Son of the Hero (36 page)

It is over
. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. When I opened them again, my vision had improved. I saw Annick standing up on the snout of the dragon, retrieving her arrows. She stared down at me from that vantage, then climbed down the other side and got on her horse. The last I saw of her, she was riding west—into the sunset—alone.

When my bearers carried me through the gate of Castle Thyme, King Pregel was waiting to greet me.

“It’s over here,” I told the king, or tried to tell him. I’m not sure if any words actually came out. I closed my eyes again.

I must have slept. When I opened my eyes the next time, there was bright light around me. Swwlight. From the look of it, I guessed that it had to be around midday, which meant that I had slept fifteen hours or more … maybe
days
more. Pregel was sitting on a chair next to my bed.

“I’ve been here since the start of your battle,” he said. “You certainly are my proper heir.”

From the strength and joy in his voice, he wouldn’t be needing an heir anytime soon, which was great with me. Even assuming that I would someday be physically up to anything again, I wasn’t ready to commit to a century or more of his job. I had serious reservations about keeping the job I had. Silicon Valley was looking better and better. I’d rather face my dragons on a game screen any day.

“How badly am I torn up?” I asked, surprised that my voice was understandable.

“You’re mending nicely,” Pregel said, avoiding the question. “Parthet said that you’d be able to get up and try walking for a few minutes after your breakfast.”

“How long have I been out?” I asked.

“A few hours short of two days.” Parthet. I looked back—off behind me. He was standing there, looking quite pleased with himself.

“I was almost dead,” I told him.

His grin got a little sheepish. “Well, I can see what I’m doing now.” He touched the frames of his glasses. Then his face turned serious again. “I’m really not sure that I can take much credit. It was close the first night. You were babbling, talking to your father and Vara.”

I didn’t remember that.

“Enough talk,” Pregel said. “Let the boy have his meal.”

I tried scooting myself up in the bed, found that it wasn’t nearly as painful as I had feared, and then had plenty of hands helping me. Mother came in with three pages who were loaded down with food and pitchers.

Wonder of wonders, I even had an appetite. Pregel and the others gave me a long time to eat without interruption. No one spoke until the pace of my eating slowed down.

“Well, boy,” Pregel said. “It’s seems you have your first crown.”

I still wasn’t thinking one hundred percent clearly. At first, Pregel’s statement drifted right past me, and then when it did register, it derailed what thinking processes I did have working.

“What do you mean?” My danger sense started to prickle.

“Dorthin is yours now, boy,” Pregel said. “You’ve slain the last Etevar. He has no heirs.”

“Wait!
Time out. I don’t want Dorthin.”

“It’s yours, by right of conquest if nothing else,” Pregel said. “Something must be done to keep the surviving warlords from warring among themselves for it. The winner would turn against Varay as soon as he could.”

“Give it to someone else!” I said.

“You don’t understand. It’s not mine to give or take,” Pregel said. “It’s yours—do with it what you will.” He sounded a little miffed by my attitude.

I looked around the unfamiliar room—somewhere in the keep of Castle Thyme—more panicked by the thought of getting stuck with Dorthin than I had been by facing the dragon. I kept looking around. No one offered any suggestions.

“I can give it away?” I asked, turning back to Pregel and Parthet.

“You can give it to someone to hold for you,” Parthet said.

I let out a noisy sigh of relief, not catching the subtleties of Parthet’s phrasing. An idea popped into my head. I knew just where to look this time. Baron Dieth was standing over by the door. I turned and got my legs out of bed. Pregel had said that I was supposed to be up to walking. I had help standing, but when I got to my feet, I didn’t have any trouble staying up. While I took a moment to wonder at
that
miracle, Harkane put a robe on me. His face looked gaunt, worried.

I could walk. I limped quite noticeably, and walking was slow going, as much because I was afraid of falling as anything else, I think. And there was still pain—all over—but nothing compared to what I had experienced before. One cautious step at a time, I walked over to Baron Dieth.

“You were my father’s first squire,” I said. “Will you hold Dorthin for me?”

He went down on one knee. “To the death, Highness,” he said.

“Then it’s yours.” I figured that it would take something more formal to make it firm, but I would let Baron Kardeen worry about that.

“Such a post calls for a dukedom at least,” Pregel said. “It is your honor to bestow.”

And Kardeen was there to coach me on what to say and do.

“While we’re at this,” I said when I finished with that, “Lesh, you’ve been with me from the start. I couldn’t have made it without you. It’s time we made you Sir Lesh.” But I still looked to Pregel and Kardeen to see if I was doing the right thing. Neither of them objected. Finally, at my recommendation, King Pregel raised Sir Hambert to the barony and gave him Coriander in place of Dieth.

“You might want to take a few steps out to the balcony,” Parthet said then, “as long as you feel up to it.”

There was something in Parthet’s voice that made me think that he had a specific reason for his suggestion. I started to ask, then changed my mind and just nodded. It wasn’t a long walk, only a dozen steps, and there were people at either side of me, ready to catch me if I started to fall. I didn’t. I made it all the way to the small balcony that looked down on the courtyard of Castle Thyme. The open space wasn’t all that large, but there were several hundred people down there, looking up at the keep. There was a cheer when they saw me.

Tears ran down my face. I waved and tried to smile. All those people waiting to make sure that I was really recovering. I started to understand at least part of what had bound my father to Varay for all those years.

Then the sky darkened. There were no clouds. It was as if someone had put a polarizing filter over the sun. I looked up. So did Parthet. I guess that none of the people down in the courtyard saw the magic. The image of the Elflord of Xayber appeared in the sky, scowling fiercely enough to turn Medusa to stone. There were no audible words to his message, but the gist was something like
Sooner or later, upstart, your ass is mine
.