The Path Of Peace (The Cremelino Prophecy Book 3)

by Mike Shelton

  It was the type of day Darius usually gloried in, the type of day to lift his spirits. Today all he saw in his mind was his wife. Only wed hardly five months now, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. Not after all they had been through. Not after the persecutions she had suffered in the farmlands, not after the year they had spent apart, not after having her by his side at last. The Diamond Palace was still being constructed for her, a palace set in the meadow by the Lake of Reflection, a place they had spent so much time in as teenagers. The place where she had first kissed him, and where he had asked her to marry him. It would be a grand home away from the castle, where she could enjoy the surrounding farmlands and forest.

  Gazing up into the pass, he wiped a tear from his eye. He had met an ambassador from Arc once when younger. His father had introduced him to Darius—an advisor to the King, a large man named Olan Sallir. The thing he most remembered was his vivid green cloak. How dare they take his wife.

  “They will not have her!” he growled. “Faster,” he called out, and the pace of the three-hundred-man cavalry picked up speed, though they were no match for him and the Cremelinos.

  * * *

  Sean stood next to Bronwyn. Bronwyn was a man of action. Sean liked that. The prince was someone that actually got things done.

  He remembered back to the night that High Wizard Sallir and Bronwyn’s sister Danijela had interrupted Bronwyn and his men’s meal. Bronwyn ordered his men to ambush the High Wizard as he slept in a nearby inn. However, the wizard and his apprentice girl had outmaneuvered them. When the prince’s men arrived and attacked the room, only a straw dummy met their resistance. Bronwyn was furious and tore the room apart, threatening the innkeeper with sudden death if he did not tell Bronwyn where the two had gone.

  All the innkeeper knew was the High Wizard had paid for two rooms and then left, traveling west down the road. After pleading for his life, the men let the innkeeper go with the order that if he saw the High Wizard again, he was to inform Bronwyn or one of his men.

  Now Sean stood next to the prince in a small valley on the border of the two kingdoms, surveying the armed men in front of them.

  “They are all here, sir,” a guard informed the prince. “We are five hundred strong.”

  Bronwyn smiled. “Perfect. An honor guard for the King of the Realm.”

  “Oh, I look forward to seeing his surprised face,” Sean said.

  “Will his wife be with him?” Bronwyn asked.

  “They are inseparable. He clings to her like a sick puppy to its mother,” Sean spat. “He is not worthy of being King, but she is worthy of even less. An ignorant outsider.”

  Sean had never understood Darius’s obsession with the farmlands, his inclination to spend more time there than in the city. He didn’t know how Darius had tricked King Edward into allowing him to be the next King. It must be his powers. Sean could not deny that Darius was a wizard of some sort, but he did not believe the story of him being the grandson of King Charles.

  “So the plan is to receive him with honor. He will have only a small retinue with him. We will have a dinner to celebrate, and in his wine we will put the poison that will reduce his powers.” The prince looked down the pass. “Then once his powers are reduced, he will meet with an unfortunate accident in the mountains, one that we will regretfully inform the Realm of and offer our condolences and sympathy.”

  “Then we will take Sur,” Sean added with a gleam in his eyes. “A nice expansion to the kingdom. Are your other men in place?”

  “Yes, I sent men to Sur, Tean, and the other local villages to stir up trouble. This whole region will erupt into chaos overnight.”

  “Then I will inform my master all is ready for the complete destruction of the Realm.”

  The prince turned to Sean. “Your benefactor must be very powerful. Who is he again?”

  Sean didn’t fall for the bait. The prince had continued to try and pry the information from him. Sean walked a tight line since the Preacher was a wizard and Bronwyn hated them. “Let’s just say he has your interest in mind.”

  Bronwyn frowned. “Or is he using me for his interests?”

  A fast rider approached, saving Sean from having to lie again to the prince. The rider informed them that King Darius did indeed ride to meet them, but he had over three hundred men at his back. They were riding fast and would be there soon. Bronwyn didn’t seem worried. He ordered his men to be ready.

  In less than an hour, the King rode up into the pass. He sat splendidly on a large white horse, dressed with a circlet on his brow and silver armor adorning his body. A flowing purple cape hung down over the armor and a red shirt. Four guards rode on each side, obviously men from Anikari, with a battalion of riders behind. A few horses snorted and stomped, but for the most part the entire company stopped as if on cue.

  A slight breeze blew across the small valley in the pass. High rocky mountain slopes guarded the north and south. Silence hung in the air.

  Darius, Wizard King of the Realm, shattered the silence. “Where is my wife? Where have you taken her?”

  The question shocked Sean, the prince, and the other men. What was the King talking about? Prince Bronwyn glared at Sean.

  Sean shrugged. “Her horse is empty.” Sean motioned toward the other white horse next to Darius.

  “What game is he playing at, Sean San Ghant?” the prince asked. “Have you led me into a trap?”

  “No, no!” Sean backed up a few steps.

  Bronwyn, still standing a fair distance away, lifted his voice. “I know nothing of the queen, Your Majesty. You invited us to meet with you on your tour of the Realm. We are here to honor the Realm’s newest King.”

  “My wife has been taken by your soldiers, men dressed all in black with a gold insignia, just like the one on your left breast,” the King roared back, hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Sean saw fear flash across the prince’s face. The prince looked around his group, as if to ask if anyone knew what the King was talking about. Sean moved up behind him.

  “He lies, my Prince.” Sean was furious at this apparent setback. “He uses trickery to goad us into action.”

  “Why? Why would he do this? Unless he has a reason to.” Bronwyn looked angrily at Sean. “You are a Realm man. Maybe you set this as a trap for me.” He motioned one of his men to take custody of Sean.

  “We are here at your request,” Bronwyn replied back to the King. “We supposed your wife would be with you.”

  “But she is not,” Darius boomed, his voice shaking the ground they all stood on. He took a few steps closer on his horse. “Approach me with two of your men, and we will discuss this further.”

  Bronwyn motioned for two of his best fighters to join him, then as he stepped forward, he grabbed a hold of Sean. “You will come with me also. We will see how your King reacts to seeing you, a Realm noble here in Arc.”

  Sean struggled, but the prince’s strength kept him held. “This is not necessary, my Prince. I am sure the King hardly even knows me.” He didn’t know how Darius would react to him there. It would not look good. He hated Darius personally and had been part of a plan to kidnap him once. Having escaped from prison with the Preacher, Sean was sure Darius would take delight in taking him back into custody.

  Bronwyn approached King Darius with his two men and Sean in tow. The small group stopped within twenty feet of the King, who had dismounted and approached alone.

  “Sean!” the King bellowed suddenly, his voice bouncing off the walls of the mountains. “What are you doing here?”

  Sean tried to back up, but Bronwyn held him tight.

  “He is with me for now,” Bronwyn answered, “though the outcome of this discussion will show whether he is still useful to me or not.”

  Sean went pale and wondered how he would get out of the situation. He had to think fast. Either side would kill him in a moment if he didn’t do something.

  “This is all a misunderstanding, Your Majesty.” Bronwyn bowed his he
ad to the King of the Realm. “I am Bronwyn Anwar, eldest son of King Anwar. I was sent here at your request. We do not understand the questions about the queen. We are here to feast with you in celebration.”

  “There will be no celebration,” Darius stated.

  “We are sorry to hear that. My men were looking forward to greeting their neighboring ruler.”

  “Why so many men, Prince Anwar?” Darius asked. His knuckles turned white on his sword hilt.

  “As an honor.”

  “Or as an army,” Darius said. “I will ask once again. Why did your men take my wife, and where is she?”

  Sean looked around. The battalion behind Darius firmed up. Swords were drawn and made ready. The men behind Bronwyn moved closer, unaware that even though they had more numbers, the Realm had superior fighters. Sean still didn’t understand what Darius was asking, but knowing him as he did, he knew this was no ruse. Darius was compassionate to a fault, Sean knew, though his temper was something to be afraid of, especially with his newfound powers. Something had happened to the queen and for some reason, Darius thought the Kingdom of Arc was behind it.

  Darius turned his attention from Bronwyn to Sean. “Sean, are you behind the kidnapping of my wife?”

  “No, no, my Lord, never.” Sean trembled at the crackle of power in Darius’s gray eyes.

  Darius fired rapid questions at Sean. “Where is the Preacher? What are his plans? What are you doing here? Where is Alessandra?”

  “Not everyone loves you, Darius Williams.” Sean left off the honorifics of his name on purpose. “You don’t deserve the throne. You don’t deserve what you have.” Sean’s only chance at this point was to start the battle and escape in the midst of it. He knew Darius’s temper and was intent on using it fully to his advantage. “You can’t even keep track of your little farmer girl.” Sean spat the final insult.

  Darius drew his sword, and lightning ran across the length of it, escaping into the sky. Thunder rolled through the air as he pushed his left hand out against Bronwyn’s army, many of them having a hard time standing in the sudden gust of wind.

  “Christine!” Darius yelled a deafening yell that cascaded with power over the entire valley. Trees split down the middle, and rocks fell down the side of the steep mountain walls. Horses stamped their feet as the ground shook. The Realm soldiers began to push forward. Darius swiped his sword at Sean, but in his blind rage somehow missed him.

  Sean pulled away from the prince who retreated back to his men, and ran away from the battle. Calvary on both sides surged forward and took up formation.

  Darius remounted his horse and motioned his men forward with one thrust of his arm. Bronwyn did the same. Over eight hundred horse-mounted soldiers clashed together, either avenging their King or fighting for their prince.

  The battle had begun.

  Chapter Eleven

  CHRISTINE

  Christine awoke but kept her eyes closed so as not to alert her captors. She sent out her mind to try and find Lightning but sensed nothing. That had happened more often of late, and she was becoming worried that the companion she'd had for the past two years would soon leave her altogether. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a wizard.

  The queen of the Realm laid on soft blankets and caught the sound of distant voices. She guessed it was afternoon by the strength of the sun through her closed eyelids. Her head throbbed, and her stomach felt nauseous again.

  Opening her lids lightly and turning her head, she ascertained she was alone in the room for the moment. The walls held a cream-colored plaster with pleasant art hanging in organized fashion around the room. The bed sat high up off the floor with lavish quilts covering its frame. High class abductors, she surmised.

  Her mind cleared, and she started to remember fragments of the last few days. After Lighting had left her at Sur, the men in black gagged her and placed a dark sack over her head. They had ridden fast and far before stopping that night. She’d been allowed to eat and relieve herself on the way but not speak. That first night they stayed in a barn, and she had not slept well.

  The next day, they covered her head again and rode through the day. At one time she’d heard a struggle and found herself being carried off the horse and told to remain silent. Although they dressed like men from Arc when they took her, they were definitely from further south. The few words they used and the food they brought along signaled them as being from Gildan. She was not well-versed in either culture, but she knew they were not heading through the pass to Arc, most likely south to Gildan.

  The door opened, and a young man came in. His light brown face, dark hair, and slightly upturned eyes set him as Gildan before he even spoke.

  “Would you like some food?” His accent was heavy but understandable.

  “Just some water,” she said. Thinking of food made her stomach roil.

  The young man returned a few minutes later with a cool glass of water.

  “Where am I?” she asked, knowing she probably wouldn’t get an answer.

  As expected, the young man stayed silent and then took back the glass when it was empty.

  He left, and she laid back down. They must have arrived here, wherever here was, the prior evening. It was dark when they ushered her into the room. Looking down, she noticed she still wore her riding clothes from many days previous.

  She stood and took a few minutes for her shaky legs to stabilize. Walking over to a small window, she peered outside. Her captors had brought her to a large complex on a hill. She had the view of a city, a very large one, one that went as far as she could see. The famed white-domed roofs told her where she had been taken.

  “Gildan,” she said out loud as the door opened.

  “Very good, my dear.” The man closed the door behind him.

  “Why am I here?” She tried to be regal but knew her clothes looked anything other.

  “Simply as a tool of negotiation.”

  “Negotiate for what?” Christine found herself instantly afraid of this man. His calmness belied a hint of madness underneath. His hair was dark, holding light hints of gray. He dressed in battle attire, which gave added dimension to his thin but muscled body. Without Lightning to give her support, she found herself wavering in front of him.

  “Negotiation for the Realm.”

  Christine looked at the man carefully. He resembled Mezar somewhat. The same mouth and eyes, though on this man they were arrogant and angry, while on Mezar they held eagerness and joy.

  “Do you know who I am?” he asked.

  Christine shook her head, trying to buy time as she formulated a plan.

  The man moved closer to where she stood by the window. “I think you do.”

  Christine stayed silent. She tried to move further away from him, but the room was too small.

  He stretched his hand out in front of him and, without any physical effort, lifted her off the floor mere inches. He bound her arms with air to her sides and brought her closer to him. She could smell his foul breath. Fear gripped her heart. This man was a powerful wizard.

  “I will be your next King.” The man’s heavy breath was warm on her face. “I will rule Gildan and the Realm with an iron fist, not like the current Emperor or your pitiful husband. I have heard of his weaknesses: his temper, his tenuous hold on his emotions, his compassion.” The last was said with malice, tiny drops of spittle hitting Christine’s face.

  He lowered her to the ground and unbound her arms. Christine wiped the drops of spit from her face.

  “I am General Alrishitar, heir to the throne of the Gildanian Empire. Mezar has told me about you and your pathetic King,” the man said.

  Christine took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe Mezar had anything to do with this man. He had stood by Darius even though Darius had taken him prisoner.

  “You want to know how I will rule the Realm?” The general seemed proud to share his plans, his ingenuity. Although terrified, Christine tried to play cool and get as much information out of him as she could. S
he could tell his ego had no bounds, and so she fed it with a compliment. “You do seem to have everything figured out, general. I can see why Mezar spoke so highly of you.”

  The general looked surprised but pleased. “He did?’

  Christine fed him another lie. “Oh, yes. When he was in Anikari at my husband’s coronation, he told me how great your empire was and that someday you would be the next Emperor and lead Gildan to greater heights.”

  The general nodded his head. “That is right. Gildan will be the mightiest power in the west when I am Emperor.”

  “My husband is a new King.” Christine brought him back to the conversation. “But he is smart and has the Realm army at his back. You must have a complicated plan to take over the Realm.” Christine feigned innocence. She knew of Darius’s powers and that Mezar would also never let anything happen to the Realm.

  The general walked a few steps away from her. “My plan is easy. Your husband thinks you’ve been stolen by men from Arc. He will start a war with them, and while his attention is elsewhere, I will send an army into the Realm, taking it piece by piece, starting in Denir, annexing each parcel of the Realm to the empire, one city at a time. By the time your dear husband and King find out what has happened, he will be depleted from his war with Arc, and I will be on the verge of taking Anikari.”

  “What about me?” Christine drew out the mad man’s plans as far as she could.

  “Ah. In the end, he will hand over control of the Realm to me as a trade for you. I know of his weakness for you. He will do anything for his young wife. He will not be able to resist.”

  Now that Christine understood part of the man’s plan, she became bolder. “He is powerful. He may stop you, General.”

  “He is an untrained dog with powers he does not understand. I am one of the most powerful wizards in Gildan. He will bow before me and my power. He will grovel at my feet.” The general raised his voice to a fevered pitch, veins popping out from his neck.