A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

out beneath him in all their glory, stretching as
far as the eye could see, a thriving city walled in by ancient stone
fortifications. King’s Court. Interconnected by a maze of winding streets sat
stone buildings of every shape and size—for the warriors, the caretakers, the
horses, The Silver, the Legion, the guards, the barracks, the weapons house,
the armory—and among these, hundreds of dwellings for the multitude of his
people who chose to live within the city walls. Between these spanned acres of
grass, royal gardens, stone-lined plazas, overflowing fountains. King’s Court
had been improved upon for centuries, by his father, and his father before
him—and it sat now at the peak of its glory. Without doubt, it was now the
safest stronghold within the Western Kingdom of the Ring.
    MacGil was blessed with the
finest and most loyal warriors any king had ever known, and in his lifetime, no
one had dared attack. The seventh MacGil to hold the throne, he had held it
well for his thirty-two years of rule, had been a good and wise king. The land
had prospered greatly in his reign, he had doubled his army’s size, expanded
his cities, brought his people bounty, and not a single complaint could be
found among his people. He was known as the generous king, and there had never
been such a period of bounty and peace since he took the throne.
    Which, paradoxically, was
precisely what kept MacGil up at night. For MacGil knew his history: in all the
ages, there had never been as long a stretch without a war. He no longer
wondered if there would be an attack—but when. And from whom.
    The greatest threat, of course,
was from beyond the Ring, from the empire of savages that ruled the outlying
Wilds, which had subjugated all the peoples outside the Ring, beyond the
Canyon. For MacGil, and the seven generations before him, the Wilds had never
posed a direct threat: because of his kingdom’s unique geography, shaped in a
perfect circle—a ring—separated from the rest of the world by a deep canyon a
mile wide, and protected by an energy shield that had been active since a
MacGil first ruled, they had little to fear of the Wilds. The savages had tried
many times to attack, to penetrate the shield, to cross the canyon; not once
had they been successful. As long as he and his people stayed within the Ring,
there was no outside threat.
    That did not mean, though, that
there was no threat from inside. And that was what had kept MacGil up at night
lately. That, indeed, was the purpose of the day’s festivities: the marriage of
his eldest daughter. A marriage arranged specifically to appease his enemies,
to maintain the fragile peace within the Eastern and Western Kingdoms of the
Ring.
    While the Ring spanned a good
five hundred miles in each direction, it was divided down the middle by a
mountain range. The Highlands. On the other side of the Highlands sat the Eastern
Kingdom, ruling the other half of the Ring. And this kingdom, ruled for
centuries by their rivals, the McClouds, had always tried to shatter its
fragile truce with the MacGils. The McClouds were malcontents, unhappy with
their lot, convinced their side of the kingdom sat on ground less fertile. They
contested the Highlands, too, insisting the entire mountain range was theirs,
when at least half of it belonged to the MacGils. There were perpetual border
skirmishes, and constant threats of invasion.
    As MacGil pondered it all, he was
annoyed. The McClouds should be happy: they were safe inside the Ring,
protected by the Canyon, they sat on choice land, and had nothing to fear. They
should just be content with their own half of the Ring. It was only because MacGil
had grown his army so strong that, for the first time in history, the McClouds
had dared not attack. But MacGil, the wise king he was, sensed something on the
horizon; he knew this peace could not last. Thus he had arranged this marriage
of his eldest daughter to the eldest prince of the McClouds. And now the day
had arrived.
    As he looked down, he saw
stretched below him thousands of minions, dressed in brightly colored tunics,
filtering in from every corner of the kingdom, from both sides of the Highlands.
Nearly the entire Ring, all pouring into his fortifications. His people had
prepared for months, commanded to make everything look prosperous, strong. This
was not just a day for marriage: it was a day to send a message to the
McClouds.
    MacGil surveyed his hundreds of
soldiers, lined up strategically