The False Prince (Fall Of A King Book 1)

by Fuller, James

  "Teach me to be like you, I will do anything you ask of me!" Keithen blurted out, stepping around the corner he had been hiding behind, catching Astaroth completely off guard.

  *****

  Dagon stood on a hillside not far from where he and his men were camped - he watched the sun rise from the east. It had been almost a week since the battle he and less than half his men had escaped from and still he thought about how he could have done things differently and how they might have won that fight. Dagon knew how he could have saved more, he should have retreated as soon as he saw the ruse for what it was, but he had not, he could not - his pride had gotten the best of him. He just wanted to make those murdering bastards pay for taking his home.

  "I knew I would find you out here," Jarroth called, coming up behind him. "Stop beating yourself up over the past - what has happened has happened. I do not blame you - the men do not blame you," Jarroth told him, knowing exactly what was on his friend’s mind. "Chances are, none of us would have retreated any sooner than we did regardless of your order."

  Dagon did not say anything - he could not. He kept staring off at the sunrise.

  "Our scouts have spotted a small band of enemies moving toward Mandrake castle from the northern shore. We plan on attacking them long before they can make it," Jarroth explained. "You should come with us, my Lord - it would do your blade good to taste enemy blood again," he called back as he made his way back to camp.

  Dagon sighed once Jarroth was gone - he knew his friend's words were true. He had lost battles before, lost many good men to war…friends and family. No, it was not that - it was because of why he lost that was haunting him. His pride had gotten in the way - his pride had killed those men. Too much had happened in the last season for anyone to handle without fault.

  "My Lord!" a soldier called up to him.

  "What is it?" Dagon replied, not even turning to face the soldier.

  "There is a Zandorian messenger here with news from the south."

  "Take me to him now!" Dagon gasped.

  "What news do you have from the south?" Dagon cried, not even waiting for his horse to slow before he jumped off and began running toward the messenger.

  "Well, my Lord, one of your messengers made it to Besha and told Lord Andras of your crisis. There is an army of six hundred hardened warriors and supplies, two or three days march away," the messenger informed him.

  "Thank the Creator," Dagon gasped. "When you return to Besha, please tell your Lord I send many thanks."

  "You will be able to bestow your thanks to him personally. He and his eldest son are the ones leading the army," the Zandorian informed him.

  Dagon's eyes lit up with possibility. "Get this man anything he requires!" Dagon ordered, marching off with growing power in each step, something he had not had in days, but now the weight of failing was lifting with this new turn of events.

  That evening, Lord Dagon and his men feasted as best they could in celebration of their small victory, which Lord Dagon had gone along for and lead his men as a true leader should always do. But they mostly celebrated because they knew in a few days an army would come to their aid. There was no ale or wine at the small feast, for alcohol was something none of them had seen in weeks. Even if there had been, not a man would have indulged - they all needed their senses at their best.

  "It is good to see you again," Jarroth told Dagon as the evening began to tone down.

  "I am sorry, my friend, for my foolishness, your words did help even if it did not look like it - thank you for not giving up on me," Dagon replied.

  "I never have." Jarroth laughed, clasping Dagon's hand firmly. "And I never will."

  "We will see that our home is returned and force those bastards back to the wasteland where they belong," Dagon shouted, getting a cheer from everyone around him.

  "An army of six hundred strong might not be enough to take our home back, my Lord," Jarroth said, not wishing to kill the mood but knowing it needed to be said.

  "I know, but it is a start," Dagon told him, not letting anything damper his good mood.

  "Sir. Sir," a young soldier yelled running up to him.

  "What is it?" Dagon asked, giving the man his full attention.

  "There is another messenger here," he gasped.

  "Ah, well give him food and water and a place to sleep tonight, but we have already heard the good news," Dagon said cheerfully.

  "No, my Lord - this man is not from the south. He says he is from Draco Castle," the soldier told him trying to keep his voice low. "He was found wandering the woods almost dead with exhaustion."

  Dagon entered the small tent where the ragged man had been given quarters. Dagon could see this man had important news to tell him - he could feel it in the air, making his skin tingle with anticipation.

  "What news do you bring from Draco? Do they send as army to aid us?" Dagon asked.

  The messenger's eye's opened slowly to see Dagon. "No, my Lord - Draco Castle is in need of you," he whispered, not able to speak any louder.

  "In need of me? What for?" Confused, Dagon kneeled down closer to hear the man.

  "Prince Berrit is not who he appears to be," he wheezed out. "He is a Wizard."

  "What? This does not make sense; this cannot be true," Dagon muttered in disbelief. "You are tired and weak - you are talking tales, not truths. Come speak with me when you are well," Dagon said, about ready to leave, but the man grabbed him.

  "I know what I saw my Lord! Heed my words - Draco Castle needs you," he cried out in desperation.

  "Why is not Lord Tundal doing anything about this? Why did you not tell him all this? He would be able to handle this if this heeds true," Dagon argued, beginning to think the man mad.

  "Tundal is dead!" The messenger barked.

  "What?" Dagon said sternly, his attention completely with the man again.

  "He was murdered by an assassin, but I now believe he found out the truth of Berrit and then was killed to prevent him from telling anyone," he said slowly. "Now the ladies are trying to run the kingdom but things are just getting worse. This country is falling apart at the seams. You are the only one who can restore it."

  "Rest now, my good man - we will talk more tomorrow when you can tell me everything you know at length," Dagon told him, leaving the small tent.

  It was almost too much for Dagon to bear - yet he knew the man was not lying. The man's eyes showed no sign of falsehoods. Dagon's family was at Draco Castle and so was the family of his dead friend, and if all of this was true, they were in danger - everyone was in danger. Dagon knew he had to return to Draco Castle and straighten this out before it was too late, the kingdom was falling apart, war was everywhere, and Draco was the only strong point left. He knew what he had to do.…

  20

  They traveled for several long days, finding numerous signs that they were on the trail of Meath and his two Gifted captors. They had stumbled across several large, old tribal camp sites. Shania was sure they were heavily armed war parties on the move, travelling west. It gave them all an ill feeling that something horrible was going to happen soon, but they were too far committed to think of turning back now.

  Since their desperate death-defying swim across the Sheeva River, they had managed to avoid their attackers - they were not even sure if they were being followed or if they were thought to be dead. On several occasions, they had to lie low while savage groups had traveled by, but they had managed to avoid all detection. With Shania along, they had little trouble finding food and fresh water, and had learned many tricks that she had when growing up in her barbarian tribe.

  "Look up ahead," Dahak said, pointing to the northeast. "There is smoke coming from over there."

  "Must be a town, at last," Zehava replied, relief evident in his tone. "Not many of those up this far. We had best take full advantage of it."

  "Does that mean we will stay for a night?" Dahak asked, almost begging.

  Zehava grinned at his friend. "That all depends on how lon
g it takes us to get there."

  "I wonder if Meath was there when they passed through here. They would have had to get supplies too. They were traveling light when they took him," Nicolette wondered aloud. "Maybe someone saw him and knows where they are heading."

  "Only one way to find out," Zehava replied, altering their course so they were heading straight for the town.

  "I wonder if this is where they took Meath?" Dahak questioned.

  Zehava hacked several branches and vines from their path with his sword. "I doubt it, why would they take him to a small farming community?"

  "I do not know - why would they take him at all?" Dahak countered.

  "Dahak right," Shania cut in. "Why would they take Meath? He is just a Wizard with the Gift, plenty of them around if they just needed a Wizard, so why him? Make no senses to me."

  "Well we will search the town as best we can," Zehava replied. "If he is there, we will find him!" he finished. His tone hardening as another branch fell to his sword blade.

  After day of traveling through the dense thickness of the jungle, they finally made it to a lightly used road that lead to the small town ahead. Dusk was nearly upon them and the town was still a ways off. They made camp on the side of the roadway, not wanting to risk traveling at night and not knowing how they would be received when they reached the town.

  Shania spotted their dinner and took Nicolette off into the growth to help her pick the sweet, yellowy fruit that grew on several thick bushy trees near the roadway, leaving Dahak and Zehava to set up a small camp.

  "You and Dahak seem to have taken a liking to one another lately," Nicolette commented as she felt the oval shaped fruit with her fingers, picking only the softest ones.

  Shania's hand stopped momentarily as she was reaching up for one of the juicy fruits. She quickly turned her head to hide her quickly crimsoning cheeks. "I… he is different, funny.… I like being around him," she stuttered out timidly.

  Nicolette smiled at Shania's embarrassment. She had noticed that the two were beginning to spend more and more time together and nearly leapt at any opportunity to be alone. The previous night, she had observed that by morning the two had almost closed the distance between their bedrolls. Nicolette smiled wider, knowing it was growing into something more than friendship. It had been the same for her and Meath when they had been younger.

  "He has a good heart," Shania said, seeing Nicolette deep in thought. "Not bull-headed letting pride get in way."

  "What about Zehava?" Nicolette asked. "When you first joined us, you hardly left his side."

  Shania sighed. "Zehava is strong and brave, qualities I was raised to believe were most vital in a mate." She paused. "Dahak is strong and brave too, but different. He needs someone for balance. I like being needed. I like knowing I am valued. Dahak make me feel that way."

  "I think I know what you mean," Nicolette told her.

  "Really?" Shania asked, turning to her and Nicolette nodded. "I do not know what to do, I do not want Zehava to be mad at me or hate Dahak and fight."

  "Why would he be angry at either one of you or fight each other?"

  "When two men share interest in a mate they fight for her," Shania replied as if it was obvious. "I do not want them to fight for me - I do not want either one getting hurt."

  Nicolette nearly laughed aloud. "I do not think you have to worry about them fighting one another. They are friends and have been for a long time. Tell Zehava - he will be okay and he will understand," Nicolette assured her, knowing Zehava had likely already come to the same conclusion.

  Shania smiled to herself, feeling somewhat foolish now. "Thank you for talk." Shania picked one last fruit before turning back towards the road. "But right now we need to work on finding Meath."

  Nicolette followed her. "We are close. I can feel it in my heart, Shania - we are close."

  "Meath lucky to have such good friends that would risk their lives to search for him."

  Nicolette stopped Shania. "That is what friends do - he would do it for any one of us," Nicolette explained, looking deeply into Shania's glimmering eyes. "We would risk our lives to find you too Shania - you are our friend."

  Shania wiped stray tears from her road-stained cheeks. "Thank you."

  "No need for thanks, you are one of us now - never doubt it." Nicolette told her happily. "We should be getting back now. It is almost dark."

  "Let us see if we can sneak up on Zehava and Dahak," Shania replied, a playful gleam in her eyes.

  "I am not very silent when walking in this terrain - I will give us away."

  Shania smiled. "I will show you how - it is easy."

  "I wonder what is taking Shania and Nicolette so long," Dahak said with more than a hint of worry in his tone. "You think they are okay?"

  Zehava smirked, noticing that every time Shania's name crossed his lips, it had a completely different tone than normal. "I am sure they are fine - we would know if there was trouble. They are not far away," he assured his friend.

  Dahak sat uncomfortably for a moment before he spoke. "Do you really think we will find him?" he asked with a hint of doubt in his voice. "I mean it seems like a long shot. You know?"

  Zehava knew this was something that was playing on everyone's mind, even his own. "I sure hope so," was all he could say.

  "We will," Nicolette's voice said from behind them, startling them both into nearly falling off their seats.

  "How the heck did you?" Dahak stammered barely keeping his balance.

  "What?" Nicolette asked casually.

  "We did not even hear you coming," Zehava answered, his brow raised in wonder.

  "She learn quick." Shania's voice said from near the fire and both their heads snapped around to see her adding wood to their small fire.

  "Impressive," Zehava said, admiration showing on his face.

  "I want to be able to do that!" Dahak stammered out with a childish grin.

  "I will show you one day." Shania beamed.

  The morning was damp and a chilly mist glided through the jungle growth and across the dirt road, painting an eerie path to the small town ahead of them. They traveled cautiously, their hands fidgeting near their weapons the morning silence unnerving them.

  They entered the non-walled town as the last of mist dissipated into the growing warmth of the day. The single sentry paid them little heed, having seen their fire burning during the night and just waved them in. Most of the townsfolk were just waking up, readying themselves for the long day of work ahead of them - tending livestock or the fields. No one paid them much mind, other than a quick glance and occasionally a nod in greeting.

  "We will find the marketplace - we can get supplies and ask some questions," Zehava told them. "Hopefully someone will know something about Meath or any travelers that have come through here recently. I have to guess that with all the barbarian activity that outside travelers would be a rare sight and easily remembered."

  "Why do I get the feeling we are not going to be staying a night?" Dahak moaned. "Am I the only one who has been dreaming of a soft warm bed and not the cold stony earth?"

  "We will have to see what we can find out," Zehava told him.

  Nicolette was about to agree with Dahak when something caught her eye and her voice froze in her throat as she stopped.

  "What is it?" Dahak asked and everyone stopped to see what was going on.

  "I know that horse," Nicolette replied, her voice barely escaping her lips as she walked into the stable and right up to the old man tending the strong black and white stallion. "A fine horse you have there." She told the man, who looked up at her and beamed with pride. The horse recognized her voice and quickly nuzzled its nose under her hand for a tender scratch and soft pat.

  "Thank you, my lady," he replied as he continued brushing the stallion's side. "You are your friends there looking to purchase some horses maybe?"

  "Possibly - what is this one's history?" Nicolette asked.

  "Well, I wish I could tell you, but I
only know so much about this one. Had a young man sell me this one a few days ago, all I can tell you is it is a fine animal - smart, strong and very friendly, as you can see." The old man told her.

  "Can you tell me what the man who traded you this horse looked like?" Nicolette asked, her voice full of hope.

  The stable man thought about it for a moment then his face twisted in puzzlement. "Why do you want to know such a thing? What is all this about? You are not here to buy horses are you?"

  Before Nicolette could say anything, Zehava cut in. "We believe the man who sold you this horse is the horse thief we are looking for. This horse use to belong to our Lord from Draco Castle," Zehava said, stepping beside Nicolette and standing tall, but smiling to prevent intimidating the horse dealer.

  "I knew something was up with that man - he just did not seem right and all. Well I guess he was well built - dark, short hair and dark eyes and he had a bit of an odd accent, not a thick one, but if you listened you could tell he was not from around here," the old stable master told them.

  "That is him!" Nicolette blurted out in excitement.

  "I guess you are going to want to take this horse back to your Lord?" The old man muttered begrudgingly. "And the other two he sold me?"

  "No, that will not be necessary," Zehava told him. "You paid good coin for these animals and your forthrightness proves your loyalties as far as I am concerned. You may keep the animals as reward for your help."

  The old man beamed again. "Thank you, good Sir. I do hope you catch the thief."

  "You would not happen to know which way he was traveling, would you?" Zehava asked before turning to leave.

  "Well, he left to the west, but we had some hunters out and they saw him meet up with two others and then they head southeast on an old trail towards Drake River and the wastelands," the man replied. "Do not know why they would head that way, not much out there but trouble, but I reckon maybe they deserve what they get."