The Sorcerer's Ring: Book 02 - A March of Kings

by Morgan Rice

  The attendant pulled back the lid and reached in, and held out the severed head of a man. McCloud was horrified as he looked down at it: the man looked to be in his fifties, eyes wide open in a death stare, with a bushy black beard, blood still dripping from what was left of his throat. McCloud stared at it, and wondered. He looked up at Andronicus and tried to seem unaffected.

  “Is it a gift?” McCloud demanded. “Or a threat?”

  Andronicus smiled.

  “Both,” he answered. “In our kingdom, it is a ritual to give as a gift the severed head of one of your enemies. It is said that if you drink the blood from the throat, while it is still fresh, it will give you the power of many men.”

  The attendant reached out and McCloud grabbed the bloody, matted hair of the skull, and held it out. The look of it disgusted him, but he did not want to tip his hand to these savages. He calmly reached back and handed it to one of his people, without looking at it again.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Andronicus smiled wider, and McCloud had the uncanny feeling that he was seeing right through him. He felt off guard.

  “Do you know why we have called this meeting?” Andronicus asked.

  “I can guess,” McCloud answered. “You need our help to access the Ring. To cross the Canyon.”

  Andronicus nodded, his eyes twinkling with something like excitement and lust.

  “We want this very badly. And we know that you can provide this for us.”

  “Why don’t you go to the MacGils?” McCloud asked the question that had been burning on his mind. “Why choose us?”

  “They are closed-minded. Unlike you.”

  “But why do you think we are different?” McCloud asked, testing him, wanting to know how much he knew.

  “My spies tell us that you and the MacGils do not get along. You want control of the Ring. But you know by now that you will never have it. If this is truly what you want, then you need a powerful ally to help you gain it. You will let us into the Ring. And we will help you gain the other half of the kingdom.”

  McCloud studied him, wondering. Andronicus’ eyes were inscrutable, large and yellow and flashing; he had no idea what he was thinking.

  “And what’s in it for you?” McCloud asked.

  Andronicus smiled.

  “Of course, once our army helps you overtake the Ring, then the Ring will be part of the Empire. You will be one of our sovereign territories. You will have to answer to me, but you will be free to run it as you wish. I will allow you to rule all of the Ring. You will keep all the spoils for yourself. We both win.”

  McCloud studied him, rubbing his beard.

  “But if I gain all the spoils and can rule it as I wish, what do you gain?”

  Andronicus smiled.

  “The Ring is the only kingdom on this planet that I do not control. And I do not like things that I cannot control.” Suddenly, his smiled turned into a grimace, and McCloud had a glimpse of his fierceness. “It sets a bad example for the other kingdoms.”

  As the waves crashed all around them and the sun dipped lower, McCloud stood there, thinking. It was the answer he had expected. But he still didn’t have the answer to the question burning most in his mind.

  “And how do I know I can trust you?” McCloud asked.

  Andronicus smiled wide.

  “You don’t,” he answered.

  The honesty of his answer surprised McCloud, and, ironically, made him trust him even more.

  “But we, too, don’t know if we can trust you,” he added. “After all, our armies will be vulnerable inside the Ring. You could seal off the Canyon once we were inside. You could ambush our men. We must trust each other.”

  “But you have far more men than we do,” McCloud answered.

  “But every life is precious,” Andronicus said.

  Now McCloud knew that he was lying. Did he really expect him to believe that? Andronicus had millions of soldiers at his disposal, and McCloud had heard stories of his sacrificing entire armies, millions of men, to gain a small piece of ground, just to make a point. Would he do the same to betray McCloud? Would he let McCloud control the Ring, and then, one day, when he wasn’t expecting it, kill him, too?

  McCloud thought it over. Before today, it had been a chance he’d be willing to take: after all, it would enable him to control the entire Ring, to oust the MacGils, and the way McCloud saw it, he could betray the Empire first, use their men to conquer the Ring, then re-activate the shield, and kill the Empire men stuck inside.

  But after today, after hearing that MacGil was dead, that Gareth was the new king, McCloud felt differently. He might not need the Empire after all. If only he had received this message sooner, before he’d agreed to this meeting. But McCloud didn’t want to completely alienate the Empire either; they might come in useful, at some later date. He had to stall them, to buy time while he tried his new strategy.

  He reached up and stroked his beard, pretending to consider the offer, as the waves crashed all around him and the sky turned purple.

  “I am grateful for your offer, and I will consider it thoroughly.”

  Andronicus suddenly stepped forward, so close that McCloud could smell his awful breath, as he scowled down. He wondered if he had offended him, and had an impulse to reach down for his sword. But he was too nervous to do so. He felt this man could tear him in two if he chose.

  “Don’t think too long,” he seethed, all his humor gone. “I don’t like a man who needs time to think. And my offer will not stand long. If you do not let us in, we will find a way in. And if we find a way in our own, we will crush you. Keep that in mind as you consider the possibilities.”

  McCloud glowered, reddening. No one ever spoke to him this way.

  “Is that a threat?” McCloud asked. He wanted to sound confident, but despite himself, he found his voice shaking.

  A deep, throaty sound rippled through Andronicus’ chest, then up through his throat. At first McCloud thought it was a cough—but then he realized it was a laugh.

  “I never threaten,” he said down to McCloud. “You will come to learn that about me very, very well.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Thor walked with his head down, downcast, kicking pebbles on the road. Krohn walked at his side and Ephistopheles circled somewhere high above, as he made his way slowly to the Legion barracks. Since the funeral, his encounter with Gwen, he felt deflated. The pain of watching MacGil being lowered into the earth took something out of him—as if a part of him sank into the earth with him. The king had taken him under his wing, had shown him kindness, had given him Ephistopheles, had been the only father figure he’d ever had. He felt as if he owed him something, that it had been his responsibility to save him, and somehow, he had failed. As the bells had tolled, Thor felt as if they tolled the announcement of his failure.

  Then there was his encounter with Gwen. She hated him now, that much was obvious. Nothing he could say would change her mind. Even worse, her true thoughts came out today: she felt he was beneath her. A commoner. It seemed Alton had been right all the while. The thought of it crushed him. First he had lost the king; then he had lost the girl he had grown to love.

  As he walked back towards the Legion, he realized it was the one thing left that he could cling to here. He cared not for his village, or his father, or his brothers. Without the Legion and Reese—and Krohn—he did not know what he would have left.

  Krohn yelped and Thor looked up and saw the barracks before him. The king’s banner flew at half mast, and he could already see dozens of boys sulking, and could tell the mood was somber. It was a day of mourning here. The king, their leader, had been murdered, and worse, no one knew who did it, or why. There also seemed to be an air of expectancy. Would the armies be disbanded? The Legion with it?

  Thor saw the wary looks of the boys as he walked through the large, arched stone gate. They were stopping and staring at him. He wondered what they thought of him. Just the night before he’d been thrown into t
he dungeon, and Thor was sure that the rumor had spread that he had something to do with poisoning the king. Did these boys know that he was vindicated? Did they still suspect him? Or did they think he was a hero for trying to save him?

  From their looks, he could not tell. But he did know that the tension in the air was thick, and he could tell that he clearly had been a subject of conversation.

  As Thor entered the large wooden structure of the barracks, he noticed dozens of boys stuffing their clothes and various objects into canvas sacks. It looked, oddly, as if the Legion were packing up. Was it disbanding? he wondered, in a sudden panic.

  “There you are,” came a voice he recognized.

  He turned to see O’Connor standing there, smiling in his typical good-natured way, his bright red hair and freckles framing his face. He reached out and clasped Thor’s forearm.

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days. Are you okay? I heard you were thrown in the clink. What happened?”

  “Hey look, it’s Thor!” yelled a voice.

  Thor turned to see Elden hurrying towards him, a good-natured smile on his face, embracing him. Thor was still amazed at Elden’s attitude towards him, ever since he had saved his life across the Canyon, especially when he recalled the hostile greeting Elden had once given him.

  Coming up beside him were the twins, Conval and Conven.

  “Glad to have you back,” Conven said, embracing Thor in a hug.

  “And I,” Conval echoed.

  Thor was relieved to see them all, especially as he realized that they did not assume he had anything to do with the murder.

  “It’s true,” Thor responded, looking at O’Connor, not sure which question to answer first. “I was thrown into the dungeon. At first they thought I had something to do with the king’s poisoning. But after he was killed, they realized I had nothing to do with it.”

  “So they let you free?” O’Connor asked.

  Thor thought about that, not quite sure how to respond.

  “Not exactly. I escaped.”

  They all looked at him, wide-eyed.

  “Escaped?” Elden asked.

  “Once I was out, Reese helped me. He brought me to the king.”

  “You saw the king before he died?” Conval asked, shocked.

  Thor nodded back.

  “He knows I am innocent.”

  “What else did he say?” O’Connor asked.

  Thor hesitated. He felt funny telling them about what the king said about his destiny, about being special. He didn’t want to seem like he was boasting, or seem delusional, or cause envy. So he decided to omit that part and just tell them how it ended.

  Thor looked him in the eye. “He said: avenge me.”

  The others looked at the floor, grim.

  “Do you have any idea who did it?” O’Connor asked.

  Thor shook his head.

  “As much as you do.”

  “I would love to catch him,” Conven said.

  “As would I,” Elden added.

  “But I don’t understand,” Thor said, looking around, “what is all this packing? It seems as if everyone is getting to leave.”

  “We are,” O’Connor said. “Including you.”

  O’Connor reached over, grabbed a canvas sack, and threw it at Thor. It hit Thor hard in the chest, and he grabbed it before it hit the ground.

  “What do you mean?” Thor asked, puzzled.

  “The Hundred starts tomorrow,” Elden answered. “We are all preparing.”

  “The Hundred?” Thor asked.

  “Do you know nothing?” Conval asked.

  “It seems we have to teach this young one everything,” Conven added.

  Conven stepped forward and draped an arm across Thor’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. There’s always much to learn in the Legion. The Hundred is the Legion’s way of making us all hardened warriors—and weeding us out. It is a rite of passage. Every year, at summertime, they send us for a hundred days of the most grueling training you’ll ever know. Some of us will return. Those who do are granted honors, weapons, and a permanent place in the Legion.”

  Thor looked around, still puzzled. “But why are you packing?”

  “Because the Hundred is not here,” Elden explained. “They ship us off. Literally. Far from here. We must journey across the Canyon, into the Wilds, across the Tartuvian Sea, and all the way to the Isle of Mist. It is a hundred days of hell. We all dread it. But we must go through it, if we are to stay in the Legion. Our ship sails tomorrow, so pack quickly.”

  Thor looked down at the sack in his hand, unbelieving. He could hardly imagine packing up what few things he had, crossing the Canyon into the Wilds, boarding a ship, and spending a hundred days on an island with all the Legion members. The thought of it excited him; it also terrified him. He’d never been on a ship, had never been across the sea. He loved the idea of advancing his skills, and he hoped he would make it and not be weeded out.

  “Before you pack, you should report to your knight,” Conven said. “You are squire to Kendrick now that Erec is gone, aren’t you?”

  Thor nodded back. “Yes, is he here?”

  “He was outside with some of the other Knights,” he answered. “He was preparing his horse, and I know he was looking for you.”

  As Thor stood there, his mind reeling, the thought of the Hundred excited him more than he could say. He wanted to be tested, to be pushed to the extreme, to see if he was as good as the others. And if he made it back—and he felt sure he would—he would return a stronger warrior.

  “Are you sure that I’m included, that I’m allowed to come, too?” Thor asked.

  “Of course you are,” O’Connor said. “Assuming, of course, your knight doesn’t need you here. You need his permission.”

  “Ask him,” Elden said, “and be quick of it. There is much to do to prepare, and you’re already far behind. The ships will not wait. And whoever does not go, cannot stay in the Legion.”

  “Try the armory,” O’Connor said. “I saw Kendrick there just an hour ago.”

  Thor needed no prodding. He turned and ran from the barracks, out the door and across the fields, heading for the armory, Krohn yelping and running at his heels.

  In moments he reached it, breathing hard, and there was Kendrick. He stood there alone, inside the armory, looking up at a wall of halberds. He looked pensive, intense, lost in thought. Thor felt as if he had intruded on private time, and felt guilty for interrupting.

  Kendrick turned, and his eyes were red from crying. Thor thought of his father’s funeral, remembered Kendrick lowering him into the ground, and felt terrible.

  “Forgive me, sire,” Thor said, catching his breath. He could see Kendrick’s grief and felt bad for intruding. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I will leave.”

  As Thor turned to leave, his voice rang out.

  “No. Stay. I would like to speak with you.”

  Thor turned back and waited, quiet, feeling Kendrick’s pain. Kendrick waited a long time in the silence, examining the weaponry.

  “My father, he loved you very much,” Kendrick said. “He barely knew you, but I could see his love for you. It was real.”

  “Thank you, sire. I loved your father, too.”

  “The people in this kingdom, and in the royal court, they have never considered me to be his true son. Just because I was the son of another mother.”

  Kendrick turned to Thor, a determination in his eyes.

  “But I am his son. As much as any of the others. He was a father to me. My only father. My father by blood. Just because we don’t share the same mother, that doesn’t make me any less,” Kendrick reflected, reaching out and feeling the tip of a blade mounted on the wall, his eyes misty.

  “I didn’t know him long,” Thor said, “but from what I saw, I could see his love for you, and his approval for you. It seemed to me to be as real and as strong as it was for any of the others.”

  Kendrick nodded, and Thor
could see the appreciation in his eyes.

  “He was a good man. He could be a hard man, and a tough man. But he was a good man, always fair. Our kingdom will not be the same without him.”

  “I wish you could be king,” Thor said. “You would be the best one to rule.”

  Kendrick looked at the blade.

  “Our kingdom has its law. And I must abide by it. I feel no envy for my brother, Gareth. The law dictates that he should rule, and he will. I do feel upset for my sister, who was passed over. That was not my father’s wish. But for myself, I feel no regret. I don’t know if Gareth will be a good King. But that is the law, and the law is not always fair. It is uncompromising: that is its nature.”

  Kendrick turned to Thor and examined him.

  “And why have you come here?” he asked.

  “Since Erec has left, I am told that I have been assigned to be your squire now. It is a great honor, sire. I can think of no finer knight.”

  “Ah, Erec,” Kendrick said, looking off, glassy-eyed. “The finest knight we have. He’s off for his Selection year, is he? Yes, I am pleased to have you as my squire, though I’m sure it will not last long. He’ll be back. He can never leave King’s Court for long.”

  Kendrick’s expression suddenly morphed to one of understanding.

  “So then you are coming to me to ask for permission to leave for The Hundred, are you?” he asked.

  “Yes, sire. If that is okay with you. If it is not, I understand, and I am here to serve your needs.”

  Kendrick shook his head.

  “Every young Legion member must go through The Hundred. It is a rite of passage. Selfishly, I would like you here, but I will not hold you back. Go. You’ll come back a stronger warrior and a far better squire.”

  Thor was overwhelmed with gratitude towards Kendrick. He was about to ask him more about what lay in store with The Hundred when suddenly, the door to the armory burst open.

  Thor and Kendrick turned to see Alton standing there, dressed in his royal finest, flanked by two guards of the royal court.

  “There he is!” Alton screamed, pointing a haughty finger at Thor. “He’s the one who struck me at the feast last night! A commoner, can you imagine? He struck a member of the royal family. He has violated our law. Arrest him!”