A Feast of Dragons - By Morgan Rice Page 0,54

investigation is closed. My brother Kendrick has been imprisoned.”

“I’m afraid it is not so simple, my lord,” Aberthol said. “The Silver is fiercely loyal to Kendrick. They are unsatisfied with his imprisonment. The staying of the execution helped, but not for long. There is great dissatisfaction among the ranks, especially after you cut their salary, and they call for a new investigation. You risk a revolt otherwise.”

“But the vial of poison was found in Kendrick’s chamber,” Gareth protested, his heart pounding.

“Yet there remains no definitive proof linking Kendrick to the murder.”

“As of today, I declare the investigation over,” Gareth announced. “Kendrick will wallow in that dungeon every day of his life.”

“But my lord—”

“Do not bring this matter up to me again,” Gareth snapped. “Now leave me! All of you!”

Quickly, the room filed out, and Gareth found himself alone, sitting on the throne in the deep silence.

Gareth sat there, his heart pounding, seething; he had feared something like this might happen if Kendrick was not executed immediately. He fumed as he remembered, a few months ago, his mother’s sudden interference, her using her powers to prevent him from executing Kendrick. He had heard that Gwen had gotten to her, that they had teamed up to stop it. He seethed with hatred for them both. He could not be safe as long as they were alive.

He recalled his bumbled attempt to have his man torture Gwen, months back. It hadn’t worked. Perhaps now was time to try again. This time, he could outright kill her.

Gareth smiled, as a plan hardened in his mind. Yes, this time might just do the trick.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Thor stood alone at the helm of a large, empty boat, in the middle of the ocean, the tides pulling him along at tremendous speed. The sails were bent by the wind, even though there was no one but him on the boat. It was a ghost ship, and he stood at its helm, looking out at the horizon, which was covered in an unearthly mist, golds and yellows and whites sparkling in the morning sun.

As the mist drifted, the outline of an island began to take shape, more of a mountain rising up from the sea than an island, its single peak soaring into the sky. It rose higher than any mountain Thor had ever seen, and at its top sat a castle, emerging from the rock, built into the edge of a cliff. The sky was expansive, filled with greens and pale yellows, a huge crescent moon hanging in its corner. The place was eerie and mystical. It seemed alive.

As Thor stood there, his boat rocking, somehow he was not afraid. He felt the ocean taking him there, and knew that this was the place he was meant to be. He knew, somehow, that his destiny awaited him there. That it was a place he was meant to be. That, in a strange way, it was home.

Thor could not remember setting sail, or how he got on this boat, but he knew it was a journey he was meant to take. Somehow, this place had always been in his dreams, somewhere deep down in the corners of his consciousness. He felt with certainty that his mother lived there.

Thor had never really contemplated his mother before. He had always been told she had passed away in childbirth, and had always felt a supreme guilt over this. But now, as he got closer to this island, he sensed her presence. That she was waiting for him.

A huge wave suddenly lifted the boat, hoisted it higher and higher into the air, and Thor felt himself rising higher and higher in the ocean. The wave picked up speed, like a tsunami, and he rode it all the way as it brought him rushing towards the island, faster and faster.

As he got close, he began to see a figure. It was a lone figure, standing atop a cliff. A woman. She wore flowing, blue robes, her chin was lowered, and her palms were out at her side. An intense light shone from behind her, radiated from her palms, shooting out like lightning. The light shone so brightly, that as Thor looked up, trying to see her, he had to shield his eyes. He could not make out her face.

He sensed that it was her. More than anything, he wanted to see her face, to see if she looked like him.

“Mother!” he called out.

“My son,” came a soft voice from somewhere. It was the