A Joust of Knights (Book #16 in the Sorcerer's Ring) Read Free Page A

haven’t noticed. I can leave here right now
if I choose.”
    He laughed, an ugly sound.
    “And where would you go? Back into the Waste?”
    He smiled and shook his head.
    “You might be technically free to go,”
he added. “But let me ask you: when the world is a hostile place, where does
that leave you?”
    Krohn snarled viciously, and Gwen could
feel him ready to pounce. She shook Mardgi’s hand off of her arm indignantly,
and reached down and laid a hand on Krohn’s head, holding him back. And then,
as she glared back at Mardig, she had a sudden insight.
    “Tell me something, Mardig,” she said,
her voice hard and cold. “Why is it you are not out there, fighting with your
brothers in the desert? Why is it that you are the only one who remains behind?
Is it fear that drives you?”
    He smiled, but beneath his smile she
could sense cowardice.
    “Chivalry is for fools,” he replied. “Convenient
fools, that pave the way for the rest of us to have whatever we want. Dangle the
term ‘chivalry,’ and they can be used like puppets. I myself cannot be used so easily.”
    She looked at him, disgusted.
    “My husband and our Silver would laugh
at a man like you,” she said. “You wouldn’t last two minutes in the Ring.”
    Gwen looked from him to the entrance he
was blocking.
    “You have two choices,” she said. “You
can move out of my way, or Krohn here can have the breakfast he so heartily
desires. I think you are about the perfect size.”
    He glanced down at Krohn, and she saw
his lip quiver. He stepped aside.
    But she did not go just yet. Instead,
she stepped up, close to him, sneering, wanting to have her point made.
    “You might be in command of your little castle,”
she snarled darkly, “but do not forget that you speak to a Queen. A free Queen. I will never answer to you, never answer to anyone else as long as I
live. I am through with that. And that makes me very dangerous—far more
dangerous than you.”
    The Prince stared back, and to her
surprise, he smiled.
    “I like you, Queen Gwendolyn,” he
replied. “Much more than I thought.”
    Gwendolyn, heart pounding, watched him turn
and walk away, slithering back into the blackness, disappearing down the
corridor. As his footsteps echoed and faded away, she wondered: what dangers
lurked in this court?

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    Kendrick charged across the arid desert landscape,
Brandt and Atme by his side, his half-dozen Silver beside them, all that
remained of the brotherhood of the Ring, riding together like old times. As
they rode, venturing out deeper and deeper into the Great Waste, Kendrick felt weighed
down by nostalgia and sadness; it made him remember his heyday in the Ring, surrounded
by Silver, by brothers in arms, riding out into battle, alongside thousands of
men. He had ridden with the finest knights the kingdom had to offer, each a
greater warrior than the next, and everywhere he had ridden, trumpets had sounded
and villagers had rushed out to greet him. He and his men had been welcome
everywhere, and they had always stayed up late into the night, recounting
stories of battle, of valor, of skirmishes with monsters that emerged from the
canyon—or worse, from beyond the wild.
    Kendrick blinked, dust in his eyes, snapping
out of it. He was in a different time now, a different place. He looked over
and saw the eight men of the Silver, and expected to see thousands more
alongside them. But reality slowly sank in, as he realized the eight of them
were all of what was left, and he realized how much had changed. Would those
days of glory ever be restored?
    Kendrick’s idea of what made a warrior
had shifted over the years, and these days, he found himself feeling that what
made a warrior was not only skill and honor—but perseverance. The ability to go
on. Life had a way of showering you with so many obstacles, calamities,
tragedies, losses—and most of all, so much change; he had lost more friends
than he could count, and the King he