The Sorcerer's Ring: Book 03 - A Feast of Dragons

by Morgan Rice

  Godfrey looked down at the table, crestfallen.

  “I tried,” he said, crushed. “I really did. But the pull of drink was too strong. After today, after our failure in the servant’s quarters…I don’t know. My hopes got so high. I was sure Steffen would give us the proof we needed. But after that failed, I lost hope. I got depressed. And then I heard the news of Kendrick, and that pushed me over the edge. I needed a drink. I’m sorry. I couldn’t control it. I know I shouldn’t have come back here. But I did.”

  “What news?” Gwen asked, alarmed. “What news of Kendrick?”

  He looked at her, surprised.

  “You haven’t heard?”

  She shook her head, welling with anxiety.

  “Gareth had him arrested. He’s been charged with our father’s murder.”

  “What?” Gwen called out, horrified. “Gareth can’t get away with that! That is ridiculous!”

  Godfrey looked down and shook his head slowly.

  “He already has. He is King—he can do whatever he wants now. It is heresy to question the King’s judgment, isn’t it? And worse: Kendrick is set to be executed.”

  Gwen felt a pit in her stomach. She didn’t think she could feel any worse than she had this morning. But now she did. Kendrick, who she loved more than anything, imprisoned, set to be killed. It made her physically sick to think of it, to think of him, such a fine man, wallowing away in the dungeon, and executed like a common criminal.

  “We must stop it,” Gwen urged. “We can’t allow him to die!”

  “I agree,” Godfrey said. “I can’t believe Gareth tried to harm you,” Godfrey said, looking really stunned.

  “Can’t you?” Gwen asked. “It seems he will stop at nothing until we’re all dead. We’re all obstacles, don’t you see? We’re all obstacles in his mind. He needs us out of the way. Because we know his true nature. He is guilty of our father’s murder. And he won’t stop until the rest of us are dead.”

  Godfrey sat there, shaking his head.

  “I wish we could do more,” Godfrey said. “We have to stop him.”

  “We both do,” Gwen answered. “We can’t wait any longer.”

  “I was thinking, this morning,” Godfrey said, sitting up straight, eyes lighting with excitement, “of something that happened the other day. In the forest. I crossed paths with Gareth. He was with Firth. There is supposedly a witch’s cottage not far from there. I’m wondering if that’s where he was coming from. I was thinking of going to see if I could find this cottage. Perhaps I can discover something.”

  “You should go,” Gwen answered. “It is a good idea. If not now, when?”

  Godfrey nodded.

  “But first, you need to stop all of this,” she said, looking around the bar.

  Godfrey looked into her eyes and he must have saw her meaning, as she looked around the tavern. She meant that it was time for him to stop his ways. To stop the drinking, once and for all.

  Something shifted in his eyes as he looked at her, and she could almost see the transformation happening before her eyes. She could see his resolve. It seemed real this time.

  “I will,” he said, with a confidence unlike any she had ever heard. She felt it, and she really believed him.

  “And I will go to our brother,” Gwen said. “I will find a way to get to Kendrick in the dungeon, and I will find a way to get him out. Whatever I have to do. I cannot let him die.”

  Godfrey reached out and laid a hand on her wrist.

  “Protect yourself,” he urged, “Gareth will come after you again. You are the weakest link. You cannot walk around unprotected. Take this.”

  Gwen heard a clank, and looked down and saw him slide forward a small piece of wood on the table. She examined it, puzzled.

  Godfrey reached over, and showed her the trick to it. He grabbed the wood and pried it open, an invisible crack down the middle, and both sides split in half, and there emerged a hidden dagger.

  “It is the weapon of choice in the taverns,” he explained. “Easy to hide. Untraceable.”

  Godfrey turned and looked at her meaningfully.

  “Keep it close. And if anyone comes near you again, don’t ask questions. Plunge it into their heart.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “On your feet!”

  Thor opened his eyes with a jolt and looked up, disoriented, trying to figure out where he was. Several Legion commanders stood over him and the other boys, all of whom lay scattered on the ground, deep in sleep. Hands on their hips, the commanders prodded the boys with their feet, and Thor felt a boot in his side, and looked over to see Kolk prodding him. Krohn snarled in Thor’s defense, and Kolk moved on to the next boy, screaming, taking his metal axe and slamming into his metal shield right above O’Connor’s head. There was a resounding boom, and O’Connor leapt to his feet, eyes open wide.

  Thor stood, too, rubbing his head, trying to process it all. They were all in a cave, that much he knew. With him were about a dozen other Legion members, all in his age range. His head was splitting, and he could see from the mute light entering the cave that it was the crack of dawn. He tried to remember.

  It was all a blur. He recalled the night before, climbing the cliff, finally reaching the island, laying there. Eventually, the other boys had made it up, too, and they had all been rounded up by the commanders of the Legion, who told them to rest for the night and prepare for morning. They had broken them up into small groups, based on their ages, and Thor had splintered off with Reese, O’Connor, Elden and the twins, along with four other boys Thor didn’t know. They had been directed towards small caves in the craggy mountainside of the desolate island. Night had fallen fast, and a thick fog settled in, so Thor couldn’t see more of what lay in store out there.

  They had all barely made it to the cave, dripping wet, freezing, as dark settled in. Someone had built a fire, and Thor remembered laying down beside it, and falling fast asleep.

  The next thing he knew, he had been awakened.

  Thor’s stomach growled in the morning light, but he dared not say anything. He had slept in his clothes and boots, as did the others, and at least the fire had partially dried them out.

  The commanders prodded one boy after another out the cave, and Thor felt himself being pushed from behind, and he stumbled out, into the strong light of the morning. The red mist still hung over the island, seemed to rise up from the island itself, but at least in the morning light Thor could see much more of this place. The island was even more eerie than he remembered—a desolate landscape of boulders and rocks, of small mountains and large craters. The horizon stretched forever and there were no trees anywhere in sight. Thor could hear the waves crashing, omnipresent, and knew that the ocean lay below, somewhere over the edge of the cliffs that demarcated the island in every direction. It was a fateful reminder that if one got too close to the edge, one would go hurling to one’s death.

  Thor could hardly imagine how they would train here. This island was so empty, and there looked to be no training ground in sight—no targets, no weapons, no armor, no horses.

  His brothers in arms filtered out of the cave and stood with him in the morning light, all of them huddling around, squinting, raising their hands to block the sun. Kolk marched before them, as angry and intense as ever.

  “Don’t applaud yourselves just because you made it here,” Kolk said. “You must all really think you’re something special. Well, you’re not.”

  Kolk paced.

  “Being on this island is a privilege,” he continued. “Your staying here is not a right. It is not a gift. You will stay here if—and only if—you earn it. Every moment of every day. And that begins with your getting permission to be here in the first place. Before your training can begin, you must win permission from the locals.”

  “The locals?” O’Connor asked.

  “This island is inhabited by an ancient warrior tribe. The Kavos. They’ve lived and trained here a thousand years. Each and every warrior that comes here
must ask and gain their permission. If you don’t, you’ll get shipped back to the Ring. You Legion members have been broken down into small groups, and you will each, separately, need to gain permission. You cannot count on the entire Legion now—only on the members in your group.”

  Thor looked around at his group of eight and wondered.

  “But where are they?” Elden asked, rubbing his eyes against the morning sun. “The Kavos?”

  “Finding them will not be easy,” Kolk said. “They don’t want to be found. They don’t like you. And for many of you recruits, it will not go well. They are a belligerent people. They will challenge you. That is how your test of manhood begins.”

  “But how do we find them?” Conven pressed.

  Kolk frowned.

  “This island is vast and unforgiving. You may not ever find them. You may starve trying to get there. You may get lost. You may not make it back.”

  Kolk put his hands on his hips and smiled.

  “Welcome to The Hundred.”

  *

  Thor turned and looked at his group: there were eight of them, standing there, in the middle of nowhere, looking at each other, dazed and confused. Exhausted. There was O’Connor, Reese, Elden, the twins—and two others. One he recognized—the coward, the boy who froze up on the ships, who Thor rescued. And there was one other, whom Thor did not recognize. He looked to be their age, and he stood apart from the rest, with dark hair and eyes, looking away from the others, and with a permanent scowl on his face. There was something about him that Thor did not like, something that seemed dark. Something … evil.

  “So where now?” O’Connor asked.

  The others grumbled and looked away.

  “Where are the Kavos?” Elden asked.

  Reese shrugged.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, to the South is the ocean, so we can’t go there,” Reese said. “We can head North, East, or West. That wasteland he spokes of looks like it’s to the north,” he said, squinting into the horizon.

  “This entire island looks like a wasteland,” Elden said.

  “I say we head north, and see what happens,” Reese said.

  The others all seemed to be in agreement, and they set off, beginning their long march. Krohn, whining, marched beside Thor.

  “I’m William,” said a boy, and Thor turned to see the boy he had saved in the waters, the one who had been afraid of the shield exercise. He walked beside Thor and looked at him gratefully. “I never had a chance to thank you for saving my life back there, in the sea.”

  “I’m Thor,” he answered, “and you have nothing to thank me for.”

  Thor liked him; he was a frail, thin boy with large hazel eyes and longish hair that fell over his eyes. There was something to his demeanor that worried Thor—he seemed fragile. He didn’t seem as strong as the others, and he seemed very on edge. Thor sensed that he wasn’t cut out to be here.

  Thor hiked silently with the seven other boys across the wasteland for hours, the only sound that of their boots crunching on rocks and dirt, each lost in his own world of anticipation. It was unusually cold for a summer morning, even as the first sun began to rise, and the mist still lingered, up to their ankles. A persistent cold breeze swept through this place that never seemed to go away. The eight of them walked in silence, side-by-side, marching with nothing but more wasteland on the horizon. Thor swallowed, thirsty, nervous, wondering if they would find wherever it was they needed to go—and not sure he wanted to. It had been much more reassuring having dozens of his Legion members around—and with just the eight of them, he felt more prone to attack.

  Thor heard the distant screech of an animal, and it was unlike any animal noise he’d ever heard. It sounded like an eagle crossed with a bear. The others turned and looked, too, and Thor saw real fear in William’s eyes. Thor looked around, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from, but it was impossible. There was nothing but wasteland, fading into the mist.

  The others looked on edge—except for the final boy, the dark-haired one whose name, Thor remembered, was Malic. He still scowled, and he seemed preoccupied, lost in his own world. As Thor observed him, he began to dimly remember who he was. He remembered hearing rumors about him, the one boy who had joined the Legion by killing a man. If the rumors were true, they had come to his town for Selection and had skipped him over, and he rushed forward and killed a man twice his size in front of them. Impressed, they had decided to change their minds and accept him into the Legion. Apparently in every crop of the Legion, so Reese told him, they liked to take in one person who set everyone else on edge, who was a trained, ruthless killer. In this crop, that was Malic.

  Thor looked away, and focused again on the landscape, on his surroundings, trying to stay vigilant. He looked up and realized there was a different hue to the sky, an orange green; there was a strange, thick feel to the mist, a different smell to the air, cool and crisp. This place was different than any place he’d ever been. Everything about it felt foreign. Whatever power he held within him was telling him something about this place, that it was different, primordial. He could feel the presence of the dragon, the force of its breath.

  In fact, as they walked, he couldn’t help but feel as if they were inside a dragon’s lair, walking on the mist created by its breath. The place felt magical. It was like the feeling he’d had when crossing the Canyon—but it was different here. Here, it had a more ominous quality. Thor felt certain that other creatures lived here, too—and none that were welcoming.

  “And what if when we find these Kavos they say no?” O’Connor called out to the group, wondering aloud the same thing that was on everyone’s mind.

  “What if they don’t give us permission?” O’Connor continued. “Then what?”

  “Then we make them give us permission,” Elden answered. “If it is not given to us, then we fight for it. Do you think our enemies in battle will grant us permission to invade their towns? That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Isn’t that what this is all about?”

  Reese shrugged.

  “I don’t know what this is all about,” he said. “All I know is that I remember the stories I heard from my older brother, Kendrick. He told me of the first time he came here. His close friends both died.”

  Thor felt a chill at his words. He turned and looked at Reese, and he could tell from his face that he was serious. The others looked more anxious than before.

  “How?” O’Connor asked.

  Reese shrugged.

  “He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “But do you really think they would let Legion members die here?” Conval asked.

  “What purpose would that serve? To kill off their own recruits?” Conven added.

  Reese shrugged, and fell silent as they all continued marching.

  “You said it yourself. Recruits,” Malic suddenly said.

  Everyone turned to him, surprised. His voice was dark and guttural, surprising Thor, as he had never heard it before. He did not look back at them, but stared straight ahead, his hand always on the hilt of his dagger, playing with it as if it were his best friend. Its black-and-silver handle gleamed in the light.

  “Recruits,” he added. “We’re all recruits. None of us are members. No one is truly a Legion member until they graduate. Age twenty. Six years to go. They’re trying to weed us all out. They want a force of the most elite knights in the world. If we can’t make it, they want us dead. They don’t care. Why should they? There are a thousand more just like us in every village in the Ring.”

  Thor thought about that as they fell back in silence and continued to march, their boots crunching. They headed deeper and deeper into the wilderness of this place, and Thor wondered about the other Legion members, all the other groups, where on the island they were, what obstacles they had to face. He was glad to be in the company of these boys.

  As hours more passed, as the sun reached its peak in the sky, as Thor was fading out, beginning to lose focus, suddenly, there ca
me a loud hissing and bubbling noise right near him. He jumped out of the way just in time, and beside him, the earth suddenly bubbled up. He watched the soil turn orange, then bright red, then hiss and explode. Lava shot up, high into the air, sparking and smoking, sending small flames in every direction. A small burst of flame landed on Thor’s sleeve, and he swatted it as it began to burn him; luckily, he managed to put it out, although it lasted long enough to sting. Krohn snarled at it, ready to attack the lava.

  Thor and the other boys ran away from the bursting lava spring, keeping their distance as it seemed to bubble ever higher. It was a good thing they did, because the ground around it began to melt.

  “What is this place?” William asked, fear in his voice.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Reese said.

  They all turned and continued heading north, hurrying away from the lava burst. But just as they were gaining their distance, suddenly, another lava spring burst up from the ground, with no warning, just a few feet away on their other side.

  William screamed and jumped, the flames just missing him.

  They all hurried to gain distance from that one, too—but then, suddenly, all around them and as far as they could see, lava springs burst out. There came hissing and popping noises everywhere, as the land burst up like a minefield. Even while terrified, Thor could not help but notice that it created a beautiful display of light.

  They all stood rooted in place, afraid to take a step forward. Lava springs were spaced out every twenty feet or so and it would be tricky to navigate between them.

  “How are we supposed to continue through that?” William asked.

  “At least they’ve already exploded,” Elden said. “Now all we have to do is walk between them.”

  “But what if others explode?” William asked.

  Clearly, they had no choice.

  They all continued forward, into the lava field, Thor careful, with the others, to weave in between the lava springs. Luckily, no others burst as they went, but Thor was on guard the entire time.