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

squire.”
    Erec took a deep breath.
    “As I leave you, there are some
things I want you to remember. A knight is not forged by strength—but by
intelligence. Courage alone does not make a knight, but courage and honor and
wisdom together. You must work always to perfect your spirit, your mind.
Chivalry is not passive—it is active. You must work on it, better yourself, every
moment of every day.
    “Over these moons, you will learn
all manner of weapons, all manner of skills. But remember: there is another
dimension to our fighting. The sorcerer’s dimension. Seek out Argon. Learn to
develop your hidden powers. I have sensed them in you. You have great
potential. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you understand me?”
    “Yes, sire,” Thor answered,
welling with gratitude for his wisdom and understanding.
    “I chose to take you under my
wing for a reason. You are not like the others. You have a greater destiny.
Greater, perhaps, even than mine. But it remains unfulfilled. You must not take
it for granted. You must work at it. To be a great warrior, you must not only
be fearless and skilled. You must also have a warrior’s spirit, and carry that
always in your heart and your mind. You must be willing to lay down your life
for others. The greatest knight does not quest for riches or honor or fame or
glory. The greatest knight takes the hardest quest of all: the quest to make
yourself a better person. Every day, you must strive to be better. Not just
better than others—but better than yourself. You must quest to take up the
cause of those lesser than yourself. You must defend those who cannot defend
themselves. It is not a quest for the light-hearted. It is a quest of heroes.”
    Thor’s mind spun as he took it
all in, pondering Erec’s words carefully. He was overwhelmed with gratitude for
him, and hardly knew how to respond. He sensed that it would take many moons
for the full message of these words to sink in.
    They reached the gate of the
first crossing, and as they did, several members of The Silver came out to
greet Erec. They rode up to him, big grins on their faces, and as he dismounted
they clapped him hard on the back, as old friends.
    Thor jumped down, took Lannin’s
reins and led him to the keeper at the gate, to feed and rub him down. Thor
stood there, as Erec turned and looked at him, one last time.
    In their final goodbye, there was
too much Thor wanted to say. He wanted to thank him. But he also wanted to tell
him everything. Of the omen. Of his dream. Of his fears for the king. He
thought maybe Erec would understand.
    But he could not bring himself
to. Erec was already surrounded by knights, and Thor feared that Erec—and all
of them—would think him crazy. So he stood there, tongue-tied, as Erec reached
up and clasped his shoulder one last time.
    “Protect our King,” Erec said
firmly.
    The words sent a chill up Thor’s
spine, as if Erec had read his mind.
    Erec turned, walked through the
gate with the other knights, and as they passed through, their backs to him,
the metal spikes slowly lowered behind him.
    Erec was gone now. Thor could
hardly believe it, felt a pit in his stomach. It could be an entire year until
he saw him again.
    Thor mounted his horse, grasped
the reins, and kicked hard. Afternoon was here and he had a good half day’s
ride to make it back for the feast. He felt Erec’s final words reverberating in
his head, like a mantra.
    Protect our king.
    Protect our king.

CHAPTER
TWENTY EIGHT
     
     
    Thor rode hard in the darkness,
racing through the final gate of King’s Court, barely slowing his horse as he
jumped off it, breathing hard, and handing the reins to an attendant. He had
been riding all day, the sun had fallen hours before, and he could see
immediately from all the torchlight inside, hear from all the reverie behind
the gates, that the king’s feast was in full swing. He kicked himself for being
away for as long as he did, and only prayed he was not too late.
    He ran to the nearest attendant.
    “Is all in order inside?” he
asked in a rush. He had to find out whether the king was okay—though of course
he couldn’t directly ask if he had been poisoned.
    The attendant looked at him,
baffled.
    “And why shouldn’t it be? All is
in order, except that you are late. Members of the King’s Legion should always
be on time. And your clothes are filthy. You reflect poorly on your peers. Wash
your hands, and hurry inside.”
    Thor rushed through the