Soul of Magic (Soul of Magic Book 1)

FIFTEEN

No one made a sound as Richard and his men rode across the grassy landscape. The same thought was on the mind of them all; the same thought which was becoming more and more a pressing concern. To what end was it all?

The thought wasn’t an accident, really. In fact, it was only reasonable that they all had it because for three days, they had been riding hard on the trails of Ivan's witch; but the trails were all they’d ever found. The men would actually have believed she didn't exist if not that they had seen the prints she left for themselves. But for a witch whose trail was very real and, according to the rich man, had no considerable means of transport, she always seemed to manage to stay frustratingly ahead of them.

However, it wasn’t just the elusive witch that weighed on Richard's mind. In fact, at that moment, she was the furthermost thing from his mind. Instead, his thought was on the last conversation which he had had with Lorraine before his departure on the witch-hunt.

"Do you really have to go?" asked the princess as she did nothing to hide her displeasure at the news.

"Yes, Lorraine, you know I have to," he replied, stroking her hair in a manner he knew she always loved. But not that time as Lorraine swatted his hand forcefully away; she was definitely more displeased than he had thought.

"You always do this, you know," she said to him, moving away to pout in the corner of the room. "You come back every time with your tales and promises to stay and like the fool I am, I believe them. Then, you just decide to up and leave again, going away for donkey's years with no word from you."

Richard knew that he hurt his sister whenever he left; it hurt him too to leave her. But his duty was something he couldn’t afford to shy away from. It was more important than anything else; it had to be.

"I’m sorry that you feel that way but this is something I have to do, Lorraine," he said, hoping that would pacify her. "But I promise I won't be gone for very long this time around. I do have to be back in time for my coronation, remember."

Lorraine didn't give him any response; or even any indication that she had heard him for that matter. She walked past him to sit on her chair, grab a storybook, face the window and begin to read in silence; her subtle way of telling him that they were done talking.

Richard did eventually take the hint after some minutes of silence but just as he was about to leave, the princess surprisingly had a last word for him. "I don't think it's the witch that's making you leave again, Richard," she said without looking from her book. "This time, I think it's your fear of not being able to live up to father as the king."

The words were so unexpected that Richard bumped into the wall. Turning back to look at Lorraine, he found her still face-deep in her book, showing no sign that she had even uttered a word.

Unfortunately, though the words had been meant as a closure, they stayed with the prince, plaguing him with their possibility of truth. Thing is, Richard could have actually ordered his men to go along with Ivan without him; they were a great and effective force whether he led them or not. Also, Ivan was the one leading the way. But he had insisted to follow them; a decision that in hindsight was highly unnecessary.

"Sire, look!" shouted a man from the front all of a sudden, breaking Richard out of his thoughts as he looked up to see a castle in the distance.

Immediately, the prince stopped short at the sight. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen a castle; he’d seen many over his years and he even basically lived in one. But something was perplexing about the particular one he was looking at.

For one, he had no idea that it was supposed; nothing on the map or even the area suggested that such a structure was around. Also, it was covered in weeds; that he could see even from where he stood. But even with the green invaders, its stone bricks shone in brighter and livelier colours than the whole area put together. It also seemed to radiate life, whereas the whole area proclaimed destruction as the result of a storm that obviously passed the area not so long ago. But if his sight was to be believed, then the storm had deliberately skipped the castle when it had decimated its surroundings; and Richard knew that nature was rarely ever that kind.

"Hyah!" the prince spurred his horse on towards the castle and its strangeness with his men in a tow.

On getting to the castle, they all stopped short once again. The castle was abandoned; the obvious dilapidation of the structure certainly conformed that. But in its state of neglect, it was as if nature itself had decided to plant its own garden in it. Plants and flowers of all kind grew everywhere, both weeds and accepted alike. The whole place smelled heavenly because of the flowers and the birds and butterflies flying around happily could only add to an already dazzling feeling. And that was when it hit Richard like a blow from the blue. Nature couldn't have done something so perfect on its own; not unless it was coaxed by magic.

"Be alert," he said to his men as they dismounted. "There may be unwanted parties lurking in the shadows."

As quietly as they could, they entered into the castle. But only more of the beauty of nature awaited them.

“I don't understand this,” Ivan said beside Richard. "This Castle looks like it hasn't been stepped in for ages. But I can swear these plants are only here recently."

The prince felt the same way too but he didn't tell the other man. Best to let the man think that he had everything under control than realise he was just as clueless as the rest of them, he reasoned within himself.

All of a sudden, Richard stepped on something and looking down, he realised that it was a sword. It was then he noticed the mounds that the plants had formed in many places. "Check the mounds," he instructed his men and soon they were uncovering the bodies of a lot of men; all preserved by the plants.

"Wizards," said one of his men. "All killed in battle."

"But battle against whom?" wondered Richard.

Just then, one of his men showed him the part of an armour that had fallen off. On it was the answer to his question; the symbol of a scorpion with a flaming tail. "The crest of Tristan of Begermen," he realized. "The warlord was here. He killed the wizards."

"But why would Tristan travel all the way from the Barren lands to come kill a bunch of wizards?" Ivan asked and Richard shrugged; he had no idea. But whatever reason may be, it resulted in the burial ground which the castle had now become.

"These mounds are quite numerous so I think it's safe to assume that your witch is among the dead," the prince said to Ivan as he turned away although a part of him still wondered who could have remained standing long enough to cause nature to honour the wizards that way.

He didn’t contemplate on it for long. His mission was only to chase down and deal with the witch. And now that it seemed she was dead, nothing else there concerned him. But just as he was almost outside in the compound and about to mount his horse for the ride home, one of his men called to him. “Sire, you have to come see this,” he said.

Curious, Richard followed him to the biggest room he’d ever seen in his life. But the room wasn’t to be the subject. Right in the middle of the room laid a solid pentagram that had vines creeping all over it; they were alive. But that wasn't the most gripping of it all as on the wall as if waiting patiently for him, the vines had crept to form a message which would change the course of Richard’s life forever. The Soul of magic lives.