A Rule of Queens (Book #13 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (16 page)

“I should kill you, boy,” he seethed, “for
lying to me.”

Darius felt a dagger pressed against his
throat, felt the commander pushing it against his skin, and he felt that he just
might.

Instead, Darius suddenly felt a tug at his
hair, his long, unruly ponytail being pulled back, and suddenly he felt the
blade touching his hair—his hair which he had never cut since birth.

“A little something to remember me by,” the
Commander said, a dark smile on his lips.

“NO!” Darius yelled. Somehow, the idea of his
hair being cut affected him more than his being lashed.

The village gasped as, in one clean cut, the
commander yanked back his hair, reached up, and sliced it all off. Darius hung
his head low. He felt humiliated, naked.

The commander severed the cords binding his
ankles and feet, and Darius collapsed to the ground. Weak from the beating,
disoriented, Darius felt all the eyes of his people on him, and however painful
it was, he forced himself to his feet.

He stood there proudly and faced the commander,
defiant.

The commander, though, turned and faced the
crowd.

“Someone is lying!” he boomed. “You have one
day to decide. At daybreak tomorrow, I will return. You will decide if you want
to tell me who killed this man. If you do not, you will all, each and every one
of you, be tortured and killed. If you do, then I will only cut off the right
thumb of each of you. That is the price you pay for lying here today and for
making me return. That is mercy. Lie again, and by my soul, I swear it, you
will learn what it means to have no mercy.”

The commander turned, mounted his zerta, signaled
to his men, and as one, they took off, charging back onto the road from they
came from. Darius, his world dizzy, dimly saw his brothers, Loti, all of them
rush forward, reaching him just in time, as he stumbled forward and collapsed
into their arms.
How much can happen
, he thought, looking up at the sun
before he lost consciousness,
before a day breaks
.

Godfrey, joined by Akorth, Fulton, Merek and Ario,
marched down the dirt road leading to the great city of Volusia, and wondered
what on earth he had gotten himself into. He looked about at his unlikely
companions, and knew he was in trouble: there were Akorth and Fulton, two
drunken slobs, good for witty banter but not much else; Merek, a thief who
stole his way through life, cheated his way out of the King’s dungeons and into
the Legion, good for his back-alley connections and his sleight of hand, but little
else; and finally, Ario, a small, sickly-looking boy from the jungles of the
Empire, who looked as if he’d be better suited in a classroom somewhere.

Godfrey shook his head as he considered the
sorry lot, the five of them a pathetic group, the most unlikely heroes, setting
out to achieve the impossible, to enter one of the most barricaded cities in
the Empire, to find the right person to pay off, and to convince them to take the
gold that even now weighed him down, hanging in sacks on all their waists. And
with Godfrey himself as their leader. He had no idea why they put their trust
in him; he didn’t trust himself. Godfrey would be surprised if they even made it
past the city gates, a feat which he still had no idea how he was going to accomplish.

Of all the crazy things he had done, Godfrey
did not know how he had gotten himself into this one. Once again, he had
stupidly allowed his rare and uncontrollable streak of bravado to take over, to
possess him. God knows why. He should have kept his mouth shut and stayed back
there, safe with Gwendolyn and the others. Instead, here he was, practically
alone, and preparing to give his life for the villagers. This mission, he felt,
was already doomed from the start.

As Godfrey marched he reached out and grabbed
the sack of wine again from Akorth’s hands, taking another long swig, relishing
the buzz that went right to his head. He wanted to turn back, more than
anything. But something inside him could not. Something in him thought of that
girl, Loti, who had been so brave, who had killed the taskmaster defending her
lame brother—and he admired her. He knew the villagers were vastly outnumbered and
had to find another way. And he knew from his years of fighting that there was
always
another way. If there was one thing he was good at, it was finding another way.
It was all about finding the right person—and at the right price.

Godfrey drank again, hating himself for being
chivalrous; he decided he loved life, loved survival, more than courage—and yet
somehow, he could not stop himself from doing these acts. He marched, sullen, trying
to drown out the endless banter of Akorth and Fulton, who hadn’t stopped
talking since they’d left.

“I know what I would do with a brothel of
Empire women,” Akorth said. “I would teach them the pleasures of the Ring.”

“You would teach them nothing,” Fulton countered. “You would be too drunk, you wouldn’t even make it to their beds.”

“And you?” Akorth countered. “Would you not be
drunk?”

Fulton
chuckled.

“Aye, I would be drunk enough to know not to
enter a brothel of Empire women!” he said, breaking into laughter at his own
joke.

“Do those two ever stop?” Merek asked Godfrey,
coming up beside him, an exasperated look on his face. “We are walking into
death, and they take it all so lightheartedly.”

“No, they don’t,” Godfrey said. He sighed. “Look
at the bright side. I’ve had to put up with them my whole life; you will only
have to put up with them for a few more hours. By then we should all be dead.”

“I don’t know if I can stand a few hours more,”
Merek said. “Perhaps volunteering on this mission was a bad idea.”

“Perhaps?” Akorth scoffed. “My boy, you have no
idea how bad it was.”

“How did you think you could contribute anyway?”
Fulton added. “A thief? What are you going to do, steal Empire hearts?”

Akorth and Fulton broke into laughter, and
Merek reddened.

“A thief is quick with a hand, quicker than you’ll
ever be,” he replied darkly, “and it takes far less to slit someone’s throat.”
He looked right at Akorth, meaningfully, as he began to pull his blade from his
waist.

Akorth raised his hands, looking terrified.

“I meant you no insult, boy,” he said.

Slowly, Merek put his knife back in his belt, and
he calmed as they continued marching, Akorth more quiet this time.

“Quick temper, have you?” Fulton asked. “That
is good in battle. But not among friends.”

“And who said we are friends?” Merek asked.

“I think you need a drink,” Akorth said.

Akorth handed him the flask, a truce offering,
but Merek ignored it.

“I don’t drink,” Merek said.

“Don’t drink?” Fulton said. “A thief who
doesn’t drink!? We are truly doomed.”

Akorth took a long swig himself.

“I want to hear that story—” Akorth began, but
he was cut off by a soft voice.

“I would stop there if I were you.”

Godfrey looked over and was surprised to see
the boy, Ario, stopping short in the path. Godfrey was impressed by the boy’s
poise, his calm, as he stood there, looking out at the trail. He peered into
the woods as if spotting something ominous.

“Why have we stopped?” Godfrey asked.

“And why are we listening to a boy?” Fulton asked.

“Because this boy is your best and last hope to
navigate the Empire lands,” Ario said calmly. “Because if you hadn’t listened
to this boy, and had taken three more steps, you would be sitting in an Empire
torture chamber shortly.”

They all stopped and looked at him, baffled,
and the boy reached down, grabbed a rock, and threw it before the trail. It
landed a few feet in front of them and Godfrey watched, stunned, as a huge net suddenly
shot up into the air, hidden under the leaves, hoisted by branches. A few more
feet, Godfrey realized, and they all would have been trapped.

They looked at the boy in amazement, and with a
new respect.

“If a boy is to be our savior,” Godfrey said,
“then we are in bigger trouble than I thought. Thank you,” he said to him. “I
owe you one. I will give you one of those bags of gold, if we have any left.”

Ario shrugged and continued walking, not
looking in them, saying, “Gold means nothing to me.”

The others exchanged a glance of wonder. Godfrey
had never seen anyone so nonchalant, so stoic in the face of danger. He began to
realize how lucky he was that the boy had joined them.

They all marched and marched, Godfrey’s legs
shaking, and he wondered if this sorry group would ever reach the gates.

*

By the time his legs were trembling with
exhaustion, the sun was high in the sky, and Godfrey had emptied a second sack
of wine. Finally, after so many hours of marching, Godfrey saw up ahead the end
of the tree line. And beyond that, past a clearing, he saw a wide paved road
and the most massive city gate he had ever seen.

The gates of Volusia.

Before it stood dozens of Empire soldiers,
dressed in the finest armor and spiked helmets, the black and gold of the
empire, wielding halberds, standing erect and staring straight ahead. They
guarded a massive drawbridge, and the entrance lay a good fifty feet before
Godfrey and the others.

They all stood there, hidden at the edge of the
forest, staring, and Godfrey could feel all the others turn and look to him.

“Now what?” Merek said. “What is your plan?”

Godfrey gulped.

“I don’t have one,” he answered.

Merek’s eyes widened.

“You don’t have a plan?” Ario said, indignant.
“Why did you volunteer for this then?”

Godfrey shrugged.

“I wish I knew,” he said. “Stupidity, mostly.
Maybe a bit of boredom thrown in.”

They all groaned as they looked at him, furious,
then looked back at the gate.

“You mean to tell me,” Merek said, “that you’ve
brought us the most guarded city in the empire with no plan whatsoever?”

“What did you mean to do,” the boy asked, “just
walk through the gates?”

Godfrey thought back on all the foolhardy
things he had done in his life, and he realized this was probably close to the
top. He wished he could think clearly to remember them all, but his head was
spinning from all the drink.

Finally, he belched and replied:

“That is exactly what I mean to do.”

Reece opened his eyes slowly, feeling groggy
from the red vapor drifting in and out of this place, and he looked around in
the darkness of the cave. He realized he had fallen asleep, still sitting up
with his back to the cave wall; before him he saw the small glowing fire emerging
from the stone floor, and he wondered how long they had slept here.

Reece looked about and saw Thorgrin, Matus,
Conven, O’Connor, Elden, and Indra all spread out around him, all still lying
by the fire. Gently, he leaned over and prodded them, and they woke slowly, one
at a time.

Reece’s head felt like it weighed a million
pounds as he struggled to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He felt as if
he’d slept a hundred years. He turned and peered into the blackness as he heard
a soft moaning noise, echoing off the walls, but he could not tell where it was
coming from. He felt as if he had been down here, in this land of the dead, forever,
as if he’d been down here longer than he’d been alive.

Yet Reece had no regrets. He was by his brother’s
side, and there was no place else he’d rather be. Thor was his best friend, and
Reece drew strength from Thor’s refusal to back down from a challenge, from his
determination to find and rescue his son. He would follow him to the very
bowels of hell

It had not been long since Reece had been there
himself, to that place of suffering, of grieving over a loved one. He lived
with his loss of Selese every day, and he understood what Thorgrin was going
through. It was the strangest thing; being down here, Reece felt closer to
Selese than ever, felt a strange sense of peace. As he thought of it, he
remembered he had been awakened by a dream of her. He could still see her face,
smiling at him, waking him.

Another moan rose up from somewhere in the
blackness, and Reece turned and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, as
did the others, all of them on edge. As one, they all began to walk, silently
marching on, led by Thorgrin. Reece was famished, feeling a tremendous hunger he
could never quell, as if he had not eaten in a million years.

“How long have we slept?” O’Connor asked as
they walked.

They all looked at each other, wondering.

“I feel as if I have aged,” Elden said.

“You look as if you have,” Conven said.

Reece flexed his arms and hands and legs. They
felt stiff, as if he hadn’t moved in a very long time.

“We must not stop moving,” Thorgrin said. “Not
ever again.”

Together they marched into the blackness, Thor
leading the way, Reece by his side, all of them squinting into the dim light of
the fires as they weaved in and out of the tunnels. A bat flew by his head,
then another and another, and Reece ducked and looked up at the ceiling, and he
saw glowing eyes of all different colors, exotic creatures hanging upside down
from the ceiling, some on the walls.

Reece tightened his grip on the hilt of his
sword, bracing himself for an attack, having a sinking feeling.

As they continued walking, the narrow cave opened,
widening into a large circular clearing, perhaps fifty feet in diameter. Before
them lay a series of tunnels, caves extending in each direction. The clearing
was well lit, fires all around, and Reece was surprised to see it open up like
this, to see all the forks in the road.

He was even more surprised, though, at the
sight before him.

Reece fell to his knees, overwhelmed, nearly
collapsing, as he saw, but a few feet away, his love.

Selese.

Reece, eyes welling with tears, watched in awe
as Selese stepped forward and reached out for him. She held his hands, her skin
so smooth, smiling down sweetly at him, her eyes shining with love, just as
he’d remembered. Gently, she pulled him to his feet.

“Selese?” he said, afraid to believe it, his
voice hardly rising above a whisper.

“It is I, my love,” she answered.

Reece wept as he hugged her and she hugged him
back, each holding the other tight. He was amazed to be able to hold her again,
that she was really in his arms. He was overwhelmed at the feel of her, the
smell of her, the way she fit in his arms, just as he’d remembered. It was
really her. Selese.

Even more so, she didn’t hate him. On the
contrary, she seemed to still have the same love for him as when he’d last seen
her.

Reece wept, overwhelmed, never having had such
feelings in his life. He felt tremendous guilt for what he’d done, all brought
back, fresh again. Yet he also felt love and appreciation for getting a second
chance.

“I have thought of you every day since I last
laid eyes upon you,” he said.

“And I you,” Selese said.

Reece leaned back and looked at her, their eyes
locking, and she looking even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her.

Reece spotted something on her arm, and he
looked down and saw a lily pad sticking to her sleeve. He peeled it off,
confused; it was wet.

“What is this?” Reece asked.

“A lily, my love,” she said softly. “From the Lake of Sorrows. From the day I drowned. In the land of the spirits, our methods of death cling
to us, especially if self-inflicted. They remind us of how we died. Otherwise,
sometimes it is hard to forget.”

Reece felt a fresh rush of guilt and sorrow.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve asked for your
forgiveness every day since you died. Now I can ask you in person. Will you
forgive me?”

Selese looked at him for a long time.

“I have heard your words, my love. I saw the candle
that you lit, that you sent down the mountain. I have been with you. Every
moment, I have been with you.”

Reece embraced Selese, crying over her shoulder
as he held her tight, determined to never, ever let her go again, even if that
meant he could not leave this place,.

“Yes,” she whispered, into his ear. “I forgive
you. I still love you. I always have.”

*

Thorgrin stood beside his best friend Reece, overcome
with emotion himself as he watched Reece’s tearful reunion with her. He backed
away with the others, all of them trying to give them their privacy. Thorgrin had
never expected this. He had only expected ghouls and demons and foes; he had
not anticipated loved ones. This land, this place of the dead, was so
mysterious to him.

Thor barely had grasped the concept when suddenly,
out of one of the many tunnels leading from this clearing, there emerged
another person, a man Thor knew well. He marched out and stood there proudly,
facing the group, and Thor’s heart pounded as he saw who it was.

“My brothers,” the man said softly, standing
there grinning, the shining sword in his belt, just as Thor had last seen him.
Thor was amazed. Here he was again, in the flesh, the beloved member of their
group:

Conval.

Conven suddenly gasped and rushed forward.

“My brother!” he yelled.

The two brothers embraced, meeting with a great
clang, each clasping the other’s armor, neither letting the other go. Conven wept
as he embraced his long-lost brother, laughing and crying at the same time, and
Thor saw his face, for the first time in moons, filled with joy. Conven was
more exuberant than Thor had seen him since his brother died. The old Conven,
filled with life, was back with them once again.

Thor, too, stepped forward and embraced Conval,
his old Legion brother, the man who had taken a blow for him and had saved his
life. Reece, Elden, Indra, O’Connor, and Matus each stepped up and embraced
him, too.

“I knew I would see you all again one day,” Conval
said. “I just did not think it would be so soon!”

Thor clasped Conval’s arm and looked him in the
eye.

“You died for me,” Thorgrin said. “I shall
never forget that. I owe you a great debt.”

“You owe me nothing,” Conval said. “Watching
you has been repayment enough. I’ve been watching all of you. Again and again,
you’ve acted with valor. With honor. You’ve made me proud. You’ve made my death
worth it.”

“Is it true?” Conven said, examining his
brother, clasping his shoulder, still in shock. “Is it really you?”

Conval nodded back.

“You were not supposed to see me for many years
now,” Conval said. “But you chose to enter this land. It is a choice from which
I could not deter you. So welcome to my home, my brothers. It’s bit damp and
gloomy, I’m afraid.”

Conven broke into laughter, as did the rest of
them, and for the first time since entering this place, Thor felt a momentary
relief from the tension they had felt every step of the way.

Thor was about to ask Conval more about this
place—when suddenly out of another tunnel, there emerged another man.

Thor could hardly believe it. Approaching him
was a man who had once meant the world to him. A man he had respected more than
any other man. A man he was certain he would never see again.

Standing there was King MacGil.

A wound in his chest where his son’s dagger had
stabbed him, he stood there proudly, smiling down on them all through his long
beard, a smile Thor remembered fondly.

“My King,” Thor said, bowing his head and
taking a knee, as did the others.

King MacGil shook his head and stepped forward,
grabbing Thor’s arm and helping him up.

“Rise,” he said, his voice booming, the
familiar voice that Thor remembered. “All of you, rise. You can stand now. I am
your King no longer. Death equals out us all.”

Reece rushed forward and hugged his father, and
the King embraced him back.

“My son,” King MacGil said. “I should have kept
you closer. Much closer than Gareth. I underestimated you because of your age. It
is a mistake I would never make again if I had the chance.”

King MacGil turned to Thor and clasped his
shoulder.

“You’ve made us all proud,” he said to Thor. “You
have bestowed valor upon all of us. For you, we live on. We live on now through
you.”

Thor embraced the King, as he embraced Thor
back.

“And what of my son?” Thor asked him, leaning
back. “Is Guwayne with you?”

Thor was afraid to ask the question, afraid for
the answer.

MacGil looked down.

“That is not a question for me to answer,” he
said. “You must ask the King himself.”

Thor looked back, confused.

“The King?” Thor asked.

MacGil nodded.

“All roads here lead to one place. If you are
looking for someone here, nothing passes through here without passing through
the hands of the King of the Dead.”

Thor looked back in wonder.

“I’ve come to lead you,” MacGil said. “One
former King can introduce another. If he does not like your petition, he will
kill you. You can turn around now, and I can help you find a way out. Or you
can march forward and meet him. But the risk is great.”

Thor looked at the others, and they all looked
back at him in agreement, determination in their eyes.

“We have come all this way,” Thor said, “and there
is no turning back. Let us meet this King.”

King MacGil nodded, approval in his eyes.

“I expected no less,” he said.

King MacGil turned and they followed him down a
new tunnel, into a deeper and deeper blackness, and Thor braced himself, gripping
his sword tight, sensing that this next encounter would determine his life to
come.