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

from these two, I have chosen a successor.”
    MacGil turned to his daughter.
    “Gwendolyn, that will be you.”
    There was a gasp in the room; his
children all seemed shocked, most of all Gwendolyn.
    “Did you speak accurately,
father?” Gareth asked. “Did you say Gwendolyn?”
    “Father, I am honored,” Gwendolyn
said. “But I cannot accept. I am a woman.”
    “True, a woman has never sat on
the throne of the MacGils. But I have decided it is time to change tradition.
Gwendolyn, you are of the finest mind and spirit of any young woman I’ve met.
You are young, but God be willing, I shall not die anytime soon, and when the
time comes, you will be wise enough to rule. The kingdom will be yours.”
    “But father!” Gareth screamed,
his face ashen, “I am the eldest born legitimate son! Always, in all the
history of the MacGils, kingship has gone to the eldest son!”
    “I am King,” MacGil answered
darkly, “and I dictate tradition.”
    “But it’s not fair !”
Gareth pleaded, his voice whining. “I am supposed to be King. Not my sister.
Not a woman!”
    “Silence your tongue, boy!”
MacGil shouted, shaking with rage. “Dare you question my judgment?”
    “Am I being passed over then for
a woman? Is that what you think of me?”
    “I have made my decision,” MacGil
said. “You will respect it, and follow it obediently, as every other subject of
my kingdom. Now, you may all leave me.”
    His children bowed their heads
quickly and hurried from the room.
    But Gareth stopped at the door,
unable to bring himself to leave.
    He turned back, and, alone, faced
his father.
    MacGil could see the
disappointment in his face. Clearly, he had expected to be named heir today.
Even more: he had wanted it. Desperately. Which did not surprise MacGil in the
least—and which was the very reason he did not give it to him.
    “Why do you hate me, father?” he
asked.
    “I don’t hate you. I just don’t
find you fit to rule my kingdom.”
    “And why is that?” Gareth
pressed.
    “Because that is precisely the
thing you seek.”
    Gareth’s face turned a dark shade
of crimson. Clearly, MacGil had given him an insight into his truest nature.
MacGil watched his eyes, saw them burn with a hatred for him that he had never
imagined possible.
    Without another word, Gareth
stormed from the room and slammed the door behind him.
    In the reverberating echo, MacGil
shuddered. He recalled his son’s stare and sensed a hatred so deep, deeper than
even than those of his enemies. In that moment, he thought of Argon, of his
pronouncement, of danger being close.
    Could it be as close as this?
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    Thor sprinted across the vast field of
the arena, running with all he had. Behind him he could hear the footsteps of
the King’s guards, close on his tail. They chased him across the hot and dusty
landscape, cursing as they went. Before him were spread out the members—and new
recruits—of the Legion, dozens of boys, just like him, but older and stronger.
They were training and being tested in various formations, some throwing
spears, others hurling javelins, a few practicing their grips on lances. They
aimed for distant targets, and rarely missed. These were his competition, and
they seemed formidable.
    Among them were dozens of real knights,
members of the Silver, standing in a broad semi-circle, watching the action.
Judging. Deciding who would stay and who would be sent home.
    Thor knew he had to prove himself, had
to impress these men. Within moments the guards would be upon him, and if he
had any chance of making an impression, now was the time. But how? His mind
raced as he dashed across the courtyard, determined not to be turned away.
    As Thor raced across the field,
others began to take notice. Some of the recruits stopped what they were doing
and turned; some of the knights did as well. Within moments, Thor felt all the
attention focused on him. They looked bewildered, and he realized they must be
wondering who he was, sprinting across their field, three of the King’s guard
chasing him. This was not how he had wanted to make an impression. His whole life,
when he had dreamed of joining the Legion, this was not how he had envisioned
it happening.
    As Thor ran, debating what to do,
his course of action was made plain for him. One large boy, a recruit, decided
to take it upon himself to impress the others by stopping Thor. Tall,
muscle-bound, and nearly twice Thor’s size, he raised his wooden sword