A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice Page B

Sandara, Steffen, Aberthol,
Brandt, Atme, and a half dozen Silver—board. Gwen was thrilled to see Argon
still alive, too, carried by the knights, in a weakened state, still
unconscious, yet alive all the same. He was placed on the cart gingerly, and she
prayed that they could find a cure for him here in this place.
    At least she had salvaged some of the Ring, and
at least she had gotten them this far.
    One of the knights helped her up the three
golden steps, and as he turned to go, Gwen reached out and grabbed his wrist.
    “Where are we going?” she asked.
    The knight looked at her, surprised.
    “Why, to the castle, my lady,” he replied, as
if it were the most natural thing in the world. “To meet our King. It will be
in his right to decide what shall become of you, whether he shall let you stay.”
    Gwen felt a flush of fear.
    “What sort of King is he?” she asked.
    The knight smiled.
    “A good and fair King. A wise King. I pray he
allows you to stay.”
    There came the crack of a whip, and the
horses—four gorgeous white mares, with long flowing hair, the most beautiful
she had ever seen—suddenly broke into action. They took off at a fast walk, and
Gwen was surprised to feel no bumps. She looked down and saw the carriage was
of a superior construction, one she had never seen, and the roads were so
smooth, it was like riding on air. She was impressed, once again, by these
people, whoever they were.
    They passed through immaculate streets as they
traversed the harbor town, filled with people dressed in elaborate outfits. The
streets were overflowing with people peddling wares, sampling foods, walking
about in a hurry, all walking about freely with no sense of danger. Gwen was
amazed by all the fashions, the brightly colored outfits cut in unusual designs
on all the women, and by the hairstyles of the men; they all seemed to have
shaved heads and bright blond beards. It appeared to be the custom here.
    All the people seemed relaxed and friendly,
many leaning back and laughing aloud good-naturedly. They appeared to be an open
and friendly people, quick to laugh, the men and women tall and broad-shouldered,
well-tanned and relaxed, children running and giggling at their feet. It
reminded her of King’s Court in its heyday.
    Gwen studied the buildings for any sign of a
castle, taking in this whole place with fascination, and saw no sight of it.
The roads, in fact, soon twisted and turned their way out of the town, and
before her she saw it leading to open country and sky, leading to gently
rolling green hills. She was surprised to see they were leaving the city.
    The castle, she realized, must be someplace
else—perhaps more inland.
    Gwen leaned forward, closer to the cart driver,
who was holding the horses’ reins, his back to her.
    “Where is the castle?” Gwen asked him.
    He looked back over his shoulder good-naturedly
and shook his head.
    “Not for quite a while, my dear,” he said. “It’s
on the far end of the Ridge. Could take most of the day to get there. Just sit
back and relax and enjoy our land.”
    The road led to another road as one land
shifted to another, more rural, lush trees lining the path. They traveled up
and down smooth, rolling hills, gently twisting and turning, birds singing, passing
orchards and vineyards and farms the likes of which she’d never seen. Gwen saw
entire fields filled with glowing red fruits, dripping juice. She saw other fields
filled with blueberries the size of her hand. She saw vineyards heavy with grapes,
saw happy farmers pushing carts, whistling; she saw lush grass fields and an
entire horizon filled with cattle, horses, and goats grazing freely beneath the
glowing suns, which were a softer orange here.
    This was a land of splendor.
    “Have you ever seen anything like it?” came a voice
beside her.
    She saw Kendrick sitting beside her, looking at
it all, as were the others, equally amazed.
    Gwen shook her head.
    “I almost don’t think it’s real,” said