The Warrior Prince (The Tragedy of King Viktor Book 2)

by J. D. Morrison

  ∞

  A few hours passed, and Erwin awoke from a nap. He had dreamt of his youth and the summer he spent serving Viktor’s parents. He thought of that season quite often as he had spent many hours conversing with Abellia, Queen Samadra’s maid servant. He was younger then, and more handsome, and she was the most beautiful woman he had known, other than the queen of course. He could still smell her long black hair when he closed his eyes. The two of them engaged in a passionate love affair before she succumbed to an outbreak of blood lung fever. Her death, tragic and sudden, nearly killed him.

  He looked over at the pile of scrolls on the table and let out a long sigh. He groaned as he stood, his legs tight and aching. He waddled across the room and picked up the top scroll. “Barriers,” he sighed. His eyes scanned the top few lines. “This shouldn’t be so difficult.”

  He tossed the scroll back on the table and held out his right hand. He closed his eyes and recited the spell again. Nothing. He grunted and took a seat next to the table. He sorted through the scrolls, searching for something he may have missed. He noticed a primitive drawing of a wizard at the bottom of several sheets. The wizard, in each drawing, is holding out both hands. A specific image resonated with him more than the rest. It was of a wizard standing in front of a few children, his arms extended conjuring a large barrier. “Could it be that simple?” he scoffed.

  He stood and faced the door to his chamber. He held out both hands and pointed his palms toward the wall. He thought of Abellia, someone he wished he could have protected all those years ago, standing behind him. “Dey obstructis envelopum.” He felt a slight surge of energy pulsate from his fingers and a flash of blue above his fingertips. A smile overcame his wrinkled face and his heart nearly beat out of his chest. “God’s hell,” he exclaimed. He closed his eyes, imagined Abellia’s face, and held out his hands and recited the spell again, only this time a circular wall, blue in color and somewhat transparent, appeared in front of him. He held his hands out for fear that it’d go away if he lowered them. “I’ve done it,” he said, tearing up. “This will change everything.”

  Eight

  ∞

  Just outside the gates of Fort Asbury was a long rectangular field surrounded by a burned down forest. What used to be lush and evergreen was now black and desolate. Viktor had ordered his men to set fire to all lands a half mile north of the fort so that an advancing army could be seen from afar. It was a point of contention between Gideonis and the prince, but Gideonis understood that it needed to be done.

  Yaspar leaned down and ran his fingers through the ash that was beginning to mix with snow. Freezing raindrops patted against his shoulders and back. The rain, to everyone’s delight, had died down over the last few days allowing the men to spend a better part of their day outside.

  He grabbed a palmful of ash and looked back at Gates whom he knew was sent to supervise him. He scowled at him, resenting the idea that he needed to be watched over every minute of the day.

  “I’m no danger to you or anyone else,” Yaspar grumbled. “I can barely walk and breathe at the same time.”

  Gates smiled and nodded. “So, you can speak.”

  The two of them had started taking walks in the mornings to help Yaspar regain his strength. Gates, although outwardly friendly, did not trust Yaspar. He believed him to be one of the three assassins sent by Alexander. He was not alone in his thinking as both Kelond and Josiah agreed. “Run him through with a sword if you think his motives foul,” Josiah whispered to him just a few days ago.

  “I see the prince is using a scorched earth tactic. Seems wise,” Yaspar said, nearly running out of breath.

  “The prince is wise beyond his years,” Gates replied.

  “A longsword, huh? I must seem very dangerous to you in my handicapped state,” Yaspar smiled, noticing Gates’s weapon of choice strapped to his back. “Truth be told, I’m more a danger to myself than anyone else.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Yaspar struggled to stand after having knelt for so long. He felt a stitch separate and a little blood drip down the side of his neck. He held his palm against the bandage and could feel the wetness of a little blood.

  “Simply waking up in the morning to take walks in a depressing wood isn’t as satisfying as one might think,” Yaspar said in a shaky voice.

  “Has a stitch detached?” Gates asked, thinking of moving in close to get a better look.

  “Do you have family, Gates?” Yaspar replied, limping toward his travel companion.

  “I think it best to return to Asbury. Come,” Gates could see the light disappearing from Yaspar’s eyes. “You’re not well. Let’s return.”

  Yaspar took a few more steps toward Gates before collapsing. His face disappeared into a pile of ash and snow and the bandage on his neck came undone, revealing the bloody wound left by the grizzly.

  ∞

  Gates had just finished sewing the wound back together when Josiah entered the tent. It was still a gruesome sight, one that Gates had not yet gotten used to. Yaspar was asleep and had been that way since the morning when he collapsed in the forest. Gates was kind and strong enough to carry him back to Asbury.

  “He just fell?” Josiah asked in a hushed tone so not to wake the others. He looked at Yaspar’s neck and realized how bad the cut was. He moved his hand up to his own neck to feel the burn left by a rope a year ago. How foolish he was to try to end his life then.

  “Yes, milord,” Gates replied.

  “Is he not getting better?”

  “Can’t say with any certainty. His wound is more red than blue if that tells you anything.”

  “What have you learned from your walks with him? Do you think him a spy or assassin?”

  “Still not sure, milord, but I do think he’s rather tired and melancholy,” Gates said, placing a fresh bandage over the scar. “I think he has a family somewhere that’s either missing or dead.”

  “There have been hints of sadness, then?”

  “Yes, a few, milord,” Gates said.

  “Only if the bear hadn’t ripped the flesh from his forearm,” Josiah thought aloud, wishing he knew Yaspar was an assassin so he could just end it. “Continue on and report back to me with any revelations that may come.”

  ∞

  Yaspar could feel himself floating above his home in Demiscus. It was midnight, or later, but the residents were not fast asleep as they should have been. He watched as soldiers of the Royal Guard set fire to homes and businesses. Women and children ran through the streets trying to get away, but many were cut down before they could escape. He spotted his wife and daughters bolt out of the front door of his house and toward the end of town. He tried to move but couldn’t. He tried to call out to them, but no sound came from his mouth. He watched two soldiers chase them down and slay them with no mercy.

  Yaspar’s eyes opened, sweat dripping down his forehead and cheeks. He was back in the medical tent with the other injured soldiers. “Demiscus!” he yelled, waking many of the others. “What’s happened to Demiscus?” he yelled again.

  Gates entered the tent and rushed over to him. “Calm down or you’ll upset the others.”

  “Gates, tell me of Demiscus,” Yaspar said frantically, grabbing hold of Gates’s tunic. “Has something awful happened there?”

  “The king, in his infinite mercy, burned Demiscus to the ground not two months ago,” a soldier said from across the room. “He issued a draft for the men there and they united against it. He sent a regiment to respond to their mutiny.”

  “Women and children?” Yaspar asked, tearing up.

  “I don’t know if any made it out,” the soldier replied.

  “How do you know this? And why haven’t you notified me of it?” Gates asked angrily.

  “Thought it was common knowledge, milord. I found out from a cousin who took part in it.”

  Yaspar screamed and pounded his fists on his cot. Gates tried to hold his arms down but couldn’t. “You must calm yourself o
r I’ll be forced to give you dew from the poppy,” Gates said, fighting with him. It was no use. Yaspar was hysterical. Gates jumped up and grabbed a vial from the medicine cabinet across the room. “Can two of you help me or are you just going to let him howl?” Two soldiers climbed out of their beds and helped hold down Yaspar’s arms. Gates held Yaspar’s mouth open and poured the liquid down his throat and held his hand over his lips so he wouldn’t spit it out. “Take this and we’ll revisit this conversation in the morning.”

  Yaspar eventually stopped convulsing and fell asleep much to Gates’s the other soldiers’ delight.

  Nine

  ∞

  Viktor swung the Firebringer down hard, cracking the stone tile next to the long table they had used to strategize. Josiah rolled to the right and held his longsword above his head. “You’ll have to be swifter than that,” he said with a smile.

  Viktor shoved the table aside and held up the Firebringer, ready to swing it downward again. Josiah moved to his right and readied his sword for a block or a parry, he’d make up his mind when Viktor attacked. “Close quarter combat seems to be your strong suit,” Viktor laughed, lowering the Firebringer to his side.

  “You’ll never strike me with that heavy thing. I’m too agile,” Josiah said, keeping his sword at the ready.

  “You may be right,” Viktor replied, pushing a small fireball the size of an apple toward Josiah.

  The fireball crashed into Josiah’s chest and knocked him over. He knew Viktor could have conjured a ball four times that size that would’ve killed him if he wanted to. He was thankful they were only sparring as friends.

  “You always resort to magic,” Josiah replied from the floor. “Let’s pray you never lose that god-anointed mace.”

  “You may be right, but until then,” Viktor smiled and extended a hand to help his friend up.

  “I mean it,” Josiah said, rubbing his chest. “What if you lose that thing in battle?”

  “I’ll always have my daggers.”

  “Daggers do you no good against a longsword or warhammer,” Josiah argued.

  “If the wielder doesn’t use them correctly you’d be right. Quickness and accuracy is what sets a daggerman apart from the rest. Our agility can turn any fight in our favor.”

  “So, you’re quick then?” Josiah grinned, smacking Viktor across the face. Viktor took the blow in shock, holding his hand up to his cheek. “Where was your agility there?”

  Viktor shoved Josiah and laughed. “I’ll get my revenge. Just wait.”

  The door swung open and Kelond entered, followed closely by Gideonis. Both were panting and coughing lightly. Their noses and cheeks were red from the cold and their hair looked to be frozen in place. They smelled terrible and Viktor guess that neither of them had slept in days as evidenced by the dark circles under their eyes.

  “I take it the scouting went well,” Viktor smiled at Josiah. “You seem to have news?”

  “It’s worse than ya can imagine, milord,” Kelond coughed out. “The king is settin’ fire to all towns between Asbury and King’s Square and murderin’ all who refuse to fight in his army.”

  “It’s true, your majesty. We watched soldiers of the Royal Guard burn Capernaum to the ground,” Gideonis added.

  “That is not surprising. I heard from Gates this morning that Demiscus was destroyed as well,” Viktor replied.

  “If we don’t do somethin’ soon ya won’t have a kingdom to king over. There’ll be nothin’ left,” Kelond said.

  “Are you suggesting we march north and meet his army in an open field? Our three thousand men versus his fifty thousand? That would be absurd,” Viktor snapped back.

  “The dwarf is right, your majesty. We mustn’t continue to wait for him to come to us,” Gideonis replied.

  “Milord,” a voice sounded from the open door. “We have something important to share.” Three men stepped inside and looked to be just as weathered as Kelond and Gideonis. “We came upon a pigeon with this note,” one of the men said, handing Viktor the tiny scroll.

  “Have you already read it?” Viktor asked, noticing the seal had been broken.

  “Yes, milord. We needed to determine if it was worth your attention,” the man replied.

  Viktor opened the tiny scroll and read its contents to himself. Josiah and the others watched his face turn from confusion to surprise. “Have we verified that this is true?”

  “Yes, milord. We, Danhri, Mujor, and myself, scouted more north than what was assigned to us to see if it were true and we discovered that it is. The king’s army is less than half of what it once was. Men are deserting, dying of starvation or frostbite, or committing suicide. They might not even make it to Fort Asbury,” the man said.

  “Good work. Thank you. You may go,” Viktor said to the man and the other two behind him. He looked at the others and said, “Convene the council. We have much to discuss.”

  ∞

  “As tragic as it might be, I say we remain at Asbury until he arrives,” Erwin said. “We are safe within these walls and our bowmen are quite skilled.”

  Kelond, Gideonis, Erwin, Josiah, and Lord Patrio sat across from one another at the long table in the war room. Viktor stood next to the fire.

  “If we do nothin’, the middle of the island will become a desolate wasteland,” Kelond replied. “He may be losin’ his men, but he’ll have enough to murder and burn another three thousand innocents on his way here.”

  “The dwarf is right. It seems as though Alexander has come to terms with what this war means to his reign. He’s willing to kill as many men and women he deems necessary to keep the throne,” Gideonis added.

  “Lord Patrio,” Viktor said loudly, “you know Alexander better than any of us. What is his present strategy?”

  “I can’t pretend to know the mind of that man, milord. He killed his own brother and tried to kill you when you were just an innocent newborn. His desperation for power knows no bounds,” Lord Patrio said.

  Marianna snuck in the room and took a seat near the door. Everyone but Viktor saw and heard her, but no one acknowledged her presence except Josiah who shot her a light smile.

  “I just don’t see a victory if we fight his army in an open field. Even if his numbers were cut in half twice he’d still outnumber us two-to-one,” Viktor said after a long pause.

  “Ya have the Firebringer, milord,” Kelond replied. “That should be enough to tip the scales.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m only able to conjure lesser degrees of tier one spells. For it to really affect a major battle I’d need to do more than that,” Viktor said, turning to face his council, spotting Marianna across the room.

  Erwin shuffled in his seat, debating whether he wanted to reveal his magic-related secret or not. He could feel the sweat materialize on his forehead. Revealing his secret now would mean they set out from Fort Asbury and face Alexander’s superior forces in a setting that benefitted neither army.

  “What say you, milady?” Viktor said loudly. “I’m certain women can have opinions as well.”

  Marianna smiled as she knew Viktor was playing with her. She stood up and walked over to the table of men, her heels clicking on the stone tile. “Am I a part of your council, then?”

  “Ladyfolk are smarter than we give ‘em credit for,” Kelond said. “I, for one, would like to hear ya thoughts.”

  Viktor looked around the table, trying to find an objectionable look on someone’s face. “Any opposed?”

  The men stood and waited for Marianna to take a seat at the opposite end of the table from Viktor’s chair. He walked over and joined them once they had all taken their seats.

  “Caution,” Viktor said to Marianna, “you can only make a first impression once. The council you give her will be remembered forever.”

  She smiled. “In that case, I say we wait. We cannot win in an open field, but we can win here.”

  “I take back what I said about lady folk bein’ smart,” Kelond quickly interjected,
sparking a volatile argument among the men at the table about what should be done. Up until then they had been civil with one another, taking turns hearing arguments.

  Erwin couldn’t take it anymore. He had to reveal his secret and hope that Viktor would make the right choice. “My prince,” he said softly, so soft that no one heard him. They were too busy arguing with one another. “My prince!” he shouted, a little blood appearing on his bottom lip. Everyone at the table stopped their bickering to pay attention to him. “I have something to show you that may be of some use.”

  ∞

  Viktor and his council stepped outside in the rain and followed Erwin down the steps and into the courtyard. Some men were sparring with one another and stopped when Viktor waved his hand for them to move out of the way. Some other bowmen were on the walls, looking down at Viktor and his council.

  Erwin pointed up toward one of the bowmen. “I want that man to fire at me when I say,” he said with a cough.

  “Are you mad, old man?” Josiah smiled. “We’re not going to help you kill yourself.”

  “Sir Erwin, I don’t understand,” Viktor replied.

  “Just trust me, my prince,” Erwin said, getting into position. He held out his hands toward the bowmen and closed his eyes.

  Viktor looked up at the bowmen on the wall and said, “You there. When Sir Erwin gives you the signal, I want you to fire an arrow at his chest.”

  “Pardon, milord?” the bowmen replied.

  “Just do as you’re told,” Viktor replied, watching the bowmen fumble through the arrows in his quiver before aiming one at Erwin.

  “Erwin, he’s ready,” Viktor said softly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Tell him to count to five and fire,” Erwin replied. “And watch.”

  “Bowmen, count to five and loose your arrow. You will not be punished for anything that happens,” Viktor called out to him.