Morgan Rice - A Grant of Arms

Gwendolyn let her eyes fall, her heart pounding with anticipation, and her heart raced as she saw who was trapped inside.

Standing there, inside the ice, eyes closed, hands at his sides, was Argon.

Gwen could hardly breathe. She had found him.

Gwen stepped closer, until she was standing a foot away, and slowly reached out with her palm and touched the ice. She felt the ice-cold energy rush through her.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she looked up and stared into Argon’s closed eyes, at his frozen body. Argon, one of the most powerful people she had ever encountered. Advisor to kings for centuries. Now, relegated to this. Gwen felt horrible to see him like this, like a trapped animal—and all on her account.

“Argon,” she called out. “Answer me.”

Gwen’s voice was filled with grief. As she cried, she no longer knew if it was for Argon, or her unborn son, or her father, or Thorgrin, or herself. Grief engulfed her and she could no longer think clearly.

Argon did not answer. He did not even move. He seemed frozen forever.

“You must come back to us,” she said.

Still he did not reply. He just stood there, frozen, as if lost in another world.

“Argon, I need you!” she called out, more desperate. “The Ring needs you. Thorgrin needs you. Please. Talk to me.”

Gwendolyn pressed her face up against the ice, clutched it with both hands, and as she did, she felt her baby turning again and again.

Yet still, nothing happened. It seemed Argon was lost to her forever. Had she made a mistake to come here?

Gwen, determined, stepped back and drew her sword from her belt. She raised it high and slashed at the ice with all her might, determined to free him.

But it merely bounced off harmlessly, the ice not even chipped.

Steffen, following her cue, stepped forward and fired arrows at it. But these all bounced off harmlessly, too.

Gwendolyn turned to Alistair, desperate.

“Do something,” she pleaded. “You are a druid. You have power. I’ve seen your power.”

“What would you have me do?” she asked.

“Break the capsule. Melt the ice. Do something!”

Alistair stepped forward, closed her eyes, and held out her palm. She muttered something in a language Gwendolyn did not understand, with a low humming noise, and aimed her palm at the ice.

A yellow light streamed from her palm, for the ice capsule.

But to Gwen’s surprise it bounced back, and the light soon disappeared.

Alistair pulled her hand back, as if stung.

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said. “These are forces more powerful than I’ve ever seen. They are far greater than I.”

Gwen stood there, staring, crushed. She had come all this way for nothing. There was nothing more she could do. Argon was trapped forever. And she would never be able to free Thor.

Estopheles screeched, flapped her wings, and took off into the sky. Soon, she disappeared, too.

Gwen felt her whole life slipping away from her.

Gwen, weak with exhaustion, at the end of her rope, dropped to her knees before the ice capsule. She closed her eyes and prayed.

God, if you hear me, I pray to you. Not to Argon. Not to the land. Not to the sky. Not to many gods. But to you, and you alone. There is only one God, and I turn to you now, in my time of need. I pray to you, I beg you, release Argon. You can take me instead. Just release Argon. And save Thorgrin.

Gwendolyn knelt there, with her eyes closed, very quiet and still, trembling. The land was very still and quiet, nothing but the howling of the wind passing through.

Then, slowly, she began to hear a faint voice inside her head.

Gwendolyn, God has heard you.

It was Argon’s voice.

Gwen opened her eyes and looked back at Argon. He remained there, frozen, unmoving, eyes closed.

“Did you hear that?” Gwen asked Alistair.

“Here what?” Alistair said.

Gwen realized that no one else had heard it. It was a voice just for her. Was she losing her mind? Or was it real?

Gwen leaned her face and hands against the ice, closed her eyes and listened.

I am lost in another world now , Argon said to her. I can be free, but only for a great price. It is not your life that will be the price. But the life of someone very close to you. Either the life of your husband-to-be, or the life of your son. Whom do you choose?

Gwendolyn began to sob, overwhelmed with grief.

“How can I make such a choice?” she called back.

All things come with a sacrifice.

Gwen closed her eyes, crying, and slowly, she became very quiet and still. She had to choose. She had to.

Inside, she made her choice. As agonizing as it was, she answered quietly, in her own mind.

There came a sudden cracking noise, and Gwen opened her eyes and looked up in shock.

She stood and stepped back, as the ice she had been leaning on began to crack in her hands. The ice capsule began to crack, in a hundred places, all around Argon. Soon, it shattered, and fell to the floor.

Gwen stood there, speechless as she watched. They all stepped back in awe, as the cracking grew louder.

Soon, the ice was gone. Nothing stood between her and Argon, who stood there, hands at his sides, perfectly still.

His eyes flew open. He stared back at her, with a light more intense than any she had ever seen. It was like staring at the sun.

Argon had returned. She could not believe it.

Argon was alive.

Godfrey charged into battle with a great battle cry, Akorth and Fulton beside him, thousands of his men close behind. He rode recklessly into the heart of danger, following the bulls, to Kendrick, Erec, Bronson, and Srog, determined to assist them. Godfrey’s heart thumped with fear, but he was proud of himself for not turning back. He had never felt so afraid of his life; everything around him became a blur, and he could taste his own sweat as it rolled down his cheek.

If this was what battle felt like, he hated it. He never wanted to experience it again. To him it felt like a controlled state of panic. His hands shook as he raised a sword with one hand and charged for the enemy, screaming more to cover up his own fear. Why do men put themselves through this? he wondered. He would much rather be back at home, drinking ale, chasing women, and making fun of other warriors who wasted their days on the battlefield.

Yet despite it all, here he was. He rode alongside them all, headlong into a whirlwind of chaos, expecting at any moment to be knocked off his horse and killed. For once in his life, he did not care. For once in his life, he felt he was part of something bigger than himself, bigger than his fears. For once, he really let himself go. He was being overcome by a sense of abandon, and it was carrying him through.

Godfrey, dodging bulls, rounded the bend, and as he did, his fear intensified, as a huge division of Empire men appeared before him, charging at a speed which was blinding to him. He gulped. Godfrey had done his job well in releasing the bulls, and he was surprised his crazy plan had worked as well as it had. But now that he saw this new Empire division approaching, he felt it was all for nothing. They were about to die anyway at the hands of this vastly superior force, that much was clear.

Scaring him most of all was the sight of the person leading the charge. It made his knees go weak. There, right before him, was a man he had thought of as a brother. Thorgrin. Godfrey could not believe it: Thor was charging right for them. He looked possessed, bigger and stronger than ever, charging for them with blinding force, with a sword that Godfrey did not recognize. It had the markings of the Empire, and Thor wielded it as if it were alive. He rode as if borne on wings of lightning.