by Morgan Rice
After all, to evacuate her people from their homes, to lead them across the Canyon, onto ships, to the volatile Upper Isles, was a drastic move, a move reserved for a time of the greatest calamity. What if she did so, and no tragedy ever befell the Ring? She’d be known as the Queen who panicked with no danger in sight.
Gwendolyn sighed, clutching Guwayne as he squirmed in her arms, and wondered if she were losing her mind. She looked up and searched the skies for any sign of Thorgrin, hoping, praying. At least, she hoped for any sign of Ralibar, wherever he was. But he, too, had not returned.
Gwen watched an empty sky, once again disappointed. Once again, she would have to rely on herself. Even her people, who had always supported her, who had looked to her as a god, now seemed to distrust her. Her father had never prepared her for this. Without the support of her people, what sort of Queen would she be? Powerless.
Gwen desperately wanted to turn to someone for comfort, for answers. But Thorgrin was gone; her mother was gone; seemingly everyone she knew and loved was gone. She felt at a crossroads, and had never felt more confused.
Gwen closed her eyes and called upon God to help her. She tried with all her will to summon him. She had never been one to pray much, but her faith was strong, and she felt certain that he existed.
Please, God. I am so confused. Show me how to best protect my people. Show me how to best protect Guwayne. Show me how to be a great ruler.
“Prayers are a powerful thing,” came a voice.
Gwen spun at once, instantly relieved to hear that voice. Standing there, several feet away, was Argon. He was clothed in his white cloak and hood, holding his staff, looking out at the horizon instead of her.
“Argon, I need answers. Please. Help me.”
“We are always in need of answers,” he replied. “And yet they do not always come. Our lives are meant to be lived out. The future cannot always be told for us.”
“But it can be hinted at,” Gwendolyn said. “All the prophecies I’ve read, all the scrolls, the history of the Ring—still point to a great darkness that is coming. You must tell me. Will it occur?”
Argon turned and stared at her, his eyes filled with fire, darker and scarier than she’d ever seen them.
“Yes,” he replied.
The definiteness of his answer scared her more than anything. He, Argon, who always spoke in riddles.
Gwen shivered inside.
“Will it come here, to King’s Court?”
“Yes,” he replied.
Gwen felt her sense of dread deepening. She also felt secure in her conviction that she had been right all along.
“Will the Ring will be destroyed?” she asked.
Argon looked to her, and nodded slowly.
“There are but a few things left that I can tell you,” he said. “If you choose, this can be one of them.”
Gwen thought long and hard. She knew Argon’s wisdom was precious. Yet this was something she really needed to know.
“Tell me,” she said.
Argon took a deep breath as he turned and surveyed the horizon for what felt like forever.
“The Ring will be destroyed. Everything you know and love will be wiped away. The place you now stand will be nothing but flaming embers and ashes. All of the Ring will be ashes. Your nation will be gone. A darkness is coming. A darkness greater than any darkness in our history.”
Gwendolyn felt the truth of his words reverberate inside her, felt the deep timbre of his voice resonate to her very core. She knew that every word he spoke was true.
“My people do not see this,” she said, her voice shaking.
Argon shrugged.
“You are Queen. Sometimes force must be used. Not only against one’s enemies. But even against one’s people. Do what you know. Do not always seek your people’s approval. Approval is an elusive thing. Sometimes, when your people hate you the most, that is a sign that you are doing the best thing for them. Your father was blessed with a reign of peace. But you, Gwendolyn, you will have a far greater test: you will have a reign of steel.”
As Argon turned to walk away, Gwendolyn stepped forward and reached out for him.
“Argon,” she called.
He stopped, but did not turn around.
“Just tell me one more thing. I beg you. Will I ever see Thorgrin again?”
He paused, a long, heavy silence. In that grim silence, she felt her heart breaking in two, hoping and praying that he would give her just one more answer.
“Yes,” he replied.
She stood there, her heart pounding, craving more.
“Can you tell me nothing more?”
He turned and looked at her, sadness in his eyes.
“Remember the choice you made. Not every love is meant to last forever.”
High above, Gwen heard a falcon screech, and she looked to the sky, wondering.
She turned to look back at Argon, but he was already gone.
She clutched Guwayne tight and looked out at her kingdom, taking one long last look, wanting to remember it like this, when it was still vibrant, alive. Before it all turned to ash. She wondered with dread what danger so great could be lurking beyond that veneer of beauty. She shuddered, as she knew, without a doubt, that it would find them all very soon.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stara yelled as she plummeted through the air, flailing, Reece beside her, Matus and Srog beside him, the four of them falling from the castle wall in the blinding wind and rain, plunging toward the ground. She braced herself as she saw the large bushes come up at her quickly, and she realized the only reason she might survive this fall was because of them.
A moment later, Stara felt as if every bone in her body was breaking as she smashed into the bush—which barely broke her fall—and continued on until she hit the ground. She felt the wind knocked out of her, and was sure she bruised a rib. Yet at the same time, she sank several inches and realized the ground was softer, muddier than she thought, and cushioned her fall.
The others hit, too, beside her, and all of them began to tumble as the mud gave way. Stara hadn’t anticipated they would land on a steep slope, and before she could stop herself, she was sliding with the others, rushing downhill, all of them caught up in a mudslide.
They rolled and slid, and soon the gushing waters carried them, sliding down the mountain at full speed. As she slid, Stara looked back over her shoulder and saw her father’s castle quickly fading from view, and realized that at least it was taking them away, far from their attackers.
Stara looked back down and dodged as she narrowly avoided rocks in her path, going so fast she could hardly catch her breath. The mud was unbelievably slick, and the rain came down harder, her world spinning at lightning speed. She tried to slow, grasping at the mud, but it was impossible.
Just as Stara wondered if this would ever end, she was flooded with panic as she remembered where this slope led: right off the side of a cliff. If they didn’t stop themselves soon, she realized, they would all be dead.
Stara saw that none of the others could stop the slide either, all of them flailing, groaning, trying their hardest but helpless. Stara looked out and saw, with dread, the drop-off fast approaching. With no way to stop themselves, they were about to go right over the edge.
Suddenly Stara saw Srog and Matus veer to the left, to a small cave perched at the edge of the precipice. They somehow managed to smash into the rocks feet first, coming to a standstill just before they went over the edge.
Stara tried to dig her heels into the mud, but nothing was working; she merely spun and tumbled, and seeing the precipice coming up on her, she yelled, knowing she’d be over the edge in a second.
Suddenly, Stara felt a rough hand grabbing the back of her shirt, slowing her speed, then stopping her. She looked up to see Reece. He clung to a flimsy tree, one arm wrapped around it, at the edge of the precipice, his other hand reaching out and holding her as water and mud gushed, pulling her away. She was losing ground, nearly danglin
g over the edge. He had stopped her fall, but she was losing ground.
Reece could not continue to hold her, and she knew that if he didn’t let go, soon they would both go over together. They would both die.
“Let me go!” she yelled up at him.
But he shook his head adamantly.
“Never!” he yelled back, his face dripping with water, over the rain.
Reece suddenly let go of the tree so he could reach out and grab her wrists with both hands; at the same time, he wrapped his legs around the tree, holding himself from behind. He yanked her to him with all his might, his legs the only thing keeping them both from going over.
With one final move, he groaned and cried and managed to yank her out of the current, to the side, and sent her rolling over to the cave with the others. Reece tumbled with her as she went, rolling out of the current himself, and helping her as she crawled.
When they reached the safety of the cave Stara collapsed, exhausted, lying face-first in the mud, and so grateful to be alive.
As she lay there, breathing hard, dripping wet, she wondered not about how close she’d come to death, but rather about one thing: did Reece still love her? She realized she cared more about that than even whether or not she lived.
*
Stara sat huddled around the small fire inside the cave, the others close by, finally starting to dry off. She looked around and realized the four of them looked like survivors of a war, cheeks sunken, all staring into the flames, holding up their hands and rubbing them, trying to shelter themselves from the ceaseless wet and cold. They listened to the wind and rain, the ever-present elements of the Upper Isles, thrashing outside. It felt like it would never end.
It was night now, and they had waited all day to light this fire, for fear of being seen. Finally, they had all been so cold and tired and miserable, they had risked it. Stara felt enough time had passed from their escape—and besides, there was no way those men would dare to venture all the way down to these cliffs. It was too steep and wet, and if they did, they would die trying.
Still, the four of them were trapped in here, like prisoners. If they stepped foot outside the cave, eventually an army of Upper Islanders would find them, and kill them all. Her brother would have no mercy on her, either. It was hopeless.
She sat near a distant, brooding Reece, and pondered the events. She had saved Reece’s life back in the fort, but he had saved hers on the cliff. Did he still care for her the way he once did? The way that she still cared for him? Or was he still bitter over what had happened to Selese? Did he blame her? Would he ever forgive her?
Stara could not imagine the pain he was going through as he sat there, head in his hands, staring into the fire like a man who was lost. She wondered what was racing through his mind. He looked like a man with nothing left to lose, like a man who had been to the edge of suffering and had not quite returned. A man wracked by guilt. He did not look like the man she had once known, the man so full of love and joy, so quick to smile, who’d showered her with love and affection. Now, instead, he looked as if something had died inside of him.
Stara looked up, afraid to meet Reece’s eyes, yet needing to see his face. She hoped secretly that he would be staring at her, thinking of her. Yet when she saw him, her heart broke to see that he was not looking at her at all. Instead, he just stared into the flames, the loneliest look on his face that she had ever seen.
Stara could not help wondering for the millionth time if whatever had existed between them was over, ruined by Selese’s death. For the millionth time, she cursed her brothers—and her father—for putting into action such a devious plot. She had always wanted Reece to herself, of course; but she would never have condoned the subterfuge that had led to her demise. She had never wanted Selese to die, or even to be hurt. She had hoped that Reece would break the news to her in a gentle way, and that while upset, she would understand—and certainly not take her own life. Or destroy Reece’s.
Now all of Stara’s plans, her entire future, had crumbled before her eyes, thanks to her awful family. Matus was the only rational one left of her bloodline. Yet Stara wondered what would become of him, of the four of them. Would they just rot and die here in this cave? Eventually they would have to leave it. And her brother’s men, she knew, were relentless. He would not stop until he’d killed them all—especially after Reece had killed her father.
Stara knew she should feel some remorse at her father being dead—and yet she felt none at all. She hated the man, and always had. If anything, she felt relieved, even grateful to Reece for killing him. He had been a lying, honorless warrior and king his entire life, and no father to her at all.
Stara glanced at these three warriors, all sitting there looking distraught. They’d been silent for hours, and she wondered if any them had a plan. Srog was badly wounded, and Matus and Reece had been wounded as well, though their injuries were minor. They all looked frozen to the bone, beaten down by the weather of this place, by the odds against them.
“So are we all going to sit in this cave forever, and die here?” Stara asked, breaking the thick silence, no longer able to stand the monotony or the gloom.
Slowly, Srog and Matus looked over at her. But Reece still would not look up and meet her eyes.
“And where would you have us go?” Srog asked, defensive. “The entire island is crawling with your brother’s men. What chance do we hold against them? Especially with them enraged at our escape and your father’s death.”
“You got us into a pickle, my cousin,” Matus said, smiling, putting a hand on Reece’s shoulder. “That was a bold act of yours. Possibly the boldest act I’ve seen in my life.”
Reece shrugged.
“He stole my bride. He deserved to die.”
Stara bristled at the word bride. It broke her heart. His choice of that word told her everything—clearly, Reece was still in love with Selese. He would not even meet Stara’s eyes. She felt like crying.
“Do not worry, cousin,” Matus said. “I rejoice my father is dead, and I am glad that you are the one who killed him. I do not blame you. I admire you. Even if you nearly got us all killed in the process.”
Reece nodded, clearly appreciating Matus’s words.
“But no one answered me,” Stara said. “What is the plan? For us all to die here?”
“What is your plan?” Reece shot back at her.
“I have none,” she said. “I did my part. I rescued us all from that place.”
“Yes, you did,” Reece admitted, still looking into the flames rather than at her. “I owe you my life.”
Stara felt a glimmer of hope at Reece’s words, even if he would still not meet her eyes. She wondered if maybe he did not hate her after all.
“And you saved mine,” she replied. “From the edge of the cliff. We are even.”
Reece still stared into to the flames.
She waited for him to say something back, to say that he loved her, to say anything. But he said nothing. Stara found herself reddening.
“Is that it then?” she said. “Have we nothing else to say to each other? Is our business done?”
Reece raised his head, meeting her eyes for the first time with a puzzled expression.
Stara could stand it no more. She jumped to her feet and stormed away from the others, standing at the edge of the cave, her back to all of them. She looked out at the night, the rain, the wind, and she wondered: was everything over between her and Reece? If it was, she felt no reason to go on living.
“We can escape to the ships,” Reece finally said, after an interminable silence, his terse words cutting through the night.
Stara turned and looked at him.
“Escape to the ships?” she asked.
Reece nodded.
“Our men are down there, in the harbor below. We must go to them. It is the last MacGil territory left in this place.”
Stara shook her head.
“A reckless plan,” she said. “The ships will be surrounde
d, if they have not already been destroyed. We’d have to get through all of my brother’s men to get there. Better to hide out somewhere else on the island.”
Reece shook his head, determined.
“No,” he said. “Those are our men. We must go to them, whatever the cost. If they are attacked, then we will go down fighting with them.”
“You don’t seem to understand,” she said, equally determined. “At morning light, thousands of my brother’s men will litter the shores. There is no way past them.”
Reece stood, brushing off the dampness, a fire in his eyes.
“Then we shall not wait for morning light,” he said. “We will go now. Before the sun rises.”
Matus slowly stood, too, and Reece looked down at Srog.
“Srog?” Matus asked. “Can you make it?”
Srog grimaced as he stumbled to his feet, Matus lending a hand.
“I will not hold you back,” Srog said. “Go without me. I will stay here in this cave.”
“You will die here in this cave,” Matus said.
“Well then you will not die with me,” he replied.
Reece shook his head.
“No man left behind,” he said. “You will join us, no matter what it takes.”
Reece, Matus, and Srog walked up beside Stara at the edge of the cave, gazing out into the howling wind and rain. Stara looked the three men over, wondering if they were crazy.
“You wanted a plan,” Reece said, turning to her. “Well, now we have one.”
She shook her head slowly.
“Reckless,” she said. “That is the way of men. We will likely die on the way to the ships.”
Reece shrugged.
“We will all die one day anyway.”
As they all stood there, watching the elements, waiting for that perfect moment, Stara waited for Reece to do something, anything, to take her hand, to show her, even in the smallest way, that he still cared for her.
But he did not. He kept his hand to himself and Stara felt herself hardening, crushed inside. She prepared to embark, no longer caring what fate had in store for her. As they all stepped out into the darkness together, she realized that, without Reece’s love, she had nothing left to lose.
