He ran until he could barely breathe and the sounds of the brawl off in the distance were almost silenced. The slaughter was all but over as the victory chants of the Black Jackets erupted.
He peered around and didn’t see anyone, but being alone on the Seventh Island could be extremely dangerous. He needed to find a port or harbor but he didn’t have any coin. He would need to rob somebody to get ship fare and Ali-Samuel didn’t even know where he was on the island.
He walked in the direction he thought was south but there weren’t any landmarks that would confirm that idea. He exited the heavy woods and walked into an open area. A noise sounded from behind and he turned around. Three people emerged from the woods and he darted off in the opposite direction. The muffled conversation amongst the people was drowned out by a crack of thunder.
He ran at full speed until he came to a sudden stop just before he veered back into the forest. He didn’t want to stop, but his body wouldn’t move. He could form thoughts, see and hear what was going on, but he couldn’t move.
A voice from behind asked, “Are you going to let him move again, Gamelda?”
“Of course, but we should talk to him first to make sure he doesn’t bolt again,” a woman’s voice replied.
An odd group appeared in front of him. A tall, ugly man with a hideous scar on his face stood next to a dark-skinned beauty and a dwarf. The hauntingly beautiful woman looked out of place with the two rough-looking men.
“Do you recognize me?” the big man asked. Before Ali-Samuel could answer, he said, “I guess that’s a stupid question when you can’t respond. I am your father and I am sorry for the way everything worked out. I wanted to raise you myself, but it wasn’t meant to be. I thought I would never see you again. My son.”
Gamelda released her magical grip on Ali-Samuel and his momentum caused him to fall forward. His father helped him up, and he stared into the mismatched eyes of the scar-faced man.
Is he telling the truth? Why would someone make this up?
The confused young man asked, “Why here? Why now?”
“I’m not exactly welcome in Donegal and the world can be a big place, of course. I understand that you might not want to speak with me. Let me explain a bit. The reason I left you was because I would have died trying to save you and I knew the Queen and Ryen would be able to protect you better than I. I had a bounty on my head. Still do, I believe. I didn’t want to make you a target as well.”
Ali-Samuel remarked, “Looks like someone got you pretty good with a knife, no that’s too wide, is that from a sword?”
“Some ornery pirateer almost did me in when I was as young as you.” Ali-Steven rubbed his hand over the nasty scar.
Ali-Samuel asked, “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“I’ve been hunting the Pearl of Wisdom for a while now. I’ve joined several companies and run into these two several times now. This is Dragon-Eyes and this is Gamelda.”
“You’re the wizard from all the stories?” Ali-Samuel wondered.
“Yes and no. I am the subject of the stories, but they tend to read more like tales of wonder.”
Ali-Steven said, “He does have an acute penchant for finding out information. He figured out you were on the islands and we’ve been following you for the better portion of a month now. We were even going to pull you from that suicide attack that you wisely ran from. We finally had a proper opportunity when you were alone.”
Ali-Samuel asked, “Did you know that your father is dead?”
“I did. The little man can procure information from great distances. I thought it might make me feel better. It didn’t. Nothing will bring back your mother,” the big man uttered in an emotional tone.
Ali-Samuel informed him. “I killed all the men involved in her murder.”
“And how did that make you feel?” his father asked.
“I didn’t feel anything. It felt the same as killing a faceless man in battle. They made me squire for Sir Arthur, who reminded me of the incident all the time. I thought I would feel better when I got revenge for us, but I didn’t,” Ali-Samuel confessed.
His father said, “Revenge can be a great motivator, but it never seems to satisfy a soul. Peligrus once said, ‘Man must understand his greatest enemy lies within.’ I’ve maimed many people that wronged me over the years. I didn’t kill them. I disfigured them so they could see the look of terror on a person’s face like I’ve had to endure. I wanted them to see that look of shock and horror while they tried to ignore the judging whispers of passersby. I thought all this would warm my heart, yet it only chipped away at the solid ice. In life, we go through trials and tribulations and it’s natural to get down. A common thought is to take the person causing those feelings and exact revenge. We pray for them to feel some pain too. What we don’t realize is that we are dragging ourselves down to that level as well. We need to lift ourselves up and live free of the bonds of vengeful thoughts. I think the best way to handle the situation is to let the Gods sort them out in the end.”
The Imp Wizard and Gamelda stood by quietly as Ali-Steven continued, “I would have disagreed when I was your age and I’m sure a great fire burns inside you. You need to control those wild flames before they are fanned out of control and you are powerless to defend yourself. Using anger and revenge on a battlefield is the quickest way to get killed.”
Ali-Samuel was confused and asked, “Did you find me so we could hunt the Pearl of Wisdom together?”
His father smiled. “Not exactly. There is still one bit of revenge I need to seek out. I would love nothing more than to go on a grand adventure with my long-lost son, but my goal is bigger than that. I still plan to be King of Donegal someday and when I should die, you will take over as my successor.”
“Sounds like a lot of revenge there.” Ali-Samuel smirked at his father, who laughed.
“There are many reasons for this, and revenge is at the bottom of the list. My brother will drive the realm into the ground. I still respect the tradition of the Wamhoff legacy and plan to save it, despite my rotten experience so far. Ali-Stanley will become a tyrant like my father if he is given the opportunity. My motivation is to save people like Rilah. Using people as objects to prove a noble’s point needs to be stopped.”
“You do realize he isn’t going to hand the realm over to you? Do you have a force to back you?”
His father said, “Not yet. I thought if we found the Pearl, men would come running to our side like they did with Rockarius.”
Ali-Samuel said, “Please tell me that’s not what you are depending on. Nobody’s found the Pearl in about five hundred years. I caught Pearl Fever for a bit too, but you can’t rely on that.”
“I realize that, of course. I am going to travel the world in search of someone that will want to take a deposed heir and put him back on the throne.”
Ali-Samuel said, “You sound like you are going it alone. What about your friends here?”
Dragon-Eyes finally spoke, “I’m afraid not. The Pearl grabs hold of some and never lets go. We seem to be afflicted by this sickness.”
Ali-Samuel wanted to know, “It’s been nineteen years since you’ve been in Donegal, why would anyone still support your claim?”
Ali-Steven shrugged his shoulders and responded, “Gold, jewels, slaves, women, lands, the same things that have motivated men since the time of the first families.”
This plan would take decades to pull off.
Ali-Samuel said, “Unless you have a hidden treasure trove, I don’t see this being a viable plan.”
His father smiled. “You don’t see it now. I have to promise company leaders that after I take back my realm, I will reward them handsomely.”
“So why can’t I come with you?” Ali-Samuel wanted to know.
“I need a source in the Capitol. My little friend can’t see and hear everything. Gamelda will make sure you get back to Donegal. I need you to cause internal chaos in Falconhurst so our invasion can go unnoticed.
We will be together eventually, but we need to be separated again for a few years to make the grand plan a success.”
He asked, “Why should I believe you? I’ve never even seen my father and everyone knows the story by now. You could be imposters, all of you.”
Ali-Steven held his hands up in the air, “As I’ve said, I can’t blame you for harboring a great deal of resentment toward me. Has anyone given you a physical description of me?”
“My grandmother did all the time. None of her stories ever concerned a man with a scar across his entire face and two different colored eyes.”
The older man chuckled. “I understand those wouldn’t have been in the stories, but did she ever mention any distinguishing features?”
“She said my father had a big red birthmark on his belly in the shape of the number eight,” Ali-Samuel told him.
His father said, “Great, great.” Ali-Steven fumbled with his shirt and finally lifted it up. He pulled up the linen and revealed a big mark that did look like a slightly off-centered eight.
“I guess it is you.”
Ali-Steven said, “I know this is a lot to take in so why don’t we set up camp and get you something to eat, son?”
A warm feeling, which Ali-Samuel didn’t understand, rushed through his chest.
He spent about a month on Fire Island with Ali-Steven, Gamelda and Dragon-Eyes, and left feeling like a new person.
They warned him about using revenge as motivation, but Ali-Samuel wanted to oust all the people who had made his life hellish in the castle, including King Ali-Stanley. He decided if Ryen was still alive, his uncle would be one of the few to survive as he envisioned his father’s takeover.
After a long boat trip and ride across the kingdom, the imposing King’s Castle appeared from a great distance. He had been scouting the entire trip for a direct path for his father’s return with a huge army force. He had also been asked to inspect the Capitol and find some areas of compromised protection.
“Thank you, Gamelda,” he said.
She looked at the young man and advised, “You’ve been through some harsh times. Use them to make you stronger, not bitter.” She heeled her horse and took off for Morningdale.
He rode past the training yard and his Uncle Ryen was teaching swordplay to some boys. His uncle rushed over to give him a big hug. Ryen raised his eyebrows and stared at Ali-Samuel.
The young man blurted out, “I saw him. I saw my father.”
Ryen looked into Ali-Samuel’s eyes and asked, “First, how are you still alive? They said everyone died in the attack against Havasu. They said the Black Jackets didn’t take any prisoners.”
Ali-Samuel smiled and said, “They took one prisoner, but he escaped.”
“And then you just bumped into your father?”
Ali-Samuel clarified, “He found me, to be exact, but as chance would have it, he was searching for the Pearl of Wisdom too.”
An excited Ryen asked, “How is he? How did he look? How did he sound?”
Ali-Samuel answered, “Well, he sounds better than he looks, that’s for sure. He seemed in great spirits for a man in his situation. He wants to come back soon.”
“Great, let’s go talk to Ali-Stanley right now. I know he will let him come back if we convince him,” Ryen said.
Ali-Samuel shook his head. “He’s not returning like that. He wants his throne back.”
Ryen’s eyes widened. “Does he have an army to back his claim?”
“Not yet. He’s trying to build one now. He’s not going to be back for quite some time, but he promised to return to Donegal.”
“Are you certain it was him?” Ryen wanted to know.
“Yes, I saw the scar on his belly,” Ali-Samuel told him.
“It’s a pretty distinct mark,” Ryen added.
“Come, see the King with me. I want you to be there when he sees you and me, side by side as a reminder that we will survive any situation we are thrown into. He’s tried to get rid of us, but we just won’t die.” The young man chuckled.
“Yes, our unit of two hundred claimed victory over the Goldenfield force of over one thousand. I was as nervous as I’ve ever been before the battle commenced. I’ve never seen men from Fox Chapel fight the way our warriors did that day. Everyone fought leaps and bounds above their actual skill level and nobody tired, which was evidenced in the victory celebration afterwards. The King tried to get rid of all two hundred, but fifty of us survived, much to his dismay.”
A guard opened the door to the close council meeting to let the Wamhoff men in. Ali-Samuel made eye contact with the King and flashed a huge smile. The King’s face went pale and he looked like he was going to be ill. He tried to look happy, but sported a look of great confusion.
The King said, “They told us that your entire company had perished. It’s a great joy to see you again.”
Ali-Samuel noticed a stark contrast from the mad King he had seen before leaving.
The young man said, “They only took one prisoner because they couldn’t kill me. They could only keep me locked away for a few days.”
“How did you escape?” King Ali-Stanley wanted to know.
“I’ll spare you the boring details, but several men sacrificed their lives trying to stop me. I had to sneak around Fire Island until I caught a ship headed for Donegal.”
They don’t need to know how I escaped.
“We should schedule a feast to honor your return,” suggested Ryen.
Chapter 9
Several Years Later...
The wild emerald waves crashed into each other as Ali-Samuel paced back and forth on the deck of the Misty Robin. He went down to his cabin and opened the leather shoulder bag again. A dying candle gained life as it yearned to light up the jade crown of Parismore.
This exotic jade looked like it had been mixed with emeralds and had an unusual sparkle to it. The thick, open crown had seventeen small points extending up from the band in a marvel of craftsmanship.
He had been sent on this mission five years ago and contact with Donegal had stopped three years ago. He knew everyone back home assumed he was dead and some probably wished for it. News of the death of King Larimore would have reached Donegal, but only one man knew that Ali-Samuel Wamhoff possessed the crown.
Ali-Samuel and his partner had eliminated all twelve associates involved in the mission to prevent jealousy over the crown turning into murder. He knew he had something many people coveted, which put his life in constant danger, a normal feeling for the lifetime warrior.
A sharp knock at the door startled the twenty-nine-year-old and made his heart jump. He wrapped up the crown and put it back in the roll bag before opening the door a crack. He identified the person and put the knife in his right hand back in its sheath as he opened the door fully.
Ali-Steven Wamhoff ducked to get into the small cabin. The older man was a stark contrast in body and mind to his son.
“We’ll be landing on the Androsi Isles soon. This was a good time and we’ll have to do it again.” Ali-Steven smiled at his son.
“I have the perfect kingdom to use this tactic in. Soon Donegal will be weak enough for easy invasion if you can get those barbarians trained,” Ali-Samuel told him.
“They’re coming along, especially in the ship building, but that plan is still a few years away. Luckily, we have Ali-Varis as heir and I can’t wait until he takes over the kingdom. Everything might line up at exactly the right time. I’ve always wished for Ali-Stanley’s death, but now I need him to hang on for just a bit longer.”
“You should take all that gold and ditch the barbarians to move north and find some fighting companies to join your side. The barbarians can’t beat a trained force of civilized men,” Ali-Samuel argued.
“Watch me turn them into a murderous force unlike any the civilized man has seen. I’m training them for battle discipline right now,” Ali-Steven explained.
“And how is that going?” his son asked.
“When a man learn
s to do something one way for his entire life, changing that thinking can be very difficult.”
“This is my stop. Keep sending the ravens. I don’t know how they get to Histomanji and back to Donegal, but obviously they do. We will be rewarded soon when we take back our realm.”
“Safe travels, father,” Ali-Samuel said.
Ali-Samuel seriously questioned if his father could make the Histoman people into a viable fighting force. They were looked at as a bunch of barbarians incapable of fighting a disciplined battle.
The door opened and shut and Ali-Steven Wamhoff left his son again to return to Histomanji.
Three weeks later, Ali-Samuel stared at the King’s Castle as he rode along a familiar path. He passed the tourney grounds and saw that Ryen was teaching some young men how to secure a lance properly for a tilt if their breast plates didn’t have an arret. The pupils watched closely and hung on Ryen’s every word as Ali-Samuel approached the demonstration.
A great smile came over Ryen’s face as he made eye contact with Ali-Samuel.
His uncle said, “They just can’t kill you, can they?”
Both men got down from their horses and hugged.
“I will never die, great uncle. Death itself is afraid of me.”
“So it seems.”
“What’s new around here?” Ali-Samuel wondered.
“Depends on what you already know. Do you know about the new Queen?” Ryen asked.
“So it is true. Parys is dead.” Ali-Samuel felt a rare stroke of sympathy. Parys had always treated him with respect although he had minimal contact with the former queen.
“From a fever, it would seem,” Ryen explained.
“Seems rather questionable. Most people don’t die from fever,” Ali-Samuel said.
“Just like everything around the Capitol, there is a mystery involved and it still persists. Ali-Stanley moped around the castle for a year until he went to Burkeville and came home with a new Queen named Emilia,” Ryen informed him.
Plight of the Perfect Prince Page 11
