A Joust of Knights

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Gwendolyn ascended the spiral stone staircase in the far corner of the King’s castle, her heart pounding with anticipation, as she headed for Argon’s chamber. The King had graciously given Argon the grand chamber at the top of the spiral tower to recover, and had also vowed to Gwendolyn that he would give him his finest healers. Gwendolyn had been nervous to see him ever since; after all, the last time she had seen him, he was still comatose, and she was skeptical he would ever rise again.

Jasmine’s words had encouraged her that Argon was healing, and her cryptic reference to what Argon knew about finding Thor and Guwayne was consuming her. Was there something he was holding back from her? Why would he not reveal it? And how did a young girl know all this?

Gwen, desperate for any chance, any lead, to be able to reunite with her husband and son, burned with desire as she reached the top floor and rushed up to the large arched door to his chamber.

Two of the King’s guards stood before it, but when they saw the look on her face, they thought better of it.

“Open this door at once,” she said, using the voice of a Queen.

They exchanged a look and stepped aside, opening the door as she rushed inside.

Gwendolyn entered the chamber, the door slamming behind her, and as she did, she was startled at the sight before her. There, in the magnificent spiral tower, was a beautiful chamber, shaped in a circle, its walls made of cobblestone, its walls lined with stained glass. Even more shocking was what she saw: Argon, sitting up in bed, awake, alert, looking right at her, wearing his white robes and holding his staff. She was elated to see him alive, conscious, back to his old self. She was even more surprised to see, sitting beside the bed, a woman, who looked ageless, with long silky hair parted in the middle, and wearing a green, silk gown. Her eyes glowed red, and she sat perfectly erect, with one hand on Argon’s back, the other on his shoulder, and hummed softly, her eyes closed. Gwen realized at once that she must be the King’s personal healer, the one responsible for Argon’s recovery.

What’s more, Gwen immediately sensed the connection between the two of them, sensed that they liked each other. It was strange—Gwen had never imagined Argon falling in love. But looking at the two of them, they seemed perfect together. Each a powerful sorcerer.

Gwen stopped in her tracks, so startled at the sight, she didn’t know what to say.

Argon looked at her, and his eyes lit up with intensity as he stood to his full height, holding his staff. She sensed with relief that his great power had returned to him.

“You live,” she said, astounded.

He nodded back and smiled ever so slightly.

“I do indeed,” he replied. “Thanks to your carrying me through the desert. And to Celta’s help.”

Celta nodded back to Argon, their eyes locking.

Gwen wanted to rush forward and hug him, yet she was conflicted; she was mad at him for his not telling her whatever he knew that kept her from finding her husband and son.

“What do you know about Thor?” she demanded. “And Guwayne? And why did you not tell me you had a brother?”

Argon just looked back at her, eyes aglow, never wavering, lost in distant worlds she knew she would never understand. Some part of him was always unreachable, even to her.

“Not all knowledge is meant to be revealed,” he finally replied.

Gwen frowned, refusing to accept no for an answer.

“Guwayne is my son,” she said. “Thor is my husband. I deserve to know where they are. I need to know where they are,” she said, stepping forward, desperate.

Argon gazed back at her for a long time, then finally sighed, turned, and walked to the window, looking out.

“Many centuries ago,” he said to her, “before your father’s father, and his father before him, my brother and I were close. Yet time has a way of forking even the strongest rivers, and over time, we grew apart. This universe was not big enough to hold two brothers—not brothers like Ragon and I.”

Argon fell silent for a long time, gazing out the window.

“It became clear that Ragon’s place was here, in the Ridge, on this side of the world,” he continued, “while mine was elsewhere, in the Ring. We were two sides of the same coin, two faces of the same father—much like the two sides of the Ring and the Ridge.”

As Argon fell silent again, Gwen processed it all. It was hard to imagine: Argon and Ragon’s father. She was overflowing with questions, but she held her tongue.

Finally, he began again.

“My place was in the Ring, protecting the Canyon, holding up the Shield. Guarding the Destiny Sword, while Ragon guarded the Ridge. We lived this way for many, many centuries.”

“But he’s not here now,” Gwen said, puzzled.

Argon shook his head.

“No, he is not.”

“Where is he then?” she asked.

“Ragon foresaw the end of the Ridge,” Argon replied, “and he took the steps needed to save it. He’s in exile, on the Isle of Light, preparing for the second coming.”

“Second coming?” Gwen asked.

Argon sighed long and hard, staying silent. Gwen did not want to pry, but she needed to know where this was all going, and how it related to Thor.

“What I want to know is about Thorgrin and Guwayne,” she finally insisted. “What are you not telling me?”

Argon looked anguished as he looked at the window, until finally, he turned and looked at her. The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming.

“Some things are given to us in life,” he said gravely, “while others are taken away. We must celebrate what we have while we have it. And when something is lost to us, we must allow it to leave.”

Gwen felt her heart sinking at his words.

“What are you saying?” she demanded.

He took two steps toward her, standing a few feet away, staring back with such intensity that she had to look away. She had never seen him wear such a serious expression.

“Your husband is gone,” he pronounced gravely, each of his words like a blow to her heart. “Your son is gone to you, too. I am sorry, but they will never return. Not as you know them.”

Gwen felt like collapsing.

“NO!” she shrieked, crying, everything bursting out of her. She ran forward and grabbed Argon’s robe, and beat him on his chest with her fists, again and again.

Argon stood there, expressionless, not fighting her off but not comforting her either.

“I am sorry,” he said, after several moments. “I loved Thorgrin as a son. And Guwayne, too.”

“NO!” she shrieked, refusing to accept it.

Gwen turned and ran out the chamber, down the corridor, and burst out onto the wide parapets atop the castle. She stood there, all alone, clutching the rail and searching the horizon. She looked out at the distant peaks, the mist hanging over the ridge. Somewhere beyond was the Great Waste, and beyond that, the great sea. Carrying Thorgrin and Guwayne.

She could not accept her fate. Never.

“NO!” Gwen shrieked to the heavens. “Come back to me!”