CHAPTER THIRTY
Gwendolyn stood on the upper parapets of her castle, looking down at King’s Court, admiring all the wedding preparations, admiring how magnificent the rebuilt city looked. Now that everyone had left for Departure Day, Gwen had needed to take a break herself, had needed some time alone up here. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, a warm summer breeze swayed the branches of the fruit trees, and Gwen leaned back and breathed in the fresh air.
There came a screech, and Gwen looked up and saw Ralibar, soaring high above, intertwining with Mycoples, the two of them making broad circles around King’s Court. Gwen smiled, thinking of her morning ride on Ralibar, recalling how gentle he had been today. The two were becoming closer, as if he sensed how pregnant she was, and was flying with extra care. She felt reassured to see him circling, as if being watched over, protected.
Gwen looked out at the horizon and knew that Thor was out there somewhere and would be returning soon, and that, finally, they had nothing left to fear. Everything was perfect now, and yet for some reason, she did not feel at ease. She did not know why, but she could not help but feel as if something dark was on the horizon, was coming for them all. Was it real? Or was it just her own mind playing tricks on her? Her mind spun with so many small matters related to ruling her kingdom, it was hard for her to think clearly.
“The affairs of state,” came a voice, “can weigh on you like a rock.”
Gwendolyn turned around, thrilled to recognize that voice, and saw Argon, standing there, holding his staff, wearing his cloak and hood, his eyes shining right through her. He walked up beside her, his staff clicking on the stone as he went, and stood beside her, looking out with her over her kingdom.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, turning and looking out beside him. “I have been ill at ease as of late. And I don’t know why.”
“But don’t you?” he asked cryptically.
She turned and looked at him, wondering.
“Am I wrong?” she asked. “Tell me honestly: is something terrible about to happen? Is our peace about to be shattered?”
Argon turned and stared at her for so long, the intensity of his eyes nearly made her turn away. Finally, he uttered one word which sent a chill through her:
“Yes.”
Gwendolyn’s heart pounded at his words, and she felt her blood run cold. She stared back, feeling a slow panic creep over her.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What will happen?”
Slowly, Argon shook his head.
“I have learned my lesson of interfering in human matters.”
He turned back out, surveying her kingdom.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Just tell me enough, enough to prepare. To do whatever I have to to protect my people.”
Argon sighed.
“You are much like your father,” he said. “You don’t even know how much. He always wanted to be the greatest ruler he could be; but sometimes, fate gets in the way.”
He turned and stared at her, and for the first time, she saw compassion in his eyes.
“Not all kingdoms are meant to last,” he said. “And not all rulers. You have done a marvelous job, greater than any MacGil before you. You have wrested control from a doom that was supposed to happen, and you have done so with courage and honor. Your father looks down on you now and smiles at you.”
Gwen felt a flush of warmth at his words.
“Yet some things,” he continued, “are beyond your control. We are all at the mercy of a greater destiny that courses through the universe. The Ring has its own fate, as a person has a fate.”
Gwen gulped, desperate to know more.
“What danger could affect us now?” she asked. “The Shield is restored. The Empire is gone. Andronicus is dead. McCloud is dead. We have two dragons here. What can harm us? What more can I do?”
Slowly, Argon shook his head.
“Hiding amidst the most glorious flowers, are the most poisonous snakes; behind the most brilliant sunshine are the darkest clouds, the fiercest storms, waiting to gather. Do not look at the sun; look at the clouds behind it, the clouds you do not yet see. Know for certain that they are there. Prepare. Do it now. It is up to you, and no one else. You are the shepherd that leads the flock, and the flock knows not what comes.”
Gwendolyn shuddered, Argon confirming what she felt herself. Something horrible was on the horizon, and it was up to her, and her alone, to take action, to prepare. But what?
Gwen turned to ask Argon more, but before she could open her mouth, he was already gone. She stared at the clouds, at the sky, at the horizon, wondering. The day seemed so perfect. What lurked beyond?
Gwendolyn sat in the reconstructed House of Scholars, before a long, ancient wooden table completely covered in books and scrolls and maps, studying them all intently. This was the only place in the kingdom Gwen came for solace, for peace and quiet, these ancient, dusty books always setting her at ease, connecting her to her childhood. Indeed, Gwen had devoted a great deal of her time these last six moons to personally overseeing the reconstruction of this building that had meant so much to her, to Aberthol, and to her father. She had insisted on its being restored to be as beautiful as it had been, and yet even grander, big enough to hold even more volumes. Most of their precious volumes had been burned, or stolen by the Empire; but deep in the lower levels, Aberthol had wisely hidden stories of books that remained untouched. Andronicus, savage that he was, had not realized how deep beneath the earth the House of Scholars had been built—precisely for times like this, times of war—and luckily, some of the most precious items had been saved.
It was these volumes that Gwendolyn pored over now. There were others besides, as Gwendolyn had made it her mission to have her men scour the Ring, find any precious volumes that might be scattered. They returned with loaded wagons full of volumes which she had paid for personally, and soon she had rebuilt the House of Scholars to a library greater than it had ever been. She loved this new house even more, and she was amazed that she had pulled it off, never truly thinking it could be rebuilt from the ashes when she had first seen it in that sorry state. It was the thing she was most proud of since the reconstruction had begun.
Gwen had been tucked away here all day, ever since her fateful meeting with Argon, scrutinizing book after book, scroll after scroll, reading up on what all her ancestors had done in times of trouble, times of invasion. She wondered how all of them prepared, in times of peace, for a looming disaster. Gwen might not be able to control what was to come, but the one thing she could control was her scholarship, and it always gave her comfort and a sense of control to read during times of crisis.
As Gwen read about ancient refuges and escapes, she realized that the one thing she had not planned for in the reconstruction of King’s Court was an escape route. After all, King’s Court was the most fortified city of the Ring—what need could there possibly be for escape? And where could they possibly escape to that was more fortified?
And yet Argon’s words rang in her head, and she felt a need to prepare. She felt that if she were to be a good leader, then she should have a backup contingency. Some sort of escape plan. What would they do if King’s Court were overrun? It was painful to even consider, as they had just rebuilt it—yet she felt a need to have a plan in place. What if somehow the Ring were destroyed again? What if somehow the Shield were lowered, or destroyed? Then what? She could not leave her people exposed to slaughter. Not on her watch.
Gwendolyn read for hours and hours about the sacks of all the great cities of the Ring throughout the centuries. She read the history, once again, of all the MacGils, of her father’s father, and his father’s father. She felt more connected than ever to her ancestors, as she read anew about their trials and tribulation, all the hardships of all the kings before her. She found herself getting lost in their history. She was amazed to see that others experienced what she was going through, had the same woes and challenges of ruling a kingdom that she had, even so many centuries ago. In some ways, nothing ever changed.
Yet, despite everything she read, she found no reference anywhere to any escape contingency. The closest reference she found was an obscure footnote from a tale of six centuries ago: an ancient sorcerer had managed
