The Knights of Aragon

Chapter 39

I walk out of the ruined castle in a hurry. My mind racing with questions. The chains were laced with many unnatural spells. It is meant to take away an Otherwoldling's power and restrain them. It's dark magic. And in the wrong hands, it can bring any number of powerful immortals down. No Otherwordling could touch them without experiencing a tremendous loss in power for hours. Mordred wouldn't misplace them. He couldn't have misplaced them. No one else knew about the chains except me, Arathmus, Mordred and the person who made them.

"So, the chains are the reason I am here."

"Among other things." Arathmus quietly steps beside me. "But may I ask," she begins to say, "what would happen to you if the chains were used against you?" A vision of my fingertips turning blue pops in my head. They tremble sightly at the memory. "Shouldn't you know?" She shakes her head. "Like I've said before, there are things that even I cannot see. You, especially, remain a mystery to me most times." I kick a stray rock in my path as we walk down the last road of Aragon. It's all grey and dark compared to the bright memories I have of this place. In a few decades, Aragon will just be a plain of rolling hills with gravel and bricks buried under the dirt. A grave sight, indeed. "I would die, Arathmus," I answer her, "permanently this time."

That day, I felt a lot of things for the first time. I felt death, mortality, and a wave of loneliness. And there were a few things that I had already felt, like grief. "What I can't understand," the ground crunches as I whirl around to her, "is who could've taken it? I can't remember anything past that memory, even the details are fuzzy." Arathmus has her focus solely on me, but she doesn't answer-which means I know the answer, somewhere in my mind. "I have to remember," I lick my dry lips nervously, "How exactly do I fix whatever's wrong with my head, Arathmus?" A nervous laugh escapes my laugh. I am so tired of this. Challenge after challenge. Misery after misery. "What else am I supposed to do in this gods-forsaken life?" I yell up at the sky. "I don't think I'm strong enough to carry every memory of every life." My eyes swell with unshed tears. Arathmus' eyes soften at the sight.

I turn my face away as my first tear falls. "You are strong enough, Samsara," she touches my shoulder, "I've seen you defeat giants to protect the ones you love. I know you'll do it again." Her words ring true to my ears. I sniffle, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "You know what you must do to get all your memories back. It won't be easy but knowing who you are, will give you the strength to muster through it." I sniff again and look out towards the cliff. "So, I guess this is goodbye?" Her whimsical laugh reaches my ears. "No, our deal isn't finished," she tells me while gold dust slowly flies around her, coming out of her. "Should I know what that means?" I say, as she disappears away with the wind. She doesn't answer my question. She just leaves me with a knowing smile as a response. Classic Arathmus.

Now, what should I tell the others? They'll have questions for me. I begin to walk down the rest of the road, glancing around scenery. I feel like I haven't been back here since that day. I left and never came back. Ygraine died, the kingdom's walls fell, and Mordred's crusade began. But what did I do after? If I never came back, where did I go? With Em, I suspect. And if that's the case, what did we do? That question nags at me. What. Did. We. Do? Why is it such a hard question to ask myself? I keep walking and looking around, recognizing old shoppes and pubs that Ygraine and I used to go to. The marketplace is to my right from where I am. Rotten stands and fallen brick building litter the ground. It's all overridden with grass and vines. I compare everything to what I remember. I continue to do that until I feel the goosebumps on my arm rise with the tiny hairs at the back of my neck. Watched. I am being watched, again. I turn slowly around as my eyes inspect my surroundings. I don't sense or see anyone near me. "Arathmus?" I call out.

No answer. In fact, it's dead quiet. I haven't noticed how quiet Aragon is. There's no life anywhere. The feeling intensifies when I turn my back to Aragon and leave it behind me. I reach the fallen gate and stop. "The puppets are near," I whisper into the winds. Puppetmaster. What if they were already here watching me?  I pay them no mind, unlike last time. With everything I've learned, I'm beginning to doubt that my ghost is a friend.