Morgan Rice - A Dream of Mortals

“Empires have been built on lesser dreams than those,” the King replied.

“If she wants to leave, let her leave,” came a dark voice.

Gwendolyn turned to see one of the King’s twin sons, Mardig, looking back at her with an intensity she did not like. His wife also glared back darkly.

“In fact, I believe all of them should leave,” Mardig added. “They all left a very conspicuous trail in the desert that will lead the Empire right to us. They will be the source of our downfall.”

“Mind your tongue!” the Queen said. “They are family.”

“They are no family to us!” Mardig countered. “Perhaps we share ancestors. That was centuries ago.”

“You will speak respectfully in my presence, boy,” the King said. “Your actions reflect on me—and that is not how we treat strangers.”

Mardig reddened, and fell quiet.

The King turned to Gwendolyn.

“Forgive me,” he said. “My boy can be rash. He speaks when he should listen.”

The King sighed, as Gwen could sense the room looking to him.

“And yet he speaks some truth, my liege,” called out a voice.

Gwen turned to see one of the King’s warriors, at a table filled with warriors, standing at the far side of the chamber.

“The Empire could follow.”

“Throwing them back out in the desert will not prevent that,” called out another soldier, from the other side of the room.

“It just might,” Mardig said.

The King stood slowly, commanding authority, and all eyes turned to him.

“It is true the trail can jeopardize us,” he said slowly, a finality in his voice, as if to end the matter, “and yet, we do not endanger strangers. Ever.”

This last word he said firmly, with the command of a King, and Gwen could see the dissenters humbled. She felt more grateful to him than she could say.

“The trail will be dealt with. At daybreak, I shall dispatch an expedition to venture beyond the Ridge, beyond the sand wall, and erase that trail.”

A gasp spread throughout the room, and Gwen realized that clearly that was a dangerous proposition; she felt awful that her presence here had caused discord.

“I should like to volunteer to go, Father,” said Ludvig, the King’s eldest twin.

“And I shall volunteer to lead it,” said Koldo, his eldest.

“I, too, Father, wish to go,” said Kaden, his teenage son.

“And I,” added his eldest daughter, Ruth.

The only one, Gwen noticed, who did not volunteer was Mardig, who sat there silently, blushing.

The King nodded.

“I am blessed to have brave sons and daughters,” he boomed. “Yes, you can all go. And all of you make sure you return to me.”

“I, too, would like to volunteer,” Kendrick said, standing beside Gwendolyn.

The room looked at him, quiet, clearly caught off guard that a foreigner would join them.

“And I,” said Brandt.

“And I,” said Atme.

All the Silver that remained stood, too, and Gwen felt a rush of pride—mixed with concern for them.

The King pondered this, then finally nodded back gravely.

“Although you are strangers here,” he said, “I shall not deny you all a chance of valor and honor. Your hearts are warriors’ hearts, and your hearts have spoken for you. Know that it will be a dangerous mission. We have never ventured beyond the sand wall. And some of you may never return.”

“I would give my life for this mission,” Kendrick said proudly. “After all, if your kingdom is endangered, it is endangered for our sakes.”

The King met his eyes, then nodded in approval.

“My liege,” Gwendolyn added, “in our land, Kendrick was the leader of the Silver, our most elite knights. There is no finer man in battle, and no finer commander of men. He is known far and wide as a great leader, and I say this not only because he is my brother.”

The King examined Kendrick, long and hard, then finally he nodded.

“Then you, Kendrick, on the morrow, shall lead half of my men. Prepare yourselves!” the King called out. “Tomorrow, we ride!”

“TO THE RING!” the King boomed, raising his goblet.

“TO THE RING!” echoed the hundreds of warriors in the room.

Gwen could feel the love, approval, and acceptance all around her, and for the first time in a long time, here, in the company of all these fine knights, she felt like she was home.

Godfrey, joined by Akorth, Fulton, Merek, and Ario, walked through the grand hall of a marble and gold palace, their footsteps echoing as they followed the mysterious Finian woman, who had introduced herself as Silis, and her entourage. After having escorted them to this grand place on the other side of Volusia, Silis had led brought them inside and led them through room after room. Godfrey still had no idea who she was, what she wanted, or why she’d decided to keep them alive—but he wasn’t really in a position to ask questions. Her men had escorted them, but Godfrey had a feeling that if they objected, they would pay the price. He was lucky, he knew, to be alive—especially after killing her relatives and taking their jewels.

They were led up a grand, twisting marble staircase, then down a long upper terrace, comprised of a series of marble arches and ornate balusters, wrapping around the palace. It overlooked the city, and as they went, Godfrey took in the breathtaking sight. It was a beautiful city, with its immaculate streets, the canals intersecting them, and the ocean at its feet. Everything shone, and it oozed wealth, and Godfrey reflected that if this place weren’t run by such monsters, if its streets weren’t stained with the blood of innocents, it could actually be an amazing place to live. Such was the paradox of this culture built on slavery.

As they walked, Godfrey wondered where they were being led, wondered whether he could trust this woman. Once again, oddly, he found himself in the position of having to trust a Finian. This time, though, it felt different. There was something about her that seemed genuine, seemed so different from all the others—after all, she could have easily had him killed back there. For some reason he did not quite grasp, Silis wanted him alive.

They came to a stop before a breathtaking terrace, made of solid gold and positioned right beneath the crashing ocean waves. Luxurious seating was spread out before them, and Godfrey and the others were directed to sit.

Godfrey and the others sank into the red velvet cushions, never having been more comfortable, and as he did, servants arrived, holding out a silver platter filled with delicacies. Godfrey held one up and examined it cautiously, as Silis sat opposite him and examined him with a smile.

“Don’t worry,” Silis said. “If I wanted you dead, there are much more interesting ways to do it.”

Godfrey, realizing she was right, ate the delicacy, and was overcome by how delicious it was. It was sweet and soft, and tasted like chocolate, but lighter. Realizing how hungry he was, he ate several; beside him, Akorth and Fulton stuffed their mouths and filled their arms with them. Merek and Ario, though, cautious to the end, did not partake, but sat there humorless, on guard.

Silis took it all in, seeming amused.

“Why didn’t you kill us then?” Merek asked.

She looked at him with a smile.

“It is certainly not because I like you,” she replied. “Or because I care for you or your men.”

Silis leaned back and sighed, as a servant handed her a goblet of wine.

“It is because your timing is perfect,” she continued. “And you fit my agenda. My Finian cousins, on the far side of the city, whose palace you visited, I despise. They’ve always been the power-brokers of this city, and they don’t like to share. You’ve done me a great favor in murdering them—you don’t even realize how great. In fact, I have been planning it myself, but never quite found the perfect opportunity.”