by Mike Shelton
“But we shouldn’t worry about that just now, since I don’t think you have pulled that much power in yet. As untrained as you are. You are most likely in the beginning and weaker stages of your powers.”
Danijela’s frown turned to a quick smile—a mischievous one. She motioned for the High Wizard to follow her out the back door of the large estate. They walked east down a small sloping meadow, away from the household and prying eyes. Olan didn’t know where she was taking him.
Finally, they stopped at the side of a small hill. He could tell pieces of rock had somehow been taken out, he presumed for the building of the estate. He turned to the young girl and was just about to say something when she held her hands up in the air, turned them around, and pointed them at the hillside.
A small rumbling ensued, in which rocks came free of the hold in the earth—large rocks, larger than Olan could imagine. They floated through the air and landed in front of him. The power it took to do that with such finesse amazed him. Once again, he started to speak, but stopped when he could tell Danijela had not finished her performance.
She moved her arms in circular motions, a wide, ecstatic smile stretching from one side of her face to the other. He watched as the rock became fluid and shaped itself into smaller blocks, piled on one another, creating a small, child-sized play structure shaped as a small castle. Extending her hand once again, Danijela drew scraps of dead wood toward her in the air and placed them in neat rows on top of the structure as a roof.
High Wizard Sallir’s mouth hung open in surprise. In all his years of teaching, in all his years of traveling, and in all his years of advising kings and rulers across the Kingdom of Arc, he had never witnessed such finesse and precision with the magic of earth powers. He plopped his large frame down on the ground with a grunt, breathing harder than the young girl was. He didn’t know what to say.
Danijela sat down next to him. “Oppa? Are you all right?” They had known each other since she was a small child. When she was little, she used to call him her Oppa. He guessed he was old enough to be her grandfather many times over. She hadn’t used that term of affection in recent years, a sign she was getting older and growing up. But using it now almost brought tears to his eyes. He had witnessed what might be the beginnings of the most powerful earth wizard to walk the western lands.
Olan let a small smile crease his wrinkled face. “My child. My sweet, sweet child. I am more than all right.” He put his arm around her and pulled her in to a close hug. “Do you know how special you are, Danijela?”
“I told my father I could be a queen.”
“Oh, no, no, no. You are not meant to be a queen.”
Danijela frowned. “Why not?” She began to get up.
Olan carefully brought her back down to the ground with a firm but soft hand on her shoulder. He looked at her sparkling green eyes. “My dear young girl, you are destined to be so much more. Kings and queens will bow to you someday.”
“Because I can move rocks?” Danijela squinted up at him, her full cheeks flushed.
The High Wizard smiled at her innocence. “You don’t even know your powers yet, and you can do more with those powers than wizards who have studied for decades. I am not sure even then they have the finesse and softness of touch that you do despite your lack of training.”
The wizard then stood, pulling the young girl up after him. “We need to talk to your father immediately. You will need to prepare to leave in a week’s time. “
“Leave? Where to?” she asked.
“Why, with me, to the Conclave of Wizards, to be my personal apprentice. To learn more of your magic, to become one of the greatest wizards the world has known.”
Chapter One
(One year later In the Realm)
THE NEW KING
“Father, stop!” Darius yelled louder than he intended. The lamps in the room flickered from his burst of powerful emotions. Standing up too quickly, he almost knocked over the high-backed, cushioned chair. Papers fluttered off the end of the table they worked at. A scribe, one of three others in the room, reached down to pick up the letters and information. Two other servants waited for any further commands from the King or his father, the first councilor.
“I must leave on my honeymoon. No more papers, no more letters, no more signatures. I trust you can run things without me for a few weeks.” He wasn’t mad at his father, just frustrated that things were taking so long.
Richard San Williams looked up at his son, Darius, the recently crowned King of the Realm, a questioning look in his eyes. Darius saw a lot of himself in his father. The dark brown hair and gray eyes were similar, but Darius’s skin was lighter, taking after his mother. And unlike his father, he was clean-shaven.
Darius offered a pleading smile, trying to take the sting away from his earlier outburst. “Father, you ran the Realm side by side with King Edward for years before he died. I’ve only been King for three months now. I hardly even understand half of what I am signing. I do trust you.” He looked his father in the eyes. His father had ample reason to doubt his son’s sincerity. Most of Darius’s life, he had hated his father’s involvement in politics and his lack of attention and understanding of anything outside of his noble circles. Darius had vowed many times to never be a part of politics. Three months ago, that all changed.
Darius DarSan Williams had been named heir to the throne of the Realm three months before. King Edward, although not an old man, had died a week later from what they now assumed was a slow poison. He had left no children to inherit after him. The strange, though legal, ascension to the throne was brought about by the fact Darius was the great-grandson of King Charles, the previous King before Edward. King Charles had disowned his firstborn son Alric, due to him marrying a girl from the farmlands, outside of nobility. Edward, Charles’s second son, had then inherited the throne instead. None of this had been known by Darius, his father, or most of the people in the Realm.
In the last week of Edward’s life, he had informed young Darius, who was barely twenty, of the injustice done and the intention to restore the throne back to the line of the firstborn. Richard, who had been alive when the decree from King Charles came down, had also been banned from inheriting the throne, but not Darius.
Richard had been a councilor to King Edward and now remained as a councilor to Darius. It made for a strange relationship with father being advisor to the son, but both of them were trying to work it out among themselves.
“There are some things that do require your attention, Darius.” Richard brought Darius back to the present. “You are the King.”
Darius sighed. “I know. I know. I am trying to come to grips with that.”
“And you are not a bad King either. I have seen you mete out mercy to balance justice. The people like you. You are young, and you and your new wife make a handsome couple for the people of the Realm to be proud of.”
Darius had not heard such praise from his father before. Maybe he wasn’t doing such a bad job. It did seem overwhelming at times. He could not imagine what ruling would be like without his growing powers. They had awakened in him fifteen months earlier when he had brought a flame forth in his palm when he and his best friend Kelln had been locked in a dark library basement. Since then, he had come to grips that he was in reality a wizard, one with strong powers of the heart. This along with the inherited power of the throne made Darius the first Wizard King in a long time, something the Realm had not had for hundreds of years.
“I will be back in one hour. Have ready only those items absolutely requiring my attention.” Darius smiled at Richard. “I cannot keep my Christine waiting forever. A young bride deserves a honeymoon, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does, though I am afraid it will be a working honeymoon. Traveling the Realm and her neighbors is not all fun and games, my son.”
“I understand. But I will do it with her by my side.”
The oil lamps blazed brighter as Darius left the study. He walked the hallways of t
he castle, an attendant guard always following close behind him. Darius realized he could take care of himself, but most of the other men had not grasped the situation yet. Any danger that might arise he could minimize or eliminate with his wizard powers. The servants and guards were still uncomfortable and nervous talking about or even admitting their master was both a wizard and a King. A King they could understand: he was just flesh and blood like them. A wizard, however, carried too many unknowns and still some resentful feelings from the past when wizards hadn’t always stayed within the boundaries of the law.
Darius still struggled for total control of his power, though he improved each week. As a wizard of the heart, he was ruled by his emotions, though more often than not now he was able to use love and positive feelings rather than hate and negative ones to do what he desired. This was one of the reasons he was so excited to be leaving on his honeymoon. Part of their itinerary would bring him to the Empire of Gildan, where he would be reunited with his friend Mezar. Mezar, the second heir to the throne in Gildan, was also a wizard—a wizard of the mind—and had mentioned a school and library of learning for wizards in the Gildanian Empire. Darius needed more information about his powers and what to expect from them.
There was no one in the Realm to ask about his powers. One other wizard he had met was known as the Preacher, a man who had tried to take the rule of one of the Realm’s major cities, Belor. His powers were part inherited and somewhat learned. The learned portion was a darker side and had been taught to the man while traveling to the eastern kingdoms, across the Blue Sea. The Preacher, through the apparent help of his daughter, Alessandra, had escaped on the day of Darius’s coronation. He had taken Sean San Ghant, the son of a minor noble, with him, the same man who had tried to kidnap Darius before he was King to gain power and privilege he thought he deserved. Darius had sent Kelln, his best friend and now his ambassador, to travel to Mar, where they suspected the Preacher and his daughter to be.
The halls of the large rock castle sat empty this time of day. He guessed most of the people were getting ready to gather outside. The royal couple would be leaving on their belated honeymoon, and the streets were sure to be full of on-lookers.
Voices yelling outside a window caught the King’s attention right before entering his suite of rooms. He stopped and looked down from four floors up and saw a scuffle outside the city gates.
“Get the outsider out of our castle,” one man yelled.
“Put her back in the fields,” another said.
Castle guards tried to gather up the rowdy group of five men. By the King’s orders, they were not to be punished or jailed, only taken back to their homes with a warning to stay away from the castle.
For the first few weeks as King, those who couldn’t accept his impending and announced marriage to someone outside of the walls of Anikari frustrated and angered him. He tried to drive the dissenters away. However, he had over time developed pity and even compassion for them. They had lived in a land so divided by prejudice for so long, it would take some time to be accepting of everyone.
The farmers, referred to as outsiders by much of the city dwellers, had not been looked upon well since the wizard uprising generations before. A group of wizards had tried to take over the rule of the Realm in Anikari. As a result, the most powerful ones were eventually killed while the lesser ones were taken outside the city walls and told to make their living in the farmlands. Since then, the blood of those lesser wizards and the farmers had mixed and diluted, seeming to have eradicated most signs of magic. Ever since, the city dwellers had a tendency to hate wizards, magic, and those that lived in the farmlands.
Darius had met, befriended, and eventually married a girl from the farmlands. That, along with his wizard powers, had shaken things up in the capital city of Anikari. It now saddened him to overhear such harsh words about his wife, their Queen.
The door to their chambers opened, and Darius’s heart leaped with joy. The sight of his wife, Christine Anderssn DarSan Williams drove away all feelings but one: love—unabashed, unbiased, all-consuming love. The King gathered the Queen in his arms and kissed her with fervent passion, one hand around her thin waist while the other stroked the back of her long blonde hair. Power engulfed his body and soared into hers. Each could sense the deep feelings of the other.
“Don’t worry about them,” Christine whispered, nodding her head toward the window. “Give them time.”
“I know they need time. It’s hard to fully understand how so many people could have so much animosity toward those living in the farmlands. It isn’t right.”
Christine backed away from Darius but held his hands in front of her. “No, it isn’t right, but you have done more to help rectify that situation than anyone. You helped secure the city from the Preacher with both farmers and city guards; you have named a farmer to your council, and have made the rules easier for children in the farmlands to get a better education.”
“I just wish they could see you like I do, Christine. I wish they could know you like I do.”
“Remember the day we met?” Christine mused. “You had no complaints about helping me back to my home after I fell and hurt my ankle. You are different from them. You accept everyone. It is a gift you have.”
“You had me smitten the first time you looked up from the ground with those bewitching green eyes of yours.”
Christine laughed and hugged her husband again. He rested his head on top of hers for a moment. “Just be patient.”
“I only wish it would change quicker.” He walked with Christine into their rooms. The early autumn sunlight streaming in danced along the floor, lightening the mood. Darius smiled.
At the end of the promised hour, he returned to the study with his father. Some documents regarding the leadership in Belor and a new trade agreement with Gildan dominated his time. Mezar had made sure that Emperor Alrishitar of Gildan knew of Darius’s desire for peace on all fronts.
The last piece of correspondence would be a letter to Kelln in Mar. Kelln El’Han, a redheaded son of Anikari’s once-famous sword maker, was Darius’s best friend since childhood. His jovial, happy, not-worried-about-getting-into-trouble attitude had subdued somewhat over the last year. Kelln’s travels to Belor and ultimate imprisonment by the Preacher had affected him deeply. He was now in Mar on official business, searching for the escaped Preacher and shoring up the local government that had problems with corruption. Unofficially, he was looking for the beautiful and captivating daughter of the Preacher, Alessandra El’Lan. She had captured and intrigued Kelln’s heart multiple times but had betrayed him as many times since. She was thought to be searching for her mother in Mar.
Darius had also asked Kelln to attend to some needs on White Island, the island where the herd masters raised and took care of the Cremelino horses that were used by the King. Through Lightning, one of their own that Darius had given to Christine on her sixteenth birthday, the other Cremelinos had been reaching out to his mind for something. Kelln was tasked with finding out what he could until Darius had a chance to travel to the island.
Finished up with the last minute documents, he shook hands with his father, gave a few more final directions to some of his other councilors, and headed to the front of the castle to begin his honeymoon journey.
An hour later, he still stood in the castle courtyard. As the King, everything took longer. Short speeches to give, dignitaries to placate, entourages to put together, and guards to ride lookout in front of and behind the royal couple. Darius and Christine, changing protocol, had decided to ride on horseback rather than in a carriage.
“Your Majesty,” the captain of the castle guard admonished. “This will make it much more difficult to guard and protect you, being out in the open like this.”
They still tended to treat him as a vulnerable young man.
“Roland, I have told you many times: I am not defenseless.” He would have to teach a lesson now or they would continue to second guess him the entire excur
sion. “Take your sword and come at me.”
Roland’s eyes opened wide. “My . . . my Lord. Never. I cannot do that.” Roland stood facing his King. The man’s leather vest accentuated the muscles bulging from his arms and chest. His stature, square face, and short, dark hair, were the epitome of the royal guard.
“Do it,” Darius ordered. His jaw was set firm, and his broadening shoulders held still under his red and black attire.
Roland came at his King, bringing up his sword to strike him. About a foot away from Darius, Roland’s sword hit something solid in the clear air. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried again harder. Sweat formed on his brow. The air around Darius held firm. With a flick of his wrist, Darius used his power to grab the sword out of the captain’s hand and threw the blade to the ground.
“I can protect myself,” he said with maybe too much arrogance, but he had to make a point.
Roland picked the sword up from the ground and bowed low to the new King. “I am chastened, my Lord. Forgive my questioning.” The captain’s face reddened.
Darius softened, realizing an embarrassed and possibly disgruntled captain could be detrimental and dangerous. “No forgiveness is required. You are encouraged to question me in my safety. However, please don’t keep asking once my decision is made.” He smiled to try and lighten the moment, his gray eyes holding only friendship toward the man.
The King turned to the rest of the crowd. “As of today, I promote Captain Roland Leeds from captain of the castle guard to captain commander of my own personal guard. He will ride with me today and will be in charge of the safety of our entire entourage as we travel through the Realm and to our neighboring kingdoms.”
Roland blushed again, the embarrassment looking out of place on the large, fit soldier. “Thank you, my Lord. You are most kind.”
“I trust you can be ready to leave in a few moments?” he asked his new captain commander. “I am anxious to begin.”
“Of course. A soldier is always ready.” Roland began barking commands at the other guards who would be accompanying the group.
