A Quest of Heroes (12 page)

“Why are they laughing at me?” he asked Reece.

Reece turned and chuckled. “They’re not laughing at you,” he said. “They have taken a liking to you. You’re famous.”

“Famous?” he asked, stunned. “What do you mean? I just got here.”

Reece laughed and clasped a hand on his shoulder. He was clearly amused by Thor.

“Word spreads faster in the royal court than you might imagine. And a newcomer like yourself—well, this does not happen every day.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, realizing he was being led somewhere.

“My father wants to meet you,” he said, as they turned down a new corridor.

Thor swallowed.

“Your father? You mean…the King?” Suddenly, he was nervous. “Why would he want to meet me? Are you sure?”

Reece laughed.

“I am quite sure. Stop being so nervous. It’s just my dad.”

“Just your dad?” Thor said, unbelieving. “He’s the King!”

“He’s not that bad. I have a feeling it will be a happy audience. You saved Erec’s life, after all.”

Thor swallowed hard, his palms sweaty, as another large door opened, and they entered a vast hall. He looked up in awe at the ceiling, arched, covered in an elaborate design and soaring high. The walls were lined with arched, stained glass windows, and if possible, even more people were crammed into this room. There must have been a thousand of them, and the room positively swarmed. Banquet tables stretched across the room, as far as the eye could see, people sitting on endlessly long benches, dining. Between these was a narrow aisle with a long, red carpet, leading to a platform on which sat the royal throne. The crowd parted ways as Reece and Thor walked down the carpet, towards the King.

“And where do you think you’re taking him?” came a hostile, nasally voice.

Thor looked up to see a man standing over him, not much older than he was, dressed in a royal garb, clearly a prince, blocking their way and scowling down.

“It’s father’s orders,” Reece snapped back. “Better get out of our way, unless you want to defy them.”

The prince stood his ground, frowning, looking as if he’d bit into something rotten as he examined Thor. Thor did not like him at all: there was something he did not trust about him, with his lean, unkind features and eyes which never stopped darting.

“This is not a hall for commoners,” the prince replied. “You should leave the riffraff outside, where it came from.”

Thor felt his chest tighten. Clearly this man hated him, and he had no idea why.

“Shall I tell father you said that?” Reece defended, standing his ground.

Grudgingly, the prince turned and stormed away.

“Who was that?” Thor asked Reece, as they continued walking.

“Never mind him,” Reece replied. “He’s just my older brother—or one of them. Gareth. The oldest. Well, not really the oldest—he’s just the oldest legitimate one. Kendrick, who you met on the battleground—he is really the oldest.”

“Why does Gareth hate me? I don’t even know him.”

“Don’t worry—he doesn’t only reserve his hate for you. He hates everybody. And anyone who gets close to the family, he sees as a threat. Never mind him. He is but one of many.”

As they continued walking, Thor felt increasingly grateful to Reece, who, he was realizing, was becoming a true friend.

“Why did you stand up for me?” Thor asked, curious.

Reece shrugged.

“I was ordered to bring you to father. Besides, you’re my sparring partner. And it’s been a long time since someone came through my age here who I thought could be worthy.”

“But what makes me worthy?” Thor asked.

“It’s the fighter’s spirit. It cannot be faked.”

As they continued to walk down the aisle, towards the king, Thor felt as if he’d always known him—it was strange, but in some ways he felt as if he were his own brother. He had never had a brother—not a real brother, and it felt good.

“My other brothers are not like him, don’t worry,” Reece said as people flocked around them, trying to catch a glimpse of Thor. “My brother Kendrick, the one you met—he’s the best of all. He’s my half-brother, but I consider him a true brother—even more than Gareth. Kendrick is like a second father to me. He will be to you, too, I am sure of it. There is nothing he would not do for me—or for anyone. He is the most loved of our royal family among the people. It is a great loss that he is not allowed to become king.”

“You said ‘brothers.’ You have another brother, too?” Thor asked.

Reece took a deep breath.

“I have one other, yes. We are not that close. Godfrey. Unfortunately, he wastes his days in the alehouse, with the commoners. He’s not a fighter, like us. He’s not interested in it—he’s not interested in anything, really. Except ale—and the ladies.”

Suddenly, they stopped short, as a girl blocked their way. Thor stood there, transfixed. Perhaps a couple of years older than him, she stared back with blue, almond eyes, perfect skin, and long, strawberry hair. She was dressed in a white satin dress, bordered by lace, and her eyes positively glowed, dancing with joy and mischief. She locked her eyes on his, and it held him completely captivated. He couldn’t move if he wanted to. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

She smiled, displaying perfect white teeth—and as if he weren’t transfixed already, her smile held him there, lit up his heart in a single gesture. He never felt so alive.

Thor stood there, speechless, unable to speak. Unable to breathe. It was the first time in his life that he’d ever felt this way.

“And aren’t you going to introduce me?” she asked Reece. Her voice went right into him—it was even more sweet than her appearance.

Reece sighed.

“And then there’s my sister,” he said with a smile. “Gwen, this is Thor. Thor, Gwen.”

Gwen curtsied.

“How do you do?” she asked with a smile.

Thor stood there, frozen. Finally, Gwen giggled.

“Not so many words at once, please,” she said with a laugh.

Thor felt himself redden; he cleared his throat.

“I am…I… am…sorry,” he said. “I’m Thor.”

Gwen giggled.

“I know that already,” she said. She turned to her brother. “My, Reece, your friend certainly has a way with words.”

“Father wants to meet him,” he said impatiently. “We are going to be late.”

As Thor stood there, he wanted to speak to her, to tell her how beautiful she was, how happy he was to meet her, how grateful he was that she had stopped. But his tongue was completely tied. He had never been this nervous in his life. So, instead, all that came out was:

“Thank you.”

Gwen giggled, laughing harder.

“Thank you for what?” she asked. Her eyes lit up. Clearly, she was enjoying this.

Thor felt himself redden again.

“Um…I don’t know,” he mumbled.

Gwen laughed harder, and Thor felt humiliated. Reece elbowed him, prodded him on, and the two continued to walk. After a few steps, Thor checked back over his shoulder. Gwen still stood there, staring back at him.

Thor felt his heart pounding. He wanted to talk to her, to find out everything about her. He was so embarrassed for his loss of words. But he had never been exposed to girls, really, in his small village—and certainly never exposed to a girl so beautiful. He had never been taught exactly what to say, how to act.

“She talks a lot,” Reece said, as they continued, approaching the king. “Never mind her.”

“What is her name?” Thor asked.

Reece gave him a funny look. “She just told you!” he said with a laugh.

“I’m sorry…I…uh…I forgot,” Thor said, embarrassed.

“Gwendolyn. But everyone calls her Gwen.”

Gwendolyn. Thor turned her name over and over in his head. Gwendolyn.
Gwen
. He did not want to let it go. He wanted it to linger in his consciousness. He wondered if he would have a chance to see her again. He guessed probably not, being a commoner. The thought hurt him.

The crowd grew quiet as Thor looked up and realized they were now close to the King. King MacGil sat on his throne, dressed in his royal purple mantle, wearing his crown, and looked imposing.

Reece kneeled before him, and the crowd quieted. Thor followed. A silence blanketed the room.

The king cleared his throat, a deep, hearty noise. As he spoke, his voice boomed throughout the room.

“Thorgrin of the Lowlands of the Southern Province of the Western Kingdom,” he began. “Do you realize that today you interfered with the King’s royal joust?”

Thor felt his throat go dry. He hardly knew how to respond; it was not a good way to begin. He wondered if he was going to be punished.

“I am sorry, my liege,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean to.”

MacGil leaned forward and raised one eyebrow.

“You didn’t mean to? Are you saying you didn’t mean to save Erec’s life?”

Thor was flustered. He realized he was just making it worse.

“No my liege. I did mean to—”

“So then you admit you did mean to interfere?”

Thor felt his heart pounding. What could he say?

“I am sorry, my liege. I guess I just…wanted to help.”

“Wanted to
help
?” MacGil boomed, then leaned back and roared with laughter.

“You wanted to help! Erec! Our greatest and most famed knight!”

The room erupted with laughter, and Thor felt his face redden, one too many times for one day. Could he do nothing right here?

“Stand and come closer boy,” MacGil ordered.

Thor looked up in surprise to see the king smiling down, studying him, as he stood and approached.

“I spot nobility in your face. You are not a common boy. No, not common at all….”

MacGil cleared his throat.

“Erec is our most loved knight. What you have done today is a great thing. A great thing for us all. As a reward, from this day, I take you in as part of my family, with all the same respects and honors due to any of my sons.”

The King leaned back and boomed: “Let it be known!”

There came a huge cheer and stomping of feet throughout the room.

Thor looked around, flustered, hardly able to process all that was happening to him. Part of the king’s family. It was beyond his wildest dreams. All he had wanted was to be accepted, to be given a spot in the Legion. Now, this. He was so overwhelmed with gratitude, with joy, he hardly knew what to do.

Before he could respond, suddenly the room broke into song and dance and feast, people celebrating all around him. It was mayhem. He looked up at the king, saw the love in his eyes, the adoration and acceptance, and hardly knew what he had done to deserve it. He had never felt the love of a father figure in his life. And now here he was, loved not just by a man, but by the King no less. Overnight, his world had changed. He only prayed that all of this was real.

*

Gwendolyn hurried through the crowd, pushing her way, wanting to catch site of the boy before he was ushered out of the royal court.
Thor
. Her heart beat faster at the thought of him, and she could not stop turning his name over in her head. She had been unable to stop thinking about him from the moment she had encountered him. He was younger than her, but not by more than a year or two— and besides, he had an air about him that made him seem older, more mature than the others, more profound. From the moment she had seen him, she had felt she had known him. She smiled to herself as she remembered meeting him, how flustered he was. She could see in his eyes that he felt the same way about her.

Of course, she did not even know the boy. But she had witnessed what he had done on the jousting lane, had seen what a liking her younger brother had taken to him. She had watched him ever since, sensing there was something special about him, something different than the others. When she met him, it had only confirmed it. He was different than all these royal types, different than all the people born and bred here. There was something refreshingly genuine about him. He was an outsider. A commoner. But oddly, with a royal bearing. It was as if he were too proud for what he was.

Gwen shoved her way to the upper balcony’s edge, and looked down: below was spread out the royal court, and she caught a last glimpse of the boy as he was ushered out, her brother, Reece, by his side. They were surely heading to the barracks, to train with the other boys. She felt a pang of regret, already wondering, scheming, how she could arrange to see him again.

Gwen had to know more about him. She had to find out. For that, she would have to speak to the one woman who knew everything about anyone and everything going on in the kingdom: her mother.

Gwen turned and cut her way back through the crowd, twisting through the back corridors of the castle she knew by heart. Her head spun. It had been a dizzying day. First, the morning’s meeting with her father, his shocking news that he wanted her to rule his kingdom. She was completely caught off guard, had never expected it in a million years. She still could hardly process it now. How could she ever possibly rule a kingdom? She pushed the thought from her mind, hoping that day would never come. After all, her father was healthy and strong, and more than anything, all she wanted was for him to live. To be here, with her. To be happy.

But she could not push the meeting from her mind. Somewhere, back there, lurking, was the seed planted that one day, whenever that day should come,
she
would be next. She would succeed him. Not any of her brothers. But her. It terrified her; it also gave her a sense of importance, of confidence, unlike any she’d ever had. He had found her fit to rule, her—
her
—to be the wisest of them all. She wondered why.

It also, in some ways, worried her. She assumed it would stir up a huge amount of resentment and envy, her, a girl, being chosen to rule. Already, she could feel Gareth’s envy. And that scared her. She knew her older brother to be terribly manipulative, and completely unforgiving. She knew he would stop at nothing until he got what he wanted. And she hated the idea of being in his sights. She had tried to talk to him after the meeting, but he would not even look at her.

Gwen ran down the spiral staircase, twisting and turning, her shoes echoing on the stone. She turned down another corridor, passed through the rear chapel, through another door, passed several guards, and entered the private chambers of the castle. She had to speak with her mother, and she knew she would be resting here, as she saw her slipping out of the feast. Her mother had little tolerance for these long social affairs anymore. She knew that she liked to slip out to her private chambers and rest as often as possible.