The Path Of Peace (The Cremelino Prophecy Book 3) (2 page)

“I read books, and I practice my
magic.” The young girl stopped and turned to look at her older companion. “It’s
not that hard.”

“It’s not that hard?” Olan’s eyes
widened, and he stopped short. “What are you talking about? Wizards take years
to perfect their powers. You must be careful, especially as an earth wizard.
With so much of nature at your disposal, there is always the danger of taking
in too much power and burning your magic out. There are records in the Conclave
of this happening before when a wizard either wasn’t trained enough or was
greedy for power.”

At the last words, Danijela was
more subdued, and her eyebrows furrowed as she listened to the High Wizard’s
warning.

“But we shouldn’t worry about
that just now, since I don’t think you have pulled that much power in yet. As
untrained as you are. You are most likely in the beginning and weaker stages of
your powers.”

Danijela’s frown turned to a
quick smile—a mischievous one. She motioned for the High Wizard to follow her
out the back door of the large estate. They walked east down a small sloping
meadow, away from the household and prying eyes. Olan didn’t know where she was
taking him.

Finally, they stopped at the side
of a small hill. He could tell pieces of rock had somehow been taken out, he
presumed for the building of the estate. He turned to the young girl and was
just about to say something when she held her hands up in the air, turned them
around, and pointed them at the hillside.

A small rumbling ensued, in which
rocks came free of the hold in the earth—large rocks, larger than Olan could
imagine. They floated through the air and landed in front of him. The power it
took to do that with such finesse amazed him. Once again, he started to speak,
but stopped when he could tell Danijela had not finished her performance.

She moved her arms in circular motions,
a wide, ecstatic smile stretching from one side of her face to the other. He
watched as the rock became fluid and shaped itself into smaller blocks, piled
on one another, creating a small, child-sized play structure shaped as a small
castle. Extending her hand once again, Danijela drew scraps of dead wood toward
her in the air and placed them in neat rows on top of the structure as a roof.

High Wizard Sallir’s mouth hung
open in surprise. In all his years of teaching, in all his years of traveling,
and in all his years of advising kings and rulers across the Kingdom of Arc, he
had never witnessed such finesse and precision with the magic of earth powers.
He plopped his large frame down on the ground with a grunt, breathing harder
than the young girl was. He didn’t know what to say.

Danijela sat down next to him.
“Oppa? Are you all right?” They had known each other since she was a small
child. When she was little, she used to call him her Oppa. He guessed he was
old enough to be her grandfather many times over. She hadn’t used that term of
affection in recent years, a sign she was getting older and growing up. But
using it now almost brought tears to his eyes. He had witnessed what might be
the beginnings of the most powerful earth wizard to walk the western lands.

Olan let a small smile crease his
wrinkled face. “My child. My sweet, sweet child. I am more than all right.” He
put his arm around her and pulled her in to a close hug. “Do you know how
special you are, Danijela?”

“I told my father I could be a
queen.”

“Oh, no, no, no. You are not
meant to be a queen.”

Danijela frowned. “Why not?” She
began to get up.

Olan carefully brought her back
down to the ground with a firm but soft hand on her shoulder. He looked at her
sparkling green eyes. “My dear young girl, you are destined to be so much more.
Kings and queens will bow to you someday.”

“Because I can move rocks?”
Danijela squinted up at him, her full cheeks flushed.

The High Wizard smiled at her
innocence. “You don’t even know your powers yet, and you can do more with those
powers than wizards who have studied for decades. I am not sure even then they
have the finesse and softness of touch that you do despite your lack of
training.”

The wizard then stood, pulling
the young girl up after him. “We need to talk to your father immediately. You
will need to prepare to leave in a week’s time. “

“Leave? Where to?” she asked.

“Why, with me, to the Conclave of
Wizards, to be my personal apprentice. To learn more of your magic, to become
one of the greatest wizards the world has known.”

(One year later In the Realm)

THE NEW KING

“
F
ather, stop!” Darius yelled louder than he
intended. The lamps in the room flickered from his burst of powerful emotions.
Standing up too quickly, he almost knocked over the high-backed, cushioned
chair. Papers fluttered off the end of the table they worked at. A scribe, one
of three others in the room, reached down to pick up the letters and
information. Two other servants waited for any further commands from the King or
his father, the first councilor.

“I must leave on my honeymoon. No
more papers, no more letters, no more signatures. I trust you can run things
without me for a few weeks.” He wasn’t mad at his father, just frustrated that
things were taking so long.

Richard San Williams looked up at
his son, Darius, the recently crowned King of the Realm, a questioning look in
his eyes. Darius saw a lot of himself in his father. The dark brown hair and
gray eyes were similar, but Darius’s skin was lighter, taking after his mother.
And unlike his father, he was clean-shaven.

Darius offered a pleading smile,
trying to take the sting away from his earlier outburst. “Father, you ran the
Realm side by side with King Edward for years before he died. I’ve only been
King for three months now. I hardly even understand half of what I am signing.
I do trust you.” He looked his father in the eyes. His father had ample reason
to doubt his son’s sincerity. Most of Darius’s life, he had hated his father’s
involvement in politics and his lack of attention and understanding of anything
outside of his noble circles. Darius had vowed many times to never be a part of
politics. Three months ago, that all changed.

Darius DarSan Williams had been
named heir to the throne of the Realm three months before. King Edward,
although not an old man, had died a week later from what they now assumed was a
slow poison. He had left no children to inherit after him. The strange, though
legal, ascension to the throne was brought about by the fact Darius was the
great-grandson of King Charles, the previous King before Edward. King Charles
had disowned his firstborn son Alric, due to him marrying a girl from the
farmlands, outside of nobility. Edward, Charles’s second son, had then
inherited the throne instead. None of this had been known by Darius, his
father, or most of the people in the Realm.

In the last week of Edward’s
life, he had informed young Darius, who was barely twenty, of the injustice
done and the intention to restore the throne back to the line of the firstborn.
Richard, who had been alive when the decree from King Charles came down, had
also been banned from inheriting the throne, but not Darius.

Richard had been a councilor to
King Edward and now remained as a councilor to Darius. It made for a strange
relationship with father being advisor to the son, but both of them were trying
to work it out among themselves.

“There are some things that do
require your attention, Darius.” Richard brought Darius back to the present.
“You are the King.”

Darius sighed. “I know. I know. I
am trying to come to grips with that.”

“And you are not a bad King
either. I have seen you mete out mercy to balance justice. The people like you.
You are young, and you and your new wife make a handsome couple for the people
of the Realm to be proud of.”

Darius had not heard such praise
from his father before. Maybe he wasn’t doing such a bad job. It did seem
overwhelming at times. He could not imagine what ruling would be like without
his growing powers. They had awakened in him fifteen months earlier when he had
brought a flame forth in his palm when he and his best friend Kelln had been
locked in a dark library basement. Since then, he had come to grips that he was
in reality a wizard, one with strong powers of the heart. This along with the
inherited power of the throne made Darius the first Wizard King in a long time,
something the Realm had not had for hundreds of years.

“I will be back in one hour. Have
ready only those items absolutely requiring my attention.” Darius smiled at
Richard. “I cannot keep my Christine waiting forever. A young bride deserves a
honeymoon, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she does, though I am
afraid it will be a working honeymoon. Traveling the Realm and her neighbors is
not all fun and games, my son.”

“I understand. But I will do it
with her by my side.”

The oil lamps blazed brighter as
Darius left the study. He walked the hallways of the castle, an attendant guard
always following close behind him. Darius realized he could take care of
himself, but most of the other men had not grasped the situation yet. Any
danger that might arise he could minimize or eliminate with his wizard powers.
The servants and guards were still uncomfortable and nervous talking about or
even admitting their master was both a wizard and a King. A King they could
understand: he was just flesh and blood like them. A wizard, however, carried
too many unknowns and still some resentful feelings from the past when wizards
hadn’t always stayed within the boundaries of the law.

Darius still struggled for total
control of his power, though he improved each week. As a wizard of the heart,
he was ruled by his emotions, though more often than not now he was able to use
love and positive feelings rather than hate and negative ones to do what he
desired. This was one of the reasons he was so excited to be leaving on his
honeymoon. Part of their itinerary would bring him to the Empire of Gildan,
where he would be reunited with his friend Mezar. Mezar, the second heir to the
throne in Gildan, was also a wizard—a wizard of the mind—and had mentioned a
school and library of learning for wizards in the Gildanian Empire. Darius
needed more information about his powers and what to expect from them.

There was no one in the Realm to
ask about his powers. One other wizard he had met was known as the Preacher, a
man who had tried to take the rule of one of the Realm’s major cities, Belor.
His powers were part inherited and somewhat learned. The learned portion was a
darker side and had been taught to the man while traveling to the eastern
kingdoms, across the Blue Sea. The Preacher, through the apparent help of his
daughter, Alessandra, had escaped on the day of Darius’s coronation. He had
taken Sean San Ghant, the son of a minor noble, with him, the same man who had
tried to kidnap Darius before he was King to gain power and privilege he
thought he deserved. Darius had sent Kelln, his best friend and now his
ambassador, to travel to Mar, where they suspected the Preacher and his
daughter to be.

The halls of the large rock
castle sat empty this time of day. He guessed most of the people were getting
ready to gather outside. The royal couple would be leaving on their belated
honeymoon, and the streets were sure to be full of on-lookers.

Voices yelling outside a window caught
the King’s attention right before entering his suite of rooms. He stopped and
looked down from four floors up and saw a scuffle outside the city gates.

“Get the outsider out of our
castle,” one man yelled.

“Put her back in the fields,”
another said.

Castle guards tried to gather up
the rowdy group of five men. By the King’s orders, they were not to be punished
or jailed, only taken back to their homes with a warning to stay away from the
castle.

For the first few weeks as King,
those who couldn’t accept his impending and announced marriage to someone
outside of the walls of Anikari frustrated and angered him. He tried to drive
the dissenters away. However, he had over time developed pity and even
compassion for them. They had lived in a land so divided by prejudice for so
long, it would take some time to be accepting of everyone.

The farmers, referred to as
outsiders by much of the city dwellers, had not been looked upon well since the
wizard uprising generations before. A group of wizards had tried to take over
the rule of the Realm in Anikari. As a result, the most powerful ones were
eventually killed while the lesser ones were taken outside the city walls and
told to make their living in the farmlands. Since then, the blood of those
lesser wizards and the farmers had mixed and diluted, seeming to have
eradicated most signs of magic. Ever since, the city dwellers had a tendency to
hate wizards, magic, and those that lived in the farmlands.

Darius had met, befriended, and
eventually married a girl from the farmlands. That, along with his wizard
powers, had shaken things up in the capital city of Anikari. It now saddened
him to overhear such harsh words about his wife, their Queen.

The door to their chambers
opened, and Darius’s heart leaped with joy. The sight of his wife, Christine
Anderssn DarSan Williams drove away all feelings but one: love—unabashed,
unbiased, all-consuming love. The King gathered the Queen in his arms and
kissed her with fervent passion, one hand around her thin waist while the other
stroked the back of her long blonde hair. Power engulfed his body and soared
into hers. Each could sense the deep feelings of the other.

“Don’t worry about them,”
Christine whispered, nodding her head toward the window. “Give them time.”

“I know they need time. It’s hard
to fully understand how so many people could have so much animosity toward
those living in the farmlands. It isn’t right.”

Christine backed away from Darius
but held his hands in front of her. “No, it isn’t right, but you have done more
to help rectify that situation than anyone. You helped secure the city from the
Preacher with both farmers and city guards; you have named a farmer to your
council, and have made the rules easier for children in the farmlands to get a
better education.”

“I just wish they could see you
like I do, Christine. I wish they could know you like I do.”

“Remember the day we met?”
Christine mused. “You had no complaints about helping me back to my home after
I fell and hurt my ankle. You are different from them. You accept everyone. It
is a gift you have.”

“You had me smitten the first
time you looked up from the ground with those bewitching green eyes of yours.”

     Christine laughed and hugged
her husband again. He rested his head on top of hers for a moment. “Just be patient.”

“I only wish it would change
quicker.” He walked with Christine into their rooms. The early autumn sunlight
streaming in danced along the floor, lightening the mood. Darius smiled.

At the end of the promised hour,
he returned to the study with his father. Some documents regarding the
leadership in Belor and a new trade agreement with Gildan dominated his time.
Mezar had made sure that Emperor Alrishitar of Gildan knew of Darius’s desire
for peace on all fronts.

The last piece of correspondence
would be a letter to Kelln in Mar. Kelln El’Han, a redheaded son of Anikari’s
once-famous sword maker, was Darius’s best friend since childhood. His jovial,
happy, not-worried-about-getting-into-trouble attitude had subdued somewhat
over the last year. Kelln’s travels to Belor and ultimate imprisonment by the
Preacher had affected him deeply. He was now in Mar on official business,
searching for the escaped Preacher and shoring up the local government that had
problems with corruption. Unofficially, he was looking for the beautiful and
captivating daughter of the Preacher, Alessandra El’Lan. She had captured and
intrigued Kelln’s heart multiple times but had betrayed him as many times
since. She was thought to be searching for her mother in Mar.

Darius had also asked Kelln to
attend to some needs on White Island, the island where the herd masters raised
and took care of the Cremelino horses that were used by the King. Through
Lightning, one of their own that Darius had given to Christine on her sixteenth
birthday, the other Cremelinos had been reaching out to his mind for something.
Kelln was tasked with finding out what he could until Darius had a chance to
travel to the island.

Finished up with the last minute
documents, he shook hands with his father, gave a few more final directions to
some of his other councilors, and headed to the front of the castle to begin
his honeymoon journey.

An hour later, he still stood in
the castle courtyard. As the King, everything took longer. Short speeches to
give, dignitaries to placate, entourages to put together, and guards to ride
lookout in front of and behind the royal couple. Darius and Christine, changing
protocol, had decided to ride on horseback rather than in a carriage.

“Your Majesty,” the captain of
the castle guard admonished. “This will make it much more difficult to guard
and protect you, being out in the open like this.”

They still tended to treat him as
a vulnerable young man.

“Roland, I have told you many
times: I am not defenseless.” He would have to teach a lesson now or they would
continue to second guess him the entire excursion. “Take your sword and come at
me.”

Roland’s eyes opened wide. “My .
. . my Lord. Never. I cannot do that.” Roland stood facing his King. The man’s
leather vest accentuated the muscles bulging from his arms and chest. His
stature, square face, and short, dark hair, were the epitome of the royal
guard.

“Do it,” Darius ordered. His jaw
was set firm, and his broadening shoulders held still under his red and black
attire.

Roland came at his King, bringing
up his sword to strike him. About a foot away from Darius, Roland’s sword hit
something solid in the clear air. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried again
harder. Sweat formed on his brow. The air around Darius held firm. With a flick
of his wrist, Darius used his power to grab the sword out of the captain’s hand
and threw the blade to the ground.

“I can protect myself,” he said
with maybe too much arrogance, but he had to make a point.