A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (17 page)

Gwen nodded back, and could not help but smile;
the girl spoke as if she were as old as Aberthol.

“I would be delighted,” Gwendolyn replied. She
could see Aberthol bristle beside her, and was amused that he felt jealous.

“And beside her,” the King concluded, “you’ll
find my youngest son, Kaden, nearing his fourteenth year, a very special age
for the warriors-to-be in our kingdom. He shall embark on his warrior quest
soon and enter into manhood.”

“I shall follow in my brother’s footsteps,” he
said back, proudly, to Gwen. He still had a full head of hair, brownish, and it
made Gwen wonder if the boys here shaved their heads when they became men.

Gwen smiled, hearing the courage and determination
in his voice.

“I am sure you will, young warrior,” she
replied.

“Those are my children—” the King began, but
his Queen cut him off, laying a hand on his wrist.

“We have other children, too,” she said,
mysteriously. “Though they cannot join us tonight.”

Gwen, confused, was intrigued to know more, but
she merely nodded courteously, not wanting to pry.

The King looked down briefly, and Gwen could
see the disappointment in his face. It made her wonder about these other
children, and what they could have done to disappoint their father so much.

“It is great honor to meet you all,” Gwen
replied. “Thank you for welcoming us to your family’s table.”

“We are one bloodline after all,” the Queen
said, “and we want you all to feel at home here.”

Attendants arrived bearing sacks of wine,
filling golden goblets, and as Gwen drank, it went right to her head. They then
brought trays upon trays heaped with sweets, chocolates and delicacies of every
sort, and as Gwen ate them, unable to resist, they were the most delicious
desserts she’d ever had.

“So tell us, my Queen,” the King boomed out, as
the table settled down and began to quiet, “how did it come to be that a royal
entourage from halfway around the world should end up here? Why did you leave
your home?”

Gwendolyn felt all eyes turn to her as their
table—and neighboring tables—grew quiet.

“We did not leave, my King,” she said. “We were
forced into exile, by the Empire. They destroyed everything we’ve ever known
and loved.”

Gwen could see the surprise in their faces, and
could feel the chamber grow quiet.

The King looked back, puzzled

“Our ancient books tell of your Ring being protected
by a Canyon,” the King said, “and over that canyon, a magical shield. This
shield is rumored to keep the Ring impregnable to all attack.”

Gwen nodded.

“That shield did, once, exist,” she replied. “But
not anymore. It was destroyed. By an even more powerful magic. It was the
culmination of a series of events put into motion by the assassination of my
father, the King MacGil.”

The room gasped.

“Your King, assassinated?” the King asked,
mortified.

Gwen nodded.

“By whom?”

Gwen braced herself as she replied, embarrassed
to say:

“My brother,” she said flatly.

The room gasped louder, as the King and his
family looked at her, horrified.

“He has paid for his crimes,” Gwen replied. “He
has been executed. But that doesn’t help us now.”

The King, brow furrowed, seemed to ponder this
as there followed a long silence.

“And your people?” he finally asked. “What
became of them?”

Gwen felt her eyes well with tears, and she
looked down and shook her head sadly.

“All dead, my liege,” she finally replied, “all
except those you see before you now. And a few others,” she added, thinking of
Thorgrin, Reece, and Erec.

“But how could they destroy such a great land,”
the Queen asked, “and all its people with it?”

“They came with dragons, led first by
Andronicus, then by Romulus. They turned all they saw to rubble and ruin.”

Gwen breathed deep.

“My husband,” she added, then corrected herself,
“my husband-to-be, he defended us. Romulus’s dragons were killed in the
process, and no dragons survived.”

“And where is your husband-to-be now?” the Queen
asked, her voice filled with compassion.

Gwendolyn looked down and sadly shook her head.
She wanted to answer, but choked up with tears.

“Somewhere on the high seas,” she replied, “searching
for our child.”

The Queen gasped, and Gwen could no longer help
herself; she broke out crying, then quickly wiped the tears on the back of her
hand.

“I’m sorry, my King,” she said. “I will never
rest easy until I know Thorgrin and Guwayne are safe.”

“There are ways to find them,” the King
replied.

Gwen looked up at him with hope.

“How?” she asked, desperate.

“I have a seer,” he replied. “Perhaps he can
find your Thorgrin.”

Gwen’s heart leapt with joy, yet she was afraid
to feel optimistic.

“I would give anything, my liege,” she replied.

He nodded.

“Consider it done,” he replied. “At daybreak, I
shall instruct him.”

“You are all welcome to live with us for
however long you wish,” the Queen said. “Whether it is a day, or a lifetime. We
welcome you to join our people. There can be many great roles for you and your
people here. You need us, and we need you.”

Gwendolyn nodded back, so grateful.

“It is a most kind and generous offer, my lady,”
she replied. “I would like to return to the Ring, to build it up, to see my
homeland again, and to rebuild it from the ashes. All of us would. But that is
just a dream now.”

“Empires have been built on lesser dreams than
those,” the King replied.

“If she wants to leave, let her leave,” came a
dark voice.

Gwendolyn turned to see one of the King’s twin
sons, Mardig, looking back at her with an intensity she did not like. His wife also
glared back darkly.

“In fact, I believe all of them should leave,” Mardig
added. “They all left a very conspicuous trail in the desert that will lead the
Empire right to us. They will be the source of our downfall.”

“Mind your tongue!” the Queen said. “They are
family.”

“They are no family to us!” Mardig countered. “Perhaps
we share ancestors. That was centuries ago.”

“You will speak respectfully in my presence,
boy,” the King said. “Your actions reflect on me—and that is not how we treat
strangers.”

Mardig reddened, and fell quiet.

The King turned to Gwendolyn.

“Forgive me,” he said. “My boy can be rash. He speaks
when he should listen.”

The King sighed, as Gwen could sense the room
looking to him.

“And yet he speaks some truth, my liege,”
called out a voice.

Gwen turned to see one of the King’s warriors,
at a table filled with warriors, standing at the far side of the chamber.

“The Empire could follow.”

“Throwing them back out in the desert will not
prevent that,” called out another soldier, from the other side of the room.

“It just might,” Mardig said.

The King stood slowly, commanding authority,
and all eyes turned to him.

“It is true the trail can jeopardize us,” he
said slowly, a finality in his voice, as if to end the matter, “and yet, we do
not endanger strangers. Ever.”

This last word he said firmly, with the command
of a King, and Gwen could see the dissenters humbled. She felt more grateful to
him than she could say.

“The trail will be dealt with. At daybreak, I
shall dispatch an expedition to venture beyond the Ridge, beyond the sand wall,
and erase that trail.”

A gasp spread throughout the room, and Gwen
realized that clearly that was a dangerous proposition; she felt awful that her
presence here had caused discord.

“I should like to volunteer to go, Father,”
said Ludvig, the King’s eldest twin.

“And I shall volunteer to lead it,” said Koldo,
his eldest.

“I, too, Father, wish to go,” said Kaden, his
teenage son.

“And I,” added his eldest daughter, Ruth.

The only one, Gwen noticed, who did not
volunteer was Mardig, who sat there silently, blushing.

The King nodded.

“I am blessed to have brave sons and daughters,”
he boomed. “Yes, you can all go. And all of you make sure you return to me.”

“I, too, would like to volunteer,” Kendrick
said, standing beside Gwendolyn.

The room looked at him, quiet, clearly caught
off guard that a foreigner would join them.

“And I,” said Brandt.

“And I,” said Atme.

All the Silver that remained stood, too, and
Gwen felt a rush of pride—mixed with concern for them.

The King pondered this, then finally nodded
back gravely.

“Although you are strangers here,” he said, “I
shall not deny you all a chance of valor and honor. Your hearts are warriors’
hearts, and your hearts have spoken for you. Know that it will be a dangerous
mission. We have never ventured beyond the sand wall. And some of you may never
return.”

“I would give my life for this mission,”
Kendrick said proudly. “After all, if your kingdom is endangered, it is
endangered for our sakes.”

The King met his eyes, then nodded in approval.

“My liege,” Gwendolyn added, “in our land,
Kendrick was the leader of the Silver, our most elite knights. There is no
finer man in battle, and no finer commander of men. He is known far and wide as
a great leader, and I say this not only because he is my brother.”

The King examined Kendrick, long and hard, then
finally he nodded.

“Then you, Kendrick, on the morrow, shall lead
half of my men. Prepare yourselves!” the King called out. “Tomorrow, we ride!”

“TO THE RING!” the King boomed, raising his
goblet.

“TO THE RING!” echoed the hundreds of warriors
in the room.

Gwen could feel the love, approval, and
acceptance all around her, and for the first time in a long time, here, in the
company of all these fine knights, she felt like she was home.

Godfrey, joined by Akorth, Fulton, Merek, and Ario,
walked through the grand hall of a marble and gold palace, their footsteps
echoing as they followed the mysterious Finian woman, who had introduced
herself as Silis, and her entourage. After having escorted them to this grand
place on the other side of Volusia, Silis had led brought them inside and led
them through room after room. Godfrey still had no idea who she was, what she
wanted, or why she’d decided to keep them alive—but he wasn’t really in a
position to ask questions. Her men had escorted them, but Godfrey had a feeling
that if they objected, they would pay the price. He was lucky, he knew, to be
alive—especially after killing her relatives and taking their jewels.

They were led up a grand, twisting marble
staircase, then down a long upper terrace, comprised of a series of marble
arches and ornate balusters, wrapping around the palace. It overlooked the
city, and as they went, Godfrey took in the breathtaking sight. It was a
beautiful city, with its immaculate streets, the canals intersecting them, and the
ocean at its feet. Everything shone, and it oozed wealth, and Godfrey reflected
that if this place weren’t run by such monsters, if its streets weren’t stained
with the blood of innocents, it could actually be an amazing place to live.
Such was the paradox of this culture built on slavery.

As they walked, Godfrey wondered where they
were being led, wondered whether he could trust this woman. Once again, oddly, he
found himself in the position of having to trust a Finian. This time, though,
it felt different. There was something about her that seemed genuine, seemed so
different from all the others—after all, she could have easily had him killed
back there. For some reason he did not quite grasp, Silis wanted him alive.

They came to a stop before a breathtaking
terrace, made of solid gold and positioned right beneath the crashing ocean
waves. Luxurious seating was spread out before them, and Godfrey and the others
were directed to sit.

Godfrey and the others sank into the red velvet
cushions, never having been more comfortable, and as he did, servants arrived,
holding out a silver platter filled with delicacies. Godfrey held one up and
examined it cautiously, as Silis sat opposite him and examined him with a
smile.

“Don’t worry,” Silis said. “If I wanted you
dead, there are much more interesting ways to do it.”

Godfrey, realizing she was right, ate the
delicacy, and was overcome by how delicious it was. It was sweet and soft, and
tasted like chocolate, but lighter. Realizing how hungry he was, he ate several;
beside him, Akorth and Fulton stuffed their mouths and filled their arms with
them. Merek and Ario, though, cautious to the end, did not partake, but sat
there humorless, on guard.

Silis took it all in, seeming amused.

“Why didn’t you kill us then?” Merek asked.

She looked at him with a smile.

“It is certainly not because I like you,” she
replied. “Or because I care for you or your men.”

Silis leaned back and sighed, as a servant
handed her a goblet of wine.

“It is because your timing is perfect,” she continued.
“And you fit my agenda. My Finian cousins, on the far side of the city, whose
palace you visited, I despise. They’ve always been the power-brokers of this
city, and they don’t like to share. You’ve done me a great favor in murdering
them—you don’t even realize how great. In fact, I have been planning it myself,
but never quite found the perfect opportunity.”

Godfrey looked back, surprised, all of this
beginning to make more sense.

“We didn’t do it because we are murderers,” Godfrey
said. “We did it for vengeance, for what they did to our people.”

Silis sighed.

“Yes, I know all about that. It is quite the
shame. I despise those who go back on their word, and my cousins were quite the
experts at that. What they did was dishonorable, and dishonor hurts the Finian
name. We can’t have that. No, not at all.”

Silis paused, examining them all, as if
debating. She watched them for a long time, reclining in her chair, and Godfrey
could see her mind working. Finally, she leaned forward.

“The Finians are a great race; we have survived
here, in the Empire, for thousands of years, the only non-Empire race to do so.
We have survived yes, sometimes through guile; but mostly through honor.”

Godfrey summed her up and could see the
authenticity in her eyes.

“I believe you,” he said. “Despite your
cousins. You certainly redeem them. What I don’t understand is what you want from
us—aside from congratulating us for doing your dirty work.”

“If you really want to thank us, then you would
let us go,” Merek chimed in.

Silis smiled and gestured to her men: they
stepped aside from their positions guarding the door.

“Then go,” she stated calmly. “You are free.”

Godfrey and the others looked back at her
skeptically.

“Just like that?” Ario asked.

She nodded.

“Just behind our palace lie the city gates,”
she said. “Walk right through them: I promise, I will not stop you.”

“We’ve heard that before,” Merek said. “You won’t
stop us—but you’ll put a knife in our back when we’re halfway through.”

She laughed.

“Look around you,” she said. “You are
surrounded by two dozen men with daggers and swords. You, on the other hand,
are unarmed—and, I dare say,” she added, looking at Akorth and Fulton, stuffing
their faces, with amusement, “hardly fit for battle. Why would I go through all
the trouble of waiting if I wanted you dead? It’s much easier to do it here.”

A heavy silence hung in the air and Godfrey,
unsure, looked at her, wondering if she were telling the truth.

“We’re really free to go?” he asked.

Silis smiled.

“As free as can be,” she said.

Godfrey and the others shared a puzzled look;
he believed her. And, strangely enough, having his freedom made him uncertain
what to do.

“If you want to go through those gates,” she
continued, “be my guest. But, so you know, there is no warm home outside awaiting
you. The desert is a wasteland. Your people are dead. You have no village to
return to. Go out there, and you’ll be dead by high noon—or caught by a slaver.”

Godfrey looked at her, narrowing his eyes.

“Then what do you suggest?” he asked.

Silis smiled.

“I am offering you a place here, with me, in my
castle. Consider it my thank you.”

“But why would you do that?” he asked.

She sighed.

“I can trust you all,” she said. “It’s not
every day I meet someone who I can. You’re not Empire, you’re not Finian, and
we have a shared interest. Together, we can subvert the other Finians and I can
reclaim the rightful rule of our branch of the family. I, too, wish to be free;
I no longer wish to answer to my cousins. Nor do I wish to answer to the
Empire. We share a common goal: to free Volusia. To spark a revolution. It is
what your people died for. And I am prepared to carry on the cause.”

Silis sighed, sizing them up.

“You have shown an uncanny ability to survive,”
she said, “a craftiness and resourcefulness that greatly impresses me. You don’t
look the part, which is an even greater asset. I believe I can use you to
advance the cause.”

Godfrey looked at the others, and he saw Merek
and Ario nod back approvingly. He leaned forward.

“What would you have us do?” he asked.

She smiled.

“The list is quite long,” she replied. “It
takes a lot of work to overthrow a city. The more pressing issue, I presume, is
to rectify the injustice that is being done to your friends, the slave
survivors.”

Godfrey’s heart stopped.

“Survivors?” he asked.

Silis looked at him, puzzled.

“You didn’t know?” she asked. “Your friend, the
leader—Darius. He lives, along with a few of his people. Though I’m afraid he
won’t be alive very long. They’ve sentenced him to the arena, to fight as a
gladiator. That is a fight no one can win. Unless we change the outcome.”

Godfrey’s heart welled with optimism; here,
finally, was a chance to set wrongs right, to make up for what he had done to
Darius and the others. He suddenly felt alive with a renewed sense of purpose.

“How?” Godfrey asked.

Silis smiled wide.

“There are many ways, my friend,” she said, “to
win a war.”