The Unknown Wizard

By Michael Bralich

When an enormous army of ogres attacks the civilized kingdoms around their homeland of Sylvannia, three friends set out on a dangerous quest to find the last known living wizard to enlist his aid in the war. Little did the three know that among themselves, one had the potential to become a wizard, and if they can find and recover the Crystal of Enhancement, he could become a very powerful wizard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640273436

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The Unknown

Michael Bralich

Copyright © 2017 Michael Bralich

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2017

ISBN 978-1-64027-342-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64027-343-6 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

The Kingdom of Sylvannia

Chapter 1

The King’s Birthday

Stoven peered out the south tower window looking over the market square. All was calm. Tomorrow was the king’s birthday, and that square would be packed with people celebrating. Stoven knew he’d miss most of the festivities. His watch wouldn’t end until sunrise, and by then he’d need his sleep. Slowly he returned and stared out the north window. Nearly midnight without a moon, there wasn’t much to see, but it was his job.

Stoven no longer regretted losing his position as a knight royal, one of the elite members of the king’s personal guard. And although this position of gatekeeper had little status, it was still a position. He had castigated himself enough. The loss of his beloved wife wounded him worse than any sword or arrow had ever done during his thirty-five years as a soldier. Stoven had met Margrett, the daughter of royal blood from Mountonia Sylvannia’s nearest neighbor. They fell in love immediately and married four months later. For the next twenty-three years, Stoven was the happiest man in the world. Then Margrett caught and succumbed to a flu. For nearly a year, he drank away his sorrows. If it wasn’t for his son, Stefan, he would probably still be drunk.

Lost in his thoughts, Stoven was startled to hear the door to the tower room open. Stoven immediately snapped to attention. Stoven recognized the man’s face but couldn’t comprehend why he was out of uniform. The shock of seeing him dressed all in black was nothing compared to the shock of feeling the knife bury itself deep in his chest. Stoven stumbled back, and as he fell, he toppled the simple chair and table. The man in black smiled watching Stoven die sprawled on the floor like a common drunk. A small laugh came from him as he poured the contents of a bottle into the dying man’s throat, spilling most of it, then he dropped the empty wine bottle next to the body.

As Stoven’s last breath left his body, the man in black blew out the lamp. The tower room thirty feet above the ground could be seen from a great distance. The room stayed dark for only a matter of minutes before the lamp was relit, but it was long enough. The signal was clear. From a mile away, hidden beneath the cover of the Grand Forest, a dozen shapes spewed forth. Silently these creatures ran, yet the night’s silence had been broken by the man in black. Heavy chains grumbled and roared as the drawbridge rambled down and the portcullis jerked upward with each turn of the wheel.

Fortunately, Castle Elkhorn had more than one tower that faced north and more than one guard on duty. Before the drawbridge was fully opened, the alarms blared out. The midnight watch had more than a hundred men on duty patrolling the city streets in groups of ten, and within minutes, the first patrol had reached the gate. So did the enemy. Black as night, the creatures flew across the drawbridge. Each creature poured under the portcullis, releasing a deadly bolt from a handheld crossbow. While in the other clawed hand, a long, curved sword flashed. As quick as lightning, the first patrol was attacked, most with their swords still in their scabbards. The sergeant of the guards took two darts to his neck, but before he died, he recognized his deadly opponents as hounders. Creatures seven feet tall, strong, bulging with huge muscles, the half-human, half-dogs moved with incredible speed and agility. They have the body of a man with the head of a dog with jaws of sharp bone-crunching teeth. Hounders had the brain of a man yet the senses of a dog. They could outsee, outsmell, and outhear any man alive. Hounder creatures bred by the Cruel One were pure evil—they lived to kill. The hounders liked nothing better than to rip their enemies’ throat out with their teeth, but they were under orders: weapons only tonight. A torn throat would have exposed to all that it was a hounder attack. Tonight the orders were to get inside and disappear. They could sate their love of killing tomorrow. Four guards died immediately with well-aimed darts, another two had been wounded enough that they were brought down easily, and the last four didn’t fare any better, facing these fast, strong creatures of evil. In a matter of minutes, all ten soldiers laid dead beneath the castle gates. Quickly the hounders ran off into the city, melting into the shadows. All twelve separated to find different hiding places to await the coming festivities.

The man in black had watched the massacre from the shadows. He lingered for a minute, relishing his work, before slipping into the shadows himself before the next patrol could arrive. The next patrol arrived to find the ten soldiers’ bloody remains. They immediately secured the gate. Quickly the drawbridge was raised as the portcullis was lowered. Messengers were dispatched. One to the healer, although it appeared to be a waste of energy. A second message was sent to Field Marshal Megan, commander of the Elkhorn army. A third to inform the remaining midnight watch to scour the city in search of the people responsible.

Sarahan the Healer came as quick as her two feet could carry her. The healer was ageless. Some speculated she was well over a hundred, but no one really knew, and Sarahan would never tell. But she still had the strength and endurance of a middle-aged woman. She could be as hard as stone when dealing with a difficult patient and soft as satin at the same time. Everyone in the kingdom were her children. After all, she did help with the birth of almost all within the castle walls and so many in the nearby villages. Sarahan had the warmest brown eyes and cheeriest of smiles. One look at her face did more good than any herb or potion.

Kristan walked beside Sarahan carrying a large bag filled with bandages, ointments, and many other things used in the art of healing. Kristan was an apprentice healer, a skill most parents would be proud of their daughters’ accomplishment, but not Kristan’s. They humored and doted on her, and it did keep her out of trouble. Although it would come to nothing for the second daughter of King Richard VI would be married off to some noble prince from one of the surrounding kingdoms. Kristan loathed the entire idea. She would marry for love or not at all. It was not her fault she was born into the royal family. Still so young, her mother would say, You’ll understand as you mature. Kristan was nearly twenty. She already was mature and did understand. That was why she hated it. Kristan was born with her mother’s golden hair and the bluest eyes that sparkled when she talked. Kristan knew her father would throw a fit if he heard she was scurrying through the streets in the middle of the night to care for injured soldiers. To Kristan, this was excitement, and she gaily obeyed Sarahan when she was asked to assist.

When Kristan turned the last corner and saw the slain men, her heart nearly broke. So much blood. So this is not the lark, she thought. Sarahan was too strong to cry outwardly, but she was crying inside seeing her children laying sprawled in death. Quietly the healer moved from one soldier to the next, praying she could find one still with life inside. Tears streamed down Kristan’s face. She could not control them and had no desire to. Lastly they came across Stoven, and Kristan’s face went pale. She had known this man most her life. She grew up with his son, Stefan. Sarahan hugged Kristan, and with her arm around the girl, she spoke calmly to the remaining guards, Have them taken to the House of Rest. I can do nothing for them. Slowly she walked back to the House of Healing, comforting Kristan with each step. Once back at the house, Kristan was sent back to bed. She cried herself to sleep, if you could call it sleep, for her dreams were filled with blood.

Throughout the night patrols searched the city. Every street every alley but nothing was found. One such patrol was checking a street that ran along the far back wall of the castle. Few used this street, and most did only under need, for on it was the House of Rest, the house where death lived and bodies were prepared for an eternal rest sealed in a wall down deep below the castle in the catacombs. The soldiers’ swords drawn, they checked every nook and cranny up and down the street. On this street, even the toughest soldiers became wary looking into the shadows. As the patrol continued its throrough job, a wagon pulled into the far end. Drawn by two horses, the wagon creaked toward the house. Upon its bed laid the bodies of the recently slain. One soldier looked at the bodies as they passed him, and a sight he never thought possible laid there on that bed. Stefan peered into the face of his father and stifled a cry as his chest tightened. The wagon master glared at Stefan and spat on his shoe. Stefan’s jaw dropped open, staring at the master’s eyes wide in disbelief.

The master snarled, That drunken old man of yours got many a good man killed tonight.

Wha . . . What? Stefan managed to mutter.

Look here. We brought the empty bottle with us. He’ll go to the Maker with this in his arms. The master snapped then turned in his seat and drove the horses on again.

Stefan just stood there staring after him not knowing what to say or do. His sergeant cuffed him and bellowed, Mind you, do your duty. Continue searching. Stefan could see the hate in his eyes. He quickly went back to searching the nearby alley. Lost in this walking nightmare, Stefan stumbled around the alley. He took longer than needed to search the alley, first to make sure nothing would get by him, but more to hide the tears running down his cheeks from the rest of the patrol. All night long, Stefan searched one street or alley after another. He could no longer look at any of his fellow soldiers for they all looked at him with disgust. Stefan could see by their faces that they’d not listened that his father swore off the drink two years ago and this had to be a mistake.

As sun broke the horizon, every soldier billeted within the castle was fully dressed, fully armed, and patrolling the streets and walls of the castle. Stefan, for the first time in his life, was glad to see the barracks empty when his watch had ended. The tall young man quickly tried to leave the barracks quietly he wanted to get home. Although he didn’t know why, his father wouldn’t be there already preparing their breakfast. And the thought of food held no interest. As Stefan passed the captain’s office, he heard his named called. Obediently Stefan walked into the captain’s office just as his sergeant left. Stefan stood at attention in front of the captain’s desk. In all four years that he had been a soldier, he had never been in this room.

The captain spoke firmly with no hint of recrimination. Stefan, you are excused from duty on midnight watch. Go home for now. I’ll inform you when some duty is found. Dismissed.

Stefan turned and left. Although the captain didn’t say it, he knew his sergeant no longer wanted him, and perhaps no other sergeant would either. Stefan headed for home walking the short distance passing people already preparing for festival. This day would never be festive for him again. Stefan felt worst than any sickness had ever been.

Kristan woke with the sun. She could have slept longer if she wanted to, but she wanted to run from her dreams. She bathed and dressed quickly then left her attic room, racing down the back steps on her way to the kitchen. She still burst into the kitchen like she did every morning, but today it was with urgency rather than enthusiasm. Kristan ran straight into Arden before she realized he was there. The huge warrior quickly caught Kristan, stopping her from falling after she bounced off his massive chest. Arden was well over six feet tall, with a huge barrel chest and arms bigger than Kristan’s legs. His dark-brown hair fell about his neck, and his thick mustache was streaked with gray, which matched those all-seeing gray eyes. Kristan silently referred to him as her gentle giant, yet she knew he was one of the fiercest warriors throughout the kingdom, if not all of the Westlands. As usual, Arden was heavily armed, something that Kristan found disquieting when she played as a child.

Whoa, princess, I see you still blunder forward without looking. Arden grinned calmly.

Arden, how are you? she yelled, hugging the big brute. She saw that quick smile he always showed whenever she showered him with affection. What are you doing here? You’re not hurt, are you?

I am here for you, Arden stated with his firm, fatherly voice, for that was how he always saw the princess. Arden had no children of his own, and he watched and helped raise the princess.

Kristan let out a big sigh. Well, I don’t need you She would have thrown a fit but knew it would be a waste of time. Father worries too much. Well, if you must, come on. Help me gather some breakfast for two.

Kristan grew up with this man always standing within reach for he was her personal guard. Until two years ago when she entered the House of Healing, the princess had not gone a day without Arden watching her every public move. Her only privacy was in her own suite in the palace. And even then she knew he was just beyond the door, ready at a moment’s notice to protect her. Then a miracle by the name of Sarahan happened. It took her only one week of Arden hanging out being underfoot before the healer asked the king to find him some other duty. Sarahan stated matter-of-factly that his daughter would come to no harm under her care and the warrior was suited for something better than scaring her patients. For two years, Kristan fell free. At times she missed his company, strength, and support, but this privacy was freedom. She hoped it wouldn’t be long before Sarahan would banish him again, but for now she’d enjoy his company again.

Kristan grabbed one of the many baskets used to bring nourishing meals to someone’s sickbed and began filling it with fresh bread, cheese, and sausages.

Sarahan watched her for only a moment before asking, Child, is this for someone that’s sick?

Well, sick of heart, not health. I will take this to Stefan Stoven’s son, she stated as she continued to fill the basket.

Princess, that is not a wise choice. Not now. Not after last night, Arden stated, crossing his arms across his chest.

But why not? I’ve know Stefan all my life. You know him too, Kristan said, confused.

Arden’s gray eyes narrowed. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. It seems, princess, that Stoven was drunk and opened the gates, letting in the ones that killed those guards last night before they killed him too.

That can’t be true. I know Stoven. He stopped. He never. . . Kristan muttered with a look of complete shock on her face.

Even Sarahan was about to protest, but Arden stopped her. I don’t know the truth, but right now that is want everyone is saying. It would not be safe or advisable to be seen with Stefan right now.

That is pure and utter rubbish, and it will be safe. I have you, and I could care less what anyone says. Stefan’s my friend. I will go to him. Kristan closed the basket. We are going. I will not be denied this.

Arden smiled that little your servant smile. He always admired her spunk.

Kristan grabbed the basket and left by the back door. She didn’t look to see if Arden followed because she knew he was there. After all the years, she always could feel him. She knew exactly where he was without looking. That was when he was within the castle walls. The first time she couldn’t feel his presence disturbed her even though she enjoyed the freedom knowing where he was had been a great comfort. After a few blocks, she slowed her pace until her giant was walking beside her again.

Arden, what have you been doing these past few years? You have not been here at the castle. And I saw that scar on your neck. It wasn’t there the last time you were with me.

Been away on king’s errands. And that scratch is nothing, he said calmly.

Nothing! Liar. A scar like that is from no scratch.

Arden looked anew at his little princess. Your eyes see a lot more now. Arden didn’t like being called a liar. No man dared call him one to his face. He rubbed his neck as he stared straight ahead. No mere scratch, but one from a hounder’s claw. It has healed.

Kristan stopped cold in her tracks. A hounder—she had heard of them but never really believed they existed. She always thought they were just imaginary monsters made up to scare little children. After all, no one she knew had ever seen one.

Arden, she spoke softly, has your life been in danger since leaving me?

Arden stared into her deep-blue eyes. My life? No, little one. I can protect myself almost as easy as I can protect you. The only lives in danger are the king’s enemies.

Kristan began to walk again. My father has no enemies. She suddenly stopped. Arden, there has never been secrets between us. Tell me what you meant by that.

Arden took only a second to think before answering. You have grown up. I have been away protecting others. Ogres have been raiding the farms and villages along our northern border. I only returned yesterday for your father’s birthday.

Arden slowly moved down the street, and Kristan followed without thinking. He knew the way just as well as his princess for he had been to Stoven’s house hundreds of times as the two children grew up. In silence, the two walked the streets heading to Knights Way, a street of two-story narrow houses packed against one another so tight that not even a mouse could squeeze between.

As they walked down the street toward Stoven’s house, Kristan paused. Arden, the attack last night, was it ogres?

Doubtful. Ogres are nasty enough for that, but they don’t plan well. And I doubt they would have just been lurking about the outer walls, hoping for a chance to get in.

Hounders, she whispered, afraid to speak the name out loud.

They have the intelligence to stage this, but the bodies showed only weapon strikes. Hounders would have torn the flesh with their teeth. And even I could not believe Stoven had any connection with hounders. No, I think bandits are behind this, hoping to take advantage of today’s festivities.

Do you think Stoven got drunk and opened the gate?

I really don’t know, princess. I knew Stoven before his wife died and would have trusted my life, even your life, to him. But he fell hard. I want to believe he was back to his old self, but the evidence is so damning.

When Kristan reached Stoven’s house, she didn’t bother to knock. She just opened the door and walked in. She knew Stefan wouldn’t answer just as she knew the door would be unlocked. They found Stefan sitting in the kitchen staring at the walls. Kristan was kneeling in front of him before he even realized she was there. Then he fell into her arms and began to cry. Arden backed his way into the small parlor, giving the two friends the privacy they needed. For a long time, no words were spoken as Kristan held and rocked Stefan in her arms. After nearly an hour, the two began to talk quietly, Stefan trying to make sense out of what had happened, and Kristan trying to comfort someone she had loved since childhood. Arden made himself invisible, letting his little princess heal a love one’s wounds. Arden was the only one not surprised when Kristan applied as an apprentice to the healer. He had always known her heart cared more for others than for her own. Slowly the morning wore away as two hearts came even closer.

Arden listened to the people outside this narrow little home moving about gaily. Few knew of last night’s massacre or the sadness within these walls. It was a day of festivities, the king’s birthday, a day that came only once a year. Suddenly the front door burst open as someone charged up the stairs to the bedrooms. In a flash, Arden reached the staircase with sword drawn. A muffled noise and pattering footsteps were the only sound from the second floor. Arden cautiously began to scale the stairs when a young man jumped on the upper steps, grinning from ear to ear. Ready to race down the steps, the young man saw the menacing giant with the all-too-sharp sword advancing on him. Trying to halt his momentum sent him spiraling down the steps head over heels. Arden quickly halted the young man’s tumbling.

Mykal, you fool! Be glad I recognized you, Arden roared, lifting the man up on to his feet with his left arm.

Hey! Hello, Arden, long time no see, Mykal stammered looking at the sword. What’s with the sword, you old bear? You’d think we were going to war. It’s feast day!"

Mykal, Stoven died last night, Arden stated, sheathing his sword.

Mykal’s face dropped. His eternal grin faded away as those words sunk in. How? was all he could manage to say as he groped his way to the kitchen.

Arden went back into the parlor as Mykal joined Kristan in comforting his best friend. Arden always thought Mykal a strange mixture. At one moment, the young man would be smiling and joking without a care in the world. And another was the serious scholar. He seemed both boy and man at times. He was of average build, average height, and average looks, yet he had a smile that could charm a badger and the blue gray eyes that contained a well of knowledge. He was slightly older than the other two, and while most thought he had no ambition working for old man Rand in that old run-down bookstore, Arden knew he worked there so he could read the books for free. Mykal’s knowledge ranged from the histories of the world to better farming practices. He studied the skies and the earth—any and everything held his interest. He was constantly trying out new ways or inventions he’d come across in some dusty old manuscript. And the boy in him would use the knowledge to stir up trouble. Few years back, he read about a common weed that when dried and crushed to power would produce a red cloud of smoke when tossed in a fire.

For weeks, people were claiming an evil imp or sprite was wandering through the castle wrecking havoc.

Mykal was the young scholar today sitting next to Stefan. Don’t worry, Stefan, these men will be caught and questioned. The truth will come out. And your father will be given the honor he deserves, he stated firmly once hearing what each had known about last night. It sounds like your father was the first one killed. And it was his killer that opened the gate, letting his fellow conspirators enter the castle. The wine bottle was simply left to hide the real person behind this. Your father had no reason to open the gate. Search your house—you’ll find no hidden treasure. Stovin was like a father to me after mine died. I know him as well as you. This just makes no sense. And don’t you think I would have known if he was drinking again. A man doesn’t fall back to drinking on the only night some bandits decide to enter the castle.

Arden had sat back listening to Mykal talking then came into the kitchen. You speak a great truth there, Master Mykal. Grieve with honor, Stefan. The truth shall come forward. Arden grabbed and firmly held Stefan’s shoulder. I am greatly sorry for your loss. Then turning to Kristan, he added, Princess, you have duties today that need your attention. We must go now. I will come back tonight with you once your duties no longer hold you.

Kristan hugged Stefan tightly. I must go for a few hours, she said with a tear in her eye.

It’s okay. I sometimes forget your royal status. Stefan cried, holding her tightly for a few extra moments.

When Kristan reached the palace, she went directly to her private suite. Arden stood guard outside her door. Entering the dressing room, she found Molly patiently waiting. Kristan almost ran over to her, hugging her.

I’ve missed you, Molly. Are you well?

Very well, princess, and you shouldn’t be hugging your chambermaid. The old woman laughed, swatting Kristan’s bottom.

For a few minutes, they laughed and talked, filling in what they have been doing the past few months. Finally, Kristan noticed the dazzling blue dress laid out for her to wear.

This is new. I’ve never seen it before.

Your mother, Queen Katherine, had it made for you to wear today. Blue is your color.

Kristan immediately started to remove her plain healer’s dress as Molly assisted. In a few moments, Kristan was admiring the gown in the full-length mirror. For the next hour, Kristan prepared herself. Today she would be Princess Kristan, daughter of King Richard VI and Queen Katherine. Kristan sat at her dressing table as Molly brushed out her hair, a basket full deep-blue flowers waiting to be woven amid the soon-to-be braided hair. Kristan knew Molly had gone out this morning herself to choose each and every blossom from the royal garden. A slight knock could be heard as Queen Katherine opened the door, crossing the floor with such grace that she seemed to float over the large colorful rug. She stood behind Kristan and took the brush from Molly. The queen bent over just enough to kiss the top of her daughter’s head then began brushing her hair. Kristan smiled. She loved her mother and found such attention a great comfort. Without a word, Kristan’s mother began braiding her daughter’s hair, weaving in a delicate flower every couple inches. Kristan’s hair had not been cut in ages, so it hung down to her lower back. Not till her hair was completely braided, golden tresses intermingled with the bright-blue star-shaped flowers. The queen reached into a pocket carefully hidden in her gown a shimmering silver and brought out a necklace. Carefully she placed it around her daughter’s neck and fastened the clasp at the back.

Mother, but this is your favorite! she exclaimed, looking at the necklace of large sapphires surrounded by dozens of smaller diamonds.

No longer. As of now, it’s yours.

Kristan jumped up and hugged her mother as a small tear ran down her cheek. Momma, it’s so beautiful. I don’t deserve it.

Katherine softly touched her daughter’s chin and lifted her head to look into those blue eyes. She brushed Kristan’s tear away then smiled. Yes, dear, you do deserve it. You’re a woman now, no longer my little girl. You stood with a friend today when many would only condemn. I am so proud of you.

You know I was at Stefan’s today? she murmured, surprised.

Yes, dear, I always know what my children are doing even when they spend months away from me.

I’m sorry, Momma. I just feel so useful when I’m helping Sarahan.

That’s the only reason I have allowed you to stay there. But enough of this. It’s time to join your father and your two brothers.

Two brothers? Isn’t Krystal here?

No, dear, that’s too far for your sister to travel in her condition.

Her condition?

If you’d drop in for a visit occasionally, you know your sister is with child.

Is this your way of getting me to come home more often?

We live in the same city, yet I miss you so much.

I’ll come more often, Momma, I promise, Kristan said, but she saw some deeper sadness in her mother’s eyes.

Together they left Kristan’s suite to find Arden and Will, the queen’s personal guard, standing in the hall waiting for them. Kristan noted that Arden was now dressed in the royal uniform of the King’s Guard. For the first time in her life, it dawned on her that Arden wasn’t always just beyond her door. He had left to change into his ceremonial uniform. The uniform was solid green with a gold cape. Even his sword was swapped from his heavy war blade to one with an ornate gold handle, and slung over his back was the gold and green shield with the image of an elk, the king’s banner. All the royal guards dressed this way all the time except Arden. His common clothes drew less attention to the young princess. The two men walked behind the royal women as if they were ghosts for no one paid any attention to them.

As they reached the top of the great staircase leading down to the entrance hall, they meet with Prince Richard VII. Kristan briefly hugged her older brother, and they spoke only a little for they barely knew each other. Richard was twelve years older than Kristan, and by the time she was five, he was learning how to be a king. Years of studying with scholars, military training, and a year with the healer, duties that keep them apart except on official occasions. As they talked politely, Prince Matthew came up behind Kristan and tickled her ribs before swinging her around into his arms for a long, loving hug. Matthew was only five years older, and being the second heir to the throne, his duties over the years let the two siblings become close. Queen Katherine glared at Matthew for tickling his sister but did not scold him for secretly she was happy they could still be kids at times.

Now there were four personal guards in attendance, but they no longer waited in the background for all four took up positions on the staircase. They would now lead the way while the king’s own personal guards would take up the rear position. With no fanfare, King Richard VI came out of the room at the head of the stairs, his private offices, and behind him walked five guards decked out in the green and gold. And behind them walked the king’s councilors. The three councilors wore long, flowing robes with gold sashes across their chests as they kept pace with the king. Kristan wondered if they slept in those robes for she had never seen them wear anything else no matter what time of day or season of the year. King Richard grabbed and squeezed both sons’ shoulders. He could not have been prouder of the two. No words passed between today—none was needed. King Richard then opened his arms wide, waiting for Kristan to come and get her hug, which she did happily. Kristan’s father held her tight before holding her at arm’s length. Staring into her eyes, he asked the same question he always did, So, child, have you been behaving yourself?

Kristan giggled, Of course, Daddy. Kristan was the only one that got away with calling him Daddy; he was Father to all the others. It didn’t mean he loved his other children any less than Kristan, but for some reason, with her, Daddy was more respectful than Father.

So when are you going to stop all this nonsense of learning to be a healer? I miss your sparkle when you’re not here.

Mother’s already convinced me to visit more often, Daddy.

Maybe it’s time we find you a husband.

I don’t want a husband. I want my own life.

King Richard just shook his head. Still the stubborn minx. Unfortunately, you, like all of us, have duties and functions to perform for our people. But we will speak of this later. Today we celebrate.

Every castle gate had been opened one full hour after dawn. And hundreds of local farmers and villagers started streaming in to celebrate. Whole families walked or rode up the road. Some came as far away as twenty leagues. All that came were in high spirits and probably the reason no one noticed the unusually large number of soldiers guarding the gates. Each soldier was under the strictest orders that all should be observed, but no one was to think there was a problem. If someone didn’t seem right, then they quietly pulled them aside. Only a minor few were questioned for the guards chosen today themselves came from the local farmers and villages. At least one guard at each gate recognized others from their village or farming community. Field Marshall Megan spent the morning worrying. Those that assaulted one of his patrols were not found. Not even a clue as to who they were or why it happened. Megan quietly prayed, hoping that whoever it was fled back outside the castle. Maybe the patrol inflicted enough damage on their assaulters before dying to turn the quest aside.

Today’s celebration was more for the people than for the king. In fact, it wasn’t even his birthday. His birthday had come and gone two months ago. None alive even remembered which king had his birthday on this date to start the festival. But it coincided with the first of spring. The cold winter was over, and the long, hard days were just beginning. Within weeks, every farmer would be tilling his fields. Livestock would be giving birth. It was a time to repair winter’s damage. Walls needed rebuilding. Roofs needed new thatching.

Every spring produced hundreds of tasks, new and old. Lumberman would begin harvesting trees, while the quarryman would be breaking and gathering stone. All manner of trades would pick up as spring would lead to summer then to fall before the winter storms would come again and silence the kingdom for a few months. The cycle of life would go on, and today’s celebration would be the last day of rest many would have for a long time.

The royal family left the palace and boarded the two waiting carriages. The men in the front carriage and King Richard faced forward, with his sons seated opposite. In the second carriage, both women sat side by side on the backseat; with just the two this year, there would be no need to sit apart. Four guards stood on each corner of the open carriages, and a dozen more would march along each side. A third carriage held the three high councilors. The carriages would carry the royal family first to Sarahan’s House of Healers, where the entire royal family would visit any and everyone within its walls and small gifts would be given to each patient. Then they would ride on to the House of Orphans and the House of Poor. King Richard would never stop celebrating this day for it gave him a chance to truly help his people. It would end in the great marketplace, where the royal family would toss gifts to the crowd, copper and silver pennies, toys, and trinkets. Fruits that were so rare to this land that none but the wealthy could afford. Finally, King Richard’s special gifts would be doled out to a preselected number of people. A new plow to a farmer that desperately needed it. Cows or chickens to families that lost theirs during the winter. Tools of all kinds would be handed out to help a laborer’s life a bit easier. The king’s agents would be secretly gathering information for the month prior to today, finding those with the greatest need. Then once the gift giving was over, the feasting began. Food of every type would be prepared. Whole cows and pigs would be roasted on spits; huge cauldrons of cooked vegetables and sausages; hot, fresh breads; cakes; and pies—enough food to feed everyone. Then there would be music and dancing in the streets until sundown.

That was how it should have been, and the day did progress exactly as planned until after the carriages left the House of Poor. The carriages rolled down the road on its way to the great marketplace. The royals were happily talking for today their hearts were light. As the king’s coach approached the marketplace, loud cheers could be heard as the people yelled and screamed seeing the approaching caravan. Suddenly from the surrounding rooftops, twelve bolts flew toward the royal carriages. The Royal Guards had been picked because of their split-second reactions, as shields flung on outstretched arms covered the royal family. Yet as fast as they were out of the twelve arrows, five found their target. Prince Matthew started to jump up in alarm when he saw the first hounder. Now he lay sprawled dead across his father’s lap with two bolts buried deep in his back that were aimed at his father. Prince Richard’s left shoulder was shattered as the bolt caught the bone dead center. King Richard had the fourth nick his chest before going through his right arm. The last had caught Will in the heart when he dove in front of his queen, taking the arrow meant for her. Katherine threw her arms around Will, hugging his lifeless body. Although publicly these two had no relationship, privately no one could share that much time and closeness without becoming dear friends.

Kristan stared wide-eyed at the bolt protruding from Arden’s shield held over her body and the one that pierced the carriage seat less than an inch from her thigh. She looked into his eyes seeing him anew. He was no gentle giant but a warrior that would kill any threat without question or thought. Arden had climbed into the carriage, squatting down and holding his shield in such a way to protect both queen and princess. Kristan fought back a scream of terror until she found the urge to help those hurt.

Within seconds, dozens of the king’s best notched arrow to bowstring, and arrows rained upon the roof’s two hounders dropped pierced through with numerous bolts. The others leaped from their rooftop hiding place and released a second barge of bolts. Poor Matthew took another arrow to his back, but he would never feel it. And three more Royal Guards would soon be in the House of Rest. Another hounder thudded to the ground dead, hit by arrows before he could reach the ground. Of the others, half ran straight for the royal family, while the other half ran toward the marketplace. King Richard had broken the arrow shaft that had pierced his arm then pulled the bolt clear, not even taking the time to bandage his wounds. The king drew his sword and stood over the injured Prince Richard.

Three hounders raced toward the king. The first cleaved his sword down between the neck and shoulder blade of one of the Royal Guard, dropping him immediately. The guard hit the ground but still had enough fight in him to put all his strength into one great swing of his sword, cutting the legs of the hounder out from under him. As the hounder hit the ground legless, another guard drove his sword deep into the beast’s chest, ending its life. The other two were dispatched fast; one died on the king’s sword. One hounder had attempted to attack the queen’s carriage. Arden took his head off with such strength that he shattered the hounder’s sword before sending the head flying.

The five hounders that raced for the market square left a trail of bloody victims for they struck at the unarmed men, women, and children. Savagely they sliced indiscriminately at whatever was near and bit through the necks of many. The people fought back even without arms. Three men pinned one hounder against a wall until a soldier arrived to kill the creature. Two other hounders were finally full of enough arrows that they too dropped. The soldiers were finally able to get to the last of the hounders and quickly put an end to this bloody assault.

Pandemonium reigned as people had scattered, running through the streets when the attack first started. Many got injured trampled by other terrified people. Screams of terror and pain filled the great market square. It took the king’s soldiers longer to calm the people than it did to dispatch the attackers. As soon as the attack had ended, the king began ordering to have as many wounded as possible to be loaded into the royal carriages and the streets to the House of Healers cleared. Queen Katherine held a small child in her arms, trying to hold closed a bloody gash on the small chest. Kristan had leaped from the carriage and began working on one of the Royal Guard that had fallen injured.

Chapter 2

Why?

Stefan and Mykal heard the yelling and screaming from the kitchen and quickly ran into the street to see what was happening. It took at least five minutes before they knew what had transpired for most of the running people wouldn’t stay more than a second or two to explain before running further away. Stefan ran back inside and grabbed his sword and shield and tossed Mykal his heavy oak walking stick. Then both men raced through the crowd trying to get to the square. By the time they got to the square, all fighting had ceased, and the soldiers were trying to bring peace to the scared crowds. Stefan searched the crowd until he saw his captain and tugged on Mykal’s arm, pointing the way to go. Stefan came up from behind the captain to stand at his side, asking what he could do to help.

The captain glared at Stefan. Get out of my sight. I want no more blood spilled today. Go home. Go to the pits of pain, and join your father for all I care. Just go.

Stefan stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to say or do. It was then that Mykal grabbed Stefan’s arm and dragged him back into the crowds. Let’s go back to your house. We can’t be of help. Not today, Mykal stated firmly.

Stefan stared at his friend. Why? I don’t understand.

Unfortunately, he blames your father for this attack, Mykal said. We now know who entered the castle and slaughtered the patrol last night. And until clearer heads prevail, it’s better to stay out of sight.

Stefan stared at his friend in disbelief, but he slowly walked back the way they came, with Mykal guiding him forward. As Stefan finally realized what was happening, he hung his head, not in shame, but in the loss of trust.

Kristan rode to the House of Healers with the last wagonload of injured. She stayed in the market square helping those hurt. Her slip was a mere tattered rag under her dress for she kept tearing more and more away to use as bandages. Her beautiful, new dress was stained many times over with the blood of others, but she had yet to notice or care. The last of the injured were carried inside to be tended by Sarahan and her assistants. Kristan saw her mother comforting those that had been already treated by the healers and now lay in beds resting. She found her father in the main room with Sarahan helping any way he could, carrying litters, holding down some soul being stitched up, even washing off bloody tables before the next wounded could be treated. Kristan immediately went to Sarahan. She knew what to do. Sarahan seldom needed to ask for anything. Kristan usually knew what she would need next and had it ready at hand, be it a knife, scissors, or one of a dozen different ointments, creams, or herbs. The king silently watched his daughter without speaking a word. For hours the healers worked their cures until the last few victims were now on at least one table being cared for. Sarahan took a moment to give Kristan a little hug.

You did good work in the square today. Your quick bandaging helped save lives and limbs. Sarahan forced a small smile and nodded to the king. Maybe you can tend his wound. He just keeps saying he’s fine, ‘Others before me.’"

I will do my best, she said to the healer then turned and went to her father. Father, come with me. Your wound needs to be cleaned and bandaged properly, Kristan stated firmer than he had ever heard. She grabbed his uninjured arm in hers and pulled him into the next room. Leading him to a bench, she made him sit. On a table nearby, she found everything she would need to care for his wounds. Wordlessly she cut the sleeve from her father’s shirt and bathed the wound with clean water and a special soap Sarahan made. Taking a needle and thread, she stitched up both sides of the wound. Her father made no sound and showed no hint of pain. She then spread a special ointment over the wound then, using clean clothes, bandaged the arm. His chest would need only to be cleaned and have the ointment applied. He watched her every move without saying a word until she was finished.

These soaps, ointments, herbs, and such, do you know how to make them?

Some, not all, but I’m learning, Kristan stated as she took the bloody washcloths to the proper hamper. Does the arm hurt much, Father?

Not at all, the king stated, then he stood up and pulled Kristan into his arms. You make me very proud. I think I was wrong about you being here."

Kristan blushed. Thank you, Daddy, she said with the big grin and eyes that sparkled like gems in sunlight.

Come, let’s look in on your brother and see how he fares.

Is one here? Who? Richard? Matthew? I didn’t know, Kristan muttered. The smile had left her face and was replaced by a look of great concern.

The king sat back down on the bench and pulled Kristan to sit next to him. Dear daughter, Matthew walks in the Garden of Good. He took three bolts meant for me. Richard is here, and he will live.

"Kristan began to softly cry for she loved Matthew dearly. She buried her head against her father’s chest just like she did when she was little. The