The Warrior Prince (The Tragedy of King Viktor Book 2)

by J. D. Morrison

  The Warrior Prince

  The Tragedy of King Viktor Series

  Book 2

  By J.D. Morrison

  Also by J.D. Morrison

  The Seven Island Series

  Children of the Forest (Short Story)

  Kingdom in Turmoil (Book 1)

  War of Fire (Book 2)

  Rise of Ancients (Book 3)

  The Tragedy of King Viktor Series

  The Forgotten Prince (Book 1)

  The Warrior Prince (Book 2)

  Copyright © 2019 J.D. Morrison

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  J.D. Morrison

  www.jdmorrisonbooks.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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  Prologue

  ∞

  Yaspar, now entering his thirtieth year, was not seen as a man of morals. Nor was he known to be someone that cared much about anyone other than himself. This was what he wanted others to believe, but he knew it not to be true. He cared deeply for his wife and two daughters, whose lives were currently in danger. He had a friend once, that he loved dearly as well, that died alongside him in the King’s Square coup fourteen years ago. He thought about his family and friend often, especially when he felt the sting of loneliness. He dared not reveal this to anyone as compassion and sympathy were forbidden qualities in his world. This, among other things, is why he married in secret.

  His path to the Shroud was littered with hardships. His father was killed in a brawl fight when he was seven and his mother killed herself shortly thereafter. He stayed with an abusive uncle for the next three years before running away to live on the streets of King’s Square. He stole food from bakers and fruit vendors to survive and completed odd jobs here and there to curry favor with local men of power. It was during this time a lieutenant of the Shroud approached him with a mission to kill a bishop who was abusing his influence over a number of widows in the city. He struggled with the idea of killing someone but accepted the job anyway as the payout was too much to resist. He suffocated the bishop with a pillow two nights later.

  He thought about that first kill often, even now while trudging through the deep snow on foot. The king’s footman gave him a thin leather coat, boots, and worn britches to wear upon release a week ago. Fortunately, his boots were made of bear fur, so his feet were the warmest part of his body. He was also given a bent, dull longsword. “For protection,” the footman said as he handed Yaspar the sword. He remembered scoffing softly and thinking it would do him little good against forest creatures or Viktor’s militia.

  He hears the loud crunch of snow as a branch crashes to the ground twenty yards ahead. He notices movement in the snow-covered bushes near the tree and watches as another branch breaks and falls on top of bush causing a creature to roar angrily. He grabs the hilt of the longsword and slowly pulls it from his belt. The bushes sway back and forth as the beast huffs and growls. A grizzly or silverback, he thought.

  A doe leaps out of the bush and runs toward him. The back half of its body stained blood red and a bone protruding from one of its legs. He watches as it stumbles to the ground and tries to jump back up. A black grizzly bursts through the bushes and towards the doe. Its razor claws tear into its prey’s backside.

  Not sure what to do, Yaspar crept backwards to hide behind a thick oak tree. However, the beast sees him and stands on its hind legs. It roars furiously and charges towards him. He turns to run, but the bear is too fast. The grizzly swings its giant paw at him, striking him across the neck. Its claws tear into his throat and the impact sends him flying into the air and into a patch of thorny bushes. The grizzly lets out a mighty roar and lunges toward him. He turns and sticks the longsword straight up into the air for the bear to land on.

  One

  ∞

  “A king shouldn’t do the hunting,” Marianna said with a concerned wrinkle on her forehead. “Let Josiah and the others go instead.”

  “I’m not a king yet,” Viktor replied, smiling, tossing a leather saddle over the back of a horse. “And I may never be one.”

  “You certainly won’t if you die in the woods today,” she said. She had secretly vowed to protect him in every way possible, even to the point of tasting his food before it was served to him. A blood cough had taken her father a few weeks ago and her younger sister ran away a day later. Everyone who meant anything to her was now dead or missing. She didn’t want to lose Viktor. Or Josiah.

  “All this king talk will go to his head if you’re not careful,” Josiah chimed in, already on horseback. He smiled and winked at Marianna who blushed. The two of them had been friends for nearly a year now and there was an uneasiness between them they dared not mention.

  “Keep each other safe,” she said with a sigh, directed more towards Josiah than Viktor.

  Gideonis the druid and Kelond the dwarf showed up, arguing as usual. This time it was over which type of iron was best for suits of armor, an argument a dwarf should easily win, but Kelond struggled to articulate his points.

  “Prince Viktor,” a young soldier shouted, jogging toward them from the front gate of Fort Asbury. He held a small parchment and handed it to Viktor when he arrived.

  “A love letter, no doubt,” Kelond chuckled. “It’ll be the first of many, my lad.”

  Viktor unfolded the parchment and read its contents aloud.

  The king has hired and sent three assassins to Fort Asbury. Beware of all new recruits.

  “Who’s it from?” Josiah asked.

  “Doesn’t say.”

  They looked back at the common area of Fort Asbury at the hundreds of troops milling about. Some were training. Others were relaxing. Many more were standing around engaged in conversation. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. For over a week they had been hard at work preparing for the next attack and many of them looked exhausted and hungry. Viktor always knew he’d be the target of an assassination, but now there was proof and the killer was potentially in his midst.

  “Clear indication you should forego the hunt today,” Marianna said, grabbing hold of the reins of Viktor’s horse.

  “I disagree, milady,” Gideonis said with his booming voice. “He’ll be safe with us and the time away will provide us an opportunity to sort out the matter.”

  “I agree with the druid,” Kelond said, “as much as it pains me.”

  “And who cares what Josiah says,” Viktor said with a laugh, studying Josiah’s face to see what sort of reaction his comment would elicit.

  “That reward on your head is getting mighty tempting,” Josiah replied with a grin.

  “See? We’ll be fine,” Viktor said to her. “Don’t worry.”

  Their little party exited the front gate and crossed the snowy field toward the forest. All Marianna could do was watch.

  “Worrying steals away your best years, milady,” Erwin said from behind. “It rarely, if ever, does anyone any good.”

  She turned to see the old man whom she had grown to admire. He leaned
heavily on a cane and wore a ragged robe which was too thin to be worn outside during the cold season. She hurried over to him and grabbed his arm.

  “What are you doing outside so early in the day? The sun’s not even above us yet,” she said in a gentle tone.

  He tried to respond but was overtaken by a coughing fit. His health had started deteriorating shortly after they had taken Fort Asbury. Its deterioration was rapid and alarming. Viktor and the others feared the worst and tried not to bother him with unfavorable news. The coughing fit was much like what her father endured during those final few weeks.

  “Let’s get inside where it’s warm,” she said, looking back through the gate at the forest.

  ∞

  The ride through the forest was quiet, other than the crunching of horse hooves in the snow. The sky was overcast and it was snowing lightly.

  Viktor, Josiah, Kelond, and Gideonis scanned their surroundings for tracks and broken limbs. They were all distracted by the potential ramifications of what was on the parchment. An assassin could ruin everything they were trying to accomplish and there were nearly a thousand men back at the fort. Their only hope was that each assassin was a member of the Shroud. Although it was an elite assassin’s guild centered on secrecy and stealth, they foolishly brand the inner arms of each member with a tattoo. Kelond was the first to speak up as he realized this before the others. “We’ll check each man’s arm when we return. Down to the very last one. Even the squires.”

  They could see the heaviness of his thoughts on his face. Viktor was still a boy and the thought of someone wanting to kill him terrified him, even after the many bloody battles he had won. Battle is different, he thought. I can see my opponent and we both want the same thing. There’s a sense of honor in the battles he had fought that energized him as the fights were fair and nothing was hidden. Assassins fight with no honor and not knowing when or where an attack will come from was something he had to get used to thinking about if he was going to make it to King’s Square alive.

  “He must really fear you,” Josiah said, “if he has to hire assassins. And three no less.”

  “Right, I take it as a compliment,” Viktor snarked.

  “He’s at war. It’s what your book tells him to do,” Gideonis replied.

  “There’s a book on war?” Josiah asked, genuinely curious.

  “Yes, The Art and Science of Shedding Blood,” Viktor said. “It was written by a human general five-to-six hundred years ago.”

  “Why aren’t we using it?” Josiah asked.

  “Do you have a copy? No? The old woman burned mine two years ago,” Viktor replied. “I don’t remember much, but there is a chapter on secret warfare that discusses the use of assassins and spies.”

  “Well, why don’t we do the same?” Josiah asked, his voice getting a little louder.

  “Hire assassins? Where’s the honor in that, boy?” Kelond barked.

  “There’s honor in not dying,” Josiah replied.

  “I will not employ assassins or sell-swords to take back the throne. It is not how I want my reign to begin,” Viktor snapped back, loud enough to cause some snow to fall from a nearby limb.

  The conversation stopped, and they continued to ride through the forest. None of them spotted deer tracks or broken limbs. It was as if the forest creatures had been scared off by something or someone. Just when they were about to give up they heard a loud roar in the distance.

  “That’s a grizzly,” Gideonis said. “About three hundred yards north of us.”

  The party looked around at one another, waiting for someone to share the plan. Viktor, being the commander he is, spoke up first. “Bear meat tastes just as good as boar meat.”

  “Their meat may taste the same, but their sizes are quite different,” Kelond replied.

  “I say we go for it,” Josiah said with a smile.

  “I will do what my king tells me,” Gideonis replied, also with a smile.

  Viktor kicked the sides of his horse and charged through the trees toward where the roar originated. He pulled the Firebringer from his back and held it tight in his right hand. Josiah pulled an arrow from his quiver and held it against the bow in his left hand. Kelond held his mace and Gideonis a sword, even though he never planned on using it. He was a druid after all.

  They arrived at the scene and witnessed the grizzly throw a bearded man into the side of a tree. Snow from the limbs above crashed down and covered him. The bear, after limping toward where the man had fallen, used its big paws to try to dig him out. Viktor and the others could see a broken longsword blade in its chest.

  Viktor’s attack came first in the form of a fireball the size of a wagon wheel. “Incendiary heavaris,” he shouted. The fireball pounded into the grizzly’s right ribcage and knocked it back a few yards. Josiah let an arrow fly that hit its mark in the bear’s neck. Kelond rode past the bear and slammed the iron part of his mace down onto its head. The beast cried out in pain as it grabbed the arrow from its neck and tossed it aside.

  Gideonis hopped off his horse and shapeshifted into a grizzly slightly smaller than the one in front of him. He charged at his opponent and used his paws to scratch out its eyes. Viktor and the others watched as Gideonis dismembered the grizzly in a matter of seconds.

  “God’s hell,” Kelond whispered. “Remind me to never cross you, druid.”

  Viktor and Josiah made their way over to the man who was being attacked. They jumped off their horses and started digging. “We’ll get you out,” Viktor said to the man. “Just hang in there.” They dug for about thirty seconds before they could see flesh. They grabbed the man’s bloody arm and pulled him out together. The man was shivering and could barely keep his eyes open. His neck and face were covered in blood and a whole section of his forearm was ripped off.

  “Kelond, give me your coat,” Viktor commanded.

  “For a stranger, milord?”

  Viktor looked back at Kelond and scowled. “Yes, for a stranger or anyone else I deem worthy.” Kelond handed him a coat of black bear fur. Viktor wrapped the man in the coat and noticed how blue his face was getting. Viktor wrapped himself around the coat and motioned Josiah to do the same.

  “We don’t know this man,” Kelond interjected. “He could be one of the three sent to kill you. Let me see his arm.”

  Kelond jumped of his horse and trudged through the snow toward the man. He pulled back a flap of the coat to see the man’s arm in shreds. Muscle and bone were showing where a tattoo could’ve been. Kelond looked up at Viktor and grimaced. “We can’t be sure now.”

  “What if he’s right?” Josiah said softly. “What if this man was sent to kill you?”

  Viktor continued to rub the man’s shoulders. He looked around at their concerned faces. Even Gideonis didn’t seem to agree with what Viktor was trying to do. “We won’t worry about that now. Let’s worry about getting him back to Asbury alive.”

  Two

  ∞

  Alexander was distracted. He would’ve preferred to be at war with another nation instead of the militia stationed at Fort Asbury. He remembered something his father used to say; A king whose own people rise up against him is no king at all. Even if he rode out to fight Viktor’s army and won, he wouldn’t return to King’s Square a hero. Just a king who is adept at squashing rebellions, a legacy he didn’t want.

  Yet, his legacy may have already been tarnished by the slaughter of his brother and sister-in-law fifteen years ago. He had hoped by now people had moved on from that violent night. He removed all paintings of them in the palace and the various artifacts and belongings that were strewn about. All except a small horse head carved from an everpine branch. There were two such carvings given to the princes of Tresladore decades ago by a Romulosan king. Alexander had lost his, never one to take care of things as a child, and the one in his hands belonged to Padhurst, his brother.

  Alexander gently rubbed the nose of the carved horse and thought about how close he and his brother were when they wer
e boys. They would play tricks on the servants and various diplomats invited to the palace and steal items from the kitchen causing the cooks to chase them all through the palace halls. The Royal Garden was a favorite place to play and hide from the other well-born children that would come with their parents for weeks at a time. He had a joyous childhood because of his brother, but it all changed when his father grew ill.

  “Enough of that,” Alexander whispered, tossing the horse head to the floor.

  He sat alone near the fireplace in his bedchamber. It was raining ice outside. He could hear it pounding against the walls and window. It had been an abnormally frigid cold season and he wondered how such a large army, Viktor’s militia that is, could manage it. To prevent crowding and soldiers not having beds, Alexander had stationed his army at various outposts throughout the northern and central part of the island. He and Dover thought this was a good idea at first, but now regret having done it due to the division it had caused.

  “Your majesty,” a deep voice said, “dinner has been prepared.”

  Alexander looked back at the door to his chamber and saw Dreyer, his personal servant. Dreyer was tall with dark eyes and dark hair. He was also large in the stomach and arms and wore a patch over his left eye. He and Alexander have known one another since childhood.

  “Duck, I presume,” Alexander replied with a smile.

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Dreyer, would you go to war if I asked you?”

  “I’m not the soldiering type, your majesty.”

  “You don’t need two eyes to swing a sword?”

  “True, milord.”

  Alexander looked out the window at the falling ice. “Would you march with me in this weather if I asked? Would you follow me to the edge of the island and back with shards of ice falling on your shoulders the entire time?”

  “Why do you ask, milord? Am I to be drafted into the Royal Guard?”

  “What if you were? Would you fight bravely?”