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

gate,
sweating, put his hands in a small stone laver filled with water, splashed it
on his face, and ran it through his longish hair. He had been in constant
motion since early in the morning, he was covered in dust from the road, and it
felt as if it had been ten days in one. He took a deep breath, tried to calm
himself and seem orderly, and strode quickly down corridor after corridor,
towards the vast doors of the feasting hall.
    As he stepped inside, through the
huge arched doors, it was just like his dream: before him were the two feasting
tables, at least a hundred feet long, at the far end of which sat the king, at
the head of his own table, surrounded by men. The noise struck Thor like a
living thing, the hall absolutely packed with people. There were not only the
King’s men, members of The Silver and of the Legion seated at the feasting
tables, but also hundreds of others, bands of traveling musicians, groups of
dancers, of jesters, dozens of women from the brothels…. There were also all
manners of servants, of guards, dogs running about. It was a madhouse.
    Men drank from huge goblets of
wine and beer, and many of them stood, singing drinking songs, arms about each
other, clinking casks. There were heaps of food laid out on the tables, with
boar and deer and all sorts of other game roasting on spits before the fireplace.
Half the room gorged themselves, while the other half mingled about the room.
Looking at the chaos in the room, seeing how drunk the men were, Thor realized
that if he’d arrived earlier, when it began, it would have been more orderly.
Now, at this late hour, it seemed to have evolved into more of a drunken bash.
    Thor’s first reaction, aside from
being overwhelmed, was deep relief to see that the king was alive. He breathed
a sigh of relief. He was okay. He wondered again if that omen meant nothing, if
his dream meant nothing, if he was just overreacting to fancies, making
something bigger in his head than it should be. But still, he just could not
shake the feeling. He still felt a pressing urgency to reach the king, to warn
him.
    Protect our king.
    Thor pushed his way into the
thick crowd, trying to make it the long way towards the king. It was slow
going. The men were drunk and rowdy, packed shoulder to shoulder, and MacGil
sat hundreds of feet away.
    Thor managed to get about halfway
through the crowd when he stopped, suddenly spotted Gwendolyn. She sat at one
of the small tables, off to the side of the hall, surrounded by her handmaids.
She looked glum, which seemed unlike her. Her food and drink were untouched,
and she sat off to the side, separated from the other members of the royal
family. Thor wondered what could be wrong.
    Thor broke from the crowd and
hurried over to her.
    She looked up and saw him coming,
but instead of smiling, as she always did, her face darkened. For the first
time, Thor saw anger in her eyes.
    Gwen slid her chair, got up,
turned her back, and began to march away.
    Thor felt as if a knife had been
plunged into his heart. He could not understand her reaction. Had he done
something wrong?
    He raced around the table,
hurrying over to her, and grabbed her wrist gently.
    She surprised him by throwing it
off roughly, turning and scowling at him.
    “Don’t you touch me!” she
screamed.
    Thor took a step back, shocked at
her reaction. Was this the same Gwendolyn he knew?
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I meant
you no harm. And no disrespect. I just wanted to talk to you.”
    “I have no words left for you,”
she seethed, her eyes aglow with fury.
    Thor could hardly breathe; he had
no idea what he had done wrong.
    “My lady, please tell me, what
have I done to offend you? Whatever it is, I apologize.”
    “What you have done is beyond
remedy. No apology will suffice. It is who you are.”
    She started to walk away again,
and a part of Thor thought he should let her be; but another part of him
couldn’t stand to just walk away, not after what they’d had. He had to know; he
had to know the reason why she hated him so much.
    Thor ran in front of her,
blocking her way. He could not let her go. Not like this.
    “Gwendolyn, please. Just please
give me one chance to at least know what it is that I have done. Please, just
give me this.”
    She stared back, seething, hands
on her hips.
    “I think you know. I think you
know very well.”
    “I do not,” Thor stated
earnestly.
    She stared, as if summing him up,
and finally, seemed to believe him.
    “The