Sir Rowan and the Camerian Conquest (19 page)

After three weeks in the Kroywen prison, Rowan was taken to Lord Gavaah. Two large warriors stood guard behind Rowan to his left and right, and his hands were bound behind him. Yet he thought that Gavaah appeared much more amicable toward him than when he’d last seen him in Laos.

“Rowan, I understand that your journey these past two years has been rather, ah, challenging.” Lord Gavaah stood from his chair and adjusted his cape—or was it a robe? Rowan couldn’t tell. In fact, Lord Gavaah’s chamber, seat, and attire felt more like a throne room than anything else.

Gavaah took a few commanding strides to reach Rowan. “It is fortuitous that you were not killed in that little skirmish in Laos”—he crossed his arms and smiled—“both for you and for me.”

Rowan remembered back to when he received his victory cloak
from Gavaah and how struck he had been by the man’s grandiose personality. Now, the more he was in the man’s presence, the more disgusted he was by Gavaah.

“Now that the rebels have been completely destroyed,” Gavaah said, “I have forged a New Cameria—and a new alliance with Governor Supreme Alexander Histen of Chessington. He will soon be ruler of Arrethtrae, and I will rule along with him.” Gavaah brushed some lint from his cape as if to emphasize the ease with which he had defeated the Resolutes. He cleared his throat. “There is a place for you here, Rowan. You were perhaps the greatest tournament fighter I have ever seen, and I want to offer you a chance to reclaim that which is rightfully yours.”

Rowan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Your New Cameria is an enslaved Cameria,” he said, “and my tournament days are over.”

Gavaah laughed. “Oh, I hardly think so. Think of it—you fight for me once again, and I will make you the champion of New Cameria. You will have great wealth, fame, and even power if you want it.” Gavaah leaned closer, and his smooth voice sharpened to a sadistic edge. “And what’s left for you if you don’t? I can have you killed or just leave you to rot in prison until you are nothing but an emaciated worm.”

Rowan swallowed hard as he remembered those horrific days in the cave. Gavaah’s tempting words licked at him like a serpent hypnotizing its prey, and for one brief moment, he considered Gavaah’s offer. How bad would it be to accept this life rather than a life of imprisonment? This mission was a failure anyway. The cause was clearly lost. Perhaps this way he could even use his wealth and influence to reunite with Mariah and actually help the Knights of the Prince?

Gavaah waited, his dark eyes gleaming, clearly enjoying Rowan’s discomfort.

Rowan hung his head in discouragement and confusion. Then the words of the Prince whispered once more in his heart:
You are a mighty knight of the King. Time is short, and I have a mission that awaits you
.

Rowan straightened, jarred from his momentary weakness. This was a defining moment in his life, and suddenly he understood it. He was
still alive, and the Prince still wanted to use him somehow. He couldn’t understand how it could be possible, but still he chose to believe.

“No, Gavaah,” he said. “I will not fight for you. Your tournaments weakened the people, allowing you to conquer them, and I will have no part of that.” He looked straight into Gavaah’s hard stare. “I live for the Prince, and I will fight for Him and Him alone!”

Gavaah glared at Rowan, his smile slowly transforming into a sadistic sneer. The moment lasted a long time.

“How unfortunate you have chosen such a path for yourself.” Gavaah turned and walked away, talking as he went. “My Bread and Tournaments strategy was brilliant, I must say, for it captured the time and money of Camerians everywhere. But best of all, it captured their passion and put them to sleep.”

Gavaah spun about with a triumphant grin on his face. “Why, I have even seen Followers ten times more passionate about my tournaments—and the knights who fought in them—than they ever were for your pathetic Prince.

“And you helped me do it!” Gavaah’s laughter swelled as he pointed an accusing finger. Rowan cringed, for he knew it was true.

“But you were too good, Rowan. I could see that controlling your popularity—and thus controlling you—would prove to be difficult, especially before I had complete control of the land.”

Rowan’s eyes widened as he realized what Gavaah was saying.

“Surprised? Really, Rowan, do you think anything about life is fair? You were supposed to die, but those imbeciles thought they knew better.”

Gavaah looked away and sighed. “But fortunately all has worked out for the better. You see, when a dog kills and tastes blood for the first time, it will always—
always
—want more.”

A grim smile formed on Gavaah’s thin lips as he came and stood close to Rowan again. “And that’s exactly what the people of New Cameria want.”

Gavaah let loose an evil chortle that made Rowan shudder. The dark soul of this man was becoming more evident with each word he spoke.

“My games are no longer Bread and Tournaments,” he said. “Now
they are Blood and Tournaments. The people love it, and their insatiable desire for more is exhilarating!” Gavaah raised both arms in the air.

“The people of Cameria have been tricked and lied to by you, Gavaah.” Rowan spoke to cut Gavaah’s self-worship short. “I believe they are still good people. You haven’t destroyed their hearts … not yet. When they hear the truth, they will realize who you are and what you’ve done.”

“What a fool you are.” Gavaah put a hand before him and slowly closed it into a fist. “I own them all!” Gavaah leaned in closely to Rowan. “You will fight for me, Rowan, or you will die.”

Rowan raised his chin in defiance. “Then I will die.”

Gavaah smiled. “So be it. You see, my ignorant, naive little knight, the people want to be fed and entertained, so I give them bread and entertain them. In exchange, they give me the power to rule over them. It’s a wonderful exchange. In the meantime, Master Lucius can once again focus on the conquest of Chessington without the hindrance of aid from Cameria.”

Gavaah’s statement jolted Rowan. It was just as Lijah and Sir Aldwyn had said. It truly was all about Chessington. Had he made a mistake in staying with the Resolutes instead of following Lijah?

Gavaah was not through. “You Arrethtraens are so simpleminded. In spite of your little raid on one of my cities, I have done my job well, and
you
have helped me. You see, I didn’t need an army to conquer Cameria. Not at first. I just needed a few skilled, arrogant knights. Cameria now belongs to me, and there is nothing you can do to change it!”

In this dark hour, Rowan finally understood what was happening. Everything came back to the ultimate battle between the Prince and Lucius, even the manipulation of his life by Gavaah. He felt like a pawn that had been played and trapped by his own pride, then sacrificed without a thought. Anger and humiliation burned in his bosom.

“Good, Rowan. I see the anger burning in your eyes. You will need it when you fight for me.”

“Though it cost me my life,” Rowan said through clenched teeth, “I will never fight for you!”

Gavaah slowly walked behind Rowan. “You
will
fight for me at least once,” he whispered, “and it will be the greatest game Cameria has ever seen!”

He motioned with a flourish that set his coat swirling. “Guards, take him away.”

Rowan spent the next two weeks in the city prison, isolated from the other prisoners. Though carefully guarded, he was left free of chains, fed well, and even allowed a daily walk in the sunshine. This special treatment made him very suspicious of Gavaah’s future plan for him. Rowan resolved in his heart to be wary and watch for any opportunity of escape that might present itself. In the meantime, he was willing to wait and be ready for whatever the Prince required of him next—even if it meant sacrificing his life.

On the morning of a brilliant blue day, Rowan was transferred from the prison to the Kroywen stadium. He tried not to marvel at the elaborate and opulent structure, but couldn’t help it. Gavaah had built a temple of entertainment worship that was extravagant in the extreme, and he obviously still expected Rowan to partake in the spectacle.

The sounds of tens of thousands of spectators began to rumble down into the lower chambers where knights and combatants prepared for battle. There were numerous lesser duels and even some simulated battles prior to the fight that Gavaah expected Rowan to fight in. Evidently Rowan’s fight would be the climactic duel of the day.

They’re going to be extremely disappointed
, Rowan thought.

He looked up at the ceiling above him. He could hear and feel the cheering, chanting, and stomping in a stadium that could hold fifty thousand spectators. Just a few short years ago, he would have given anything for a chance to fight in front of such a crowd. Now he simply wondered what would happen when he refused the battle.

Servants arrived to strip Rowan of his clothes and then began strapping on scant leather armor that made him look more like a marauder than a knight. When he protested, sentinels drew their swords and forced
him to be still. It was just as he had heard. The days of fighting for honor were a thing of the past, and the elite professional knights had been replaced by cutthroat combatants.

By the time they were through with him, Rowan’s muscular body glistened with sweat, for the heat of the lower chambers was significant. Above him, the crowd seemed to be in a near frenzy.

The servants placed Rowan on an elaborate horse-drawn cart and locked his wrists to the side rails with iron bindings. He felt like a living trophy for Gavaah to parade in front of the people.

A driver took the reins of the team of horses and waited. As the gates opened, the sound of the cheering crowd swelled to a deafening roar. Slowly the noise of the crowd abated until one lone voice could be heard—Lord Gavaah’s familiar ringing baritone.

“People of Cameria,” Gavaah’s practiced voice echoed across the stadium. “Today I bring to you a great contest beyond anything you have yet seen!”

A great cheer arose, then diminished to allow Gavaah to continue.

“I have captured one of the leaders of the fanatical rebels who attempted an assault on our great city of Laos, where thousands of innocent citizens died. Our laws require him to be sentenced to death for his grievous crimes against the people of Cameria. Out of mercy, I have given him a chance to die honorably in a fight rather than to hang shamelessly from a noose.

“Is this not justice?” Gavaah’s voice rose in volume. “Is this not mercy?” He shouted passionately to stir the people, and they responded in kind. The stadium shook with roaring shouts of acclamation. Rowan was sickened not only by Gavaah’s twisted mind and silver tongue but by the frenzied crowd. How could the people be led so easily? Was it the thrill and energy of the stadium arena that inspired their gullibility? Rowan concluded that it was. He was astounded by the force of a crowd over the minds of individuals.

After waiting for the cheers of the crowd to build, the driver slapped the reins, and the cart lurched forward. Rowan widened his stance to keep his balance as they entered the arena. The crowd reached an entirely
new level of riotous roaring as Rowan emerged into their view. He looked full circle around him, awed in spite of himself at the spectacle.

The stadium was filled with people from all walks of life. Gavaah and his cronies sat beneath a canopied grandstand, surrounded by sentinels and warriors. Seated on each side of the grandstand were men and women of Arrethtraen nobility and elevated stature. Each subsequent section diminished in social stature until the remaining majority of the seats were filled with many thousands of commoners.

The cart and its trophy first traveled slowly in front of the elite grandstand. Rowan locked eyes with Gavaah as he passed, enduring the tyrant’s condescending glare. The cart then began to travel around the perimeter of the arena, and the crowd’s cheers turned to angry taunting. As Rowan absorbed the glares and jeers of thousands of angry people, his heart became heavy, for Gavaah’s description of the people and their insatiable appetite for violent entertainment seemed gruesomely accurate.
Has Cameria completely lost its heart for that which is good?
he wondered sadly.

Rowan looked up defiantly into the taunting crowd. Then something strange began to happen. One man stopped shouting and pointed at him with a face of recognition. Rowan saw him turn to the man next to him and mouth his name. The people in that section became silent as they realized that this prisoner was the mighty Sir Rowan of Laos.

As the cart continued its circuit around the stadium, the noise of the crowd subsided, giving way to an eerie silence. When the cart passed once more in front of Lord Gavaah, a quiet but steadily growing cheer rose up from the commoners, starting on the far side of the stadium.

“Rowan! Rowan! Rowan!”

Soon the entire stadium shook with the rhythmic sound of Rowan’s name being shouted by thousands. Rowan looked up at Gavaah and saw frustration and anger. This, clearly, was unexpected.

Gavaah held out his arms to gain control of the crowd, but they resisted. Finally, after numerous attempts to quell them and speak, Gavaah gained the crowd’s attention.

“People of Cameria!” Gavaah shouted. “The name and reputation
of a man does not free him from the law. Sir Rowan of Laos is guilty of treason and must pay for his crimes against our great region!”

Many in the elite areas began to clap, but jeers and boos rose up from the commoners. Gavaah tried to recover the people again but could not. His anger turned to fury, and Rowan gained no small amount of satisfaction in seeing Gavaah nearly beside himself.

The jeers of the crowd turned once more to a chant for Rowan, and this seemed to put Gavaah over the edge. He gathered his warriors around him and walked down the grandstand steps into the arena. He stared up at Rowan, fury burning in his eyes. Then he jumped onto the cart and stood with his face just inches from Rowan’s. Rowan would have given anything for one free hand, but the bindings held him tight.

“Enjoy this while you can, Rowan.” Gavaah looked about at the cheering people. “Whether you win or lose, I will have my fight
and
my execution today.”