The Path Of Peace (The Cremelino Prophecy Book 3) (6 page)

“We don’t need wizards advising
us anymore. You take too much power to yourselves and meddle in our affairs.
When I succeed my father, there will be no advisor. Neither you or my
now-accursed sister.”

Danijela started to say
something, but the High Wizard stopped her with a touch of his hand on her arm.
Tears streamed down her face as she regarded her brother. It was obvious he had
upset her.

The High Wizard lowered his
voice, almost to a whisper. “Bronwyn, I will excuse this behavior from you
because it is late at night. You are young and tired. But make no mistake
further. Your succession is not guaranteed. Do not presume too much at this
young age.”

Bronwyn moved to speak, but the
High Wizard put up his hands to stop him. He turned to Danijela. “We are
obviously not wanted here tonight. We will go to the inn to rest instead.
Come.” The two turned back to the doorway they had entered.

Right before leaving the room,
Danijela turned back. With a sweep of her hand the stones that had been
reshaped, slid back to their original position as tiles in the floor as if
nothing had happened. She nodded to the lord of the manor and turned back
around.

Complete silence filled the room
after the two wizards left. Sean waited for someone to say something. He took a
long drink of wine, finishing off his glass. The prince remained standing where
he had been left. Sean could take the silence no longer. He stood up out of his
chair.

“Now is as good a time as any to
get back down to business, my Lord.” He was getting tired of doing nothing.

All eyes stared at the foreigner,
as if they had forgotten he was in the room.

“I don’t think we want to get
down to business, as you say, right now. I don’t think you would find me a very
tolerable person.” Bronwyn scowled for a few minutes and everyone fell silent.

 “However,” the prince started
again, “this might be a good night to take care of this situation once and for
all.”

The guard's faces in the room
piqued in interest and slight surprise.

Prince Bronwyn came closer to the
group. “Later tonight we will ride to the inn and take care of that overweight
meddling wizard once and for all.”

“What about your sister?” someone
asked.

The prince ignored the comment.
The group dispersed to their own rooms to prepare for the attack later that
night. The prince came up to Sean and asked to speak with him in private.

They walked outside and stood on
a deck with a view of the mountains to the east. The air had cooled, and the
stars shined bright in the clear night air.

Sean watched the prince
carefully, not knowing where he stood at the moment. Things had not gone
according to his expectations.

“Ever been out in the desert?”
the prince asked. It was an unexpected question.

“Only the White Sand Desert south
of Mar. I went with my father a few years ago. I have never been to your
kingdom’s great deserts. I am sure they are beautiful.”

Prince Bronwyn laughed. “Don’t be
too sure. Oh, we tout that our strength comes from our desert living, and that
may be. And though there are times of beauty and solitude there, for the most
part it is a harsh, unforgiving environment. I rather like it here closer to
the mountains.”

“Have you ever been further? To
the Black Forest or to the Blue Sea?

“Sadly, no.” The prince motioned
for the two of them to sit down on some stone benches. “The wealth of what the
Realm contains must be incredible.”

Sean could see where this was
going, and he decided to be bolder with the young prince. “So having a part of
the Realm’s resources under your control could be an advantage to you?”

The prince frowned and looked
around. “You must be careful of what you say, sir. The Realm has a new young
leader.”

“Young, yes. He is not
experienced in statehood and did not desire his position. People like us—you
and me—we want power, we want control. Am I right?”

“Let’s just say I would like to
take advantage of the weak situation in the Realm right now. An annexation of
part of that fruitful land into the Kingdom of Arc would make me very popular
here.”

“Even more so than your father?”
Sean ventured, enjoying the conspiratorial conversation.

The prince leaned back in his
chair and looked up at the sky. “Some might call me an ambitious man. But what
do you get out of this?”

“I get power and control over
Darius,” Sean almost spat with vehemence. “He doesn’t deserve what he has. If
he is weakened or even removed, then opportunities arise for me and my
benefactor.”

“Speaking of your benefactor.”
The prince frowned slightly. “I was not informed of who he was or what his
plans are.”

Sean had to be careful here. He
knew that the power of wizards was not popular with Arc’s next ruler. “He is a
man who prefers to work behind the scenes right now. He has contacts in Belor,
Mar, and Sur, and even the eastern kingdoms. Once unrest and discord is spread
throughout the Realm, he, too, is looking for power. That is his plan.”

The prince stiffened.

Sean continued. “However, he is
more than willing to share a piece of the pie with those who help him. He seems
to be a reasonable man.”

One of the guards came out of the
building and motioned toward the prince to get his attention. “We followed the
High Wizard and know where he is staying, my Lord. All will be prepared for an
attack tonight. He will not expect it here or now. He will not have time to
react.”

“Good. Good.” Prince Bronwyn’s
smile lit up his pale face, made more so with the contrast of the black clothes
he still wore. The kingdom elite, although desert dwellers, prided themselves
on their pale skin. Those that were tan were lower caste and worked outside.
“Just make sure you do not harm my sister. I am sure she has been brainwashed
by that trickster.”

The guard went back inside, and
Sean turned back to Bronwyn. “Then we have a deal? We can count on you to begin
to spread discord down into Sur and the Realm?”

“Oh, yes, my friend. And I know
the perfect time to start. As you heard, my father has asked me to meet the new
royal couple.”

 “Remember he is a wizard also.”

The prince’s face hardened and
his teeth clenched. “All the more reason to destroy him.”

Sean smiled and laughed softly.
Oh, how he longed to see Darius and his little pet girl from the farmlands
destroyed.

Bronwyn broke through Sean’s
revelry. “First, we destroy the High Wizard. Are you ready, my friend?”

Sean nodded and followed.

A TRAITOR IN THE MIDST

P
rince Mezar Alrishitar, second heir to the
throne of the Empire of Gildan, sat in the library of the wizard’s school on a
hill overlooking the city of Gildan. He kept his black hair long, currently
tied in a ponytail behind his neck so as not to bother him as he read. Mezar
had been researching the history of King’s and Emperor’s in the western
kingdoms and their connection to the three wizard powers. He had promised his
friend Darius that by the time he and his wife arrived later in the fall, Mezar
would have some background information to help Darius understand the heredity
of the power of the throne along with a history of Wizard Kings.

As a wizard of the mind, Mezar
absorbed and remembered all the information he read; however, there were a lot
of writings going back over hundreds, if not thousands of years, in multiple
kingdoms. He stood for a minute to stretch his legs and paused at a gold-framed
mirror hanging in the ornately furnished ancient room. His reflection was a
little distorted, but his tilted dark eyes and tanned features looked back at
him. His eyes seemed tired, and his face drawn. He marched back to the desk,
closed the book, replaced it on a shelf, and headed outside. He needed to
breathe some fresh air and move around. After his excursion into the Realm
earlier in the year, he had grown restless and tired of reading.

Before opening the door to the
balcony, he caught the sound of whispered voices behind a short wall to his
left. Earlier he hadn’t noticed anyone else enter the room. The school, closed
for a week of holidays, was empty, and he had found himself alone most days.
Mezar moved with quiet steps closer to the whispered conversation.

“Everything’s all ready, sir. The
plans are in place,” a man said, his voice low and scratchy.

“All the plans? You know he will
not be pleased with any failures. He is a hard man,” the second man said.

Mezar didn’t know who they
referred to, but it was obviously someone they feared to disappoint.

“There won’t be failures,” the
first voice continued. “The first part will be easy. It will appear as if the
Kingdom of Arc took the girl. The Realm and the Kingdom of Arc will wage war
against each other and forget about us to their south.”

Mezar became alarmed and knew he
had to do something, but he didn’t recognize the voices. What if they were more
powerful than he? He started to move closer, stretched out his hand, and felt
the power build up in his mind. He thought about what he could do before he
acted.

“And here in Gildan?” the second
man asked. “That will be more dangerous.”

“Yes. It will be slow. No one
will notice anything. In a few months, his bad health will have seemed to
happen in a most natural manner.”

 “He is old at that.”

Mezar could almost perceive the
second man smile.

 “The empire will be sad to lose
our beloved leader,” the second man responded.

Mezar froze. This was an
assassination plot. He could jump out and take care of the men, but what he
really needed to know was who was behind the plot. He listened further.

“Where will you keep the girl?”
the first man asked.

“Her Majesty will be kept safe.
The less people that know the location, the better.”

Once again, Mezar was surprised.
Who were they talking about? The Emperor’s wife had passed away years before.
Were they talking about Christine? Darius would not let his new wife be
anywhere unguarded.

Mezar peered around for a place
to hide. If they happened to walk his way and see him, they would know he had
been eavesdropping. He hid himself behind a bookshelf. The men continued to
talk for another minute, with no new revelations for Mezar, then footsteps
receded.

He had to find out what kind of
traitor supervised this horrible plot. Once he did that, he would bring the
news to the Emperor and his father, the general. He crept behind the men, using
his powers to hide his approaching steps. Using magic this way was taxing on
his mind but necessary. The two men parted ways.

Mezar decided to follow the one
that seemed to be issuing the commands. Maybe he would report back to whoever
had sent him. The man glanced back occasionally, but Mezar stayed hidden. He
didn’t recognize the traitor from behind. For them to be in the wizard
compound, the other man must have been a wizard, which made the potential
events even more dangerous.

Once outside the gates of the
school, they entered a part of town housing wizards and other high-ranking
nobles of the city. Evening crept up, but it was still light enough to spot the
tops of the domed buildings lighting the darkening sky. Mezar had always loved
this time of night. Each domed building had oil lamps that were lit from below
and circled the domes underneath their eaves, setting off a soft glow
throughout the city. In recent years, some of the more fashionable nobles had
begun experimenting with different colors of glass around the lamps, so even
though most of the buildings were a soft yellow, a few had dazzling colors of
green, blue, and even red.

The man walked down the
cobblestone hill and around the stone and cement houses until he entered the
merchant district. Eating establishments, a new phenomenon in Gildan, had
opened up in this quarter of town. It seemed that more and more of the wealthy,
and some not so wealthy citizens, preferred not to cook and eat their meals at
home.

Mezar followed the man down the
street and into one of the cooking establishments. The man headed to a back
room where Mezar couldn’t go without being seen. He went back outside and
around the side of the building to try and peer through a window or a crack in
the wall. He found a small space to view the table where the man sat.

The man he had followed sat
facing him, but the other man, his higher up, sat with his back toward Mezar.
He cursed silently at his bad luck. There was no other way to see. The man had
on a red cloak with black trousers and knee-high boots. Mezar tried to listen
to the two speak. Maybe that would give him a clue as to who it was. He caught
a few scraps of words from the man he had followed but mumbled sounds in quiet
whispers from the other man. The noise in the establishment was too loud. The
stranger waved his hands a few times as he talked, and a glint of light
reflected off of one of his fingers. A flicker of familiarity passed through
Mezar’s mind, and his stomach fell.

His father, the general, the heir
to the throne of Gildan after the Emperor was sitting with his back to Mezar.
The implications were mind-boggling, and Mezar’s quick and efficient mind
sorted through all he had heard and seen.

Down the back alley, a group of
men staggered toward him. He groaned at the distraction. They were drunk and
would certainly not leave him alone. He tried to hide behind a crate, but as
the men passed, one stopped, leaned over, and puked right in front of Mezar,
splashing a few drops on his boots.

“Hey.” One of the other men
swayed. “That’s gross, Dial. Look what you did to the nice man.”

The smelled wafted up and met
Mezar’s nostrils as he stood up and tried to leave. He didn’t want to be
recognized by the two men or by anyone else. “I’m fine.” He started to walk
away with his head lowered.

“Hey,” one of the other men
yelled, “don’t I know you?”

People in the eating
establishment looked out the screened window to see what the noise was. Mezar
thought quickly and, with a trickle of power, knocked a few crates into the
wall of the building, taking the attention of the drunken men off of him. He
ran fast and turned a corner. He had to get to the Emperor and warn him.

Walking the hills up to the
palace, he entered with a nod to the guards, then proceeded to his rooms first
to freshen up and then to clean off his boots. It wouldn’t be seemly to
approach the Emperor in his state. He thought through all he had seen and was
ready to present his case when his cousin Lowell came by, flopped onto Mezar’s
bed, and started chatting about the weather, food, and girls. His clothes, all
frills and lace, were the latest rage among many of the young noble class in
Gildan.

This particular cousin was two
years younger than Mezar and seemed to want to follow everything he did. If
Mezar even hinted at going to talk to the Emperor, his cousin would try and tag
along. Well known among the extended family was that Mezar was his
grandfather’s favorite. Rumors floated around in some quiet circles that the
Emperor would name Mezar his heir over Mezar’s father. The general and the
Emperor always seemed to be arguing over something.

After an hour, he convinced
Lowell to go and find something for them to eat. As soon as the pesky boy left,
Mezar walked with confidence out of his rooms, down the lit granite hallways,
and through multiple corridors and floors to the Emperor’s wing of the castle.
He didn’t know if the Emperor had guests this evening or not. Approaching the
Emperor’s house guards, he slowed. He didn’t want to set off any alarms.

“My Prince.” The head guard
nodded his head in a bow.

“Is the Emperor available this
evening?” Mezar tried to sound like it was a normal casual visit. He was sure
the guards picked up the sound of his heart pounding. News of a potential
assassination was certainly not normal. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around
the fact that his father was somehow involved.

“The general arrived in the
Emperor’s study a few minutes ago.”

Mezar stiffened. “Have they been
talking long?” He had to get the general away from the Emperor.

“Not too long.” The guard
shrugged. “But you know how it goes with them.” The man smiled at Mezar. Much
of the time their arguments would last for hours. The general was much more
brash than the Emperor. He always wanted to send troops places, take small
pieces of land, and flex the Empire’s muscles to their neighbors. After
returning from the Realm after Darius’s surprising coronation, it had taken a
lot of pleading and negotiation for Mezar to convince his father to stay out of
the Realm and give them time to heal and build. The general seemed even more
intent lately to pursuing more power to himself. He had his sights on expanding
his nation’s borders and was prepared to do so in a time of the Realm’s
weakness, but Mezar had promised Darius that the Emperor would honor peace.

Since then, a new trade document
had been signed. Part of Darius’ visit to Gildan in the coming month would be
to formally meet the Emperor and sign in each other’s presence the trade deal.
The general did not agree and was angry at Mezar for representing the Empire of
Gildan to the Realm.

“I will let the Emperor know you
are here,” the guard offered. “That may help to speed things along.” The guard
smiled knowingly at Mezar.

Mezar nodded back, and in a few
minutes, the guard motioned Mezar into the back of the Emperor’s study to wait.
The study had always been a favorite room of his. Books and valuables from all
over the western world jumped out at him. A few maps were mounted in the corner
behind a small setting of comfortable leather-stuffed chairs. A stone fireplace
stood off to the side. This was where Mezar and his grandfather had had many
chats throughout the years.

Voices rose between the two, and
Mezar looked at his father. He was hoping that he had been mistaken at the
restaurant. But he was not. His father’s back was to him. He wore a red cloak
with black trousers tucked into black knee-high boots. His stomach lurched
.
His
father’s hand flashed with light as a golden ring reflected off of the nearby
lamp. He felt his face go pale but starting sweating at the same time.

Mezar looked around the room and
for the first time in his life felt out of control. The world tilted, and he
breathed in power to settle his dizziness. His mind raced through possibilities
and outcomes. None were good. He sucked his breath in too loud, and the two men
stopped. His father turned, and they both glanced his way. He willed himself
not to faint.

“Mezar,” his father said.
“Everything all right?” He smiled a predatory grin.

The prince stood still and willed
his beating heart to remain calm.

“Father.” He kept his voice even.
“What were you doing talking to that man in the restaurant in the merchant
quarters?” He decided a direct approach might be better.

Giving credit to his father, the
man barely twitched, but his eyes grew dark.

“Mezar, what is this about?” the
Emperor. “Come here closer to me. You know I have a hard time seeing that far
anymore.”

“Your Majesty,” Mezar responded,
“my father—”

And that was as far as Mezar got.

His father slid across the floor
in only a moment’s thought and stood facing Mezar. “You haven’t been invited
here, my son.”

Mezar tried to peer around his
father toward the Emperor. The man looked confused and sicker than he had the
day before. Without warning, Mezar felt a shove of air push him backward. He
grunted hard and stood his ground, shoving air back toward his father. Mezar
ducked low, rolled to the side, and started to move to protect the Emperor. His
father spewed fire toward him. It was treason to use power in such a way in the
Emperor’s rooms, but his father didn’t seem to care.

Operating on instincts, Mezar
turned around and in defense sent a ball of red fire spiraling toward his
father. The general dodged the fire, letti
ng it explode into
the strong walls behind him. Small chips of stone flew in to the air. Mezar
glanced at the Emperor whose eyes moved from his son to his grandson and back.

“Mezar!” the general shouted.
“Stop this instant. I don’t know what you are thinking. Let’s talk about this.”

Two guards came in to the room,
then flattened back against the walls, not wanting to get in the way of two
wizards throwing fire at each other. The Emperor stood up and had never
appeared as frail to Mezar as he did at that moment. The men, the poison, the
plan he had heard alluded to, must already be working. But who would believe
his accusations?