The Second Ring

Joraina arrived at the ranch in Longsaddle in the middle of the night. Not wanting to awaken Lars, she went to the stable and made a bed for herself in the loft. She lay on her back looking up at the wooden beams of the cieling and reliving her memories of the past few days.

After being released by Kal Mirage she had begun the trip back to Camelot. But as she neared NeverWinter City, she felt unable to face her home and her family without first serving some penance and making her peace with Tyr. Her memories of what had occurred while she was with Kal Mirage were already fading and she was glad. She could barely remember anything that had happened between the time she heard footsteps approaching her on the Gallant Prince, and the morning when she awoke in the same place, feeling stiff and sore, covered with bruises. She had never even seen Kal's face this time. And she did not expect to see him again. Whatever his interest in her had been, it was over now.

Although she could not remember what had prompted Kal to release her, she suspected that it was mere boredom. Returning to the Gallant Prince and surrendering herself to him had been an impulsive, childish act spurred by grief and guilt. Kal had used no magic on her this time; there was no need. He had only taken advantage of her foolishness. But at least Jo believed that her refusal to fight had stolen most of the thrill from Kal's conquest of her. While she allowed her memories of the actual events to slip away, she reminded herself to hold onto the lesson. Whether she had been responsible for Sir Dagron's death or not, the cure he had provided had been given of his free will and with much love. Her behavior since his death was an insult to the gift that he had given her. She felt she could not return to Camelot until she had properly atoned.

Not knowing where else to turn, she had headed to the ranch in Longsaddle. When she passed through Triboar, she felt no apprehension about coming upon Kal Mirage in the Inn. Whatever terrifying events had transpired between them, she felt that it was now truly over. She had been touched by evil and she felt wiser and stronger for it. She felt prepared to face him now if necessary, but she was almost certain she would not see him again. And true to her feelings, she passed on into Berun and beyond to Longsaddle without so much as a glimpse of him.

Now, she had fallen asleep in the loft of her stable at Darron ranch, comforted by the familiar sounds and smells of the horses. She dreamed that she was in the stable in Camelot, grooming her old roan, Flame, when her uncle suddenly appeared before her. When she reached out to touch him, her hand passed right through him. Yet he seemed real when he reached out to pat the rump of her old horse. In the dream she felt a million questions rise to her lips at once, and yet, she was unable to speak. Jerrod smiled at her with understanding. Tears of happiness rolled down Jo's face when her uncle spoke. She had been so young when he died, she had nearly forgotten the sight of him and the sound of his voice.

"Jo, you must not forget what Sir Dagron said to you the last time you spoke with him."

"I haven't forgotten. He told me to become a knight."

"But he also told you that you would have to keep your spirit... Keep your SPIRIT, Jo. Guilt and shame can not be allowed to consume your talents. I'm not sure you were ready to receive the second ring so soon... but the decision has been made. The ring is in your possession. So you must BECOME worthy."

Jo awakened with a start and looked around, slowly remembering where she was. Immediately, she began to twist her uncle's ring on her finger, as she often did when she was anxious or deep in thought. And suddenly she held her hand out in front of her, staring at it in disbelief.

The ring! She had left it in her room in Camelot, she was sure of it. How could she be wearing it now?

No longer content to wait for morning, she climbed down from the loft and ran toward the house. She had to talk with someone, anyone, immediately. She needed to know that she was not still dreaming.

Sitting across from her at the kitchen table, Lars sipped his coffee and listened with such calm patience that Joraina wondered if he was really understanding everthing that she described. She had forced herself to tell the story from the beginning, revealing the amazing discovery of the ring at the very end. But it was the ring she could not stop thinking about. It seemed to pulse warmly on her finger as she told Lars the story, beginning with her abduction from Camelot by Kal Mirage. When she finally stopped talking, she nearly had to sit on her hands to keep from grabbing Lars and shaking him. He only sipped his coffee and stared at her, saying nothing for so long that Jo was trembling with impatience. And when he finally spoke, it was not about the ring.

"You're certain that you're not ill this time? You're not still under his influence?"

"No, Lars. There was no magic this time, only my weakness. Obviously I'm not as worthy of training in Camelot as my uncle expected I would be."

Lars chuckled, shaking his head.

"Jo, do you think your uncle presented himself in Camelot one day, and became a knight the next? I know that he died when you were still young, but surely you don't believe he was perfect."

Joraina only stared at him, her attention momentarily diverted from thr ring.

"What do you mean?"

"Jo, I've sat at this very table in the middle of the night, listening along with your father while your uncle confessed what he considered to be his failures. Always he would say that he was not worthy to return to Camelot. But in the morning, he would always go back. So you let guilt and shame cloud your judgement. You danced with evil for a time. Did you think you could live within the protection of Camelot forever and never be touched by the dark? What kind of knight could you possibly become without any experience of evil?"

While Jo considered his words, Lars reached across the table to take her hand. He leaned forward, holding her hand, and examined the ring on her finger more closely.

"However, I think your father and your uncle would agree that you would do well to develop more patience and give more consideration before you act... Jo, you haven't even looked at this ring... This is not the ring left to your father by your uncle."

Jo pulled her hand back quickly and looked at the ring, not understanding what he meant. It was clearly her uncle's ring or an exact duplicate.

"The inscription is different," Lars remarked. "Surely you would have noticed it if you had only looked."

Joraina sighed, embarrased by her impulsive nature again. She removed the ring so she could turn it as she read the inscription that wound around the purple stone.

"A straight path is only a road. A winding path is a life."

Lars stood up and walked to the door leading out to the yard.

"Your trip here won't be a waste. The black mare has been broken and you can take her back to Camelot with you. Flame is growing old and should be put out to pasture soon. You will love this mare. The hands have named her 'Patience' because she has none..."

Outside they could hear the horses at the stable begin to whinny with fear and alarm. Lars opened the door and looked out toward the stable.

"Jo... has this young man come looking for you?"

Joraina tore her gaze away from the ring and jumped up to run to the door. Anticipating danger, her hand was already on the hilt of her sword when she looked out to see Aldrous approaching. She could not remember ever feeling so happy to see anyone in her life. Without a word of explanation to Lars, she ran out into the yard and threw her arms around Ald.