The False Prince (Fall Of A King Book 1)

by Fuller, James

  "What is the matter?" Dahak asked nervously, his hand touching the hilt of his sword while he turned his horse around to survey the scene.

  "Why did we stop?" Nicolette asked. Ursa was already off his horse and was rummaging through his things in his saddlebags.

  Shania was beside him - worry, and confusion shadowing her half-hidden face. She watched the crowd slow and glare - their curses and muttering growing louder with each passing moment.

  Once Ursa found what he was looking for, he turned to explain. "That boy will not live for more than two nights if he does not receive help - I can help him. I cannot bring myself to just leave him to die," Ursa said, words thickened with emotion.

  Dahak looked around at the gathering mob that held in white-knuckled fists. Makeshift weapons - mostly sharpened farming tools but a few short swords and spears sprouted like weeds. "Ah, Ursa, are you sure this is such a good idea?"

  "I will only be a few moments. This is something I must do. I do not know why, but I must!" Ursa replied, ignoring the angry crowd as he went over to the family.

  "What are you doing?" the mother asked, as Ursa neared them.

  "I am going to help your son. That wound is infected and he will die if it does not get treatment soon," Ursa told her, beginning to mix several herbs and colored liquids together from his pouches.

  The father looked down at him, then up at Shania who was walking closer, not wanting to be far from Ursa. "What the hell are you doing with one of them?" the man yelled, pushing Ursa aside, he stood in front of his son and wife with a rusted old broad sword in his hand. "We do not need your help! This is some kind of savage trick - you are going to poison him!" the man roared, lifting the blade aggressively.

  "I would do no such thing," Ursa barked back. "As for her, she is my slave and will do no harm, you have my word." Shania looked at Ursa in shock - hurt stark on her face. She was about to protest, but Ursa stopped her before she could. "Now slave, go and get me some clean rags from my horse and bring them to me before I lash you for dawdling and for forgetting them in the first place."

  Shania's eyes glistened with wetness-she bit her bottom lip, turned and went to the horses without a word. She knew his words were a ruse, but they sounded so real and his tone had almost matched that of her father's.

  The man stared down at Ursa for a moment longer, still not sure whether to believe him. Instinct told him not too, but his heart cried a different tune. His wife took hold of his arm and whispered to him. "Please let him help our son. He is right - he will not last more than a few days, and I cannot bear to lose another child, husband. Please!" she said, tears streaming freely down her dirt-stained face.

  The father swallowed hard, fighting to control his emotions as his blade tip sank toward the earth. Tears welled up in his own eyes as he nodded to his wife and then he stood aside. "Do what you can for him, but I will be watching your every move and if I see anything that shows foul intent, I will kill you," he growled, though his anger had subsided almost entirely.

  "Please save him," the mother begged, wiping the tears that streamed down her chubby cheek with a fold in her ratty dress.

  "They cannot be trusted!" several people cried out as they gathered round, gripping their pathetic weapons.

  "They keep company with demons!" another screamed raising his knobby club in the air high.

  "I mean your son no harm." Ursa stared the man hard in the eyes seeing that he was beginning to be lured by the crowd's chants.

  "Shut up all of you!" the father screamed to his fellow refugees slowing their jeers and taunts. "Do what you can for him, stranger."

  "I need you to hold him down - I have to get the pus out of the wound and it is going to hurt for a moment." Ursa took the boys severed limb and squeezed it hard, pushing the secretion out. The child screamed in pain, kicked wildly, and tried to pull away, but Ursa did not stop. He knew it was the only way to save his life.

  "Where are my rags, you filthy little wretch?" Ursa yelled over his shoulder at Shania, hoping the poor girl knew he did not mean any of it.

  Shania ran to his side, handed him the rags without pause, and then took a step back, wanting nothing more than to run away from the hurtful words and vicious stares.

  Ursa took the rags and used one of them to soak up the blood and yellow discharge, which now dripped from the boy's infected stump. He flattened another rag on his knee and dumped half the mixture he had made onto it, smearing it around. He placed it onto the raw stump of the boy's arm and tied it on tightly with a piece of hemp twine. The child moaned a little at the sting it caused, but then was still and silent.

  "This will keep it from getting worse. By dusk, clean the wound and use the rest of this mixture, and repeat what you saw me do," Ursa told the couple as he stood up. "He will need as much water and food as you can give him to rebuild his strength."

  "Thank you! Thank you! By the Creator's will…bless you!" the woman cried, cuddling her boy.

  The father stared down at his son for a while before walking over to Ursa, who was now at his horse packing his things. "I am sorry for the way I reacted before. I was just…"

  Ursa growled, cutting him off, "I understand - trust is a hard thing to give in times such as these. I am just glad I could help." Then the man held out his hand and shook Ursa's firmly.

  "I will not forget this. If, one day, you need anything, search me out, I will do what I can," the man told him. "We will be at Dragon's Cove. We are moving there, where it is safer behind massive walls and an army. If you need me, that is where I can be found," he said sincerely.

  "Let go of me!" Shania screamed, trying to pull her arms free of the two men who now held of her and were pushing her to her knees.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Ursa demanded, striding over to them. Dahak was right behind him, while Nicolette stayed with Meath and Zehava, who were trying to see what was happening, their swords gripped tightly in their hands.

  "It is savages like this one that destroyed our homes and killed our friends and families," one of them barked, wrenching on Shania's arm causing her to cry out in anguish.

  "You will let go of her at once!" Ursa commanded in a deep, voice, "or you will suffer far worse than anything you have thus far!"

  "Not until we have our vengeance on this little bitch!" the other yelled. By now, the group of refugees was gathered around and cheering their agreement with weapons held high, their demeanor fierce.

  "Leave her alone damn you!" the father of the boy Ursa had just helped yelled at them. "This man just saved my son life; he means us no harm. What is the matter with you all?"

  "A man who keeps company with the likes of these demons is no good!" one woman yelled from the crowd.

  "This savage girl had nothing to do with your tragedy. She has been my slave since she was but a baby," Ursa beckoned, his conduct growing more threatening. "If you do not unhand her, I will have my man remove you from her very unpleasantly." Ursa gave Dahak a look that said he should step in.

  Dahak drew his sword and held it tightly, trying not to show he was terrified about the situation. He held firm knowing the Wizard must have a plan if things went wrong.

  Both men stopped pulling and just held her, turning their attention to Ursa and Dahak.

  "You would attack your own kind to save a savage?" one of them asked, with a menacing stare of disbelief.

  "To protect my property that I paid for? Yes, I would. Now unhand her, unless you want to join your dead comrades back in your burned out towns. I will not say it again!" Ursa warned and Dahak took a step forward, his stance offensive.

  "Just let her go you fools!" the father yelled at them.

  Both men released Shania and took a step back. She ran and hid behind Ursa, not knowing what else to do.

  The crowd was disgruntled and started yelling taunts and curses toward them. Some began to throw rocks and dirt in disgust, while waving their weapons and poles in the air, slowly gaining courage.

  "Get on your
horses, now!" Ursa yelled, mounting up as fast as he could. He yelled back to Nicolette to jump on one of the litters, they kicked their horses and bolted out of the mob of people as fast as they could.

  They rode hard only until they had made it around the next bend in the road - more than a mile away and until they knew the mob was not following them. Zehava and Meath lay in absolute agony, holding on for dear life, while Nicolette hung on tightly to the sides of the litter, trying not to put all her weight on Meath's already sore body.

  "I am sorry about that," Ursa said back to them when the horses had slowed down to their regular pace.

  Meath and Zehava both moaned their disapproval, but knew it might have been the only way they could have gotten out of there with their lives. He paused for a minute, to look at the two boys.

  "I am sorry for that back there," Ursa told Shania. He could tell she was rattled by the experience and the words that he had used had cut deep. "But it was necessary."

  Shania nodded her head in understanding, but did not speak.

  "I really thought we were in for it back there." Dahak looked back down the road to make sure no one was coming after them. After several long moments, he was satisfied that they were safe, for the time being.

  "How could people be like that, after we helped one of them?" Nicolette asked in disbelief.

  "They were scared and defeated, their morale all but destroyed at the loss they have suffered. We cannot blame them," Ursa explained.

  "What is that over there?" Shania asked pointing toward a large pile of rocks where flocks of scavenger birds were gathered.

  "Some dead animal that was moved off the road I bet," Dahak answered.

  "No, I think it is something else. It does not look right," Shania said, dismounting from her horse.

  "We do not have time for this - we must keep traveling," Ursa called to her.

  "There are bodies!" Shania called to them.

  "What should we do?" Dahak asked the great Wizard.

  "We had better go check," Ursa said with a renounced sigh. "But we must hurry - we have not the time for this."

  "Oh no!" Nicolette cried, running over to the half-charred body that lay face down in the dirt. "That is Rift's saddle bag and things!"

  At the mention of the champion, Ursa was alert and off his horse.

  Shania flipped over the body to get a look at the man's face. "Is that your friend?" she asked Nicolette, but the Princess turned away, not able to stand the sight or smell.

  "No, it is not. It is someone else. But why would he have Rift's things?" Ursa asked aloud.

  "This man killed your friend then stole his stuff? It happens all the time," Shania said, walking back to her horse. "Then a tribe found him, and killed him too."

  "I do not think that is how it was," Ursa said. He looked at Nicolette, who was looking back at him holding back her tears. "I believe this man may have been traveling with Rift. There are the other man's things over there. It looks like they were ambushed and Rift may have gotten away. But we should not stay here for long. That mob will see us again soon and may not let us leave so easily next time." Ursa led his horse back to the road as gently as he could, trying not to hit the litter against the large rocks that were scattered everywhere. He was hoping the Princess would trust his words and not think about what might have happened to Rift, although it seemed more likely she would go with the latter.

  "How do you know he got away?" Nicolette cried, following in behind them.

  "Because his body is not here, Highness," Ursa replied, hoping he was right. "Besides, you and I both know Rift - he would not be taken down so easily."

  "Who is this Rift guy, anyway?" Zehava asked her, once they had started down the road again.

  Nicolette stared down at the ground as she walked. "He is my Champion."

  "Oh…what would he be doing out here?" Zehava questioned, as he tried to move into a more comfortable position to absorb the bumps a little less painfully.

  "He must be looking for me…but how he knew where to look I do not know." She looked down at the ground again and prayed to the Creator that he was okay.

  "I have known Captain Rift for a long time your Highness. He is a smart and cunning man and it is his job to know how to find you. He looks to be going to Dragon's Cove, so maybe we will see him there."

  9

  Dagon and his Champion Jarroth - along with the fifteen hundred men Tundal allowed him to take, his original three hundred, and the hundred and fifty Zandorian personal guard Prince Berrit had given - traveled hard down the dusty road to Mandrake Castle.

  Dagon had several officers stop and question every traveler on the road to find out what they knew. Each person they stopped received two copper pieces for any information regarding the barbarians and their movements. Dagon wanted to know everything - fact or rumor.

  They only stopped at night when the first stars were visible, then were back moving at sunrise. During the day when the sun was at its highest peak, they stopped long enough to eat and tend the horses. It was a bitter, tough journey but the soldiers were trained for it and not a man complained.

  Dagon had sent men to travel ahead of them to each of the small towns they would pass by… or through. He had given those men plenty of coin to buy whatever food supplies the locals were willing to part with - for both the men and the horses. Several new wagons and horses were purchased to haul the cargo and they fell in behind the passing army with the other supply wagons.

  Dagon knew not the situation they would encounter when he arrived at Mandrake. Whether the defenders could hold the walls and keep the savage horde out or if he would have to take back his castle from the horde. Regardless, he was not about to be unprepared and under-supplied - his men and their beasts would be well fed and alert when they charged into battle against their outnumbering foe. Dagon knew well from his own younger days in the army that hungry, thirsty men soon became demoralized and sloppy.

  They travelled for a half a week and still had another two, maybe three days of hard travel to go until they reached Mandrake Castle. Dagon prayed he would not be too late. Along the way, he had conscripted a handful of townsfolk who had wanted to help defend their country. He accepted them in proudly.

  "My Lord, there seems to be an abandoned wagon up ahead with a lot of rubbish around it," a brawny, blond soldier reported, riding from the front to give him the news.

  "Well, get it out of the way. We do not have time to slow down!" Dagon exclaimed, already angry that they were not making better time.

  "There is no one around the wagon - no bodies or anything -, it is just sitting there," the soldier replied, a little nervous that he might make his Lord even angrier with the details.

  "Get it out of the way! We do not have time for delays!" Dagon growled at the man. "They must have just left it behind and ran for their lives."

  "Yes sir, right away, sorry, my Lord." The soldier quickly rode off to deliver the orders.

  A group of soldiers were pushing the wagon off the road as ordered - while others were clearing the debris, when a sharp blast of a horn sounded off in the trees not far from where they stood.

  The sound of that horn sent a dreadful chill through Dagon's body. "It is a trap! Everyone! Arm yourselves!" Dagon screamed, drawing his sword, unstrapping his thick iron shield from his saddle and searching the tree line with his eyes, wondering where the attack would come from.

  Arrows flashed from the undergrowth as three scores of barbarian archers came out of nowhere, throwing camouflaged blankets aside - bows notched, and ready to fire a second assault into Dagon's army. No one was prepared for the attack. Men fell off their horses like dead wood from the volley of arrows that sliced across the road from either side. Others were thrown off their startled and wounded mounts, crashing hard into the ground, and trampled into the mud by the terrified horses.

  "Make two lines on either side of the road! Shield wall!" Dagon screamed to his men, running from his horse with his shield and swo
rd in hand to stand in the lines that were quickly forming.

  "What are we going to do, my Lord?" Jarroth yelled over the clamor.

  "We attack them before we lose any more men," Dagon said, ducking his head behind his shield from the assault of arrows. "When I give the order, everyone with a spear or javelin throw, then charge them as one!" The command was passed down the lines. Within moments, both defense lines had their orders.

  "Wait for it!" Dagon called loud. He listened for the last arrow to thud home in a shield.

  "NOW!" He cried out as loud as he could, shields shifted and bladed shafts sliced through the jungle's growth, impaling their targets.

  "ATTACK!" Dagon cried, charging into the trees, praying to get to the attackers before they notched another deadly volley of arrows.

  Dagon and his men met the savages head on. The archers were not armored for defense and were cut down quickly as the defenders ravaged through the tree line hungry for revenge. The battle did not take more than a few brief moments-soon the enemy was dead or fleeing.

  "Captain, bring me a report of the dead and wounded." Dagon ordered him, as he finished off the last wounded barbarian who was holding in his innards with his hands.

  The rest of the men helped their wounded comrades and started to collect the run-away horses. In the few moments the attack had lasted - so many lives had been taken.

  "Sir, it was not your fault we were ambushed," Jarroth said to Dagon, seeing his Lord's inner struggle as they walked back down from the trees to the road.

  "I should have seen it sooner. We have not passed any travelers in days, wildlife is more scarce than normal, or when that soldier told me there was a wagon," Dagon barked loudly to his lone friend. "I should have made the connections that it was a trap!" Dagon cursed himself.

  "There was no way of knowing, sir. Not even you could have known what was about to happen," Jarroth assured him.