The Sorcerer's Ring: Book 05 - A Vow of Glory (14 page)

The
Queen slammed open the familiar door to her late husband’s study, resentful
that her son could think he could occupy it. She gasped as she stood at the
threshold of the room, horrified at the sight of the place, her late husband's
precious books and scrolls scattered and torn on the floor, the room in
shambles, destroyed.

There,
across the room, sitting slumped in a chair, looking up at her with an
impervious smile, was her son.

Gareth
sat in the center of all of this, and looked up at her with black, soulless
eyes. She could smell the faint odor of opium in the air. He hadn't shaved in
days, there were dark bags beneath his eyes, his clothes were soiled, and he
looked as if he’d gone mad. He looked nothing like the son she had mothered,
the boy she had raised. Being king had aged him twenty years, and she almost did
not recognize him.

"Mother,"
he said flatly, hardly looking surprised to see her. "You have finally
come to see me.”

The
Queen scowled down at him

"What
have you done to my husband’s study?” she demanded.

Gareth
laughed.

"I
don't think he'll be needing it now,” Gareth said, “but I find it quite an
improvement, don't you?”

The
queen stormed forward.

"Did
you poison me?” she asked.

Gareth
stared back, expressionless.

"We
found the powder, today, on the servant girl, my lord," Hafold interjected.
"She said you commanded her to.”

“Is it
true?” the queen asked softly, hoping it was not.

Gareth
slowly shook his head.

"Mother
mother mother," he said. "Why should you take a sudden concern to me
now, after all these years? When I was young, you reserved all of your love for
Reece. Kendrick was the best of all of us, but you couldn't bring yourself to
love him because he was your husband's bastard. Godfrey disappointed you in his
taverns. Luanda had one foot out the door and was no threat to you. And Gwendolyn—well,
she was a girl, and you were too threatened to love her.

“So
Reece found your love. And the rest of us were looked over. I did not exist for
you. It took my doing all of this for you to finally acknowledge me.”

The
Queen’s scowl deepened; she was in no mood for Gareth’s sophistry.

"Is
it true?" she repeated.

Gareth
chuckled.

"The
truth has many layers, doesn't it?” he said. "What would it matter if you
were poisoned? Your life had turned a corner, you were inching towards the
grave. A queen without a king. I can’t think of anything more useless.”

Queen
MacGil felt a rage boiling up inside. She felt sick to her stomach.

"You
are an abomination of a son,” she spat back at him. “An abomination of a human
being. I'm sorry I ever had you.”

"I
know that you are, mother,” he said calmly. “I've known that since the day you had
me. But you see, there's nothing you can do about it now. Because finally, I am
free from your reach, from father's reach. Now, I command you," he said
loudly, standing, his face turning red with anger. "Now, you are
my
subject. And with the snap of my
fingers, I can have an attendant kill you. Your life is at my mercy.”

"Do
it then," she seethed back, unafraid, equally determined. "Don't be the
cowardly boy you've always been. Be a
man
,
as your father was, and have me killed face-to-face. Better yet, draw the sword
and do the deed yourself.”

Gareth
sat there, trembling.

“You
can’t do it, can you?” she asked. “No. Instead, you have your little attendant
run around and poison me slowly. You are a coward. You always have been. You
are a disgrace to your father’s memory.”

Gareth
suddenly reached into his belt, drew a dagger, raised it high and charged for
his mother with a horrific scream. As he neared, he brought the blade down,
right for her face.

But
Queen MacGil was the daughter of a King and wife to another. She had been around
violence her entire life, had been trained by the royal guard from the time she
could walk. As Gareth charged, she calmly reached over, grabbed a stone bust of
her husband, waited until he got close, then stepped aside and swung it for
Gareth's head.

She
connected perfectly, dodging his blade and impacting his skull, sending him
crashing back into a wooden table, knocking it over as he collapsed and slumped
against the wall.

Gareth
lay there, breathing hard, bleeding from his head, and blinked several times.
He tried to sit up, dazed, and wiped the blood from the back of his mouth. At
least it had wiped the smile from his face.

“I'm through
with you," the queen said down to him, coldly. "From this day
forward, you are not my son. I want you to know that. You are not even a
stranger. You are nothing to me. I will leave this place, and never come back
as long as you rule. I know now, with certainty, that it was you who took my
husband from me. And for that, you will rot in hell. “Don't think you will not
pay. I've been told the shield is down. Soon the Empire’s men will flood this
place and burn it to the ground—and you will burn with them.”

Gareth
suddenly laughed, blood pouring from his lips.

"I
doubt that, mother," he said. "Many people have tried to kill me. But
they do not succeed. This morning my royal taster dropped dead before my
eyes—another unsuccessful plot on my life. And yesterday I learned that the closest
to me will come to kill me tomorrow at dawn. I have no allies. But I have spies.
And I have the devil on my side. You see, no one has ever been able to kill me,
mother. And no one ever will. And I am always one step ahead of them, mother.
That is the one thing you never understood about me. I am always one step
ahead.”

Gareth
laughed, shaking, and Queen MacGil had enough.

She
turned and stormed from the room, Hafold beside her, and slammed it behind her,
hearing her son’s laughter echo and knowing it was the last time she would ever
step foot in King's Court again.

Gwendolyn
skipped through a summer field of flowers, bursting with color, her father,
young and vibrant and healthy, by her side. She was young, perhaps ten, and he
threw her up into the air and swung her as they skipped. She laughed
hysterically, thrilled to be here with him. He laughed back, so carefree, a deep,
reassuring sound. She felt so safe, so secure in the world, as if nothing could
ever change.

The
field was flooded with sunlight, brighter than she had ever seen, and as she
looked at him, he looked younger and happier than she had ever seen him.

"I'm
so proud of you, my child," he said to her.

He
reached down and picked her up, grabbing her by the arms and lifting her up
high into the air, just as he did when she was a baby, grinning widely. She
laughed, exhilarated.

But as
he put her down, as her feet touched the ground, she looked down and realized
that everything had changed. Before the ground had been covered in flowers—now
it was black dirt; before there had been a clear, bright sky—now it was dark
and cloudy; before there had been flowers—now they were replaced with a field
of thorns.

And worst
of all, her father was missing, and she was alone.

Gwendolyn
heard a shrill cry, that of a baby; she turned and in the distance, atop a
small hill, she saw a bassinet, lodged inside a thorn bush. The cries grew
louder, and she approached it tentatively, knowing somehow that it was her son.

A boy.

She reached
the bassinet and leaned in and looked—and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the
child. Light shone from him, and she could not help thinking that he looked
just like her.

She
reached down to lift the baby up, but suddenly the bassinet moved. A strong
current of water came rushing beside her, and carried the bassinet down a
winding mountain trail.

Gwen
ran after it, but it was no use. The bassinet flew too quickly, and soon the
landscape before her changed to a vast sea.

Gwen
found herself standing on a rocky coastline, looking out at a brewing storm.

"NO!"
she screamed, reaching out for her baby, wading into the water.

But it
was no use. The baby was already far out to sea, carried out on the tide, crying
in his bassinet. Gwendolyn felt more helpless than she ever had. She wanted the
ocean to take her away, too.

Gwen
began to notice a great bubbling, at the surface of the water, and moments
later, a huge beast emerged, screeching.

A
dragon.

The
dragon rose higher and higher, the biggest thing she'd ever seen, like a wall
before her, blocking out the sky. It leaned back its head and roared, and the
sound was the most terrifying she had experienced.

Behind
it, a tidal wave suddenly appeared, fifty feet high, rushing at her.

She
tried to turn to run, but it was too late.

The
wave rushed forward, carrying the dragon with it, ready to crash down and kill
her.

Gwendolyn
awoke, sitting straight up in a bed she did not recognize, in a room she did
not know, breathing hard and looking all around, trying to remember where she
was. The light of the first rising sun was breaking through the window, and she
jumped to her feet, crossed the room, dressed quickly and splashed cold water on
her face from a small stone bowl on the far side of the chamber. She ran the
cold water across her scalp and through her hair. She shook her head, trying to
shake the awful visions, trying to snap herself back to reality. Reality was
dark enough as it was—she didn't need a nightmare to make it worse.

The
dream had seemed too real. Her father; the baby; the ocean; the dragon; the world
turning so dark. She couldn't help but feel as if it boded awful things to come.

Gwendolyn
stood beside the large, open-air window and looked down at the shining city of
Silesia; people were already out, this early in the day, preparing their goods
for a day of sale. As she looked over the citizens, she also noticed movement, could
see them congregating towards the city gate. She followed their direction and spotted
a small cloud of dust on the horizon, slowly heading for Silesia, and she
realized it was a rider, charging this way. Two riders. And behind them, a
group of perhaps a hundred townsfolk.

Gwen relaxed,
realizing it was not Andronicus’ army; yet she wondered who it could be. A
distant horn sounded, and Gwen saw the gatekeeper stand tall and blow it again
and again.

As
Gwen examined the rider out front, slowly coming into focus, she recognized his
armor, his horse.

There
came a soft knocking on her chamber door, and Gwen spun and crossed the room,
and opened the door to see an attendant standing there, bowing at her presence.

"My
Queen, I am sorry to disturb you," he said. “But our men have spotted two
riders approaching our gates, with an entourage of people. Should I close the
gates?”

She
shook her head.

“No,”
she said. “That is no ordinary rider.”

Her
heart filled with joy as she prepared to leave the castle.

“That,”
she said, “is my brother.”

*

Gwendolyn
took the steps three at a time, excited as she bounded down the spiral stone
staircase of the castle, through the corridors and out the front door. She
raced across the courtyard, for the main gate, where she saw Kendrick arrive,
Atme at his side. Her heart flooded with relief. It was like a piece of her was
back home again. With her family so broken, so dysfunctional, having Kendrick
here made her feel a bit of normalcy back again.

It was
ironic: Kendrick was her half-brother, yet he felt more like family to her than
her real siblings. She knew she would have to make some hard decisions as
queen, but she hadn’t known how she would possibly be able to order the gates
closed and sealed knowing he was still out there. It saved her a
heart-wrenching decision.

As she
ran for the gates, Kendrick spotted her, dismounted and ran to her, embracing
her. She was so happy to see him again. A part of her felt that, if Kendrick
made it back, maybe Thor could, too.

"You're
alive," she said over his shoulder, a tear running down her cheek.
"I'm so happy you’re alive.”

He
pulled her back, grinning wide; it felt so good to see another living member of
her family, here in this foreign city. He was also the striking image of her
father, and seeing him made her feel as if she had a small piece of her father
back again.

“I
am," he said. “Always. I was told of your travels to this place, of
everything that has happened. I am so proud of you for leading these people.
They could have picked no finer a leader.”

She
smiled, flushed with pride. Coming from Kendrick, whom everyone respected, who was
eminently qualified to be the next King, it was high praise indeed.

"These
people do not have me to thank for making them safe," she responded humbly.
"I am sure they would have found a way to be safe either way.”