CHAPTER 1. THE DREAMER AWAKES

In the loft above the Wayfarer's Inn, Dorian stirred in his narrow bed. He did not come fully awake, however, until dawn's first gray light filtered through the dust on his porthole of a window. It was time to rise and serve breakfast; the tenants would be wanting their morning meal. As he rinsed the sleep from his eyes with icy water from the washing bowl, he mulled over his strange dream. What can it mean, he thought. Such a curious shop and strange shopkeeper. I've never seen such a place. He chuckled. How could I? I've never been more than two leagues outside of Sawyer Village. Hardly more from this very inn.

"And what is this?" he cried aloud when, after he removed his nightshirt, he discovered a pendent hanging by a golden chain around his neck. With care he slipped the ornament over his head. "Why, it's the very pendent from my dream. How did I come by this?"

For a long while he stared at it in wonder. Finally a reason for its appearance came to him. He recalled that today was his eighteenth birthday. It is a gift from mother or Felice. (Felice was his older sister.) One or the other must've slipped it on me while I slept. That accounts for the dream. A lump came to his throat at the thought of this loving generous act.

But it's so expensive. How could she afford it? He had decided that the bauble must be from his mother, a liberal giver. His sister could never scrape together enough to buy such a treasure. But, hardly could his mother. The inn barely paid for necessities. I know, it must be an inheritance. Something from poor dead papa, bless his soul, to be given to me as I enter manhood. Oh mother, father, it's beautiful. I'll treasure it forever.

With this glad thought he slipped the pendent around his neck and hurriedly dressed; time was getting on. He intended to embrace his mother and thank her profusely. Nonetheless, in the rush to prepare and serve breakfast, the right moment never came. By midmorning it had slipped his mind.

Although Dorian was somewhat of a dreamer, he had always been a hard worker, even at the age of eight when he had been an apprentice to the local carpenter. He labored at this trade until fifteen. At that time his father died suddenly and he was needed to help run the inn.

He had always gotten along well with John the Carpenter and did his bidding without complaint, regardless of how humble the task. The only sour note in their otherwise good relationship was that John did not hold much with book learning and reading, while Dorian loved to read, especially about knights, dragons and quests. Many's the time, when the shop work was slow, he slipped away into the woods with a well-loved book. But, if the carpenter caught him, there would be a row. Nonetheless, the bad feelings never lasted.

Although John was a rude man, he was a good teacher of the trade he knew. Hence, Dorian learned many useful skills, which later came in handy when his mother needed his help. On the last day with the carpenter, John gave him this advice, "Lad, you've been a good worker, and I think you've learned a little about carpenting. I'll be hard pressed to get your like again. But, stay away from those books; they'll addle your brain. Work as hard for your mother as you have for me. Someday the inn'll be yours and give you a comfortable living."

They shook hands solemnly as though Dorian was going on a long journey rather than just up the road. Although he saw John each evening when the carpenter stopped by the inn for a mug of ale and they usually spoke, the words never came as easily as when they were master and favored apprentice.

On the day that the pendent appeared, the inn bustled with activity. As a result Dorian never did get a chance to thank his mother. The dining room overflowed with travelers on their way to King's Town. He and Felice scurried about carrying trays heavily laden with food and drink or, on the return trip to the kitchen, piles of dirty dishes. Something was up; they had never been so busy.

From snatches of conversation that Dorian overheard as he rushed from table to table, he pieced together that the king had proclaimed a great tournament. During a short lull between breakfast and lunch, he asked a patron why all the excitement. The diner was a jolly, talkative man who seemed only too happy to tell him everything.

"King Woden, who you know is getting on in years and is a widower, has a young daughter, the apple of his eye, who has become of marriageable age. Since she is an only child and the laws of Retslu state that only a male may inherit the throne, our beloved monarch has decided that she must wed soon, before he passes to the other side.

"Since her husband will eventually become king, His Highness desires to that the princess's consort should be clever, manly, strong, brave and a warrior, like himself. Someone who could run a kingdom, sire wonderful grandchildren and defend the land from invaders. Thus, he has arranged a great tournament, open to all unmarried men between fifteen and sixty, of noble birth or commoner.

"The event will take place in a fortnight in King's Town. The games will be elimination contests to winnow the contestants to those that show that they are the bravest, cleverest and strongest and who have other leadership qualities as decided by the judges. The winner will be betroth to the princess."

At the man spoke Dorian's mind wandered. This was like the books he had read. He began to daydream. He imagined himself a knight in shining armor winning each event of the tournament, going on a quest to kill dragons with many adventures on the way and returning to wed the beautiful princess, although in truth, he had no idea what the real king's daughter looked like. Because of his musing, the youth failed to hear the jolly man's last remarks.

What he said was, "Of course Woden is very indulgent when he comes to his daughter and dotes on her every whim. I believe that whomever wins all may yet lose if she were to find him unacceptable. So it would behoove any man who aspires to the throne to woo the princess also."