The Sword and the Flame by Stephen Lawhead

prisoner—that thought alone kept him going.
    Heartsick, numb with misery and despair, Quentin wanted only to throw himself to the ground to weep at his misfortune. A few short hours ago he had walked in the light, his realm secure, the future a bright promise. Now there was only darkness. In the space of half a day he had lost his son, his trusted friend, and—worst of all—the favor of the Most High. His mind reeled at the enormity of his trouble; his heart ached with sorrow; his body throbbed with grief and exhaustion.
    How was it possible? How could it happen so quickly? Why was there no warning, no hint at what was to befall him? He could only shake his head in mute wonder.
    For an instant he imagined that all he need do was turn Blazer back toward home and all would be well once more. Upon reaching Askelon he would find Durwin alive and the prince safe in his bed. His sword would be found in his chambers, lying across its hangers below the royal device—the flame intact, the god still with him.
    But it was a dream, and the grim reality remained unchanged. Hoping against hope, Quentin determined that somehow he would make everything right again. He could do it; he was the Dragon King. He would make it right. With that, he urged Blazer forward. The horse, head down, ambled on.

14
    T hey are here, my lady; they have come.” The maid approached quietly, lest she disturb her queen’s vigil.
    â€œWhat? Quentin is back? He has returned?” She jumped up, a brief light leaping to her green eyes. Then she saw the look the maid gave her, and the light dimmed. “Oh.”
    â€œNo, the king has not returned.” She shook her head, then added, “But Lords Theido and Ronsard are here. They are waiting in the hall.”
    Queen Bria left at once and went down to meet her old friends.
    â€œMy lady!” said Ronsard when he saw her approaching from across the great room. They were the only ones in it except for a few servants readying the tables for breakfast, which would be served within the hour. “How lovely you look!” said the knight, smiling warmly.
    â€œJust as I remember your mother,” added Theido. “How is Alinea?”
    â€œTheido, Ronsard, I am glad you are here at last. Forgive me for pulling you from your warm beds at this early hour. My mother is well. I am certain she will wish to receive you soon, but I would speak to you first.”
    Theido saw the dark shadows behind her smile and knew that the queen had summoned them on a matter of great urgency. “Perhaps this is not the place to discuss important things,” he said. “A more private chamber would be better.”
    â€œYes,” Bria agreed, “follow me.” She led them out of the hall and along the wide corridor to a small room, a council room that contained a heavy table with benches on either side, and a grouping of high-backed chairs in a farther corner. The three entered, closed the door quietly, and took their seats facing one another.
    â€œNow then,” said Theido gently, “what has happened?”
    Bria looked from one to the other of the two knights—men she had known all her life. Trusted friends of her parents, they had served the Dragon King’s throne numerous times and stood always ready to serve again. Their stalwart devotion and her own need overwhelmed her, and she broke down and cried.
    â€œI hardly know where to begin,” she said, the tears streaming from her eyes.
    The two glanced at each other helplessly, both feeling the depths of her sorrow.
    â€œThe words come hard, good sirs.” She sniffed and willed herself to stop the tears. The knights waited for her to continue. “Durwin is dead,” she said at last.
    â€œBy the gods, no!” said Ronsard. “Say it isn’t so!”
    Theido held up his hand. Bria continued, “And my son has been taken.”
    â€œWhen did this happen?” asked Theido. “And