “I disagree,” came a voice.

      Thor looked over to see Matus coming up on his other side, sitting and joining them. Matus looked out at the sea, stern and proud.

      “I believe there is another thing we live for,” he added.

      “And what is that?” Conven asked.

      “Faith.” Matus sighed. “My people, the Upper Isle men, they pray to the four gods of the rocky shores. They pray to the gods of the water and wind and sky and rocks. Those gods have never answered my prayers. I pray to the ancient god of the Ring.”

      Thor looked at him, surprised.

      “I have never known an Upper Isle men to share the faith of the Ring,” Conven said.

      Matus nodded.

      “I am unlike my people,” he said. “I always have been. I wanted to enter the monastic order when I was young, but my father would never hear of it. He insisted I take up arms, like my brothers.”

      He sighed.

      “I believe we live for our faith, not for others,” he added. “That is what carries us through. If our faith is strong enough, really strong enough, then anything can happen. Even a miracle.”

      “And can it return my son to me?” Thor asked.

      Matus nodded back at him, unflinching, and Thor could see the certainty in his eyes.

      “Yes,” Matus answered flatly. “Anything.”

      “You lie,” Conven said, indignant. “You give him false hope.”

      “I do not,” Matus retorted.

      “Are you saying faith will return my dead brother to me?” Conven urged, angry.

      Matus sighed.

      “I am saying that all tragedy is a gift,” he said.

      “A gift?” Thor asked, horrified. “Are you saying the loss of my son is a gift?”

      Matus nodded back confidently.

      “You are being given a gift, as tragic as that sounds. You can’t know what it is. You might not for a long time. But one day, you will see.”

      Thor turned and looked out at the sea, confused, unsure. Was this all a test? he wondered. Was it one of the tests his mother had spoken of? Could faith alone bring his son back? He wanted to believe it. He really did. But he did not know if his faith was strong enough. When his mother had spoken of tests, Thor had been so sure he could pass anything that was thrown his way; yet now, feeling as he did, he did not know if he was strong enough to go on.

      The boat rocked on the waves, and suddenly the tides turned, and Thor felt their small boat turning around and heading the opposite direction. He snapped out of it and checked back over his shoulder, wondering what was happening. Reece, Elden, Indra, and O’Connor were all still rowing and manning the sail, a confused look across their face, as their small sail flapped wildly in the wind.

      “The Northern Tides,” Matus said, standing, hands on his hips and looking out, studying the waters. He shook his head. “This is not good.”

      “What is it?” Indra asked. “We can’t control the boat.”

      “They sometimes pass through the Upper Isles,” Matus explained. “I have never seen them myself, but I have heard about them, especially this far north. They are a riptide. Once you’re caught in them, they take you where they please. No matter how much rowing or sailing you try to do.”

      Thor looked down, and saw the water below them rushing by at twice the speed. He looked out and saw

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