Brothers of Blood (Fall of a King Book 2)

by James Fuller

  Travel in such weather was grim and often deadly. By now, most of the barbarian tribes would be at Mandrake or Dragon’s Cove where they would fortify during this time. Yes, all was going nearly according to plan.

  His mind returned to the task at hand - he could hear the silent, but still clumsily placed footsteps, coming from the side of him. He grinned to himself, knowing how easy it would be to dispose of the nuisance that tried to approach him unnoticed. He had to wonder why Ursa had not taken up two full-time apprentices - he could have easily have managed both.

  Even though Keithen was awkward and not overly bright, there was still potential to be had…a certain raw, untapped power resided within him. He was eager and his less than full intellect worked in Astaroth’s favor - the boy never questioned him and always did as he was told, making him the perfect pawn.

  Astaroth knew Keithen was only twenty paces away, though he had heard him from a hundred, as any decent soldier would have. He made more noise than an animal blundering through the brush away from a predator. Finally, Astaroth had enough and two thin icicles crystallized down from his palms. With a single motion - too fast for Keithen to react to - Astaroth rammed both deep into the poor boy’s legs, dropping him in mid-step in a heap of agonized screams. Astaroth was by his side in a blink and held his hand hard over Keithen’s mouth, smothering his pathetic wails.

  “Silence yourself!” Astaroth hissed, but Keithen hardly noticed. “I said silence!” Astaroth snarled again, giving him a hard shake and forcing him to look up. “I will heal you and stop the pain… just be silent!”

  Slowly, Astaroth removed his hand from Keithen’s mouth. The loud wails had tapered off, but he still whimpered pathetically, tears streaming down his pain-stricken face.

  “Why would you do that to me?” Keithen cried, staring at Astaroth as if betrayed by a father.

  “If you are to be my apprentice, then you must trust that I know what I am doing,” Astaroth replied sternly, wanting nothing more than to let the whelp suffer. “I told you to sneak up on me and attack - I heard you from a hundred paces away and gave you ample time to make your move. You did not. I was merely showing you the consequences of not acting in time. Had I been an enemy, you would be dead,” Astaroth informed him, gripping the two ice blades in Keithen’s legs. “I am going to pull them out now - if you cry out, I will kill you.” Keithen’s eyes went wide.

  Astaroth pulled hard, drawing the ice from Keithen’s legs remorselessly. Keithen clamped down on his bottom lip, drawing blood, but he did not cry out, knowing that if he did, it would mean more pain...

  “Good,” Astaroth told him. “Now heal yourself, before you bleed to death.” He grinned as he stood up, walking away as silently as death.

  “What?” Keithen cried out in confusion. “I do not know how! I have never done that before! You cannot leave me like this!” No reply came back. Keithen knew Astaroth had left him to fend for himself, as he had done the night before.

  Astaroth had hired two thugs, offering them a gold each if they killed Keithen and brought the head to him as proof. The drunken thugs had more than eagerly accepted the deal. Keithen had been waiting in one of the city’s few abandoned alleyways for Astaroth to return; instead it was the two thugs who had come. Keithen tried to escape, but they had blocked his only exit. He had tried reasoning with them, but the promise of gold was far more intriguing than anything Keithen could hope to offer.

  He had gotten lucky and realized the danger he was in and had summoned the only ability he was good enough at - his wizard’s fire. Keithen found Astaroth in his room later that night, after he had killed the men. Astaroth explained why those men had tried to kill him and that it was one of many tests he would be put through. He continued by saying that if Keithen were to be a worthy wizard, he had to learn to act on instinct and not be afraid to kill when necessary.

  Again, Keithen was being tested and he knew he would fail if he did not act quickly and failure once again meant death. He placed one hand over each wound and tried his best to concentrate, as he had read in his studies. As usual, nothing happened. He began to panic, which caused his wounds to bleed more. He cursed Ursa under his breath for not spending more time with him and showering all his attention on Meath.

  He knew he had to calm himself if he was going to be able to focus. He took several long, deep breaths, but still the panic coursed through him.

  “I am going to die!” He cursed to himself, trying to fight the waves of nausea and panic. He remembered hearing stories about what some soldiers had to do on the battlefield to stop wounds from bleeding. He cringed at the thought.

  Astaroth watched Keithen from a distance. He would never have believed Keithen would be able to cauterize his own wounds, giving him plenty of time to try to heal himself correctly. Normally Astaroth would not stay to witness what happened, but he needed Keithen. Astaroth hated the thought, but it was true. Keithen was an extra set of eyes and ears that could move freely throughout the castle and gather information that could be useful. Once the time came - and Keithen’s usefulness wore thin, Astaroth would kill him.

  Astaroth was pulled from his thoughts when he spied Keithen standing up and stumblingly around awkwardly. He could see that Keithen had managed to heal his legs partly, though he could tell they would still require some attention.

  “Congratulations, you are still alive,” Astaroth said, revealing himself..

  “I thought you had left me!” Keithen groaned, trying his best not to sound in pain.

  “I stayed to make sure you did not die,” Astaroth told him, trying to sound somewhat sympathetic.

  At first Keithen was glad to hear Astaroth would not have just left him to die, but then he had to wonder if that meant Astaroth did not have faith in him. “You did not believe I could do it, did you?” Keithen asked, disappointed.

  Astaroth wanted nothing more than to kill him right there and then. No, I did not think he could actually do it, that is why I stayed, but he fought the urge and lied. “Of course I believed you could, that is why I did not help. But I stayed behind just in case you needed my assistance.” Astaroth cringed at the words that he had just spoken. “It is nothing to be ashamed of; it is all part of the learning process.”

  “I want to learn more, and faster.” Keithen said eagerly, while Astaroth quickly finished healing his legs. “I want to be stronger and better!”

  “We must be careful… I cannot teach you as fast as you would like. I do not have the time to spend with you like that - only the night, for during the day I am Prince Berrit,” Astaroth reminded him.

  Keithen sulked as they walked back to the castle using an animal trail. “Tomorrow, other wizards are coming to the castle,” Keithen informed him, just remembering the news.

  “Do you know how many?” Astaroth asked, though his features were now those of Prince Berrit.

  “No, but for the next few days a bunch of them will be arriving,” Keithen replied and Astaroth stopped, deep in thought and a wicked grin came over him.

  “Are you sure they do not know how many will be showing up?” Astaroth asked, though his mind was already made up.

  “No one knows for sure, why?” Keithen asked, looking up and seeing the sinful look on Berrit’s face.

  *****

  Master Mervyn paced the battlement, deeply lost in his thoughts. The disappearance of Master Samuel had him confused and concerned. No one had seen him in days and the last one to see him was the young wizard Keithen - who said he had seen Master Samuel head off into the city late in the evening - the night he disappeared. The story reeked of lies but could not be disproven…yet.

  It was unlike Samuel to leave without telling Mervyn - or anyone for that matter - and then to not return. Mervyn truly worried for his friend - he knew something had to be wrong; some ill fate had befallen him.

  All of Mervyn’s suspicions centered on Prince Berrit. There was something about the Zandorian Prince that Mervyn did not like. He was hiding something
and instinct told him if he figured out that secret, it would lead him to his missing friend, or at least closer to the truth.

  “There is something in the air,” Mervyn whispered to himself, staring over the jungle from the northern side of the wall, “something dark and ominous.” As the last words escaped his lips, he spotted two figures lurking in the shadows below. “What do we have here?”

  “Go now, Keithen, and do what I have told you - meet me in my room tomorrow night, when the moon is at its highest,” Prince Berrit whispered and Keithen ran off.

  He smiled smugly, knowing tomorrow night would be a good night indeed, if all went as planned. He turned to start off to his room to get some much needed rest and almost walked straight into Master Mervyn.

  “A little late for a Prince to be up and about, would you not say?” Mervyn mused, gazing brazenly and suspiciously at the prince.

  “What business is it of yours, what a Prince does any time… day or night?” Prince Berrit replied cockily, trying hard to keep his tone in check. He’d been startled by Mervyn, but didn’t want to give the man the pleasure of that knowledge.

  “A lot, when that certain Prince is under suspicion of treasonous doings in the minds of others,” Mervyn replied, his tone steely and dangerous.

  Berrit’s jaw firmed and his posture straightened. “Uttering such accusations is a dangerous thing to do, wizard!” Berrit hissed, matching Mervyn’s glare.

  “Very true - but that is only if they are indeed accusations and not truths,” Mervyn countered. “So what does the Prince of Zandor - who was raised to hate the Gifted - want with a young, inexperienced wizard such as Keithen?” He questioned.

  “I thought the whole purpose of our kingdoms uniting was to draw a truce and to see past all our differences,” Berrit countered. “So why do you believe that because I am doing just that, something is amiss? Might my interest be to understand better, so that I am not so ignorant? Or are you one of those that do not see eye to eye with becoming allies? Maybe it is you, Master Mervyn, who is the one whose conduct should be watched.”

  Mervyn’s eyes narrowed. “Well played, good Prince. But I shall be watching you, as will others. Keep that in mind during your late night adventures and your secret activities.”

  “Maybe you need to join me in a late night adventure sometime,” Berrit said, his tone hinting malice. After a pause, he continued with a smile. “It is late and I should find my bedchamber, would not want anyone to get the wrong impression with me being up and about.”

  Astaroth could hardly contain his rage as he walked through the castle hallways to his room. The urge to burn the castle to the ground and butcher everyone for a thousand miles was tempting. How he wanted to force his plan into action this very moment, though he knew it was not ready, and that only angered him further.

  “What is the matter with you?” He screamed to himself in the mirror, once he was back in his room and the double doors were locked. “How could you be so sloppy and careless?” He raged on himself. “Get it together; another slip up like that could ruin all that I have worked for.”

  As he fumed around his quarters, he began to realize just how much Vashina had helped him. She had always been his eyes, watching his back from the shadows. She would never have let that old wizard catch him like that. She would never have let him be so sloppy and careless. She would have teased and taunted him, making him strive to be smarter and more cunning. How he missed her now - not only was she his partner in this design, she had other benefits … being a woman.

  He had to wonder if that was his problem now. It had been weeks since he had a sexual release… maybe that was all he needed to clear his mind. He dared not risk going out again this night to find himself a whore in the city who would gladly relieve him for a silver. No, he would have to wait until the morrow and then he would head into town and find one of the city’s many brothels.

  The next day was filled with tedious tasks that Astaroth wished he did not have to attend. The council had another meeting with many of the city’s folk and guards, to see what things they could help with – most complaints centered on the overpopulation of Draco in this great time of need. All of them said the same thing; everyone needed more food, more room for families, more medicines for the sick and wounded…more, more, more!

  All things that everyone knew needed to be worked on, it was hardly worth wasting half a day discussing them. But what was worth being there for was the audience with the five wizards who had come to Draco Castle that morning.

  Berrit sat off to the side of the audience chamber, disinterested in taking his place at the head of the table. Lady Tora was doing a fine job of answering most of the questions. She had taken quite well to the role of figurehead, in Draco’s time of need.

  Berrit watched as the large oak doors were pulled wide open, creating a dramatic entrance for the five wizards, who walked confidently into the grand audience chamber. Even from a distance, one would be able to tell they were either of high stature or possessed great power, simply by the way they held themselves.

  Almost instantly, Berrit could feel the tingling of power in the air, and knew these five wizards were dominant in the respective branches of their craft. A mixture of excitement and fear coursed through him and his hands grew clammy. The prospect of strengthening his own powers with those of these new Gifted arrivals made his heart race with anticipation and greed, overwhelming any thoughts of the dangers these men could cause him.

  “My brother! It is good to see you again,” the tallest of the wizards said as he embraced Master Mervyn, “it seems the years have been kind to you.”

  Mervyn returned the firm embrace. “The heart swells with joy at seeing you again, Regis. I hope your trip was unhindered.”

  Regis smiled slightly and shrugged. “I wish I could say it was, but the lands are infested with enemy war parties. It would be nearly impossible to travel any distance without crossing paths with something nowadays.”

  “I hope you encountered no issues?” Mervyn replied.

  Again Regis smiled. “Not us… but two score of enemy could not say the same.”

  “Draco is glad to receive you with open arms,” Lady Tora said, moving forward to greet the new wizards.

  “My apologies, my Lady, my manners are remiss….”

  Tora raised a hand in dismissal. “No need for apologies, Master Mervyn, I assure you. I thank the Creator that you have come to our aid.”

  “It is our Kingdom as well, my Lady. We cannot just stand by and watch it succumb to whatever fate the enemy has in store for it,” Regis replied with a slight bow. “We are here as humble servants - to help protect and restore Draco to its former glory. The glory it held before the passing of our great King.” He said the last sadly and somberly.

  “Let me be the first to thank you for your services. Your talents and knowledge will be greatly appreciated in these troubling times,” Tora said, returning to her seat beside Lady Angelina and the others of the council.

  “These are disquieting times indeed. Savages forming armies large enough to conquer castles…” one broken in, “... the country is in need of all those able and willing.” A grim, muscular wizard of the remaining four commented. It was easy to tell by his rough demeanor that he was a man of battle experience - the large cruel blades at his side stood testament that his Gift was not all he was efficient with. “My name is Morgus - my Gift, my blades, and my life are yours to use as necessary.”

  “Your Gift and blades are most welcome,” Tora replied with an incline of her head. “Hopefully your life remains yours until you are old and grey.”

  Morgus flashed a grin. “Even old age will have a damnable time catching me.” Everyone laughed before settling again.

  “On our way here, we heard many rumors that Dragon’s Cove is under siege and will not be long under it to falls to enemy hands,” Regis said stepping forward to address the room. “We have already lost Mandrake to these bastards. Our kingdom cannot afford to los
e another.”

  “But what of Mandrake?” Lady Angelina asked nervously, nearly jumping out of her chair. She cursed herself for her eager tone; she did not want anyone thinking that all she cared about was her own castle, when other priorities were of far higher importance.

  “We do not know anything of the situation and efforts at Mandrake,” Regis replied, seeing the shame in her eyes. “The issues around us are complex and news is slow to reach even travelers on the road, my Lady.”

  “We will have a meeting and you will be made aware of all that we know,” Lady Tora informed them. “But first, go refresh yourself in the rooms that have been made ready for you.”

  By first light the next morning, two thirds of Draco’s army marched out of the city. A thousand armed soldiers, along with Master Morgus and Master Kendal, rode to help the defenders of Dragon’s Cove. Since word from Drandor had yet to arrive, the worst was assumed - messengers had already been sent, yet word needed to reach them. Several more groups were sent in the hope that Drandor’s army would march to aid Dragon’s Cove. Six-hundred soldiers rode for Mandrake, accompanied by Master Jacob and Master Wallace, to reinforce Lord Dagon’s force in the hopes of pushing the enemy from Mandrake’s walls.

  Nearly a thousand soldiers remained to defend Draco Castle if the need arose and well over three thousand refugee recruits were receiving back-breaking training daily. Master Mervyn and Master Regis had also remained, in case their talents or wisdom was needed.

  Prince Berrit watched from his balcony window as the armies left the city, a wicked smile creeping across his face. With the majority of Draco’s army out of the way and all but two wizards left in the city walls for now, the fortress was almost ripe for the taking.

  Dragon’s Cove would fall before help arrived and those thousand soldiers would be slaughtered like cattle by the sheer number of enemies, not to mention the growing numbers of Priestesses and Priests that swelled their ranks. Mandrake should be more than fortified now and could withstand the threat that marched towards it.