A Reign of Steel

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Gwendolyn stood in Tirus’s former fort and looked out over his former courtyard, at the swinging body of Tirus’s son, Falus. He hung by a noose from his neck in the city’s center, dozens of Upper Islanders, citizens who did not protest the rebellion, standing below, looking up, gawking. Gwen was glad that they were; she wanted to send them all a message.

Falus represented the last of the rebellious offspring of Tirus’s family, the last of the people Gwen had executed as she had rounded up all surviving rebels here on the Upper Isles. As she watched his body swing, she realized she should have rounded them all up—especially Tirus—long ago. She had been a young and naïve ruler, she realized, putting too much stock in the hope for peace. For way too long she had given Tirus too many chances to survive. She had tried to avoid conflict at all costs—but in doing so, she realized, she had ultimately only generated more conflict. She should have acted boldly and ruthlessly from the start.

As she watched the body swing amidst the cold fog and dark clouds of the Upper Isles, she mused that just moons ago such a sight would have upset her; now, though, since Thor had left her, since she had a child, since she had survived being Queen, something inside her had hardened, and she watched the body swing without the slightest bit of emotion. That scared her. Was she losing sight of who she was? Who was she becoming?

“My lady?” Kendrick asked, standing beside her.

She turned and faced him, snapping out of it.

“Shall we take down the body?”

Gwen looked over and saw her people all around her in the great hall, all of them, after their bold victory, after her fearless decisions in the face of adversity, after her saving them from the hands of Romulus, now looking to her as a great leader and Queen. There were Kendrick, Aberthol, Steffen, Elden, O’Connor, Conven—all the brave men who had fought with her to gain this place back. And amongst them, it warmed her heart to see, now stood Reece, Stara beside him. He was wounded, but intact, and while in the past the sight of him had made her angry, now she was so grateful he was alive.

Gwen turned back to the window, realizing they were all awaiting her decision. She watched the body swing, the last of them, the only one that had not yet been taken down. Across the courtyard, she watched with satisfaction as the old banner of the Upper Isles was lowered, and the new banner of the MacGils was raised. This was her territory now.

“No,” Gwen replied, her voice cold and firm. “Let it hang until the sun falls. Let the Upper Islanders know who rules this island now.”

“Yes, my lady,” he answered. “And what of the remainder of Tirus’s soldiers? We have nearly one hundred of them in captivity.”

Since they had taken the Isles, Gwen had her men systematically rounded up all Upper Islander soldiers left alive, anyone that might be loyal to Tirus. She would take no chances this time.

She turned and faced him, and tone turned hard.

“Kill them all,” she commanded.

Kendrick looked at the men, who looked back at him, all of them wary.

“My lady, is that humane?” Aberthol asked.

Gwen looked at him, cold and hard.

“Humane?” she repeated. “Was it humane for them to betray us, to slaughter our men?”

Aberthol said nothing.

“I have tried to be humane. Many times. But I have learned there is little room for humanity when one is at war. I wish it were otherwise.”

She turned to Kendrick.

“The only ones who shall be left to live will be those who never raised a weapon against us. The citizens. I have no resources to hold prisoners, nor the will to hold them. Nor do I trust them. Kill them at once.”

“Yes, my lady,” Kendrick replied.

Gwendolyn surveyed all the faces, saw them looking back at her with a new respect, and she felt so proud of them for all they had accomplished, that they were all standing there alive on this day.

“I want you all to know how proud of you I am,” she said. “You won this island in a glorious battle. You fought fearlessly, and we have a new home here now, thanks to all of you. You faced death, and you fought right through it.”

The men nodded gratefully, and Reece stepped forward and lowered his head.

“My Queen,” he said. She could hear in his tone that he was finally speaking to her as a ruler, and not as a sister. “I must apologize for starting all this. I do not apologize for killing Tirus, but I do apologize for the lost lives of our men.”

She looked at him, cold and hard.

“Do not defy my command again,” she said.

Reece nodded, humbled.

“Yes, my lady.”

She could see he was contrite, and her expression softened.

“But I must say, you were not wrong to kill Tirus,” she admitted. “He deserved it long ago. In fact, it is I who must apologize for not killing him sooner.”

Reece looked up at her, nodding back with a new understanding and respect.

Cheers suddenly rose up from down below, and Gwen looked out the window to see thousands of her people, those whom she had evacuated from the Ring, filling the courtyards, entering the deserted homes and taverns, taking homes for themselves.

“Our people seem happy to be here,” Godfrey said.

“They are happy to be alive,” Gwen corrected. “Life here is better than no life at all.”

“You should be very proud, my sister,” Kendrick said. “You saved them.”

Gwen nodded, but sighed, her heart heavy as she pondered all that they left behind—and all of the looming dangers.

“This could be a new home for us,” Godfrey said.

Gwen shook her head.

“I would like to think so,” she said. “But we’re only safe here as long as Argon’s shield holds. But if Argon’s spell should falter, then all you see here is fleeting. Then there will be nothing in the world that can stop the devastation that would come.”

“But surely Romulus will be content with what he has,” Godfrey said. “After all, he has the Ring now. He has everything he wants.”

Gwendolyn shook her head, knowing Romulus too well.

“The Ring was never what he wanted,” she said. “What he’s wanted, what they’ve always wanted, is our complete destruction. And he will follow us to the ends of the earth to have it.”

“And what are the chances of Argon’s shield holding then?” Kendrick asked.

“Only Argon can say,” Gwen said.

“You know him best,” Reece said. “Will he waken?”

Gwendolyn turned to him.

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said, determined to go and find out.

Reece stood with Stara atop the highest cliffs of the Upper Isles, the two of them having hiked here together in silence. With everything now at peace in the Upper Isles, there was little left to do but settle in, and perhaps wait for the invasion to come. The feeling in the air was peaceful—and somber—and when Stara had asked Reece if he’d wanted to take a walk, he was quick to agree. He needed something to distract him from the events that might come—and deep down, a part of him, he had to admit, wanted to be with her. He hated himself for it, and yet he had to admit it was true. They had been through too much together for it to be otherwise.

Yet neither of them had said a word since. They had hiked for nearly an hour, and it became clear to them both that, while they were comfortable with each other’s company, this was not a romantic walk. It was a somber walk, a walk of reflection, of understanding.

Reece looked about and found it ironic that the same island they had hiked but moons ago, once overflowing with summer bounty, was now whipped by a cold, bleak wind, blanketed by a gray sky with dark, rolling clouds. Could life change so quickly? he wondered. Could anyone hang onto anything?

Reece began to feel uncomfortable in their heavy silence; he didn’t know what to say to her. She apparently had nothing to say to him either, and he began to wonder why she wanted to take the walk at all. He had gone with her to get away from all the death that had surrounded him, to clear his mind.

As they reached the highest plateau of the cliffs, they finally came to a stop beside a small lake, from which there trickled a gentle stream, winding its way down the mountain.

Reece watched, puzzled, as Stara knelt down, reached into her sack, and pulled out a large black flower shaped like a bowl, with a small candle in its center. He wondered what she was doing.

“Is that a mourning candle?” he asked.

Stara nodded.

“I know that things can never be the same between us,” she said softly, her voice somber. “That is not why I invited you here. I invited you up here to tell you that I’m sorry for all that happened to Selese. Most of all, I want to tell Selese that I’m sorry, too. Wherever she is.”

Reece looked down in shame, as his eyes welled with tears.

“I never meant for anything bad to become her,” Stara said. “You must believe me. I need you to believe me.”

Reece nodded.

“I do,” he said. “And I never meant for anything bad, either,” he said, as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“And yet, I was selfish,” she said, “selfish to try to steal you away. My actions were selfish. And they were wrong.”

She sighed.

“They say if you light a mourning candle here, in this pond, and the current takes it down the stream of tears, it will provide solace to the dead,” she said. “That is why I invited you here.”

Stara took out two flint rocks and lit the candle with the spark. It glowed in the center of the black flower, eerie and surreal.

She held it out to Reece.

“Do you want to place it?” she asked.

Reece gently took the flower from her, the candle burning inside, and their fingers touched as he did. Then he knelt down and gently placed it into the small pond. The waters were icy to his fingers.

Reece stood beside Stara and watched as it floated in the pond. It went nowhere, as there was no breeze up here in this sheltered spot.

“Selese,” Reece said, lowering his head. “I love you. Please forgive me.”

“Please forgive us,” Stara added.

The flower began to float out, just a little bit further, yet it was still not picked up by the stream.

“I know we can never be together,” Stara said to Reece. “Not after all this. But at least we can be together in this—in our mourning for Selese.”

Stara held out one hand, and Reece took it. They stood there, side-by-side, staring out at the candle, as they lowered their heads and closed their eyes.

Reece prayed for blessings for Selese. And most of all, for forgiveness.

Reece opened his eyes as suddenly a wind picked up, and he watched in surprise as the flower suddenly moved, shifting across the pond before being picked up by the current.

Reece watched in amazement as the current took it into the Stream of Tears. It wound its way down the mountain, twisting and turning.

Reece turned and watched as the water carried it down the mountain face, until finally it was out of sight.

Reece turned to look at Stara, and she turned and looked at him. They continue to hold hands—and for some reason, despite their best efforts, neither seemed able to let go.

Gwendolyn walked across quickly across the courtyard of her new court, flanked by several of her men. She proceeded through the ancient, stone gates out of the courtyard, and took winding, rocky paths into the countryside, bracing herself against the wind and the rain. But she would not stop for anything. She was determined to see Argon and, once again, to see if she could rouse him.

The path finally led her up a small hill, and as Gwendolyn looked up, she was reassured at the sight of Ralibar. He had finally returned, depositing Argon’s limp body, and had sat guard over it ever since.

Gwendolyn reached the top of the plateau, a cold gust of wind whipping her face, and she looked up at Ralibar. He sat there, wings held out, staring back at her as he sat guard over the body of Argon, who lay at his feet, unmoving.

Gwendolyn looked up into Ralibar’s soulful eyes.

“Where have you been, my friend?” she asked. “We could have used you in the open sea.”

Ralibar purred, flapped his wings gently, and moved his nose up and down. She could feel him going through one of his moods, an emotional storm. She knew he was distraught by something, but she could not understand what he was communicating.

“Will you stay, my friend?” she asked. “Or will you leave us again?”

He lowered his head and rubbed his nose against her hand as she held it out, blinking slowly and making an odd purring noise. She did not understand him; she never had, and she knew she never would. She never knew when he might disappear, or when he might come to her aid, despite how close the two had become. She had concluded that the ways of dragons were inscrutable to her.

She stroked Ralibar’s scales, his long nose—and at first he seemed content. But then he surprised her by suddenly flapping his great wings, shrieking and rising up into the air, his talons barely missing her head as he flapped.

She turned and watched him fly off into the horizon. She wondered where he was going, and if he would ever return. He was a greater mystery to her than ever.

Gwendolyn turned her attention to Argon’s limp body. She knelt down beside him and stroked his timeless face. It was frozen, cold to the touch.

“Argon,” she said. “Can you hear me?”

He did not move.

Gwendolyn turned, saw her men standing behind her, and raised a hand. She sensed that Argon needed to be alone with her.

“Please,” she said. “Leave us.”

Her men did as she commanded, and Gwen soon found herself kneeling alone on this plateau, beside Argon, the wind howling. She reached up and pulled back his hood, examining his face.

“Please, Argon,” she said. “Come back to me.”

Still, nothing.

Gwen felt a tear roll down her cheek; she felt a sense of impending doom, and she felt so helpless, and more alone than ever, here in this foreign place.

“I need you, Argon,” she pleaded. “Now, more than ever.”

There came a long silence, as a cold gust of wind stung her cheeks—then finally, the rain stopped. As it did, Gwen looked down and her heart soared to see Argon’s eyes fluttering.

Then, slowly he opened them.

Gwen’s heart leapt as he looked at her. His eyes shone with such intensity, she nearly had to look away. She stared down at him in wonder.

“Argon,” she said, laughing with relief, so overjoyed he was alive.

She reached down and clasped his hand with both of hers.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded gently, and she wondered.

“Where are you, Argon? Are you here with me?”

“Partly,” he replied.

She sensed that their time together was short, and that she might lose him again. She felt a burning desire to have her questions answered.

“Argon, your shield,” she said, “you must tell me: will it last? Please. Just answer me this. Will it last?”

There was a long silence, so long that Gwen suspected he would never reply.

And then, finally, Argon shook his head softly.

As he did, Gwen’s heart dropped.

“No,” he declared. “Even now, it is destroyed.”

Gwen’s heart plummeted as she pondered the ramifications. It meant that everything would be destroyed: this island, her people—everything. Her entire life, everyone she loved.

Her breath caught in her throat, as her hands trembled.

“Is there any way to restore it?” she asked. “Any way to protect this place?”

Argon shook his head weakly.

“My Shield—and the Ring—are destroyed forever.”

Gwen’s blood ran cold. She hardly knew what to say.

“Even now Romulus’s dragons approach,” Argon added. “And one million of his men.”

Gwen’s heart was pounding, and she found her hands running cold.

“How can we stop them?” she asked.

Argon shook his head.

“You can’t,” he said. “Soon, very soon, this island will be destroyed.”

Gwen burst into tears.

“And what of Thorgrin?” she asked, between tears. “Will he return to us? Will he help save us?”

Argon waited a long time, then finally shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “He has his own destiny.”

Gwendolyn found herself still crying, wiping back tears, despite her best efforts.

“And what of my baby?” she asked. “What of Guwayne?”

Argon remained silent, expressionless, as he closed his eyes. Gwen’s heart pounded, wondering if she’d lost him.

“Argon,” Gwen pleaded, clutching his arm, “answer me. Please. I beg you.”

Argon opened his eyes again and stared right at her.

“You made a choice,” he said. “In the Netherworld. I am sorry. But vows exact a toll.”

Gwen sobbed, unable to hold back her tears.

“You’re been a marvelous Queen,” he said. “Your people have lived far longer than they were destined. But even for the best of Queens, the time comes. You cannot always outrun destiny.”

Finally, Gwen, devastated, composed herself.

“Is there nothing left to do then but prepare to die?” she asked, desperate.

Argon was silent a long time, until finally, he nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But sometimes, that is all we have.”