The Sorcerer's Ring: Book 05 - A Vow of Glory (13 page)

Thor
smiled as he and the others used the sticks to lift a piece from the platter.
The boy and the old man did the same, and all of them settled back, eating
contentedly by the fire. Thor took a bite and was surprised by how flavorful it
was—and by how tough the meat was. He felt his energy returning as he chewed.

The
boy then carried over a sack of wine and goblets, handing one out to each, and
filling them. Thor drank, and the strong liquid went right to his head.

With
his full belly, the strong wine and the warm fire relaxing him, Thor felt
himself getting sleepy. But he shook it off. He was leader of this group, and he
could not let himself go to sleep just yet. He wanted to make sure the others
were asleep first.

As
they all sat around, the room fell into a comfortable silence. Soon, the room
was punctuated by the sounds of the old man snoring; the boy giggled. Krohn
came back over to Thor, rested his head in his lap, and closed his eyes and
slept, too.

Thor
and his brothers remained awake, wide-eyed, each staring into the fire. They
had each seen too much today, and all of them, despite their exhaustion, were
on-edge. There was a somber, unspoken silence amongst them, as if they all knew
they were on a journey that must lead to their deaths.

"You
ever think about how different life was before we joined the Legion?" O’Connor
asked.

"What’s
the point of thinking that now?" Elden asked.

O'Connor
shrugged.

"Sometimes
I think about what I left behind,” O’Connor said. “Not that I regret it. I just
wonder about it. How life would have turned out differently. Sometimes I miss
my hometown. My family, you know? I guess I miss my sister most of all. She's
two years younger. Now, with the shield down and the Empire invading, I think
of her, alone back there. I don't know if I will see her again.”

"If
we make it back in time," Thor said, “we will rescue her.”

O'Connor
brooded, looking unconvinced.

"I
wanted to be a blacksmith," Elden said. "My father, he drove me to the
Legion. He had tried himself, as a boy, and he couldn't get in. He wanted me to
achieve what he could not. I'm glad that I did. My life would have been much
smaller had I not. I wouldn’t have seen half the things I have.”

"We
had brides waiting for us back in our hometown,” Conval said. “We were both
engaged to be married. A double wedding. The Legion changed that. They said
they would wait for us.”

“But
we doubt they will,” Conven said.

Thor
thought about it, and realized that he didn't miss anyone or anything from his
hometown. The Legion was his life, completely his life. And he could see in the
eyes of the others that it was their life, too. They had become more than friends—they
had become true brothers. They were all that each other had.

"I
don't speak to my family anymore," Elden said.

"Nor
do I," said O'Connor.

"We
are each other's family now," said Reece.

Thor
realized it was true.

There
came a sudden sound patter on the roof, like hail. It grew louder, and Thor and
the others looked to the ceiling with alarm, sounding as if it would cave in. The
old man and the boy woke and looked up, too.

"The
rains," the old man remarked.

The
sound was terrifying, all-consuming; it sounded as if the sky were raining small
rocks. Making matters worse, the sound was accompanied by a horrific, squealing
noise of thousands of insects. It sounded as if the animals were chewing on the
roof and trying to get in. Thor looked up and was grateful for the barrier
protecting them from the outside, so grateful that this man had not let them
stay the night in the jungle.

After
what felt like hours, finally, the noise stopped, and the hissing faded. The
boy jumped to his feet, crossed the cottage, opened the door and looked out.

"It's
safe now," he said.

They
all jumped up as one, hurried to the door and looked out.

In the
distance, Thor could see thousands of huge black insects crawling away from
them, heading into the jungle.

"The
moonlight is safe now, too,” the boy said. “You see—it’s the second moon. You
can tell by the purple light.”

Thor
walked outside, breathing the cold, night air, the jungle filled with soft
night noises, and he searched the blackness in wonder.

"It’s
safe for now, but don't stay out long," said the boy.

Reece came
out and joined Thor, as the boy hurried back inside and closed the cottage door
behind them. The two of them stood out there, looking up into the sky, at the
large purple moon, at the twinkling red stars. This place was even more
fantastical than Thor had imagined.

"We
might die tomorrow," Reece said, looking up at the sky.

"I
know," Thor said. He had been thinking the same exact thing. The odds
against them seemed impossible.

“If we
do, I want you to know that you're my brother," Reece said to him.
"My
true
brother.”

Reece
looked at him meaningfully, and Thor reached out and clasped his forearm.

"As
you are mine," Thor said.

Hafold
hurried through the Queen’s chamber, preparing her morning meal, as she had done
every day during her thirty five years in the Queen’s service. Hafold was a
precise woman, and she stuck to her schedule like clockwork, crossing the stone
chamber as she prepared the queen’s porridge.

On
this day, though, she walked twice as fast. For the first time in all her years
of service, she was late. She had tossed and turned all night with obscure,
ominous dreams, the first nightmares of her life. She had seen King's Court rise
up in flames, people burned alive, screaming all around her.

By the
time she had awakened, the first sun was already high in the sky, and Hafold
had leapt from her bed, embarrassed. She felt awful at the thought of having made
the Queen wait, at arriving at such a late hour. Typically Hafold arrived
first, followed by the Queen’s second maidservant, who brought the late morning
tea. Now Hafold would have the shame of arriving at the time of the second
server. Hafold did not suffer incompetence in others, and she detested it in
herself.

Hafold
tucked her head, doubled her pace, and held the tray firmly in her trembling
hands, hoping the Queen would not be upset with her. Of course, given the
Queen’s catatonic state, she was hardly capable of expressing pleasure or
displeasure. But Hafold could sense the Queen’s smallest movements. After so
many years, the Queen was like a mother and a sister and a daughter to her, all
rolled in one. She felt more protective of her than anyone in King's Court—than
anyone in her own family.

Hafold
turned the corner, thinking of ways she could make it up to the Queen, and as
she raised her head she caught sight of her in the distance, sitting in her
chair by the window, staring out with blank eyes as she had for weeks now.
There, beside her, stood her second maidservant, tea in hand, right on time;
she was a young girl, new to King's Court, and she poured her tea meticulously
into a shining gold cup.

Hafold
did not want to disturb them, and so she walked quietly, creeping up behind
them without a sound, her soft socks lining her noise on the stone floor. As
she neared, prepared to announce herself, she suddenly stopped. Something was
wrong.

Hafold
watched the maidservant reach quickly into her vest, extract a small sack,
spill a white powder into the queen’s tea, then stow it back inside her pocket.
She then handed the cup to the Queen, holding it in her limp hand and guiding
her to drink it, as she always had.

Hafold’s
heart flooded with terror; she dropped her silver platter, the delicate plates
crashing to the floor, and raced for the Queen. She reached up and smacked the
cup away from her lips. Just in time, she sent the delicate china shattering to
the floor.

The serving
girl jumped back, looking at Hafold with eyes three times as wide, and Hafold
pounced on her, grabbing her roughly by her shirt, yanking open her vest, and
pulling out the sack filled with powder. She smelled it, touched the tip of her
finger to it and tasted it. She snarled at the girl, who looked absolutely
terrified.

"Niamroot,"
Hafold said knowingly. "Why are you feeding this to the Queen? Do you know
what this does to a person?”

The girl
stared back dumbly, trembling.

Hafold’s
fury deepened. This was a toxic poison, one designed to kill the brain slowly. Why
was this maidservant giving it to her? Looking at how young and stupid she looked,
Hafold realized someone else was behind it.

"Who
put you up to this?" Hafold pressed, grabbing her more tightly. "Who
made you poison our queen? How long has this been going on? ANSWER ME!"
she shrieked, reaching back and smacking the girl all her might.

The
girl cried out, her body shaking, and between sobs, she said, "The King!
The King made me do it! He threatened me. They are his orders. I'm sorry!”

Hafold
shook with rage. Gareth. The Queen’s own son. Poisoning his mother. The thought
of it made her sick to her stomach.

"How
long?" Hafold asked, suddenly wondering how much of the Queen's condition
had to do with the stroke.

The
girl cried.

"Since
her husband’s death. I'm sorry. I didn't know. He said it was for her health.”

"Stupid
girl," Hafold shrieked, and threw her halfway across the room. The girl
screamed, stumbled, and ran from the chamber, sobbing as she went.

Hafold
knelt down beside her Queen, and examined her in a whole new light. From all her
years as a nurse, Hafold knew exactly what Niamroot could do—and she also knew how
to heal it. Its effects were not permanent, if caught in time.

Hafold
pulled the Queen’s eyelids low, saw the yellowish color beneath them, and confirmed
she was a victim of this poison. Hafold felt certain that this was why she had
been catatonic. It was not from mourning her late husband. It was from being
poisoned by her son.

She
had to hand it to Gareth: he had chosen the perfect timing to poison her, to
make it seem to the world as if his mother were merely in mourning. He was even
more devious than she had thought.

Hafold
crossed the chamber, rifled through each drawer of her medicine chest, and
found the yellow liquid that she needed. With trembling hands she mixed a drop in
a cup of water, then hurried back and put it to the Queen’s mouth, forcing her
to drink.

The
Queen drank and drank, shaking her head, trying to stop, but Hafold forced her
to drink the whole thing.

After
the Queen, protesting, emptied the cup, finally, the Queen shook her head and reached
up and pushed Hafold's hand away.

Hafold
was shocked and delighted. It was the first time the Queen had raised her hand in
weeks.

"What
are you making me drink?" the Queen demanded.

Hafold
leapt in joy at the sound of her voice, her first words, realizing she was back.
She reached out and hugged the queen—the first time she had hugged her in her
thirty five years of serving her.

The Queen,
back to her old self, indignant, stood and gasped.

"My
Queen, my Queen!" Hafold cried. "You’ve come back to me!”

The
Queen shoved Hafold off, her old proud self.

"What
do you speak of?” the Queen demanded. “Come back where?”

"You’ve
been poisoned,” Hafold explained. “Gareth has poisoned you!”

The
Queen’s eyes widened slowly, in recognition, and suddenly, she understood.

"Bring
me to him,” the Queen commanded.

*

Queen
MacGil marched down the corridors of King's Court, corridors she knew too-well,
Hafold beside her, feeling herself again. For the first time in she did not
know how long she felt aware, filled with energy. She also felt infused with
rage, and eager to confront her son.

With every
step she took, the more she was beginning to come back to herself, the more it was
dawning on her what exactly had happened, the role her son had played. It made
her sick, and a part of her still did not want to believe it. What could she
have done so wrong to raise such a monster?

"My
Queen, this is not such a good idea," Hafold said beside her. "We
should leave this place at once, flee while we can. Who knows how Gareth might
react—he might have you killed. We must get far from this place. We must go to
Silesia, to Gwendolyn. You will be cared for there.”

"Not
until I speak to my son," she said.

Nothing
would keep the queen from knowing the truth, from hearing the words from Gareth
himself. Queen MacGil had never been one to back away from a confrontation, and
she was not about to begin now—and certainly not from her own son.