A Joust of Knights (Book #16 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (16 page)

“But the Ridge is secluded,” Kendrick
said. “What are they patrolling for?”

“On occasion,” Koldo replied, “desert
creatures cross the sand wall, and try to broach the walls of the Ridge. We
must maintain lookouts, all day and night, on all peaks of the Ridge. When they
cross, we send out patrols to battle these monsters, before they get too close.
It keeps the Ridge safe, and it keeps us battle hardened. They are vicious foes,
and they attack in packs, worse foes, even, than the Empire.”

“You would not know,” Naten interjected.
“None of you precious Silver have ever been tested against our foes.”

“They have had to contend with foes, I
am sure, far deadlier than they,” Ludvig interjected, standing up for Kendrick.

Kendrick nodded back, appreciating that,
and Naten merely shrugged.

“
I
will be a Wolf soon,” Kaden
said proudly. “My coming-of-age ritual will be next. I will patrol the Ridge, with
but a few friends. We will fight and kill any creatures we find.”

Kendrick smiled, admiring his courage.

“So this then is your first time out in
the Waste?” Kendrick asked.

Kaden nodded back solemnly.

“I volunteered,” he said. “My father
refused at first, but my brother allowed it and convinced him to let me.”

Koldo turned to Kendrick.

“We treat our young here,” Koldo said, “with
the greatest respect. In our kingdom, the greatest honor is reserved for the
youngest. It is the youngest son, not the eldest, who holds all of our pride
and joy. For however the youngest fights is a reflection upon not only his
father but his older brothers. We must all be an example of honor and courage,
and that must be found in the youngest. The coming-of-age ritual is something
we hold with the highest regard.”

“Our boy warriors,” Ludvig added, “reflect
what is best in us. The time of life when one evolves from a boy to a man is a
very sacred time. It is, in fact, the most important time for our people.”

A comfortable silence fell over the
group of warriors, and as the fire crackled, Kendrick became lost in thought,
his eyes heavy, until Kaden turned to him.

“What is it that you live for now?” Kaden
asked.

Kendrick turned to him and could see
this earnest boy was struggling to understand.

“Your beloved homeland is gone,” Kaden
continued. “Your men are mostly dead. I cannot imagine going on. What is it
that keeps you going? Was it that you wish for?”

Kendrick thought long and hard about
that. It made him miss the Ring, and his fellow Silver, more than ever before.

“I live to, one day, return to my
homeland,” Kendrick finally replied. “To see the Ring restored once again. To
see the Silver’s ranks replenished. For our men to become the great army and
the great knights that we once were.”

The men nodded back, respecting his
response.

“And yet,” Kendrick added, “I’ve also
learned that being a knight means being a knight wherever you are. In whatever place,
and whatever circumstance. I have learned that I do not need to be in the Ring,
in King’s Court, in a fine castle and city, or even in my armor. That is not
what it means to be a knight. The true knight leaves all those things behind;
he is out there fighting for a cause, and that cause is always outside his
well-fortified city gate. When you are out there, somewhere, in the heart of
the dangers, when you feel as if you are in the loneliest and emptiest place of
all, when you look around and there is no one left to your left or to your
right, when you are forging new ground—that is when you are taking up the cause
of the true knight. That is what you make your home. The true knight has no
home—he forges his home. And he is always forging a new one. And that is where
my home lies now.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Ludvig said.

He raised his sack, and Kendrick and the
others raised theirs, as they all drank around the fire.

“To honor!” Koldo called out.

“To honor!”

Kendrick took a long drink of his wine,
staring into the flames, as he dwelled on the final word.
Honor
. That,
above all, was what he lived for.

“I understand how you feel, my friend,”
Koldo said, in his deep voice, beside him. “I myself was once an outsider to
this place.”

Kendrick looked back at him, wondering.
Given Koldo’s black skin, his appearance so different from everyone here, and his
being the King’s eldest son, Kendrick had always wondered about him. But he had
never wanted to pry.

“As you can tell,” Koldo continued, “I
was not born of the King, or the Queen. They found me, in the Waste, on a
King’s patrol, and they took me in as their own. Even more so, being their
eldest, they named me their firstborn—and heir to the kingdom. They have made
me the eldest in every sense of the word, even when they didn’t need to. That
is what these people of the Ridge are made of.”

Kendrick was intrigued by his story.

“They found you?” he asked. “How?”

“The King and his men once raided a
slave village, deep in the Waste, to kill Empire soldiers who had gotten too
close, and to liberate the slaves. When they got there, the Empire had already
left, and the village was smoldering. Everyone was dead—except for me. They
could have left me there, for dead. But that is our King, my father, my true
father: he has a big heart, and he does what is right.”

Koldo sighed.

“I do not forget. I never forget, when
it comes to loyalty. I would die for our King in the blink of an eye. I would
lead his men anywhere, anywhere in the world he wants them to go.”

“Koldo is my brother,” Ludvig said. “My
true brother. He might be born of different parents, have a different skin color
than I, but that means nothing. That is not what it means to be a brother. His
honor and courage and loyalty are what make him my brother. I consider him my
blood, as I do my other brothers, and I would die for him in the blink of an
eye.”

“As would I,” said Kaden. “Koldo is as
much my brother as Ludvig.”

Kendrick could see the intense loyalty Koldo
inspired, and he admired it greatly. It made him think back to King MacGil, who
had taken him in as his son. MacGil wanted to name Kendrick his firstborn, his
heir—but that had been his one failing: he had never been strong enough to
overcome the customs of his people, to allow a bastard to be King. The King of
the Ridge, though, Kendrick could see, was different: he had defied tradition
to do what was right. Kendrick longed for a father like that.

“I suppose we have something in common,”
Kendrick said. “We were both raised by parents not our own. Yet somehow we have
both risen to become leaders of our troops.”

Koldo smiled back, the first time
Kendrick had seen him smile.

“What is it that they say?” Koldo asked.
“That it is always the outsiders, the ones least accepted, the ones that people
expect nothing of, that rise to the top.”

Kendrick understood—more than he could
say.

Volusia stepped out from the shadows into
the bright sunlight and onto her private terrace in the coliseum—and as she
did, the crowd went wild. She stood there and raised her arms and turned every
which way as she took in the cheers and adulation from thousands of adoring fans,
all citizens of her capital city. The stadium roared and shook at her very presence,
and she knew that they loved her. She, the conquering hero. They loved her
strength; they loved her power. She, whom no one had ever expected anything of.
Finally, they had come to learn what she had known all along: that she was a
goddess. That she was invincible.

Already the statues of her were
ubiquitous in the city, the morning prayer rituals to her image had been set, and
the people bowed down to her everywhere she went. Yet it was still not enough
for her. She wanted more.

If her people didn’t genuinely love her,
Volusia knew, when they saw her face they wouldn’t cheer as they dead, wouldn’t
shower her with affection. It was not just from fear, but from awe. She could
feel it. She had conquered the city that could not be conquered, had taken the
throne which could not be taken. She had proved them all wrong, and they loved
her for it. They knew with her, everything was possible.

Volusia held out her arms, and as she
did, trumpets sounded. Slowly, the crowd quieted. They all looked to her, so
silent and respectful that one could hear a pin drop.

“Citizens of the Empire!” she called
out, her voice booming, echoing off the walls. “People of my capital city! You
are subjects no more. You are now free! Free to serve not many, not commanders,
not soldiers—but only the Goddess Volusia.”

The crowd cheered, stomping up and down
the rows, and it went on so long, Volusia was certain it would never end.

Finally, she raised her arms again and
they quieted.

“As my gift to you,” she boomed, “as my
gift for liberating your great city, I present to you what no leader before me
has ever given you: one hundred days of games! Let the bloodsport begin!”

Trumpets sounded as the crowd shrieked
with delight, the entire stadium shaking in a frenzy. Volusia receded from the
light, back into the shadows, and sat on the edge of her terrace on her golden
throne, flanked by her advisors, and watched down over all of it.

Far below, the great iron doors to the arena
opened, with a groan so loud it drowned out even the chanting of the crowd, and
as it did, the first day’s gladiators, shackled to one another, were brought
out. The crowd went wild as dozens of gladiators came stumbling into the center
of the arena, looking in every direction, panicked.

A horn sounded, another door opened, and
out rode dozens of Empire soldiers, riding zertas, their black armor glistening
beneath the suns, and wielding sharpened spears. They charged right for the
group, and the crowd cheered them on as the first of the spears were hurled
through the air.

Soon the air was filled with dozen of
spears, all aimed down at the panicked gladiators, raining down on them from
all directions.

The gladiators tried to turn and run,
bumping into each other—but there was nowhere for them to go.

Soon, they were all impaled. Some tried
to duck, while others dove for the ground—but these were just impaled through
their backs. Others raised their petty shields—but the spears, so sharp, just
went right through. Death was everywhere—and it found them.

As the crowd cheered, the riders circled
around, bent down low, and grabbed the chains binding the gladiators together—then
dragged them along the ground, parading their trophies around the arena. The
crowd stood and roared as they passed.

A horn sounded, another gate opened, and
yet another group of gladiators were ushered into the arena.

Volusia took in all the cruelty on
display, and it brightened her mood. Indeed, this particularly vicious arena,
here in the capital, was one of the reasons she had wanted to take the capital
to begin with. Watching people die in unusual ways was one of her favorite
hobbies.

“Goddess,” came a voice.

Volusia, annoyed at being interrupted,
turned to see Rory, the new commander of her forces, looking back at her with
concern. She had given him the title after killing the previous three
commanders on a whim. She felt it was always good to keep her men on their
toes.

“Goddess, forgive me for interrupting
you,” he said, worry in his voice.

“I do
not
forgive you,” she said
coldly. “I do not forgive interruptions.”

He gulped.

“Goddess, I beg your forgiveness. But it
is urgent.”

She stared back at him.

“Nothing is urgent in my world. I am a Goddess.”

He looked uncertain whether to continue.

 “I bear news, Goddess,” he said. “Romulus’s million men, fresh from the Ring, are nearing our shores in a vast fleet. They
approach the Western Bay, even now, as we speak—and we have no planned defenses
for them. By tomorrow, our capital will be overrun.”

She stared back evenly.

“And what is urgent?” she asked.

He blinked, speechless.

“Goddess,” he continued, unsure, “there
are only two ways for us to flee the capital—to the west or the east. With the Knights
of the Seven and their millions of men advancing from the east, we have only
the western escape—and now that exit is trapped by Romulus’s million men. We
are surrounded, with nowhere to flee.”

Volusia stared back evenly, hearing the
distant roar of the crowd, and annoyed that she was being distracted, that she
was turned away from seeing whoever was just killed.

“And whoever said anything about fleeing?”
she asked.

He looked back, dumbfounded.

“I never retreat, Commander,” she said.

“But something must be done!” he said
urgently.

She smiled wide. Finally, she rose and
walked from the terrace, wanting to hear no more of this.

“Follow me,” she said.

*

Volusia approached the shore of the Western Bay, flanked by her huge entourage of advisors and generals and commanders, walking
quickly out in front of them, as she stepped across the beach of small rocks, heading
towards the water’s edge. The water lapped lightly, and in the distance, against
the cloudy afternoon and the streaks of a glowing sunset, she saw the sea of Romulus’s
ships, freshly back from the Ring, even with their precious Romulus dead, all
coming together in common cause, clearly at the behest of the Knights of the
Seven. They still thought the Seven were in control; they still did not realize
that the Empire was hers now.

Volusia felt honored that all these men would
mobilize from halfway around the world, that they would vacate their precious
Ring, just for her. And she pitied them. They had no idea that they were up
against a Goddess. That she was untouchable.

“Do you see, Goddess?” Rory continued,
panic in his rising voice. “We must mobilize our men, quickly! We waste
precious time!”

Volusia, ignoring him, marched out ahead
of her men, right down to the water’s edge. She stood there, lifted her chin,
and felt the strong winds in her face, and welcomed them. They cooled off the
heat of the desert, of the unbearably hot morning in the capital.

Volusia heard the distant drumbeat of
the warships, pounding incessantly in the distance, as if to frighten her, and
she watched as the ships all began to enter the bay. As if these fools really
believed they could scare her.

Volusia stood there, one woman against
an army, and watched as they came in, ever closer, filling the massive bay,
blocking her exit west—just as she wanted them to.

“Goddess!” Rory blank repeated. “We must
retreat!”

Volusia looked up and saw the torches on
all the ships, all the flaming arrows, all the spears, all the men waiting only
to get in range. She knew that in but a few minutes they would rain down a hell
upon her and all her men, a wave of death and destruction.

Yet she had other plans—she was not prepared
to die just yet. And certainly not by these men’s hands, the remnant of a
mediocre commander, Romulus, her predecessor, and a fool.

Volusia turned and nodded to Volk, who
stood beside her. He nodded back, and several of his small, green men rushed
forward, making squealing noises, anathema even to her. They slowly raised their
hands and held them out before them, their fingers spread in a triangle shape
as they aimed them at the sea.

Slowly, a green glow spread from their
palms; it oozed over the waters like a slime, spreading and spreading, until it
crept beneath Romulus’s ships. The Volks then turned their palms slowly upward,
lifted them higher and higher.

As they did, they summoned forth
creatures from the deep, raising them up higher and higher, from the black sea.
Slowly, the entire water filled with small, green glowing crabs, making an
awful clattering noise as they spread out and clung to the hulls of all the
ships.

They crawled up the hulls, covering them
like ants, and as they did there came the sound of creaking and splintering
wood. They were eating away at the ships, like piranhas, and splinters began to
fly everywhere.

Volusia looked on in satisfaction, as
one after another all the ships began to list, then teeter—then collapse. They
crumbled into the water, their hulls eaten out from under them.

Men shrieked, an awful sound, as
thousands upon thousands fell, flailing through the air and into the water. As
they did, they were met by thousands of crabs, waiting. The shrieks became even
more awful as soon the waters turned red with the blood of Romulus’s million
men.

Volusia stood there, grinning, taking it
all in with satisfaction.

She turned and looked at the face of her
shocked commanders.

“Now,” she said, “I shall return to my
games.”