The Rock of Ivanore (30 page)

The guard continued up a second stairway that curved its way around the perimeter of the room to the second floor. Two more guards stood at attention before a massive, intricately carved mahogany door, the same door Marcus and Kaië had gone through during their earlier escape. He scanned the floor for any sign of the key but found only a red smear of blood. Grief clutched at Marcus as he recalled how Bryn had given his life to save them.

The door swung open on enormous brass hinges. Beyond it lay a red plush carpet edged in gold embroidery. The guard bowed and waved his hand over the carpet, indicating that he wished Marcus and his companions to walk ahead of him. They found themselves in the cavernous throne room. Despite the present crowd, the room was bathed in silence.

They made their way down the carpeted path that led through the center of the room to where Lord Fredric stood waiting. Bedecked in his finest robes, Fredric looked magnificent, just the way Marcus imagined a ruler should. However, Marcus still wished he were already back home in the fields of Quendel.

When they reached the throne, Jayson knelt on one knee. Marcus and the others followed his example.

Fredric motioned for them to rise. “Please, it is I who should be honoring you, and so I shall.” Fredric snapped his fingers and a guard came forward, bearing a shallow wooden chest in his arms. “For coming to the aid of Dokur and for placing the lives of my people ahead of your own, I bestow upon you, Jayson of Agora, and those
who accompany you, a treasure of immeasurable worth.”

The guard unlatched the chest and lifted the lid. A collective gasp rose from the crowd. There, bedded in black velvet, were seven faceted Celestine stones each mounted in a silver ring.

“These gemstones are worth a small fortune,” continued Fredric. “Few can afford to buy such treasures. But their value is nothing compared to the gift that you have given Dokur. Thus I, along with the entire realm, honor you.”

The crowd broke into raucous applause and cheering. Fredric held up his hand to regain silence.

“For the Cyclopes and Agorans who showed such sacrifice and courage on our behalf, I cannot think of a better way to show my gratitude than to give you my solemn pledge to grant them their freedom and to reinstate to them ownership of the land of their forefathers.”

Again the crowd cheered. When the cheering subsided, Jayson, visibly moved by Fredric's homage, asked permission to speak. Fredric nodded.

“My Lord,” he began, “long have I been separated from the land of my birth. Not a day has passed that I have not thought of it and of the family I left behind. I had hoped, upon my return, to be reunited with my wife, your beloved daughter Ivanore. However,” and here the emotion he felt threatened to overwhelm him, “I have learned such hope is futile since my beloved lives no more.”

On hearing this news, Fredric bowed his head. Though he had long suspected that his daughter was dead, the finality of it sent a cold chill through his heart.

“The sorrow I feel is beyond expression,” continued Jayson. “Yet it is with great joy that I announce that I have found my son.”

A hush swept through the room like the receding tide. Jayson reached for the boy standing to his left. “Lord Fredric, I present to you the son of Ivanore, your grandson, Kelvin Archer of Quendel.”

The crowd gasped in surprise. From the corner of his eye, Marcus saw the look of disbelief on Clovis's and the other boys' faces. Kaië was so happy she nearly burst into tears.

A cry of protest resonated through the room. Chancellor Prost approached the throne and wagged a bony finger in Kelvin's face. “Impossible!” he yelled. “This boy is an imposter! If Ivanore is dead, her child must be dead as well!”

“Kelvin
is
our son!” Jayson contended.

“To say this boy is Ivanore's son is to lay claim to Lord Fredric's throne and the control of the entire realm! There must be evidence, testimony.”

“You want evidence?” replied Jayson. “Here it is, then.”

He reached into his pouch. “Fifteen years ago Ivanore broke her seal and gave me half,” he said, holding up his half-circle of Ivanore's Celestine medallion. Then Kelvin removed his pendant and held it up, as well. Jayson continued. “The boy has carried this shard with him his entire life.”

“Where did you get that?” shouted Prost.

“It was my mother's,” Kelvin answered, “my mother, Lady Ivanore.”

Jayson placed the two pieces together. The fit was perfect. Only a small section of the seal was still missing. Yet Prost's anger only intensified.

“Fredric,” he cautioned with a severe gaze. “You once vowed no half-breed would rule this land! You swore on your very life that this child would never live to be heir! Say the word, and I will have the guards seize him!”

“Silence!” Fredric shouted at Prost. “Fifteen years ago I heeded your advice to exile Jayson and my only son! That decision has brought me only misery and regret. I will hear no more of your counsel today!”

Prost ground his teeth in anger but said no more.

Fredric rose from his throne and stepped forward. Marcus noticed that his lips trembled and his eyes were moist with tears. Fredric took Kelvin and embraced him, weeping as he did so. “My boy,” he cried, “my beloved grandson!”

hen the ceremony ended, Marcus and the other boys followed Jayson to the courtyard. Preparations had been made for their return trip to Quendel. They were given fresh horses, plentiful food, and warm blankets. Marcus looked forward to seeing Zyll again and to getting back to his studies. He wondered, too, what awaited him and the others there. Would they all receive the same reward? There was only one Rock of Ivanore, and it rightfully belonged to Kelvin. Surely, though, all their efforts would be given due recognition. Marcus decided not to trouble himself about that now. He was too anxious to be on his way home.

Fredric accompanied them to the outer gate. “You are my only heir,” he said to Kelvin. “Won't you stay with me
until the time comes for you take my place as king?”

Kelvin embraced his grandfather once again. “I will gladly stay with you, but first I must finish my quest,” he said. “My friends and I have been given the charge of bringing the Rock of Ivanore back to Quendel.”

“Why not let the others deliver it for you?”

Kelvin looked around him and smiled at Marcus and the other boys who stood beside him. “We—all of us—began this quest together. We will finish it together.” He turned back to Fredric and bowed his head respectfully. “But I promise to return in the spring.”

“If that is your desire,” replied Fredric, “then I am a happy man, indeed.”

The horses were brought to the gate with packs secured to their saddles. Marcus's horse was a white mare, sleek and lively. He stroked her nose. It was softer than anything he had ever felt before.

“She's a beauty,” said Jayson from the back of a chestnut mount. “As fine as any I've seen. What will you call her?”

“I haven't decided,” replied Marcus. “I just can't settle on the right name.”

“It will come to you.” Jayson circled his horse. “I suppose you'll be going back to complete your apprenticeship with Master Zyll.”

“That is my plan.”

“Well, seeing as I gave my word to accompany you, I suppose I'll have to come along. You don't mind, do you?”

Marcus smiled. “Not at all,” he said. “Not at all.”

Kelvin and the other boys had, by now, mounted their
horses and called to Marcus to join them. Before he left, however, he wanted to say goodbye to Kaië. He was glad to see her walking toward him.

“I meant to bring you this,” she said. “You left it at the tavern.” She held out a limp leather sack. Before Marcus could accept it, Jayson snatched it away.

“Haven't you put this thing out of its misery yet?” he asked, laughing. He tossed it to Marcus, who examined it. To Marcus's amazement, Zyll's makeshift strap was still intact.

“I don't know,” he said. “I kind of like it.”

Jayson cleared his throat and nodded toward Kaië. Marcus felt his face flush.

“I'll think of you often,” said Kaië. Her words warmed Marcus to the very core.

“Do you have to stay here?” he asked. “You could come to Quendel with us.”

Kaië smiled at the invitation. “Maybe one day my journeys will bring me to the Jeweled Mountains. I would like to visit the son of Ivanore—and his friends. In the meantime, I will help my people repair their city.”

Though Marcus felt disappointed, he understood her reasons for staying behind. He struggled to find the right words to express how he would miss her and how much he appreciated all she had done to help him. He could think of nothing adequate, so he simply reached out his hand to her. She took it. Her hand felt warm and soft in his.

A loud screech broke the silence between them. Xerxes rolled his eyes and hung his beak in a mocking expression.
“Such eloquence!” he said. “Tell her she is the most beautiful woman you've ever seen! Tell her you hope she stays well. Tell her something! Anything!”

“I'll name my horse after you,” blurted Marcus before he could stop himself. Kaië's eyebrows rose, and a bemused grin appeared on her face.

“Thank you,” she said. “I am honored, truly.”

“Brilliant,” said Xerxes with noted sarcasm. “Simply brilliant.”

Marcus was glad when Kelvin's horse left the gate accompanied by Tristan's, Zody's, and finally Clovis's. As he followed them through it, something glinted in the sun. He found a key hanging from the post. Marcus took it, turning it over in his palm. It was an ordinary iron key worn smooth in spots—Zyll's key! When he dropped it in the Fortress, he thought it lost forever. Yet someone had recovered it and left it here for him to find. But who?

Beyond the Fortress gates, a crowd had gathered to bid farewell to Dokur's heroes. Marcus caught a glimpse of a familiar face among them, a young boy with amber eyes. A moment later the boy was gone. Marcus smiled to himself. Somehow Bryn had survived, and Marcus hoped their paths would again cross one day.

The elation he felt at that moment made him want to run as fast and as far as he could. He snapped the reins and galloped ahead to catch up with the others. Soon Dokur would be far behind him. He was on his way home.

hen Marcus and the others emerged through the border of the Black Forest, they were greeted with cries of, “They've returned! The boys have come home!” Young and old ran from their cottages into the streets of Quendel to greet the town's newest heroes. Kelvin led the parade of horses and riders through the center of town to the square where a large crowd was already beginning to gather. Tables were erected, and a feast was prepared. All were joyful and begged the travelers to relate their tales of adventure, which they willingly did.

Each boy soon had his own throng of admirers about him, ever eager for one more story. The young ladies of the village wore garlands in their hair and vied for their attention.
Marcus marveled that only days earlier he was nothing more than an orphan apprentice, but now he was as a victor come back from war. He liked this attention very much but knew that not everyone felt the way he did.