The False Prince (Fall Of A King Book 1)

by Fuller, James

  "Why, you arrogant fool, I ought to…!" the shorter Wizard burst out in rage.

  "Calm yourself, Samul," Mervyn said, putting a hand on the shorter Wizard's shoulder to stop him from stepping forward.

  "Are you muttering threats to a Prince?" Berrit barked, rising from his seat to look threatening.

  "We cannot expect Prince Berrit to understand our full abilities in times of war," Mervyn said to Samul, but his gaze was locked onto Berrit's. "I assure you, good Prince, that we will be of great value to Draco in this war."

  "Maybe it was not wise to have woken you at such an hour, Prince Berrit," Tora commented, trying hard to hold back her rising anger. "Maybe on the morrow you will remember your manners and where you stay."

  Berrit glanced around the room, biting back a vicious retort. Had it not been for his weakening state he would have unleashed his tongue upon them, but this provided him with means to excuse himself. "I apologize - sometimes I forget myself. I will take my leave before my lack of manners can offend further."

  After the Zandorian Prince had left, Tora told them in a sympathetic and somewhat embarrassed tone, "I apologize for the way Prince Berrit acted."

  "Do not apologize for the words of that man, my Lady," Master Mervyn said with a wink of understanding.

  "We do appreciate your coming to our aid," Lady Angelina said earnestly.

  "No need for thanks - the land is festering with enemies, our homes are in danger. The only way any of us can prevent this is to stand together," Samul replied.

  "What can you tell us of this Wizard? Do you think he is still around and a threat to us? Is he a rogue just acting on his own, or is he working with the barbarians?" Lady Tora asked, getting back to the many issues.

  "That is a good question, my Lady," Mervyn replied. "I believe this Wizard may be a threat to us, he was indeed powerful and did not have the demeanor of a rogue. No, this one was different, I am not sure if he is working with the enemy or not or even if he was part of the Shyroni."

  "Well, it is late. Master Mervyn and Master Samul, rooms have been made ready for you. Rest well and we will further discuss this on the morrow when we are all rested and focused," Lady Tora said with a light bow of her head.

  *****

  Astaroth laid upon his silken bed, sleep eluding him as his mind raced at this new problem that had come to the castle. These two Wizards were going to make things very difficult. He needed to dispose of them before they interfered with anything more. His lust and greed for power told him to kill them and steal their Gifts. They were both skilled and powerful and would swell his own powers immensely. But they were not foolish Wizards like many he had dealt with before – no, these two were hardened, well-travelled and sharp of wit. It would be no simple task to deal with them. If need be, he would send them with the army to Dragon's Cove. The thought only lasted a moment. No, Dragon's Cove should have fallen by now, but with four Wizards defending it, they had enough problems without adding two more. He would find a way—he always did.

  Astaroth stretched out in the large bed, and felt a pang of loneliness at its emptiness. He wished Vashina was here with him - she had a quick wit about her and could always see flaws within his plans …if there were any. But more so this night he relished in the thought of her warm flesh between his loins and the exotic pleasures she offered. The thought of all her sexual fetishes stirred his blood and he almost thought to go find a whore to release those stirrings, but it was much too late for that.

  He slept in late the next morning, as late as he could justify without causing suspicions at his unusual tardiness to make an appearance. He needed his Gift to be replenished fully if he were to undertake this task of removing the two Wizards. He did well to find excuses for hibernating in his room for most of the day so he could stay in his true form and conserve his energies. He ventured out only a handful of times so he would be seen by others, so they would not believe he had become ill and come to tend to him. He also wanted to take measure of the new guests.

  Astaroth was not conceited enough to believe that he was invincible, simply because he had absorbed the essence of eight Wizards. These two Wizards were over twice his age and that meant wisdom and more battle experience and those two things were never to be taken lightly, as he knew well from his youth.

  Again, a knock at his door stirred him from his thoughts - he had been expecting this knock, since he had hardly been out of his room all day, they had sent someone to check on him.

  Berrit opened the door to see the young Wizard Keithen standing there again. "Yes, what do you want now?" Berrit snarled, enjoying the flinch from the young Wizard.

  "Sorry to bother you again, I just wanted to make sure you were all right or if you needed anything," Keithen stuttered nervously, having a hard time making eye contact.

  "What did you say?' Berrit asked off guard. "You want to know if I am all right?"

  Keithen looked at him sheepishly. "Yes, Highness, I know it sounds odd, but I believe you, about Ursa and Meath and all that, and I know you are the only one who can save us in this time of need," he told him with growing enthusiasm. "I know you are Zandorian and I am a Wizard, but I want you to know that I am with you. Anything you need, just ask and if it is within my powers it shall be done." Keithen finished with a weak smile.

  A smile slithered across Berrit's face. "Yes well thank you, I think you might have helped curve my opinion of those with The Gift," he replied as his mind raced with new possibilities at this opening door. Keithen was about to walk off, but Berrit stopped him in his tracks. "You know there is something you could do for me."

  "Anything, Highness, anything at all," Keithen replied with a big grin.

  "Well I am feeling terrible about last night and how I treated those two Wizards who are only trying to help," Berrit said, trying to sound truthful. "I want you to find out what kind of wine or ale they like most. I would like to sit down with them and have a drink and apologize like a man for my impudence," He finished.

  "Yes, Highness!" Keithen saluted.

  "Do not let them know that it is me who wants to know. I want them to be surprised," Berrit explained. After Keithen confirmed his understanding, he ran off to see it done.

  Astaroth shut his door chuckling wickedly - the perfect plan played through his mind. He walked over to his desk and pulled out a pouch of rare, enchanted white powder. He had only acquired a few handfuls in his time and that was better than most ever saw - most would pay a king's ransom just for this amount. He had been saving it for when he would need it most. Now seemed that time - if he were going to make his plan work, he could not afford any more hindrances and once he had these two Wizard's Gifts, he would be that much more unstoppable.

  Early the next morning, Keithen was back eagerly at his door with the information he required.

  "Well, Highness, I have good and bad information for you," Keithen began. "Master Samul enjoys sweet Blackberry wine, but Master Mervyn says he never drinks for it clouds one's judgments."

  This did not come to much of a surprise to Astaroth - he had known many Wizards who did not drink or only drank a little because of such reasons.

  "Excellent!" Berrit replied enthusiastically. "You have done me well, Keithen - you have my gratitude."

  "It was nothing your Highness," Keithen boasted, with pride.

  Berrit mused over this prideful eagerness. "Could I trouble you for one more favor then, Keithen?"

  Keithen beamed with excitement. "Anything…anything at all!"

  Berrit fished into his coin purse, retrieved two silver, and handed them to Keithen. "Find me a bottle of the best blackberry wine and bring it to me."

  "Right away, Highness!" Keithen replied gleefully as he started off.

  "Keithen!" Berrit called down the hallway.

  "Yes, good Prince?"

  "Whatever coin is left is yours to keep, for your time."

  "Thank you so much," Keithen stuttered back and then took off down the hallway again.


  Berrit returned to his room and locked his door, allowing his form to return to its natural state. He had expected it would not be so easy to dispose of Master Mervyn. He had a rare aura about him, a lot like Ursa, which Astaroth knew to be very dangerous. But Samul, on the other hand, would be easy to take care of if he could play it out appropriately. He picked up the pouch of powder again, wondering how much he would need to make his plan work. He would need some left to deal with Master Mervyn when the time came.

  Astaroth stood alone in one of the farthest corners of the castle's royal garden, where no one could see anything and few ever ventured. He had sent Keithen to fetch Master Samul at his request.

  Now Astaroth waited in the form of Prince Berrit for Samul to arrive. He had to play the part perfectly if he was to fool the Wizard into believing his apology, so he would have a drink with him. Astaroth had no true idea how much of the wine Samul would have to drink to inebriate his Gift. He had used enough of the powder and hoped to ensure that even with only a few sips, the effects would take hold.

  "Prince Berrit, I would never have guessed it was you who wanted audience with me," Samul said, walking over to the bench by the small pond where Berrit stood waiting.

  Berrit turned to face Samul with a shy and honest smile. "Yes, well I…" Berrit coughed, playing the part flawlessly. "I wanted to… apologize for the way I acted when you first arrived," he refined and at that moment, a feather could have knocked Samul over.

  "Well, Prince Berrit, this does come as a surprise, but you really do not need to…" Samul began but was cut off.

  "No, I do - I know this must come as a shock to you, a Royal Zandorian apologizing to a Wizard, but it is true. I have been under a lot of stress with the death of King Borrack and the kidnapping of my bride and now with war breaking out all over Draco Kingdom. I almost forgot what this was all about - I agreed to marry the Princess and set our old ways aside and begin a new union of trust and friendship. It is just with everything that is happening my mind had been clouded and my judgment off, and for that I must apologize."

  Samul listened to Berrit's words carefully and truly felt the emotion coming from the Zandorian. "I do understand your rare position - the past season has been rather vile for everyone, and has everyone on edge," Samul replied. "You know, Prince Berrit, I almost misjudged you, but now I see I was wrong - I accept your apology," he said with a wide, friendly smile.

  "Do sit and have a glass of Blackberry wine with me, Master Samul," Berrit asked, knowing if he refused, he would have to act fast. "So we may bury the old into the past and start a new kinship with similar purpose."

  "Blackberry wine you say?" Samul asked, licking his lips. "Well, my good Prince, you have twisted my arm just right - how could I say no to my favorite drink?"

  Samul sat down on the bench beside Berrit and took the cup of sweet smelling and even sweeter tasting liquor. He held it in his hands for a moment savoring the aroma and waiting for Berrit to pour his own cup.

  "To new beginnings and to smiting our forever growing enemies!" Berrit toasted, bringing his cup to his lips and pretending to drink deeply from it. He did not know how the wine tasted and hoped Samul would not notice anything different.

  "I will toast to that," Samul said, drinking from his cup and finishing it off in two greedy gulps. "That is mighty fine wine - might I have another, good Prince?" Samul asked, holding his cup to Berrit who filled it again eagerly.

  "To lasting peace between us at long last," Samul toasted, and again Berrit faked a drink while Samul downed his cup.

  Berrit did not know how long it would take to dispel the Gift. He did not want to try anything until he was sure, and Samul did not seem to have a problem drinking more. After another two cups, Samul tipped his glass upside down, showing Berrit he had had enough.

  "I do thank you, Prince Berrit, for the words and even more the wine, and I am glad you called me out here and we have resolved matters, but I must depart, there is still much Master Mervyn and I need to learn and prepare," Samul said, with a hint of a slur from the wine as its strong effects began to take effect.

  "Before you go, do you think you could do me but a small favor?" Berrit asked, prepared to do what he must if his plan did not work.

  "Of course I could - what do you need of me?" Samul said with a jolly smile.

  "Could you light this torch for me, I think I am going to stay out here for a while and enjoy the fresh night air," Berrit said holding up a torch.

  "Indeed I could," Samul said, waving his hand over the torch, his eyes bulged wide and he buckled to his knees, a groan of distress escaping his lips.

  Berrit smiled wide knowing his plan had worked. "Well, seems your Gift is no longer working for you."

  Samul looked up at Berrit, his eyes betraying his terror. "What is happening? What did you do to me you Zandorian cur?" he groaned out, fighting back waves of pain and nausea.

  Berrit grinned - his appearance shifting into his true form, "And here I thought we were becoming friends and then you have to resort to name calling."

  "By all that is unholy, who are you?" Samul bellowed, trying to push himself upright. He got a hard kick to the guts for his efforts - he collapsed to the ground and vomited.

  "You really should not have interfered last night, you and Mervyn allowed one of the messengers to escape," Astaroth growled, kicking Samul in the ribs flipping him over onto this back.

  Samul coughed violently nearly choking on the vomit that still escaped from his mouth. "Why… why are you doing this?"

  "Because I can." Astaroth's grin was full of malice as he stomped his foot down hard across Samul's face, silencing the plump Wizard. Astaroth sat down on the bench and stared down at his unconscious victim. "That was far easier then I had anticipated," he mused.

  *****

  Keithen crouched behind a large rose bush many paces away, wide eyed at the treachery he had just witnessed. He watched in terror and awe as the man who was once Prince Berrit bound Master Samul's hands behind his back and carried him down a grown in path leading toward one of the lesser used cellars in the castle.

  Fear coursed through every part of him - he had been so close to this man so many times and did not have the slightest clue about his true nature. But now he knew the truth - everything started to fall into place from the murder of King Borrack to Ursa, Meath and the Princess fleeing from the castle - they too must have stumbled across the truth.

  Instinctively, when it was safe, he got his feet and was about to run and tell everyone, but something stopped him before he could go more than a few steps. It was not fear, it was intrigue - something told Keithen to somehow use this to his advantage. Ursa had never truly believed in him and had spent all of his time and efforts in Meath. But now, this man, this devious Wizard, obviously knew how to use the Gift better than most. He could teach Keithen everything in exchange for keeping his secret. Yes, it would work - he just needed to do it right. He knew if he just strolled up to the Wizard and told him, he would be as good as dead. Keithen needed to find something to gain the Wizard's trust, or even some edge over him so this he would not be killed.

  Keithen followed Astaroth from a distance making sure not to be seen or heard, which since he had spent most of his life behind these walls was not hard for him. Keithen hugged the circular stone stairwell that lead down into one of the coldest cellars, which they only used in the winter to keep wild meat frozen. He watched from around a corner as Astaroth chained Master Samul to one of the stone walls.

  "What is he doing?" Keithen whispered to himself.

  *****

  Astaroth paced in front of the limp form of Samul hanging from the stone wall. How pathetic he looked, so weak and meager - thankfully outward appearance had nothing to do with the strength of one's innate powers.

  Astaroth snapped the riding crop across Samul's legs, cutting thick lacerations into them and causing Samul to cry out at the painful awakening.

  "Who are you?" Samul spat. "And what do you
want with me, you bastard?"

  Astaroth snapped the whip across Samul's midsection, causing the Wizard to wince in pain but this time he did not cry out. "That is an easy question to answer - I want your inner essence, your Gift."

  Samul's eyes went wide with horror. "You are a mad man! It is not possible!"

  "Are you so sure about that?" Astaroth countered.

  "There are only superstitions, myths nothing more, you halfwit." Samul protested. "There is no proof it is even possible."

  Astaroth smirked maliciously. "I beg to differ, it is very possible - I have done it many times already."

  "Why? Why would you do all of this - the King's death, the plotting and pretending to be the Prince, helping the barbarians, why?" Samul asked angrily. "What are you getting out of all this?"

  "What do I get?" Astaroth cracked the whip across his victim's legs again. "I get to become the closest thing to a God this world has ever seen."

  *****

  Keithen watched in utter horror and amazement for what seemed like forever while Astaroth tortured and mutilated Samul. Burning him with strange symbols and cutting other symbols into his flesh, collecting his blood and drinking it. By the end of the ritual, the stone room was alive with vivid power. Even someone without the Gift would feel the raw energy in the air if they were to stumble upon this place.

  Keithen watched as Astaroth burned the last symbol into Samul's forehead, and ran a blade across his throat, filling a silver goblet with the thick blood and drinking it greedily. The goblet hit the ground, Astaroth and Samul's bodies began contorting, and thrashing violently and Keithen could see Samul's essence being pulled unwillingly from his dying body into Astaroth's. As fast as it had begun, it was over and Astaroth lay unmoving on the cold stone floor. The air shifted uncomfortably back to cold and damp, like the feeling of death.

  Keithen watched as Astaroth began to get up slowly, but yet seemed stronger, firmer and more defined. Yes, Keithen could see that Astaroth had truly taken Samul's essence. This was something he wanted - this was the man he wanted as his mentor and Master.