The Sword and the Flame by Stephen Lawhead

Quentin scratched his jaw and seemed about to overrule the enterprise. He looked to Toli. “Do you think it wise?” Prince Gerin bit his lip.
    â€œSire, I would not allow it if I thought he would be in danger. He can handle himself and his mount, never fear. And I will ride with him just to make sure. I will not allow him away from me for an instant.”
    Quentin nodded, his eyes on the boy. The intense hope the youngster carried within him burned out of his eyes like a flame. How could he be denied?
    â€œAs you will,” said Quentin, breaking into a grin when he saw how much his approval meant to the lad. “You shall ride. And I hope you find the biggest trophy!”
    â€œFor you, Father. I want to find one for you!”
    â€œToli, watch after him. And you, young sir, do as Toli tells you.”
    They made their way among the other riders to the end of the field—the king in the lead with Durwin on one side and Prince Gerin and Toli on the other. When they were in position, the king raised his hand and the marshal of the hunt blew his horn. “To the hunt!” they cried, and all at once the horses leaped away, thundering off across the plain toward Pelgrin Forest.
    The thump of the horses’ hooves on the plain pounded out a drumbeat, and the people cheered as the hunters flew away into the for-est. Once they reached the foremost fringes of the wood, Quentin hung back and let the others go ahead. Those after game dashed ahead first, lances at the ready, searching out trails among the dark branches. Hot behind them came the trophy seekers, who spread out to ride alone to secret places where they hoped a prize would be found.
    â€œWhat are you waiting for?” shouted Quentin to his son, who also hesitated at the edge of the wood. “Away! Fly!”
    The youngster snapped the reins, and Tarky dashed away; Toli was right behind him. “He is growing up, Sire,” said Durwin at Quentin’s shoulder.
    â€œToo fast, I sometimes think.” He smiled after his son. “Look at him go!”
    â€œHe reminds me of another young man I met—could it be that long ago? Although he rode a chestnut stallion, as I remember.”
    â€œBut he did not ride that well—as I remember.”
    â€œSo it is! But he had the will to try, and a stout heart in his young frame.”
    â€œStubborn, you mean,” laughed Quentin. “How we have changed, old friend.”
    â€œYes, changed a little. But still very much the same.” The hermit snapped his reins. “Come along. Let us see how the young master fares. Keep up, if you can!” With that he darted off.
    â€œIs that any way to speak to your king, you grizzled old hermit?” Quentin shouted after him. He spurred Blazer and sped into the cool, green wood.

8
    I t is such a lovely day, my lady. Do you not wish to join the others at the festival?” Chloe came quietly up behind Esme as she gazed unseeing out upon the plain, ablossom with scores of colored tents. “See, the hunt has already begun.”
    They watched the lines of horses and riders galloping in a long, sinuous wave over the Plain of Askelon. After a moment Esme replied absently, “You may go, Chloe, if you like. I think I will remain.”
    â€œOh, do come, my lady. You would enjoy it. You would, I know.”
    â€œAh,” Esme sighed, “to please you. Very well, I will go.”
    As the day was gentle, they decided to walk, making their way through empty streets to the festival field. Chloe kept up a running banter all the way, talking of this or that small thing she had noticed in the Dragon King’s household, comparing it to what she knew of other royal houses.
    Esme listened with half an ear, letting her maid chirp on like a sparrow, happy not to have to think at all, but just listen. Her dark mood of the night before had returned with the morning. And though she tried to master it, she found it engulfed her