In the Hall of the Dragon King

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  A servant brought rose-scented water and waited on him while he washed. Quentin’s hands trembled as he dressed himself and dashed out of his apartment, fastening his cloak with the golden brooch as he ran, quite forgetting the aching stiffness in his leg. Theido and Durwin, both looking nobler than he had ever seen them, were just emerging from their chambers, directly across from his own.

  “Ho there, young sir!” cried Theido with a grin. “Who is this bold knight I see before me? Do you know him, Durwin?”

  “Unless my eyes deceive me,” said Durwin, “this must be the king’s champion off on some new adventure!”

  “It is wonderful! All this—” Words failed him.

  “Yes, yes. Wonderful indeed.” Durwin laughed. “But you have seen nothing at all until you have seen the Great Hall of the Dragon King in high celebration!”

  “Let’s go there now!” cried Quentin. “I do want to see it!”

  “Not so fast,” said Theido. “Breakfast first—though I would hold back somewhat, for there are sure to be delicacies abounding throughout the day. We will join the others first.”

  “Then can we go?” asked Quentin anxiously.

  “In due time.” Durwin laughed. “You are impetuosity itself. I should have known when I saw you riding off into the wood after good Theido here that you would bring back the king. I should have seen it!”

  At breakfast the three joined Toli, Ronsard, and Trenn, all bedecked in the appropriate finery. Toli looked the part of the royal squire and insisted on serving Quentin by his own hand. He would have attended Quentin in his chamber had he not been prevented by servants of his own—Toli, too, was a most honored guest.

  Quentin blushed, faintly embarrassed by Toli’s enthusiastic ministrations; for although the Jher did not say a word, Quentin could see the light of a glowing pride kindled in Toli’s wide, dark eyes. To Toli, Quentin appeared at last to have taken his rightful place as a prince of the realm.

  In the massive chamber of court, King Eskevar sat upon his high throne, looking grave and righteous as he heard the evidence of the misdeeds practiced against him and his people during his absence.

  Lord Larcott and Lord Weldon were released from prison and restored to full favor with their monarch. In their places were Sir Grenett and Sir Bran, until they should have a change of heart and be willing to swear allegiance and fidelity anew to their monarch.

  Jaspin appeared next before the throne. So feeble with remorse had he become that he had to be dragged forth by guards and propped up on a stool to hear his sentence.

  “For your part, Jaspin,” said Eskevar, not without compassion, “I will be lenient, though you will no doubt perceive your punishment as more harsh than you can bear. Be that as it may, I have decided.

  “You shall be banished from this realm to wander the world and make a home wherever you may find men to receive you. You will never trouble Mensandor again.”

  Jaspin wailed as if he had been struck with a hot poker. He cried to his brother for mercy. “Allow me to confine myself to my own castle. In time you shall forget this unpleasantness.”

  But Eskevar was firm in his resolve. “You may take with you one companion: Ontescue.” He nodded, and the wily Ontescue was brought forth, muttering darkly.

  “Ontescue,” the king pronounced, “you, who would be the king’s companion, shall accompany your ‘monarch’ wherever he goes to guide him in exile as you sought to guide him on this throne.”

  Ontescue blanched, but he bowed low and said nothing, grateful at least to have saved his head.

  A whole host of nobles and knights, prisoners taken on the battlefield, were ushered in. They were each made to pledge their oaths of loyalty once more to the Dragon King, and each then promised a ransom for themselves and agreed to a levy on their lands. But they were released at once.

  “I have served my enemies as the law and mercy allow. Now let my friends receive their justice as well,” announced the king.

  King Selric was called first and came to stand before Eskevar, who, out of deference to his friend, stood as well. “I cannot reward your courage and valor upon the field nor repay the service you and your soldiers have rendered this crown. For this I shall call you brother, for you have shown yourself more true than any tie blood itself could purchase.

  “But as a mere token of my gratitude, let me offer you the worthy ransom with which these nobles have redeemed themselves. Take it and divide it among your men and the families of the brave soldiers who died in this duty. Please accept it—it is but little recompense.”

  “I thank you, good Eskevar. You are fair and just. But my men are my responsibility to reward, and I have means and plenty to do it. They will not want who have served in this campaign, nor families lack for the loss of a provider.

  “For myself, I am content with your friendship and will rejoice to call you brother.”

  At this, King Eskevar descended from the dais and hugged King Selric to himself in a fond embrace. Then the two men raised their clasped hands in the air to the loud acclaim of all who gathered there.

  Trenn was called next and came to kneel before the throne. When he stood up to leave, the city of Askelon had a new sheriff. Ronsard followed and was made Lord High Marshal of the realm.

  Theido received back his title, which Jaspin had plundered, and his lands as well as those of Jaspin’s at Erlott.

  Then it was Durwin’s turn. “Sir, I would reward you with anything in my power to grant: title, position, gold. You only have to name your reward and it is yours,” said Eskevar.

  “Your safe return to a just rule of your people is reward enough for me,” said the hermit of Pelgrin Forest. “For myself, I wish only to return to my cottage and live there in peace.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Only this: let me remain but a servant of a just and righteous king.” He paused thoughtfully and added, “But if I may request a small favor?”

  “It is yours.”

  “A promise then that the Dragon King will never again leave his throne empty for so long.”

  Eskevar laughed and held up his hand. “So be it. I have promised.

  “There is one more I would reward,” said the king, glancing down the assembled ranks of onlookers. Quentin was shocked to hear his own name called.

  “Quentin, step forward.”

  A thrill of excitement shot through him as he nervously stepped to the foot of the Dragon King’s great throne. He knelt there as had the others, hands folded on his knee.

  “You I would reward most profoundly,” said the king, emotion rising in his voice. “For it was you who broke the bonds of sorcery that held me and snatched me back from death. Your blood and prayer freed me from the spell of the evil necromancer.

  “All that I have, the treasures of my kingdom, are yours. For on this day you shall become my ward, my son.”

  Quentin looked up in uncomprehending amazement, and then he saw Alinea, a queen once more, with her golden circlet upon her brow, approaching him, her emerald eyes sparkling. The king descended toward Quentin, and both then met him where he knelt. They raised him to his feet, and then the king proclaimed in a loud voice that echoed throughout the court and corridors beyond, “Let the celebration begin!”

  All at once the doors of the court were thrown open, and trumpets blared the king’s proclamation. The clarion call echoed and reechoed through the castle and through Askelon itself and through the countryside, and anyone within earshot knew that today they would be welcome in the Great Hall of the Dragon King.

  Then Quentin, walking between the king and queen, his feet barely touching the floor, was whisked into Askelon’s great hall.

  To Quentin it was a dream come true. The hall was hung with ten thousand bright pennons of red and gold. Streamers of flowers formed varicolored canopies overhead, and the windows had been thrown wide to let the sun itself pour gold upon all it touched. The garden beyond had been transformed into a vast dining area where tables were set, and
luscious food of every kind and description was being prepared in front of pavilions raised for the cooks and their scullions, who scampered along the tables with platters of meat and fruit and cakes.

  A mood of joyous festivity floated on the breeze like the song of a lark. Then the gates were opened and the people flooded in to begin the most wonderful celebration any of them could remember.

  The sun was beginning to set when Quentin and his personal shadow, Toli, at last had their fill of feasting and singing and laughing. In the glow of hundreds of torches flickering to light throughout the hall and on the lawn, Quentin sought Durwin, standing alone on the long balcony overlooking the merriment below.

  “What is wrong, Durwin?” asked Quentin softly. He had seen a melancholy glimmer in the hermit’s eye when he approached. “Why do you not join in the festivity?”

  “Ah, Quentin, it is you. Oh, I have enjoyed myself quite as much as I feel able.” He smiled a smile Quentin thought a little sad. He turned to watch the stars come out one by one in the vast blue vault of the heavens.

  “We won,” Quentin breathed, his upturned face lit by glimmering torchlight. “We won at last.”

  “So it is! We won the battle . . . but the war is not over, I fear.”

  “Not over? What do you mean?”

  “Look around you, Quentin. Think about all that has happened to you. The old gods of earth and sky are vanishing; the old order is passing away. The true god is making himself known; his rule is just beginning. But the old ways die hard.

  “This is the twilight of the gods, and there is much darkness still ahead before the dawn comes. Ah, but the light will come. That I promise you!”

  Then the hermit turned and fixed Quentin with a long and wondering gaze. “Remember your blessing, Quentin. You have some part to play in all of this—the god has his hand on you. Perhaps he has chosen you to help bring in his new order. What you have done is just the beginning; there is still much to do.”

  Quentin stood blinking back at the holy hermit.

  “Durwin,” he said with a sudden urgency, “I want to go back— back to Dekra. Is there anything to prevent me, do you think?”

  “By no means. A ward of the king may go anywhere; all doors are open to you.”

  “Would you go with me?”

  “I would love nothing better. There is much I would show you.”

  “Can we leave right away?”

  “As soon as may be, my hasty young sir. However, it would be well to abide in Askelon for a time to allow Eskevar to express his gratitude. But we will go soon enough.” Then, noticing Quentin’s anxious look, he asked, “What? Is one adventure not enough for you? You have to begin another so soon?”

  “But there is so much to do, so much to learn.”

  “And plenty of time to accomplish what has been given us. We will think about all that some other time. Look! Here comes Toli with someone who would like to meet the hero of the day.”

  Quentin turned to see Toli hurrying up; a young girl followed demurely behind him. With a start Quentin realized that it was the girl he had met outside the furrier’s shop that cold winter’s day that now seemed so long ago. She smiled shyly as she approached, and Quentin realized how very much like Queen Alinea she looked. Their auburn hair and emerald eyes were identical. Before Toli could make the introduction, Theido, who came strolling up along the balcony, called out, “Ah, Bria! There you are! After pestering me all day to introduce you, I see you have managed on your own.”

  Quentin bowed low and said, none too certainly, “I am Quentin at your service, my lady.” The girl, her green eyes sparkling, rustled a deep curtsy in her pale blue beribboned dress.

  “Well you say ‘my lady,’” said Theido, beaming. “Do you not know that you are addressing the princess?” He and Durwin both laughed, and when Quentin turned, they were already walking away arm in arm back to the garden, where music had begun to play under the stars.

  “I am Princess Bria,” the girl confessed. “Would you like to listen to the music?”

  Quentin was speechless, but his eyes spoke most eloquently for him. Toli fairly pranced for joy, his dark features shining with pleasure, as he ushered the bashful couple along. Bria’s warm hand closed upon Quentin’s as she drew him away into a night he suddenly wished would never end.

  The Dragon King Trilogy, Book Two

  For Drake, my shining one.

  With all my love.

  Contents

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  1

  Quentin stood at the high parapet overlooking the tranquil forest. His eyes scanned the gently lifting hills clothed in their greens of early summer, all softened in the golden afternoon light by the gathering mists of evening. At his hand upon the cool stone balustrade a thin parchment roll fluttered in the easy breeze. At his feet lay a leather case from which he had drawn the scroll to read only moments before. The case bore the royal insignia he knew so well: the terrible, twisting red dragon of the Dragon King.

  The warmth of the late-afternoon sun splashed full on his face, and yet Quentin felt a chill creeping through him. He sighed a heavy sigh and hung his head, shaking it slowly from side to side. Hearing a rustle behind him and the brushing tread of a soft foot on the stone, he turned to see Toli gliding up.

  The tall young man settled himself easily on the edge of the parapet and crossed his arms over his chest. He regarded Quentin with a quizzical brown eye and then looked out over the forest, cocking his head to one side. “Listen,” he said, after a moment. “It is the sound of a world at peace.”

  Quentin listened and heard the faraway chirp of birds as they fluttered among the whirtle berries, the breeze nudging the leaves, voices murmuring in a courtyard somewhere below.

  “They told me a rider from Askelon had arrived with a message for you. I thought to come and see if you needed anything.”

  Quentin looked at his friend and smiled. “You mean curiosity moved you from your beloved stables. Yes, a message from the king.” He picked up the parchment and handed it to Toli, who began to read.

  Presently Toli’s head came up, and his eyes found Quentin’s studying him. “This does not say what the trouble is.”

  “No, but it is not a request for a friendly visit. There is some need behind it, and some urgency. If it were but a small thing, Eskevar would have waited. We’re due to travel back to Askelon soon anyway . . .”

  “And this recommends we leave right away. Yes, I see. But there is something else?” Toli’s sharp eyes appraised Quentin, who stiffened and turned from their piercing gaze.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Toli laughed softly. “Only that I know my Kenta very well. You would not look so if you did not have a suspicion of what lay behind this innocent summons.”

  “Innocent?” He fingered the leather case that he had stooped to retrieve. “Perhaps, but you are right, Toli; there is something else. I don’t know—it just
came over me as I was reading.”

  Toli watched Quentin closely and waited for him to continue.

  “I’m afraid if we go to Askelon now, we will never come back to Dekra again.”

  “You saw this?”

  Quentin only shook his head.

  “Well, then it may not be. Your feelings may only be a warning of what may come if we do not go at once.”

  Quentin smiled again; this time a flicker of relief shone in his eyes. “Yes, perhaps you are right. As usual you have rescued me from myself.”

  “We can leave tonight. It will be good to sleep on the trail again. We have not done that in a long time, you and I.”

  “We shall, but not tonight. Have you forgotten that tonight we dine with Yeseph? If I am not mistaken, we have only enough time to prepare ourselves and go to his house. He will be waiting.

  “We will leave at dawn instead,” said Quentin.

  “So be it,” said Toli, inclining his head in a slight bow. “I will see to our preparations when we have supped with Yeseph and the elders.”

  Quentin nodded and took the rolled parchment that Toli offered him, then slid it back into its case as they turned and walked back into Quentin’s rooms.

  Quentin dressed quickly, donning a fresh mantle and tunic, and pulling on fine leather boots. He met Toli at the door, and the two set off for Yeseph’s lodgings.

  Yeseph lived in a quarter of the ruined city near the library. As they walked along together, Quentin looked upon the home he had come to love. His eyes, long ago accustomed to the tumbled structures that still met his gaze on every side, seemed not to notice the destruction, but instead saw it all the way it had been in the time of the mighty Ariga.

  In his mind he saw stones lifted back into place one upon another; arches reconstructed with their colorful tiles, and beautifully carved doors thrown wide in welcome; courtyards once again abloom with flowering plants; streets echoing laughter and song. He saw it all as he imagined it had been. Quentin always experienced the same magical sensation when he moved about the city. In the ten years he had lived in Dekra, he never lost the rapture it held for him, or the feeling that he belonged there, that Dekra was his home as was none other he would ever find.