The False Prince (Fall Of A King Book 1)

by Fuller, James

  "Where are the soldiers who were with the wagon?" Rift inquired, watching a group of soldiers load severed limbs into a large wagon. Thick blood dripped from the creases of the wagon and onto the already crimson dirt.

  "Killed maybe? Ran off perhaps," the Captain shrugged his shoulders as if it did not matter.

  Rift looked to Shahariel with a nod and the tracker went to the wagon to search it.

  The Captain raised his eyebrow with intrigue. "So I guess the rumors are true then?"

  Rift nodded back to him grimly, confirming the Captain's unspoken question.

  "Figures, our Kingdom is at its weakest with the death of our King and these bastards decide to start working out their differences." the Captain muttered bitterly.

  "She was there," Shahariel said coming back. In one hand, he held several long brown strains of hair. "I found it stuck to one of the wooden crates. It is her hair."

  The Captain wrinkled his face curiously. "How can you be sure? It could be anyone's hair." The tracker put the hair under the Captain's nose, "Lavender?"

  "In one of the rooms back in Darnan, the tub was still full of warm water with lavender oils in it," Shahariel replied. "It was her."

  The Captain took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief. "I do not know how you trackers do it."

  "What you thinking?" the tracker asked, seeing Rift deep in thought.

  "I will need to look at all the bodies," Rift told the Captain grimly.

  *****

  King Borrack's funeral pyre burned steadily well into the fourth day. It would burn for another five before being allowed to burn out, as was customary. Nine full days and nights, his pyre would be fueled to burn so his smoke could ascend to the highest level of Paradise beside the Creator in the afterlife. If the flames were to die out before the ninth day, their great King's soul would be forced to spend eternity on a lower level of Paradise.

  A constant crowd of people milled about the area, paying their respects to their fallen king, throwing small tokens of herbs or crafted items into the flames to help fuel him on his ascension.

  Lord Tundal and Lord Dagon sat watching the burning flames from their podium along with the Zandorian King and his Lords. Every day and night that the pyre burned, they were out there for the time of the sun and moon's highest setting in the sky. It was a time of silence, where their prayers and memories of the fallen king reigned ultimate in their minds and ascended to the afterlife with the plummets of smoke that carried their king and friend.

  Tundal grimaced as he tried to concentrate on joyful memories of his dear friend, but he could not. His mind was filled with frustration, as he was sure was everyone else's. Reports had been filtering in the last several days of towns and small army posts being overrun and massacred by large barbarian tribes. Most of the places had been abandoned after the attacks but the most important places had been kept for their strategic values, leaving much to wonder. The barbarians only ever kept places they overran when preparing for war.

  Worse still, Princess Nicolette had yet to be found - no reports had come back to them of her whereabouts. Rumors of that night's episodes had been impossible to contain and now most of the country had heard some vague tale of what had transpired. Some believed it and called for the death or banishment of anyone with The Gift again. Others believed it to be the treachery of the Zandorians and wanted full-scale war. None of this helped the already trying situation.

  "Let us get inside my friend and deal with what is on all our minds." Lord Dagon said, drawing Tundal out of his deep thoughts.

  Tundal smiled solemnly at his friend. "We cannot avoid it forever I suppose."

  The Lords moved across the courtyard, some made small talk, others just stared off in contemplation of the overwhelming problem ahead of them. Dante, the Zandorian King had extended his and his Lords' help in this time of need, extending their stay as long as they could to help strategize a feasible plan. King Dante's hope was also that in that time the Princess would be found and returned safely. A new time would have to chosen for the wedding - if the wedding was even to still take place. It was yet another thing that would need to be dealt with.

  "My Lords…" A young, burly soldier called out to them.

  "What is it?" Dagon asked, turning to regard the man with the other Lords.

  "Sorry to intrude but a man is here - he says he is the sole survivor of the north east boarder encampment. He says he has dire news that he needs to report to you." The soldier reported.

  "Not another one," Zefer, Lord of Samuel moaned. "They all have the same story to tell."

  "Bring him to us and let him speak." Tundal nodded to the soldier, who gestured to the two soldiers holding up a ragged figure.

  The haggard farmer was helped over. The man was so weak he could barely shuffle his feet fast enough to keep up with the soldiers who helped him along.

  The man's clothes were near complete shreds as they hung desperately to his gaunt, half-starved frame. Dried blood and mud stained what frayed material was left. Only a small hint of grey rimmed the edge of his collar, at one point in time it might have been cotton - clean, white. His face was pale, his eyes sunken deep in his skull from exhaustion and trauma.

  "Bring this poor man some fresh water!" Tundal ordered, surprised the man was still alive. "What happened?" Tundal asked the farmer, who had the full attention of the group.

  The man's eyes darted around too each of the Lords' faces nervously. "It was…horrible.… I have never seen anything like it." He began reliving the moment. "It happened so fast - we did not have time to get a defense together. It would not have helped us anyways." The man stopped, almost afraid to continue.

  "See, just like the rest," Zefer sighed, folding his arms.

  The man's eyes went wide. "No, no you do not understand…" He stammered uncontrollably. "…their Gifted have…have come forth again!"

  "What!" Everyone blurted out at once, a cold uncomfortable tension cascaded through the group.

  "No, impossible - you are mistaken!" Andras, Lord of Besha bellowed out. "Their Priests and Priestesses have not been seen since…" But he was cut short by the farmer's bold voice.

  "I watched the earth split open and vines sprout out, entangling and tearing through my friends and family, crushing them and pulling them down into the depths of the earth itself." He paused, his lips trembling at the memory. "The very earth that we walk upon swallowed them whole, leaving not a trace that they ever existed!" The farmer's eyes stared blankly at the Lord who had berated him. "Every time I close my eyes I relive that moment!" the man bellowed out, pulling his arms from the soldiers who helped him stand. "I wish I would have stayed and died with my wife and son, but I knew someone had to warn of what was coming!" The man collapsed to the ground, his outburst sapping what little strength he had left.

  "Take him to a room where he can get some rest. Have food and a bath waiting for him when he awakens," Tundal told the two guards who picked the ragged framer up and carried him away.

  The Lords, King Dante and Prince Berrit quickly made their way back to the library to discuss the news they had just heard - not wishing to discuss such things in the open.

  Tundal sat down at the grand table - the room dead silent as everyone contemplated the dire report. He ran both hands through his hair in frustration. This was the worst news they could have received at this time.

  Lord Dagon slammed his fists down hard and burst out, "We must act, now! We cannot just stand by and watch as our country falls into the hands of these monsters!"

  "We have to find them first," Lord Bartan replied, looking down at the hide map covering the table. "They seem to be moving their camps every few days. They must be grouping up with other tribes when they are ready to attack. Single tribes should not be able do this kind of damage, regardless if a few of their Priests and Priestesses had come forth again."

  "We need to stop all this talk and send all our armies further out to root these bastards out!" Dante's youngest
son, Prince Kayreil barked.

  "We cannot divide the armies, little brother, until we know what we are up against," Prince Berrit finally spoke. "If forces are run too thin, and their Tainted have returned, then when the time comes, we may not have enough soldiers to stop them," Prince Berrit warned.

  Prince Berrit's situation was awkward - he had been arranged to marry King Borrack's daughter, Princess Nicolette. But with the King dead and the Princess absconded, he was left in an uncomfortable limbo.

  "Who is to say they are up to anything other than the usual raids and pillaging?" Lord Andras asked, still not sure about the whole situation.

  "Andras is right - they have made attacks similar to these in the past. We are dealing with mindless savages and they have just gotten lucky in attacking your weakest points. They have yet to take anything of great value and there is no solid proof that their Priests have returned," Lord Zefer replied.

  "Nothing of great value? I should cut out your tongue for that! Hundreds of my countrymen have been slaughtered by these mindless savages," Dagon growled angrily. "So do not tell me we have lost nothing of value."

  "Most of them have been nothing more than farmers and peasants," Edroth said carelessly with a roll of his eyes.

  Ethan nearly jumped from his seat in rage. "Here in Draco we value a man's life beyond the size of his coin purse!"

  Dagon grabbed his son's arm and pulled him back down to his seat, but gave him an approving smirk. "We also value a man's word," Dagon put in. "There may not be any solid proof that the barbarians' Priests and Priestesses have joined the fighting, but that does not mean you ignore the possibility of it being true. One man's word could mean the difference of winning a war or losing it."

  "Very true, Dagon," King Dante replied. "We cannot underestimate the enemy, but neither should we assume the worst at this time. We should send scouts out to confirm what we have heard. From there we will be better able to assess the situation."

  "Should we not alert the kingdom of the possible threat?" Mathu asked. "So they can be prepared if the sort does happen."

  "No, Mathu. Sadly that would not be a wise choice of action," Tundal replied. "We do not want the kingdom in a panic. With King Borrack's death shocking the country and the rumors of the Princess's kidnapping leaking out, we are in dire condition as is. A shock such as that would be sure to create immense disorder."

  "You may be too young, Mathu, to remember the last time the barbarian Gifted unified together with their warriors," Dagon said.

  "I…I have heard the stories, but yes… I was too young," Mathu replied, his voice no more than a whisper.

  "It was a horrible time - one that we thought we would never make it through." King Dante shuddered at the memory.

  "And we would not have, had it not been for Ursa coming forth for the Gifted and working with King Borrack…" Dagon added.

  "And look what that demonic heathen has done now!" Lord Zefer hissed.

  "Likely a plan of his from the very beginning," Prince Berrit added coldly.

  "We are not going to do this again!" King Dante cut in before any more turmoil could ensue. "We will be leaving in two days' time back to Zandor… to ensure the safety of our own kingdom. If the barbarians are attacking in force, then we need to be there to crush their efforts. If by some curse in our fate their Gifted have committed to the fight again, then that is an even greater reason to return home. With King Borrack dead and no heir to replace him…" he paused and shook his head, "Lord Tundal…you are the most likely to take rule of Draco until the Princess has returned…or her body is found. Then, when the time is allowed and Draco is safe from threat once again, we will commence with the treaty and… the wedding."

  "And if the Princess is no longer with us?" Tundal asked, though it pained him to do so.

  "Both our countries require peace - if we are to prosper and push back the savages, a treaty is a must," King Dante answered promptly.

  "What if the Princess is returned to us safely and we decide to call off the wedding?" Lord Dagon added defensively.

  Dante sighed and his features softened. "We will cross that bridge if we come to it. My son has offered to stay here to assist and give what help he can offer with his three hundred warrior escort, until all is under control." Several murmurs ensued, but soon diminished.

  "We welcome Prince Berrit and what aid he may lend to our cause," Tundal replied, as graciously as he could. "But he must know that his status gives him no political power here." Berrit nodded his understanding.

  "I will leave a squad of Zandor's personal Sintu," King Dante added.

  "We do not need - nor want - the Sintu involved," Dagon stated, irritation still looming in his words.

  "No one is more experienced in battling The Gifted than the Sintu!" Lord Zefer barked out.

  "If it is true, and the Priests and Priestesses have returned, then the Sintu will aid you greatly," Lord Andras explained.

  "We have several Wizards nearby who will come to our aid if we need them," Dagon snapped back.

  "What if they have taken the side of Ursa?" Zefer remarked, crossing his arms as if in some form of victory.

  "We will cross that bridge if we come to it!" Dagon hissed snidely.

  "Messengers have already been sent out to ask for their council," Lord Tundal interrupted.

  "What!" King Dante and Prince Berrit both gasped together.

  "I sent word for them yesterday afternoon," Tundal explained to them, his tone unwavering.

  "You did not think to inform us?" Prince Berrit asked, barely concealed anger edging his tone.

  "I have just informed you," Tundal remarked as if it did not matter.

  "Do you not think it would have been wise to seek everyone's council on the matter?" King Dante asked, irritation on the tip of his words.

  "Had I thought that, I would have," Tundal replied firmly.

  "We might be in a war with these demonic heathens and you have invited them here?" Zefer argued.

  "There is no reason to believe that we are at war with them," Tundal shot back calmly.

  "Are you daft?" Zefer hissed almost raising to his feet. "Clearly you have been touched with madness!"

  "No, my good Lord Zefer, I am not daft, nor have I been touched with madness!" Tundal barked. "I am not about to let King Borrack's reign with them be so easily dismissed, when the facts have yet to be fully determined!"

  "Do as you see fit then with these devils, Lord Tundal," He said sternly. "But walk with a step of caution around them, I beg of you."

  "How can you sanction this?" Zefer hissed out at his king.

  King Dante turned a dangerous eye on the outburst from his Lord. "You forget your place Lord Zefer! This is not Zandor, hence why Zandorian laws are moot on such topics."

  "How many of these Gifted ‘friends' have you invited here?" Prince Berrit asked, cold irritation spreading through his voice.

  "We know of twenty two who live within a five day ride of us," Tundal answered. "They have been called upon before. Though several more may be accompanying them, most Wizards take on an apprentice or know of other Gifted individuals who have yet to reveal themselves."

  "How strong are these Wizards?" Berrit asked coyly. "Are they as powerful as Ursa was rumored to be?"

  "It has never been tested, nor does that matter," Dagon piped in. "Wizards have their strengths and weaknesses like average men. Their abilities will aid us greatly in this catastrophic time, if they so choose to aid us."

  Prince Berrit licked his lips, pondering his next words carefully. "I would like to meet these Wizards in person when they arrive. We must not take any chances - they might secretly be our enemy."

  Tundal nodded his head in agreement, more just to avoid argument. "We will greet them in full, with a side of caution."

  A ruckus in the antechamber drew all eyes to the doorway. Within moments, an exhausted rider exploded through the doors. His face was pale and sunken in from lack of nutrition and dehydration.


  "My Lords. My Lords!" The man wheezed out. "I have just come from Mandrake!" he coughed, putting his hand on one of the many bookshelves to steady himself. "A large group of barbarians are gathered a day's march west of the castle." He coughed and almost lost his balance. "They look like they are going to try to seize Mandrake!"

  "What!" Dagon yelled, jumping to his feet and going to the man.

  "Yes, my Lord. Before I was sent, there were over three thousand gathered, and the tribes just seem to keep swelling their ranks," he bleated, accepting Dagon's help to a chair.

  "They cannot truly think they can take Mandrake, could they?" Lord Andras asked with a laugh. No one else joined him - the uncomfortable silence spilled into the room and chilled everything.

  "I must get back to Mandrake!" Lord Dagon announced - his tone grave.

  "You do not honestly believe these savages could achieve this?" Dante asked.

  The room was silent, as Dagon seemed to be fighting some inner turmoil with himself. "Mandrake is weak right now," he admitted, though everyone could tell it pained him to do so. "The moat is dried up, the lack of rainfall this year forced us to re-route the irrigation to aid our crops. The Northern wall is under repairs after a catapult malfunction collapsed a large section of it."

  "That is troubling news," King Dante said.

  "Take fifteen hundred mounted soldiers back with you, along with the men you came with," Tundal told him.

  "Only fifteen hundred?" Dagon asked, bewildered at his friend.

  Tundal sighed, knowing his friend would act this way, but had hoped he would not. "I must think of the rest of the kingdom my friend. I want nothing more than to send the whole of Draco's army with you, and ride by your side, but I cannot. I am needed here…As is the bulk of Draco's army. If the barbarians are massing together and their Gifted have joined them, then I must have an army to defend the seat of power. If you ride swiftly, you may arrive before the attack arises. Once those behind the walls see their Lord riding into the enemy - and that army is flanking the barbarians with fifteen hundred mounted men, they will throw open the gates and Mandrake's army will charge out to meet you on the battlefield, where you will easily crush the enemy regardless of their numbers!"