Free The Gift of Battle by Morgan Rice

the chamber an ethereal quality. And what
made it all most surreal of all was to see one man sitting alone in this vast
place, in the center of the room, the shafts of light coming down on him as if
to illuminate him and him alone.
    Eldof.
    Gwen’s heart
pounded as she saw him sitting there at the far end of the chamber, like a god
who had dropped down from the sky. He sat there, hands folded in his shining
golden cloak, his head stark bald, on a huge and magnificent throne carved of
ivory, torches on either side of it and on the ramp leading to it, obliquely
lighting the room. This chamber, that throne, the ramp leading to it—it was
more awe-inspiring than approaching a King. She realized at once why the King
felt threatened by his presence, his cult, this tower. It was all designed to
inspire awe and subservience.
    He did not
beckon her, or even acknowledge her presence, and Gwen, not knowing what else
to do, began to ascend the long, golden walkway leading to his throne. As she
went she saw he wasn’t alone in here after all, for obscured in the shadows
were rows of worshipers all lined up, eyes closed, hands tucked in their
cloaks, lining the ramp. She wondered how many thousands of followers he had.
    She finally
stopped a few feet before his throne and looked up.
    He looked back
down with eyes that seemed ancient, ice-blue, glowing, and while he smiled down
at her, his eyes held no warmth. They were hypnotizing. It reminded her of
being in Argon’s presence.
    She did not know
what to say as he stared down; it felt as if he were staring into her soul. She
stood there in the silence, waiting until he was ready, and beside her, she
could feel Krohn stiffening, equally on edge.
    “Gwendolyn of
the Western Kingdom of the Ring, daughter of King MacGil, last hope for the
savior of her people—and ours,” he pronounced slowly, as if reading from some
ancient script, his voice deeper than any she’d ever heard, sounding as if it
had resonated from the stone itself. His eyes bore into hers, and his voice was
hypnotic. As she stared into them, it made her lose all sense of space and time
and place, and already, Gwen could feel herself getting sucked in by his cult
of personality. She felt entranced, as if she could look nowhere else, even if
she tried. She immediately felt as if he were the center of her world, and she
understood at once how all of these people had come to worship and follow him.
    Gwen stared
back, momentarily at a loss for words, something that had rarely happened to
her. She had never felt so star-struck—she, who had been before many Kings and
Queens; she, who was Queen herself; she, the daughter of a King. This man had a
quality to him, something she could not quite describe; for a moment, she even
forgot why she had come here.
    Finally, she
cleared her mind long enough to be able to speak.
    “I have come,”
she began, “because—”
    He laughed,
interrupting her, a short, deep sound.
    “I know why you
have come,” he said. “I knew before you even did. I knew of your arrival
in this place—indeed, I knew even before you crossed the Great Waste. I knew of
your departure from the Ring, your travel to the Upper Isles, and of your
travels across the sea. I know of your husband, Thorgrin, and of your son,
Guwayne. I have watched you with great interest, Gwendolyn. For centuries, I
have watched you.”
    Gwen felt a
chill at his words, at the familiarity of this person she didn’t know. She felt
a tingling in her arms, up her spine, wondering how he knew all this. She felt
that once she was in his orbit, she could not escape if she tried.
    “How do you know
all this?” she asked.
    He smiled.
    “I am Eldof. I
am both the beginning and the end of knowledge.”
    He stood, and
she was shocked to see he was twice as tall as any man she’d met. He took a
step closer, down the ramp, and with his eyes so mesmerizing, Gwen felt as if
she could not move in his presence. It was so hard to concentrate