A Quest of Heroes (26 page)

Before he could respond, one of the twins reached up, clasped a firm hand on his back, and threw a gold coin up to the woman on the stairs.

“I believe you have your first customer!” he yelled.

The room cheered, and Thor, despite his pushing and pulling and resisting, felt himself shoved forward by dozens of men, through the crowd, and up the staircase. As he went, his mind filled with thoughts of Gwen. Of how much he loved her. Of how he didn’t want to be with anyone else.

He wanted to turn and run. But there was literally no escape. Dozens of the biggest men he had ever seen shoved him forward, and did not allow retreat. Before he knew it, he was up the steps, on the landing, staring at a woman taller than he, who were too much perfume, and smiled down at him. Making matters worse, Thor was drunker than he had ever been. The room was positively spinning out of control, and he felt that in another moment he would collapse.

The woman reached down, pulled Thor’s shirt, led him firmly into a room, and slammed the door behind them. Thor was determined
not
to be with her. He held in his mind thoughts of Gwen, forcing them to the front. This was not how he wanted his first experience to be.

But his mind was not listening. He was so drunk, he could barely see now. And the last thing he remembered, before he blacked out, was being led across the room, towards a lady’s bed, and hoping he made it before he hit the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

MacGil peeled open his eyes, awakened by the relentless pounding on his door, and immediately, he wished he hadn’t. His head was splitting. Harsh sunlight shone in through the open castle window, and he realized his face was planted in his sheepskin blanket. Disoriented, he tried to remember. He was home, in his castle. He tried to summon the night before. He remembered the hunt. Then, an alehouse, in the woods. Drinking way too many casks. Somehow, he must have made it back here.

He looked over and saw his wife, the Queen, sleeping beside him, under the covers and slowly rousing.

The pounding came again, the awful noise of an iron knocker slamming.

“Who could that be at this hour?” she asked, annoyed.

MacGil was wondering the same thing. He specifically remembered leaving instructions with his servants not to wake him—especially after the hunt. There’d be hell to pay for this.

It was probably his steward, with another petty financial matter.

“Stop that bloody banging!” MacGil finally bellowed, rolling out of bed, sitting with his elbows on his knees, hand in his head. He ran his hands through his unwashed hair and beard, then over his face, trying to wake himself up. The hunt—and the ale—had taken a lot out of him. He wasn’t as limber as he used to be. The years had taken their toll; he was exhausted. At this moment, he felt like never drinking again.

With a supreme effort he pushed himself off his knees, and to his feet. Dressed only in his robe, he quickly crossed the room, and finally reached the door, a foot thick, grabbing the iron handle and yanking it back.

Standing there was his greatest general, Brom, flanked by two attendants. They lowered their heads in deference, but his general stared right at him, a grim look on his face. MacGil hated it when he wore that look. It always meant somber news. It was at moments like these that he hated being King. He had been having such a good day yesterday, a great hunt, and it had reminded him of when he was young, carefree. Especially wasting the night away like that in the alehouse. Now, to be rudely awakened like this, it took away any illusion of peace he had had.

“My liege, I am sorry to wake you,” Kolk said.

“You should be sorry,” MacGil growled. “This better be important.”

“It is,” he said.

He spotted the seriousness of his face, and turned and checked back over his shoulder for his queen. She was still asleep.

MacGil gestured for them to enter, then led them through his vast bedroom, and through another arched door, to a side chamber, shutting the door behind them so as not to disturb her. He sometimes used this smaller room, no greater than twenty paces in each direction, with a few comfortable chairs and a big stained-glass window, when he didn’t feel like going down to the Great Hall.

“My liege, our spies have told us of a McCloud contingent of men, riding east, for the Fabian Sea. And our scouts in the south report a caravan of empire ships, heading north. Surely they must be heading there to meet the McClouds.”

MacGil tried to process this information, his brain moving too slowly in his drunken state.

“And?” he prodded, impatient, tired. He was so exhausted by the endless machinations and speculations and subterfuges of his court.

“If the McClouds are truly meeting with the Empire, there can only be one purpose,” Brom continued. “To conspire to breach the Canyon and overthrow the Ring.”

MacGil looked up at his old commander, a man who we had fought with for thirty years, and could see the deadly seriousness in his eyes. He could also see fear. That disturbed him: this was not a man he had ever seen fear anything.

MacGil slowly rose, to his full height, which was still considerable, and turned and walked across the room, until he reached the window. He looked out, surveying his court below, empty in the early morning, and thought to himself. He knew, all along, that one day a day like this would come. He just had not expected it to come so soon.

“That was quick,” he said. “It’s been but hours since I married off my daughter to their prince. And now you think they already conspire to overthrow us?”

“I do, my liege,” Brom responded sincerely. “I see no other reason. All indications are it is a peaceful meeting. Not a military one.”

MacGil slowly shook his head.

“But it does not make sense. They could not let the Empire in. Why would they? Even if for some reason they managed to help lower the Shield on our side and open a breach, then what would happen? The Empire would overwhelm them as well. They would not be safe, either. Surely, they know this.”

“Maybe they are going to strike a deal,” Brom retorted. “Maybe they will let the Empire in, in return for their attacking us only, so that the McClouds can control the Ring.”

MacGil shook his head.

“The McClouds are too smart for that. They are crafty. They know that the Empire cannot be trusted.”

His general shrugged.

“Maybe they want control of the Ring so badly, they are willing to take that chance. Especially now that they have your daughter as their queen.”

MacGil thought about this. His head was pounding. He did not want to deal with this now. Not so early in the morning.

“So then what do you propose?” he asked, short with him, tired of all the speculation.

“We could preempt this, sire, and attack the McClouds. The time is now.”

MacGil could hardly believe it.

“Right after I gave my daughter to them in a wedding? I don’t think so.”

“If we don’t,” Brom countered, “we allow them to dig our grave. Surely they will attack us. If not now, then later. And if they join with the empire, we would be finished.”

“They cannot cross the Highlands so easily. We control all the choke points. It would be a slaughter. Even with the empire in tow.”

“The empire have millions of men to spare,” Kolk responded. “They can afford to be slaughtered.”

“Even with the shield down,” MacGil said, “it would not be so easy to just march millions of soldiers across the Canyon—or across the Highlands, or to approach by ship. We would spot such mobilization far in advance. We would have warning.”

MacGil thought.

“No, we will not attack. But for now, we can take a prudent step: double our patrols at the Highlands. Strengthen our fortifications. And double our spies. That will be all.”

“Yes, my liege,” Brom said, turning, with his lieutenants and hurrying from the room.

MacGil turned back to the window, his head pounding. He sensed war on the horizon, coming at him with the inevitability of a winter storm. He sensed, further, that there was nothing he could do about it. He looked all around him, at his castle, at the stone, at the pristine royal court spread out beneath him, and he could not help but wonder how long all of this would last.

What he would give now for another drink.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Thor felt a foot nudging him in his ribs, and he slowly peeled opened his eyes. He lay face down, on a mound of straw, and for a moment had no idea where he was. His head felt like it weighed a million pounds, his throat was drier than it had ever been, and his eyes and head were killing him. He felt as if he’d fallen off a horse.

He was nudged again, and he sat up, the room spinning violently. He leaned over and threw up, gagging again and again.

A chorus of laughter erupted all around him, and he looked up to see Reece, O’Connor, Elden and the twins hovering close by, looking down.

“Finally, sleeping beauty wakes!” Reece called out, smiling.

“We didn’t think you’d ever rise,” O’Connor said.

“Are you okay?” Elden asked.

Thor sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to process it all. As he did, Krohn, lying a few feet away, whimpered and ran over to him, jumping into his arms and burying his head in his shirt. Thor was relieved to see him, and happy to have him at his side. He tried to remember.

“Where am I?” Thor asked. “What happened last night?”

The three of them laughed.

“I’m afraid you had one drink too many, my friend. Someone can’t hold his ale. Don’t you remember? The alehouse?”

Thor closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, and tried to bring it all back. It came in flashes. He remembered the hunt…entering the alehouse…the drinks. He remembered being led upstairs…the brothel. After that, it was all black.

His heart quickened, as he thought of Gwendolyn. Had he done anything stupid with that girl? Had he ruined his chances with Gwen?

“What happened?” he pressed Reece, serious, as he clasped his wrist. “Please, tell me. Tell me I didn’t do anything with that woman.”

The others laughed, but Reece stared back at his friend earnestly, realizing how upset he was.

“Don’t worry, friend,” he answered. “You did nothing at all. Except for throw up and collapse on her floor!”

The others laughed again.

“So much for your first time,” Elden said.

But Thor felt deeply relieved. He had not alienated Gwen.

“Last time I buy you a woman!” said Colven.

“Perfectly good waste of money,” said Caven. “She wouldn’t even return it!”

The boys laughed again. Thor was humiliated, but so relieved he had not ruined anything.

He took Reece’s arm and pulled him aside.

“Your sister,” he whispered, urgently. “She doesn’t know about any of this, does she?”

Reece broke into a slow smile, as he put an arm around his shoulder.

“Your secret is safe with me, even though you didn’t do anything. She doesn’t know. And I can see how deeply you care for her, and I appreciate that,” he said, his face morphing into a serious expression. “I can see now that you really do care for her. If you had gone whoring, that would not be the kind of brother-in-law I would want. In fact, I have been asked to deliver you this message.”

Reece shoved a small scroll into Thor’s palm, and Thor looked down, confused. He saw the royal stamp on it, the pink paper, and he knew. His heart quickened.

“From my sister,” Reece added.

“Whoa!” came a chorus of voices.

“Someone’s got a love letter!” O’Connor said.

“Read it to us!” Elden yelled.

The others chimed in with laughter.

But Thor, wanting privacy, hurried off to the side of the barracks, away from the others. His head was splitting, and the room still spun—but he didn’t care anymore. He unrolled the delicate parchment and read the note with trembling hands.

“Meet me at Forest Ridge at midday. Don’t be late. And don’t call attention to yourself.”

Thor stuffed the note into his pocket.

“What does it say, lover boy?” Calven called out.

Thor hurried over to Reece, knowing he could trust him.

“The Legion has no exercises today, right?” Thor asked.

Reece shook his head. “Of course not. It’s a holiday.”

“Where is Forest Ridge?” Thor asked.

Reece smiled. “Ah, Gwen’s favorite place,” he said. “Take the eastern road out of the court and stay right. Climb the hill, and it begins after the second knoll.”

Thor looked at Reece.

“Please, I don’t want anyone to know.”

Reece smiled.

“I’m sure she does not either. If my mother found out, she would kill you both. She would lock my sister in her room, and exile you to the southern end of the kingdom.”

Thor gulped at the thought of it.

“Really?” he asked

Reece nodded back.

“She doesn’t like you. I don’t know why, but her mind is set. Go quickly, and don’t tell a soul. And don’t worry,” he said, clasping his hand. “I won’t either.”

*

Thor walked quickly in the early morning, Krohn trotting along beside him, trying his best not to be seen. He followed Reece’s directions as best he could, repeating them in his head, as he hurried past the outskirts of the royal court, up a small hill, and along the edge of a thick forest. To his left, the ground fell off below him, leaving him walking on a narrow trail on the edge of a steep ridge, a cliff to his left, and the forest to his right. Forest Ridge. She had told him to meet her there. Was she serious? Or was she just playing with him?

Was that prissy royal, Alton, right? Was he just entertainment for her? Would she tire of him soon? He hoped, more than anything, that that was not the case. He wanted to believe her feelings for him were genuine; yet he still had a hard time conceiving how that could be the case. She barely knew him. And she was royalty. What interest could she possibly have in him? Not to mention that she was a year or two older, and he had never had an older girl take an interest in him; in fact, he had never had
any
girl take an interest in him. Not that there were many girls to choose from in his small village.