The Gift of Battle

Argon nodded and looked down, humbled, and the Paragon turned back to Gwendolyn.

  “You made a vow, did you not?” he asked her.

  Gwen stared back, confused.

  “A vow to the King of the Ridge. You vowed to save his people. Whatever the cost. To lead them out of the Ridge if his Kingdom was destroyed.”

  Gwendolyn nodded.

  “I did,” she said.

  “The time has come. The King is dead, killed by his own son.”

  Gwendolyn gasped, horrified to hear it had been his son.

  “The Ridge as you know it,” the Paragon added, “will be no more. As we speak it is being invaded by hordes the likes of which the world has never seen.”

  He paused, leaning in close.

  “You, Gwendolyn, are the last hope. You can save this people, lead them on their exodus. You think your destiny was the exodus of the Ring—but that was just a warm-up. Your true destiny is the exodus of the Ridge. You have not fulfilled your mission in life—you have not even begun it.”

  Gwen stared back, trying to understand.

  “But where can I lead those people?” she asked. “The Ridge is surrounded by nothingness. I would only lead them through the Great Waste, to their deaths. And who am I to lead such a great nation?”

  The Paragon leaned back his neck, twisted and turned and curved it upside down before turning back to her. Gwen did not understand this creature at all, and she felt terrific fear in his presence, a fear and dread she could not understand.

  “Or,” the Paragon continued, “you can choose not to save the Ridge. You can ride your dragon across the sea, all the way to Thorgrin. You can find him and be with him forever. The choice is yours.”

  Gwendolyn thought. Her heart leapt at the thought of seeing Thorgrin again, so easily within reach. But she considered her vow, and realized she could not break it.

  “I made a vow,” she said. “It was a sacred vow. That means more than my life. More, even, than Thorgrin.”

  The Paragon nodded back in approval.

  “Good,” he said. “That is what sets you apart. You are Queen because of merit, because your choices merit you to be one. That is why you shall lead this people.”

  “But I still don’t understand,” Gwen said. “Where can I lead them?”

  The Paragon paused.

  “Don’t you know?” he asked. “It is the answer that has been sitting before you for all time.”

  She stared back blankly.

  Then, suddenly, an image flashed in her mind. She was flabbergasted.

  “The Ring!?” she asked, breathless.

  It nodded back.

  Gwen’s mind raced with wonder.

  “But how?” she asked. “The Ring is destroyed. And it lies across the sea, halfway around the world.”

  “And what of the Shield?” Argon chimed in, he, too, sounding surprised. “It, too, is no more.”

  “Without the Shield,” Gwen added, “we could not hold back the hordes of the Empire.”

  The Paragon leaned back and laughed.

  “It is even worse than that, I’m afraid,” he said. “The millions of Empire soldiers waiting to attack you are the least of your dangers. There is a far greater force than them set on your destruction.”

  Gwendolyn waited, feeling a sense of dread.

  “The dark ones,” he said. “Led by the Blood Lord. By the creature that has your son. The great army is rising. An army greater even than the Empire has ever known. They are an unstoppable force.”

  “Then it is hopeless,” Gwen said, resorting to fear. “We are all doomed to die.”

  “I took you to have more hope than that,” the Paragon said, disapproving. “There is always hope.”

  “But how?” Gwen asked. “How can we return to the Ring with no Shield?”

  The Paragon turned back to Argon.

  “You were my greatest student,” he said. “You know the answer. It lies deep within you. It has always been just beyond your grasp, always been the secret just out of your reach. It is the one thing that has been gnawing at you, the one secret I withheld from you for all these centuries. The one thing you could not be allowed to know until the time was right. But now, the time has come.”

  Argon stared back with trepidation and wonder.

  “What is it, my master?” he asked. “What is the secret that I have yet to learn?”

  The Paragon paused for a long time, its arms flailing like snakes, turning his neck this way and that—until finally he stopped and became very still. He stared at Argon.

  “The Sorcerer’s Ring,” he said. “You have never fully understood what it means. You have always taken it only for the Shield. But the Sorcerer’s Ring, my student, has two meanings. Yes, it is the Ring, the Shield about the Canyon. But there is another meaning. Another ring.”

  Argon squinted in wonder as the Paragon leaned forward and stared into his eyes.

  “Another ring?” Argon asked.

  The Paragon nodded.

  “An actual ring,” he said.

  Gwen and Argon both gasped, blown away by the revelation.

  “The Sorcerer’s Ring is also an object. A magical ring, formed at the dawn of time. It is the only thing that can stop the Blood Lord, the only thing which can restore the Shield for all time, restore the Ring, restore the Kingdom you once had. This Ring is your only hope for salvation.”

  “And where can we find such a ring?” Gwendolyn asked. “I will go anywhere. Do anything.”

  The Paragon shook his head.

  “It lies in the Land of the Ring,” he said, “but is not for you to find. It is a quest which only one person in the world can take. It is a Ring which only one person in the world can wear.”

  Gwendolyn’s eyes lit up with understanding.

  “Thorgrin,” she said.

  The Paragon nodded.

  “And how shall he know where it is?” she asked.

  “He will know,” he answered. “Deep inside, he will know.”

  Gwendolyn suddenly had another realization.

  “The dragon,” she said, piecing it all together. “She came so that I can send her back across the sea, to Thorgrin. So that I could deliver this message, tell Thorgrin of the Ring.”

  The Paragon nodded.

  “But if I do so,” Gwendolyn continued, “then I will have to let go of the dragon. Once it returns me to the Ridge, I will have no dragon to help me. I will have to lead the people out on foot.”

  The Paragon fell silent, and finally Gwendolyn understood. It all made sense: there was a supreme test ahead for her, and for Thorgrin. Two sides of the same coin, both needed to restore the Ring.

  “And my son?” she asked.

  “The Ring is the only thing that can save him now,” the Paragon replied. “If Thorgrin fails to find it—and most likely he will fail—all of you will be nothing.”

  The Paragon suddenly lifted his arms up to the sky, let out a shriek which split the earth, then just as quickly sank back down beneath the waters, the water bubbling and hissing all about him, leaving nothing but smoke and mist.

  Gwendolyn and Argon stared at each other, each realizing that before them lay their greatest trials yet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Kendrick galloped through the Great Waste, alongside Brandt, Atme, Koldo, Ludvig—and now Kaden—the six of them charging back, after their confrontation with the Sand Walkers, back toward the safety of the Ridge. Kendrick was elated, as were the others, all of them so relieved they had found Kaden in time, and were bringing him home unscathed. They had been riding hard all day and all night ever since retrieving him, and Kendrick felt the urgency, as did the others, to make it back to the Ridge.

  Finally, after hours of monotony, the landscape began to change, and Kendrick, to his relief, saw the Sand Wall looming on the horizon, and he knew the Ridge wouldn’t be far behind it.

  “I still don’t see them,” Ludvig called out.

  Kendrick peered into the horizon and he, too,
saw no sign of Naten and the others; he was surprised. Those knights of the Ridge had vowed to come back for them, with horses. Kendrick knew the knights of the Ridge to be honorable, and he suspected Naten was behind it. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted Kendrick to return, and he knew that if hadn’t come for them, they likely would not. But little did he know that they had found their own horses, had found their own way back. He suspected they would have hell to pay when they returned.

  As they rode, Kendrick noticed the expressions on Koldo’s and Ludvig’s faces, and it seemed that they were more hurt by the betrayal of their people than Kendrick.

  “Then they did not come for us,” Koldo replied, disappointment in his voice.

  Ludvig snorted.

  “Should we be surprised?” he replied. “Naten talks big, and he threatens others. But when it comes down to it, he is a coward.”

  “When we get back, he shall be disciplined,” Koldo replied. “He left us out there to die, and justice shall be done.”

  Koldo turned to Kendrick.

  “You were gracious to put up with him,” he said. “I am sorry he gave you such a hard time. We owe you for joining us on this mission, a mission that was not even yours. We cannot thank you enough.”

  Kendrick nodded back, his respect and admiration for Koldo and Ludvig mutual.

  “Not all members of a court hold to the same values,” he replied. “The same holds true in the Ring. It was an honor to join you on this mission. After all, what makes a brother is equal honor, courage—and you two are my brothers today.”

  They rode and rode, and the sound grew deafening as they approached the Sand Wall, Kendrick squinting as the sand began to hit him even from here. Kendrick covered himself in the wrap that Koldo had given them, wrapping himself again and again, until finally, as they entered it, he wrapped his face, too. He remembered, from having ridden through it once, how rough this Sand Wall could be, and he was not looking forward to entering it again.

  The noise hit a fever pitch, drowning out all else, as Kendrick suddenly found himself immersed in a wall of sand, a stationary tornado. Sand scraped him from every possible angle. It was almost impossible to see, and Kendrick gasped for breath, the air and sand so intense as he galloped through with the others. He did not feel as if it would ever end.

  Kendrick finally burst out the other side, along with the others, charging back out into the open sky, the open desert, and he gasped with relief. The blinding sunlight bore down on him, and he didn’t care—he was just happy to be out in the open again. And as he looked to his sides, he saw the others unwrapping, too, and could see the joy and relief on their faces, all of them, and their horses, scratched up, but still alive.

  But Kendrick also noted the startled expressions on their faces as they stared straight ahead, and he turned himself, looking back ahead, wondering what they were seeing.

  As he did, Kendrick’s mouth fell open in shock. There, up ahead, were the peaks of the ridge, sitting on the horizon—and at first he was relieved to see them. But before them, between their group and home, was a sight that filled him with dread, a sight that he had never expected to see in his lifetime. It was a sight which made them all come to an abrupt stop on their horses.

  They all sat there, breathing hard, staring, speechless.

  “It is not possible,” said Koldo.

  Kendrick was thinking the same thing. Because there, before them, was the largest army he had ever seen, millions of soldiers, wearing glistening black armor, spreading out in every direction, their backs to Kendrick. They were all, Kendrick cold see, preparing to invade the Ridge from every side. They swarmed like ants in a massive circle, closing in on the peaks.

  Kendrick heard a noise, and he turned and saw bursting through the Sand Wall, thousands more of these soldiers, more pouring in every second. They flew distinctive banners, and he struggled to understand who they were, who could be mobilizing to attack the ridge.

  “The Knights of the Seven,” announced Koldo, his voice grave.

  “They bear all the weight of the Empire armies,” Ludvig said, dismay in his voice. “If they have discovered the Ridge, we’re finished.”

  Kendrick sat there, his heart pounding, realizing they were right.

  Kendrick also realized that they were in an unusual position now, being able to witness this from behind, their presence still undetected from the Empire. They could not, of course, whatever the odds, turn around and leave, not with their brothers inside, not with Gwendolyn there.

  They all exchanged looks, and silently they were all thinking the same thing. They would have to find a way to attack.

  “We must find a way back in,” Koldo said, “and help them defend. Even if it means our lives.”

  “Our brothers will all die in there,” Kendrick said. “And we shall die defending them.”

  “And how shall we get in?” Brandt asked. “They have the Ridge surrounded.”

  Kendrick saw Koldo and Ludvig scrutinizing the landscape, the contours of the Ridge, and they then exchanged a knowing look.

  “Behind that rock formation, far from the ranks of the soldiers,” Koldo said, pointing, “there lies a tunnel, concealed. It leads underneath the Ridge. It was built for times like this. We can reach it undetected. Let us go quickly and join our brothers, before the soldiers detect us.”

  Koldo kicked his horse and they all joined him, racing under the desert sky, for the Ridge, for their brothers, for the greatest battle of their lives—for valor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Thorgrin sat on the deck of the ship, head in his hands, elbows on his knees, utterly despondent. After the currents had taken them out from the Land of Blood, out from under the gloom, through the waterfall of blood and back into the open sea, they now drifted aimlessly in the vast open ocean, Thor feeling as if his whole life were drifting away from him. The sun shone down, illuminating everything, and Thor knew that he should be happy to be back out under an open sky, away from the darkness of the Land of Blood.

  But Thorgrin felt nothing like joy; instead he felt as if, for the first time in his life, he had failed a quest. He had endeavored to rescue his son, and he had failed his mission. He had failed to reach his most prized possession in the world, had failed to overcome a foe, a land, more powerful than he. He had, in fact, been meant to die there, he knew, and if it were not for Angel, he would still be there now, trapped forever.

  Now here he was, drifting at sea with the rest of the Legion, too despondent to move even though all of them were looking to him for leadership. For the first time in his life he felt paralyzed, felt purposeless, felt like he could provide none. He had failed his son, and didn’t see the point of going on. He knew there was no way back into the Land of Blood, knew that it was an insurmountable place for him. He was not strong enough yet—just as Ragon had warned.

  It was humbling for Thor to realize there were foes out there stronger than he, that there were limits to his power—even when his own son was at stake. And, most of all, it tormented Thorgrin to think of Guwayne stuck there, in the clutches of the Blood Lord and his dark beings, to be molded to whatever evil purpose they had for him. His own boy, snatched away from him; a father unable to save his son.

  Thorgrin sat there holding his head, hating himself.

  As he sat there, Thor went over and over in his head what went wrong, how he could’ve done it all differently. As their ship rocked on the rolling waves, he felt aimless, as if there were no reason to go on without Guwayne. He could not return to Gwendolyn without him, a failure—he could not even live with himself as a failure. And yet he saw no other way.

  He felt hopeless for the first time in his life.

  “Thorgrin,” came a soft voice.

  Thor felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder and he glanced up to see Reece standing over him. Reece sat beside him, good-naturedly, clearly trying to console him.

  “You did all you could,” he said.

  “You got further than anyone el
se,” came another voice.

  Thor turned to see Elden come over and sit on his other side. He heard the wood creaking on the deck, and he looked up to also see O’Connor, Matus, Selese, Indra, and Angel, all of them gathering around him, and he could see in their eyes their concern, how much they cared for him. He felt ashamed; they had always seen him as being so strong, as being so sure of himself, being a leader. They had never seen him like this. He no longer knew how to act; he no longer knew how to be with himself.

  Thor shook his head.

  “My son still lies beyond my grasp,” he said, his voice that of a broken man.

  “True,” Matus replied. “But look around you. We are all alive. You have survived. Not all is lost. We shall all live to fight another day. We shall achieve some other mission.”

  Thorgrin shook his head.

  “There is no mission without my son. All is meaningless.”

  “And what of Gwendolyn?” Reece asked. “What of the exiles of the Ring? They need us, too. We must find them and save them, wherever they may be.”

  But Thor could not bear the thought of facing Gwendolyn, of returning to them all as a failure.

  Slowly, he shook his head.

  “Leave me,” he said to them all, being harsher than he’d wanted.

  He could sense them all staring back at him, all clearly surprised that he would talk to them that way. He had never spoken to them that way before, and he could see the hurt in their faces. He immediately felt guilty, but he was too numb within himself, and too ashamed, to face any of them.

  Thor looked down, unable to look at them, and he heard the groaning and creaking of the deck. Out of the corner of his eye he watched them all leave him, crossing to the far side of the ship, leaving him be.

  Thor felt a pit in his stomach; he wished he could have acted otherwise. He wished he could have rebounded, regained his leadership, gotten over this. But this failed quest hurt him too deeply.

  Thor heard a distant screech, and he searched the skies, wondering if he were imagining it. It sounded like the cry of a dragon. Could it be? Was it Lycoples?