A Feast of Dragons - By Morgan Rice Page 0,7

Thor no longer thought of himself. The fact that he might die never even entered his mind. The sea, the monsters, the tides…it all faded away. All he could think of was rescuing someone else.

Thor stepped up onto the wide, oak rail, bent his knees, and without thinking, leapt high into the air, heading face first for the bubbling red of the waters beneath him.

CHAPTER FIVE

Gareth sat on his father’s throne in the Grand Hall, rubbing his hands along its smooth, wooden arms and looking out at the scene before him: thousands of his subjects were packed into the room, people flocking in from all corners of The Ring to watch this once-in-a-lifetime event, to see if he could wield the Dynasty Sword. To see if he was the Chosen One. Not since his father was young had the people had a chance to witness a hoisting—and no one seemed to want to miss it. Excitement hung in the air like a cloud.

Gareth himself was numb with anticipation. As he watched the room continue to swell, more and more people packed inside, he started to wonder whether his father’s advisors has been right, whether indeed it had been a bad idea to hold the hoisting in the Grand Hall and to open it to the public. They had urged him to attempt it in the small, private Sword Chamber; they had reasoned that if he failed, few would witness it. But Gareth did not trust his father’s people; he felt more confident in his destiny than his father’s old guard, and he wanted the entire kingdom to witness his accomplishment, to witness that he was the Chosen One, as it happened. He had wanted the moment recorded in time. The moment his destiny had arrived.

Gareth had entered the room with a flair, had strutted through accompanied by his advisors, wearing his crown and mantle, wielding his scepter—he wanted them all to know that he, not his father, was the true King, the true MacGil. It had not taken him as long as he had expected to feel that this was his castle, these his subjects. He wanted his people to feel it now, this show of power to be widely seen. After today, they would know for certain that he was there one and only true king.

But now that Gareth sat there, alone on the throne, looking out at the vacant iron prongs in the center of the room in which the sword would be placed, lit up by a shaft of sunlight pouring down through the ceiling, he was not so sure. The gravity of what he was about to do weighed down on him; it would be an irreversible step, and there was no turning back. What if, indeed, he failed? He tried to push it from his mind.

The huge door opened with a creak on the far side of the room, and with an excited hush, the room fell silent in anticipation. In marched a dozen of the court’s strongest hands, holding the sword between them, all struggling under its weight. Six men stood on each side, and they noticeably struggled under its weight. They marched slowly, one step at a time, carrying the sword towards the vacant prongs in the center of the room.

Gareth’s heart quickened as he watched it get closer. For a brief moment, his confidence wavered—if these twelve men, larger than any he had ever seen, could barely hold it, what chance was there for him? But he tried to push these thoughts from his mind—after all, the sword was about destiny, not strength. And he forced himself to remember that it was his destiny to be here, to be the firstborn of the MacGils, to be King. He searched the crowd for Argon; for some reason he had a sudden, intense desire to seek his counsel. This was the time he needed him most. For some reason, he could think of no one else. But of course, he was nowhere to be found.

Finally, the dozen men reached the center of the room, carrying the sword into the shaft of sunlight, and they placed it down on the iron prongs. It landed with a reverberating clang, the sound traveling in ripples throughout the room. The room fell entirely silent.

The crowd instinctively parted ways, making a path for Gareth to walk down and try to hoist it.

Gareth slowly rose from his throne, savoring the moment, savoring all this attention. He could feel all the