not law.”
“But it would have been ratified at the next council meeting!” Kendrick said.
“Perhaps,” Aberthol responded, “but to his bad fortune, that meeting had not yet come. Thus, we have no written record, and no ratification into law.”
“But we have witnesses!” Kendrick yelled out, impassioned.
“It is true!” Reese yelled out. “I was there!”
“As was I!” Godfrey yelled.
Gareth held his tongue, even as the others looked at him. Inside, he was burning with rage. He felt as if his dreams of being king were crumbling all around him. He despised his siblings more than ever, who all seemed to gang up on him.
“I’m afraid that witnesses alone do not suffice when it comes to a matter as important as the kingship,” Aberthol said. “All official decrees must be ratified by the council. Without this, they cannot become law. Which means the law must stand as it always has, for centuries of MacGil kings: the eldest, the firstborn, must inherit. I am sorry, Gwendolyn.”
“Mother!” Kendrick yelled, pleading, turning towards the Queen. “You know father’s wishes! Do something! Tell them!”
But the queen sat there, hands folded in her lap, staring into space. She was in a catatonic state, and she was inscrutable.
After several moments of silence, Kendrick finally turned back to the council.
“But it is not right!” he yelled. “Whether ratified or not, it was the king’s will. Our father’s will. You all served him. You should respect that. Gareth should not rule. Gwendolyn should.”
“My dear brother, please, it is OK,” Gwen said softly to Kendrick, laying a hand on his wrist.
“And who is to say that
Gareth’s face burned with anger, and he immediately regretted it. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, should have waited and let it seem as if the kingship fell to him unwanted. But he was unable to contain himself. He could tell by the look in Kendrick’s eyes that he’d hurt him with his words. He was glad that he did.
“Suffice all of this say,” Aberthol said slowly, “that the law is the law. I am sorry. But Gareth, son of King MacGil, in accordance with the ancient law of the Ring, I hereby proclaim you to be the eighth MacGil king of the Western Kingdom of the Ring. Hear ye all here assembled: do you hear our proclamation?”
“Hear ye!” came the response.
An iron staff was slammed, and a metallic ring boomed through the room.
Gareth flinched, feeling his whole body shake. With that boom, he felt himself transported.
With that sound, he was King.
He could not believe it.
He was King.
CHAPTER NINE
King McCloud rode at the head of the small military contingent, dressed in his battle gear, wearing the distinctive burnt-orange armor of the McClouds. A tall, stout man, twice as wide as any other, there was little fat on him; with a short, cropped red beard, long hair mostly gray, a wide nose, crushed in from too many battles, and an even wider jaw, he was a man who feared nothing in life. He was already, having just reached his fiftieth year, famed as the most aggressive and brutal McCloud that had lived. It was a reputation he cherished.
McCloud was a man who had always squeezed from life whatever it could give him. And what it would not give him, he would take. In fact, he liked to take, more than to receive; he enjoyed making others miserable, and enjoyed ruling his kingdom with an iron fist. He enjoyed showing no mercy, keeping his soldiers in line with a discipline unlike any McCloud had ever wielded. And it worked. His dozen men rode behind him now in perfect order, and none would ever dare speak back to him, or do the smallest thing against his will. That included his son, the prince, who rode close behind him, and a dozen of his best archers, who rode behind his son.
McCloud and his men had been riding hard all day. They had breached the Eastern Crossing of the Canyon early in the morning, and his small armed contingent had continued east, charging without a break through the dusty plains of the Nevari, on guard for an ambush. They rode and rode, as the second sun rose and slipped. Now, finally, covered in dust from the plains, McCloud spotted the Ambrek Sea on the horizon.
The galloping of horses filled his ears and now, the smell of the ocean air reached him. It was a cool summer afternoon, the second sun long in the sky, casting shades of turquoise and pink on the horizon. McCloud felt his hair being blown back in the wind, and looked forward to arriving on the shore. It had been years since he had seen the ocean: it was too risky to venture here lightly given that they had to breach the Canyon and then ride fifty miles in unprotected territory. Of course, the McClouds had their own fleet of ships in the waters, as the MacGils had on their side of the Ring-but still, it was always a risky business, being beyond the energy shield of the Canyon. Every now and again the Empire took out one of their ships, and there was little the McClouds could do about it. The Empire vastly outnumbered them.
But this time, it was different. A McCloud ship had been intercepted at sea by the Empire, and usually, the Empire took the McClouds for ransom. McCloud had never paid a single ransom, something he was proud of; instead, he always let the Empire kill his men. He refused to embolden them.
But something had shifted, because this time they had freed his men and sent the ship back with a message: they wanted to meet with McCloud. McCloud assumed it could be only about one thing: breaching the Canyon. Invading the Ring. And partnering with them to take down the MacGils. For years, the Empire had been trying to convince the McClouds to allow them to breach the Canyon, the energy shield, to let them inside the Ring so that they could conquer and dominate the last remaining territory on the planet. In returned, they promised a sharing of power.
The question burning in McCloud’s mind was this: what was in it for him? How much would the Empire be willing to give him? For years, he had turned down their overtures. But now, things were different. The MacGils had grown too strong, and McCloud was beginning to realize that he might not ever achieve his dream of controlling the Ring without foreign help.
As they neared the beach, McCloud glanced over his shoulder at his son’s new bride, riding with him, his trophy wife from the MacGils. How stupid MacGil had been to give his daughter away. Had he really thought this would cause peace between them? Did he think McCloud was that soft, that dumb? Of course, McCloud had accepted the bride, just as he would accept a herd of cattle. It was always good to have possessions, to have bargaining chips. But that didn’t make him ready for peace. If anything, it emboldened him. It made him want to take over the MacGil side of the Ring even more, especially after that wedding, after entering King’s Court and seeing their bounty. McCloud wanted it all for himself. He
They rode onto the sand, the horses’ hooves sinking, his weight shifting, as the group of them neared the water’s edge. The cool mist struck McCloud in the face, and it felt good to be back here, on this shore he hadn’t seen for years. Life had made him too busy as a King; it was on days like this that he resolved to give up all of his duties, to spend more time living again.
Above the waves, in the distance, he could already see the caravan of black Empire ships: they sailed with a yellow flag, with an emblem of a black shield in its center, two horns protruding from it. The closest was hardly a hundred yards from shore, anchored, clearly awaiting their arrival. Behind it sat two dozen more. McCloud wondered; was this just a show of strength? Or was the Empire going to ambush them? This was the chance he took. McCloud hoped it was the former. After all, killing him would do no good: it would not help them breach the Canyon, which was what they really wanted. This was why McCloud only brought a dozen men with him: he figured it would make him seem stronger. Though he did bring a dozen of his best archers, all with poisoned arrows at the ready, in case something should happen.
McCloud stopped at the water’s edge and his men stopped around him, their horses breathing hard. He dismounted and the others followed, huddled close around him. The Empire must have spotted them, because
