The Way of Wizards and Kings

By Melissa Wilds

The night to come would be one for the ages. And these were the people who would play a magical and glorious role in the turning of events. For the thirteenth generation would take a step in history that night, down that path that makes men wizards and kings. Thus begins a tale of three young humble shepherds whose destiny takes them far beyond their flock and acknowledges their noble and forgotten ancestry.

Chosen by elves, Byron, Corwin, and Cherish embark on a journey that takes them through perilous woods, hidden fortresses, and unlikely allies. Their adventures incorporate magic, awakened talents, and their undying commitment toward the better good for all. In this classic tale of good versus evil, magic does not seem so impossible when coupled with simple goodness, spirit, and unrivaled courage as three unlikely heroes come of age in turbulent times.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 18, 2005
• ISBN: 9781467027403

Melissa Wilds

            Growing up in South Louisiana Melissa Wilds developed a love for language, culture, and mythology that has taken her around the world as exchange student, translator, and missionary.  With a B. A. in French and minors in Spanish and Education, Ms. Wilds has taught in secondary school and published a book of poetry entitled A Prism of Thought.  Two of her poems have been requested for anthologies.  The Way of Wizards and Kings is Ms. Wilds’ first novel.  

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Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

About the Author

This book is lovingly dedicated

To my dear husband, John,

And to my good friend Jenny.

It is also dedicated

To the memory of Saint Bernadette Soubirous

Who provided a beautiful example

Of what a shepherd should be.

Chapter I

It was a late summer evening. The sun was just beginning to fall in the West, gathering the landscape in a red and orange embrace. Crickets were giving their evening chorus, and the little woodland creatures were preparing for a nice long sleep. But they weren’t going eagerly to their nests and dens. Animals are very remarkable creatures, and they can sense things. Just imagine a dog. Isn’t it funny how he always seems to know when you are happy or sad? He knows just when to bark and wag his tail or nudge you with a sympathetic whine.

Well, the air this evening was filled with excitement, and the animals were like children who insist on staying up just five more minutes. They had seen the woodmen come in earlier. They had observed the men’s hearty laughter and excited talk as they chopped down a few sturdy trees. There was no doubt; something incredible was about to happen in the village not far beyond the hills.

Now, if you were a traveler in those woods, you’d need only head west down a little path. Eventually, you would come to a sudden break in the trees, and there, before your eyes, would be a lush, green valley that still smelled of clover and violets in spite of the late season. Even when a person felt most troubled, that valley was always a sanctuary, a region of peace, where one might forget whatever troubles he had. The trees gave way to wild flowers and long soft wavy grass, and if you looked over the forest toward the north, you just may catch sight of the Starlight Mountains. Well, you would see only the peaks, but sometimes at night, the full moon shone down just right so that those tiny white spots glowed like beacons on the horizon.

During the day, white fat fluffy sheep would dot the landscape and you would spot a few shepherds nearby leaning on their staffs or sitting under the shade of one of the young trees. From the look of them, you would think they were as carefree as their sheep, but appearances can be deceiving. Nothing escaped the shepherds’ watchful eyes, and they were on the alert lest a lamb wander off or a vicious beast suddenly attack. In spite of their humble origins, these shepherds often bore the noblest of hearts, and the world has rarely seen their equals.

After maybe exchanging a friendly chat, you might be curious to continue on your way. That same little path you followed from the woods would lead down and around a few bumpy hills. These places were usually covered with all kinds of wildflowers at this time of year, and there were a few soft patches of grass where you could rest if you were weary.

After traveling a good half-hour, the ground would begin to level out and you would once again be entering the woodlands. Suddenly, the path would come to a fork in the road. To your left, you would see a few small cottages in the near distance. This was the outskirts of the merry village of Cantos. On this particular evening, you might be tempted to head down that path, because the town was more lively than usual. You could see through the trees that a huge tent was being set up. Some musicians were gathering, and others were tuning up their instruments. Here and there were a few excited women running around placing delicious morsels on tables set for the occasion. There was enough food to feed an army, and several barrels of choice wine were being rolled in.

As tempting as it would be to stop here, our journey lies down the path leading to the right. But don’t worry; we won’t be heading too faraway from the fun. After going about a hundred yards, you would see a rather large cottage. Indeed, the owner was no ordinary man. He is the very one that owned all the lovely pasture in the valley. The sheep were mostly his, but he shared his pasture with a neighboring family. These people had always been the closest of friends since the earliest days of this land, when it was still a kingdom, before its king had fallen from his throne and had been exiled from their northern capital into Cantos.

Yes, that family was of noble lineage. Although one ancestor had caused them to be stripped of the throne, nothing could tarnish the wonderful reputation these people had built up through the generations by their good deeds and humble generosity. The family patriarch owned extensive land for both pasture and crop, yet he was kind to the poor and never turned down a soul in need. Twelve generations after their disgrace, this family was still a leader of the people of Salvatoria, an enchanted land whose mysteries have sadly been forgotten in the mists of time.

However, the night to come would be one for the ages. And these were the people who would play a magical and glorious role in the turning of events. For the thirteenth generation would take a step in history that night, down that path that makes men wizards and kings. And little did they know, but their first adversary already laid waiting.

The goblin snorted as it crouched behind a bush. To his left gurgled Cider Creek and before him bleated a tiny lamb. In spite of his own hunger, however, the goblin had not come for lamb chops. This beast was merely a decoy, lured stealthily away from the flock.

The goblin had heard rumors of a young shepherdess who was said to have the gift of dreams. Once, she had saved gnomes from a flood and had advised her people to store a great harvest before a drought that none save her had foreseen. Naturally, such gifts as hers are met with two reactions. In one way, she would be called seer and prophet and looked on with wonder. In another, she would be despised as a freak of nature and feared because of her powers. Though the goblin’s master was no ordinary mortal, he had been restless on hearing of the shepherdess’ deeds. It had been foretold that a great woman would come whose light this dweller in darkness could not abide, whose breath he could not stop. Though the shepherdess was not said to be ambitious, the fiend would not give her time to become so. Summoning his most trusted servant, he told him that her blood must be spilt or his beloved leader would be conquered. Alarmed the goblin renewed his fealty to his master and departed to seek out and slay the shepherdess.

And here she came. Calling after the lamb, she emerged in the clearing. The goblin clasped his fingers firmly on his knife’s stone hilt. He stepped forward, his yellow eyes glaring. The shepherdess froze in terror and the lamb ran madly to the creek. The goblin stepped forward, lifting his hand to strike when something froze his arm.

The goblin turned in alarm, for his keen hearing told him that a unicorn approached in the distance. Though faraway, the goblin saw two elves brandishing swords preparing to charge him on their fell beasts. Knowing these two particular elves and their ferocity in combat, the goblin decided that his master’s errand would have to wait. Muttering, "Men noktesto," he vanished.

Beneath the noonday sun, Byron stood on a hill at the edge of his father’s pasture. Leaning on his walking stick, he fixed a steady gaze on the scene below him. All was well. The sheep were fat and content. Being the warm part of the day, many of them were either grazing or lying in the grass next to their lambs. Everything was so peaceful that one could be hypnotized or fall asleep watching it long enough. Poor Byron was being tempted to do so, and he might have succumbed if a noise had not startled him back to reality. Hearing a soft movement on the path and voices, he gently turned his head, and a smile came to his lips.

Four squirrels were walking toward him. However, it wasn’t the squirrels he was smiling at. It was the little men riding on their backs. Yes, they were gnomes as a matter of fact! Each of the men was about six inches tall and wore knitted hats with pointy ends that flopped as the gnomes rode along.

First rode the eldest, Orville. His beard was long and golden, and his face had a kind and mature look to it. He was dressed very simply. His cap was brown as were all his other clothes, and that set Orville apart from the other gnomes.

The ones who followed were quite a few years younger. Orville was, in fact, a decade older than the man immediately following him in line. This next one was called Boyce. He bore a short black beard and appeared to be in his mid-twenties. One could see by the way he carried himself that he was a quiet man who spent much time thinking. But Boyce’s thoughts could not be too heavy, for a wistful smile sat on his lips. His hat was blue as was his vest. His pants were brown and he wore a red sash about his waist. Right behind him was a man of about the same age with a longer beard that was as brown and curly as the hair on his head. His name was Drostan, and he was the noisy one. His cap was red and matched perfectly with his rosy cheeks. His eyes were small and smothered by large dimples that always appeared when he smiled. Now, the last man to come, Gavin, was a little smaller than the other three. Being the youngest, he had no beard. His hair was blond and curly and he also wore a red cap.

Hello there boys! called Byron, fully recovered from his drowsiness.

The little men erupted in shouts as they drew near to the tuffet of grass upon which the shepherd was standing. Greetings man! said Orville on dismounting. Today is the big day.

Yes, I can’t believe it’s finally here.

Now, in accordance with the occasion you wouldn’t happen to have a fine feast for us, would you now? chimed in Gavin.

You get down to business quickly, little friend.

Aye, he speaks for all our stomachs. And some of them are shouting louder than others! exclaimed the noisy one.

The roundness really projects the sound, eh Drostan?

All the better to drown yours out with, my friend! he answered Gavin.

Well, let me see what I can do for you, said Byron. Sitting down cross-legged, Byron opened his pack and began unloading its contents. I have some nice legs of turkey with gravy. There’s green beans and potatoes… and oh, some light fluffy rolls too. And to wash it all down, some apple cider. But I don’t know if you really want these. I mean they are my sisters’ leftovers…

Beggars can’t be choosy, said Drostan, greedily. All their mouths were watering and their eyes appeared to double in size. Besides you might need a taste test, just in case someone slipped a suspicious solution in there.

Thank you, boys, but I think it’s quite safe. Dig in, there’s plenty to go around.

Much obliged to Miss Parnella and Miss Eglantine.

Send them our love, will you, man? asked Boyce.

I’m sure they’ll be very flattered, answered the gnomes’ host.

The little men served themselves very generous portions and then some! However, the extra food was not meant to serve as a snack for their trip home. Although these gnomes were by no means underfed, life could be difficult for people of their kind. Gnomes didn’t generally grow to be taller than six or seven inches, and gathering meat to feed their families was a problem. How would you feel after all if the only animal you could successfully hunt was a field mouse? Being as their meat was rather revolting, most gnomes generally left them alone and even domesticated them for farming use. Every now and then, several hunters could successfully capture a low flying bird, but that was very rare.

The only reliable source of food these men had was farming, and these farms were quite abundant. But what if there were a drought or a flood? It didn’t take much to ruin or wipe out their tiny homes, so the men worked at gathering various sorts of nuts and berries during the day. They would put some of what they gathered as well as some of their produce in storage in case of a disaster to sustain them through winter months.

Any little help they could receive was appreciated, and these men were extremely grateful for Byron’s help. There weren’t many men who lived so close by and were so generous. Orville and the others considered themselves wealthy as kings, for they received meat regularly! So, they distributed this precious commodity to their neighbors and shared their good fortune.

It may come as a shock that these men were so jolly when they had to struggle so much to survive. The fact is they just didn’t focus on their troubles. Life had always been that way for them and they simply counted their blessings. The gnomes found much to be thankful for in this world, and they had a sharp sense of humor and a keen wit. They were very favorable companions and always ready to share some good news.

After the food had been distributed and everyone had reclined for the feast, Gavin stood up and said, Being as this is already such a special day, I’d like to throw one more log on the fire. This morning, my wife told me that she’s expecting our first born!

Shouts of joy and congratulations went out among the men, and every one poured himself another glass of wine. A toast! declared Orville. To Gavin and his lovely wife Ellie, may their child be full of health and bring them great joy. May they grow in love for one another and revel in the new life that shall enter this world!

Here, here! answered the rest.

Gavin, continued Orville, you will find that there are few things that can be compared to fatherhood. I still remember the day my first child was born. The love you feel is tremendous; there is nothing they could ever do to stop it. Children are little miracles full of life and ready to find their way in the world just like you. And it’s the same thing for every new baby that comes after that.

How many kids do you have? interrupted Drostan.

Seven boys and four girls, the youngest of which is five years younger than Gavin. And yourself?

Three little girls.

I’ve got five of my own, said Boyce. But speaking of family, Byron, when are you going to settle down? You must be about twenty now by my reckoning.

Indeed I am twenty though I haven’t been thinking about settling down lately nor can any of us at this time.

That’s natural with the arrival of the elves and all, answered Orville.

What exactly is supposed to happen tonight? asked Gavin.

Byron thought for a moment and then said, When my ancestors still ruled as kings, it was always the elves that chose the heir to the throne. They sent one representative for that and another to choose who would serve by his side as a wizard. In one family, the ability to do magic is passed from one generation to the next, but like the kings, not all inherit the ability. I don’t know how it all began, but the elves are very wise folk. Their opinions are not biased, and there have been occasions when a woman has ruled as a queen or served as a wizard. You don’t have to be the eldest to get chosen, so even though I am my father’s third child, I still have a chance.

I’m still confused, though. You speak of kings, but I thought your people had no king.

Well, that’s how the system worked until one of my ancestors, Ogilvie, fell under the dominion of, Raske, the emperor of Umcalis. He was lured by his rival’s luxurious gifts and was so blinded by wealth that he did not notice when the emperor’s men were overpowering his forces in the country. Ogilvie tried to turn back at the end, but it was too late. Raske forced him to give up his crown and placed a governor to supervise our people since. It’s not so bad though; this emperor, Harald II, doesn’t bother with us too often, and our governor, Delroy, is not a bad fellow at all. The emperors have always allowed my family to maintain a position of authority to a certain degree, so the elves still come to choose the heir just like in the olden days. It’s been so long since our people knew days of glory that the coming of the elves has lost much of its original meaning. Many people see it as mere tradition and a reason to get together for a good time. But I think it is still a noble act, and our post must never be underestimated no matter how trivial it may seem. Any position of authority should never be taken lightly, and the worst thing you can do is either lord it over someone else or neglect to act altogether.

Wisely spoken, declared Orville. Now, where are Corwin and Cherish? It’s not like them to miss a meal; are they all right? I hope there’s nothing wrong with their family.

No, everyone’s in perfect health. We noticed one of the lambs wandering into the woods, and they went to retrieve it. They elected me to stay behind and watch the flock.

Ah, those two are inseparable!

We’re twins; of course we’re inseparable! said a voice from behind.

Byron jumped and turned around to see Corwin beaming from the surprise he had created. His sister came up right behind holding a little lamb in her arms.

Those two made quite a pair, and they were very much alike. Both were of a moderate height and had slender frames. Their faces were of the same shape and contained beautiful blue eyes that sparkled like merry springs of water. The twins had natural curls, and one of the few ways in which they differed from each other was in their hair color. Corwin’s hair was black and hung loosely about his face. As for Cherish, hers was a soft brown and it fell gently down her back. Smiling as they were, they looked like two little imps.

Well, boy, I must say you could give a man a heart attack sneaking up on him like that.

I’m terribly sorry, Orville, answered Corwin, but I couldn’t resist.

So there’s the little one, said Byron as he carefully took the lamb from Cherish’s arms. As it shifted from shepherd to shepherd, it let forth a tiny bleat. It was then that Byron noticed a splint tied around its right front leg. Look at this. What happened to you, little fellow?

We couldn’t catch up with him until he had reached Cider Creek, explained Cherish as she and her brother sat down. By then he was walking on the rocks near the bridge-posts. He lost his footing and would have slipped in had Corwin not acted so quickly. Fortunately, all he has is a sprain. The splint’s rather crude but it should do until this evening. We’ll just fix him up quickly before the festival.

I don’t see any need for that. It looks good and sturdy to me.

I told her she did a professional job, said Corwin. Oh, Byron, we passed up a group of fairies on the way back. I don’t know what the town’s people are thinking but you’ve won the forest’s vote. Morning Glory says she’s seen both of the elves and has put in a good word for you. Rose Petals sends you her love and Water Lily said to tell Orville and the others that they have a large batch of honey waiting for them.

God bless their hearts! Did she say where to meet them? asked the gnomes’ leader.

At the clover patch sometime this afternoon. She said she’ll wait for you, so go at your leisure. Well, Byron, any last minute jitters?

Not really.

That’s amazing to hear from the man who has the hopes of the forest on his shoulders.

I’d hate to let anyone down, but I really don’t think it’s me the elves will choose. I mean, just look at my brothers. Bonner is wise and knows how to manage things well. On the farm he is second in authority only to Dad. Everybody respects him and he personally has my vote. If not him, Grosvenor has the potential to be a great warrior. He’s strong and is always coming home with a new tale about an encounter with a bear or some other dangerous creature. But beneath all that, he has a kind heart and I know he hunts for food and not for sport.

I think you underestimate yourself. You’ve had your share of exploits out here in the forest. You just don’t like to brag is all. And you’re as noble and shrewd as Bonner any day in my opinion. Don’t look at me like that, Byron. I’ve been working out here with you for nearly ten years; I know what I’m talking about. Besides, Cherish here had a dream last night about it, and her dreams shouldn’t be taken lightly.

Yes, interrupted Boyce. If it wasn’t for her warning, we would have all probably died last year in that flood. As it was we had just enough time to move our families and some stores up to higher ground.

Cherish looked down and blushed, for she was not one to seek praise. Byron sneaked a glance at her. Cherish’s humility was very charming and it was in such moments that Byron most often noticed her beauty. Corwin knew that compliments, no matter how well deserved, embarrassed his sister, so he promptly changed the subject.

Well, gentlemen, it’s been wonderful spending time with you, but I’m afraid we must be getting back to work.

As should we, dear friends, answered Orville. Have a pleasant day, and may you be in the elves’ good graces tonight! Farewell!

So long! Time to return this little one to its mother.

You go on ahead, I’ll clean up here, offered Cherish. She began to clear up and repack all the morsels left over from the meal. As he turned to follow Corwin down the hill, Byron paused, and turned back to look at Cherish. All through the meal, she had retained a bright and cheerful countenance, but now, a serious shadow was creeping across her face. Corwin didn’t need his help that urgently, so Byron stopped and went back to her.

Cherish, is something the matter?

No, I just want to tidy up is all.

Are you sure?

Exasperated she said, Yes, I’m fine. Whatever gives you the idea that something’s wrong?

Well,…this morning when I happened to glance your way…you had this grave expression on your face. I can’t guess what it’s all about, but when I turned around just now, I noticed the same thing. Then, when you looked down during lunch, I don’t think you blushed just for the compliment. I suppose it’s something personal and you don’t want to tell me, but I think it might ease things a bit if you got it off your chest. And you know I won’t tell a soul.

Cherish hesitated, It’s not that I don’t trust you Byron; it’s just that… I dreamed of more than what Corwin mentioned at lunch today. He shouldn’t have said anything about it, though there was no harm mentioning that part…I just don’t feel that I should discuss things right now. Perhaps if I can find a quiet moment after the reception, I could mention it to Father or…

Byron gently placed his hand on her shoulder. If it’s that important to you, then that’s as it should be. Just remember, you can always come to me if something bothers you.

Well, she said, There is one thing, but you’d best say naught to anyone nonetheless. It’s nothing I dreamed; it happened just now at the creek. I had followed the lamb’s bleating there and when I was about to pick him up, I saw a hideous shape emerge from the bush. It had dark skin and yellow eyes and was stepping toward me with a knife. I wanted to scream but my voice choked. I froze on the spot and couldn’t even step backwards. I was sure I was lost when I saw the brute turn in alarm. He seemed frightened at something. Then I heard Corwin’s voice and turned to call him to come quick. When I had turned back around, the creature was no where to be seen. Corwin hadn’t seen anything, so I acted as if nothing strange had happened except for the lamb escaping and spraining his leg. Now as I sit here, I wonder if it was some sort of vision. I don’t know rightly what that thing was, but based on father’s stories, it sounds like a goblin. I’ve never heard of one vanishing into thin air before, but the whole thing seemed too real to be a dream. Frankly, I don’t know what to do.

Yes, that’s a new one. If there is a goblin patrolling the area, we want someone on lookout, and we don’t want you wandering about by yourself. But if there’s nothing there, then it would only raise more talk and you don’t need that. Not on the night of the festival at least. I tell you what, why don’t we tell my father and set out the dogs? No one’ll get down that path for sure.

What about the elves?

They know this place so well, they’re bound to know other routes. Not to mention dad’ll explain the whole thing to them as soon as he can. Now, let’s not worry yourself too much. Either way, you’re all nerves for tonight, and we’d best be starting back before anyone notices.

She answered him with a smile. Gathering the rest of the gear, she and Byron started down the path to home.

Chapter II

It was about mid-afternoon when Byron, Corwin, and Cherish set off for home. Normally, the young shepherds would stay with the flock until dusk, and they might even sleep at the sheep gate if any danger to their property was expected. But not this night. Not even the hired hands would take their normal watch. The only sensible precaution in their minds would be as Byron suggested: to release extra dogs just in case of a problem. No one was to be in the fields much less at home. The dusk that was coming would bring a jubilee: such as was seen only once in a generation.

Now, just as the people of Salvatoria were hard and diligent workers, they were equally expert in the art of merry-making. In addition to all the normal holidays, these people would hold festivals periodically whether because of the harvest or an overabundance in their herds. Basically, they searched for any excuse to gather and enjoy themselves.

And everyone chipped in to do his or her part. Housewives would cook all day to prepare large amounts of their best recipes. Those who owned vineyards had special vintages. Musicians would carefully choose each song for their repertoires and gather for practices weeks in advance.

Precautions were taken to ensure that nothing would dampen the merrymakers’ spirits. Possibility of a blizzard? No problem. An enormous hall had stood for centuries erected for that purpose, and citizens would stock it up with blankets, firewood, and specially preserved food just in case the snow would block them in. Rain looming on the horizon? All the festivities in summer time were held under an open-air pavilion on the edge of town. Yes, the people of Salvatoria took everything seriously.

And on that night, it seemed that nature shared their joy. High in the sky, the moon smiled down full and bright. The stars lent their acclaim shining like carefully polished diamonds. No cloud dared intrude upon that scene, and not even the elders could remember when the nightly world had ever seen such light.

The scene of the party was no less resplendent. Pastel-colored paper lanterns hung from trees on the outskirts of the wooded area. Little fires burned in special clearings where rosy-cheeked children were laughing and roasting marshmallows. Fireflies and fairies that glowed with every color of the rainbow were dancing in the bushes, and some of the older children would soon be trying to catch them so as to gaze at them briefly in their hands. Of course, the fairies would evade them good-naturedly in what appeared to be a special game of tag.

The feast laid aside was guaranteed to satisfy hungry bellies and tempt those who were full to come back for another taste. Three tables supported platters of roast pork, baked turkey, and leg of lamb, while loaves of freshly baked bread, plump juicy fruit, and heads of cheese adorned others. But there were four tables set aside for dessert alone. It would be difficult to choose from all those rich layered cakes, bubbling pies, and pastries of every kind prepared with fresh fruit and cream. Considering that each table was about four yards long, it was a meal to rival even one prepared for a modern-day Fat Tuesday.

And as the sun was setting, a gentle buzzing rose in the streets of Cantos. Slowly, people were filling the streets and heading out to join their companions who had been working hard all day at the pavilion. Members of leading families had prepared special robes and gowns for the occasion. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes after having carefully washed.

That was in fact why