Soul of Magic (Soul of Magic Book 1)

SIXTEEN

"What!" Richard was unable to believe his ears when he heard the scouts’ report. "What in the Creator’s name did you just say happened?"

"The town of Begermen, sire," one of the scouts stammered out, suddenly afraid of Richard's reaction. "It's gone."

The prince had ordered his men to set up camp instead of going home like he had planned before because of the message that had appeared in the castle. It was something that caused him a lot of apprehension; even as he thought about it then, goosebumps appeared all over his body. Ivan had wanted to stay too but Richard insisted that he left with Dragur, the man finally conceding after the latter had offered him two bags of gold. He was never really about the Soul of magic or any of the other magic business in truth, he was just on the ride for the reward which the prince had already more than made handsomely available.

But Richard, on the other hand, didn’t have the luxury of nonchalance and so, without wasting any time, he enacted the first step to getting to the root of the matter; getting information from Tristan of Begermen.

Unfortunately, the warlord was no friend of Cyrian, his numerous failed sieges and lost battles against the kingdom more than portrayed that fact. In light of that, the prince had to send in scouts out to the town of Begermen in the hopes that they would be able to uncover the truth behind the warlord’s venture into the main land and his encounter with the dead wizards; a more preferable option to of visiting him directly.

However, the scouts had returned to tell him that Tristan, Begermen and all of its habitants were gone; and not that they moved or were killed. They had just vanished off the face of the earth like they never existed in the first place and Richard knew that wasn’t supposed to be so.

"This just keeps getting weirder and weirder," the prince said to himself as he began to pace up and down his tent. "Vines that creep as if they have a mind of their own, forming messages on walls. A town and its people disappearing without a trace. What magic can possibly be strong enough to accomplish this absolute chaos of nature?"

"Your Highness, I think the better question is what are we prepared to do about it?" said one of the scouts. It was the more important issue at hand and Richard knew it too.

They had all established that all the craziness they’d witnessed were the works of magic, and an extremely powerful one too. But what remained topmost to them was seeing what their leader would do in response.

Unfortunately, Richard had no idea what he should do. First, the wizard, whoever he was, was really powerful and knew exactly what he was doing. Second, he had shown that he wasn’t afraid to use his power and in whatever capacity he wanted. And third and most pressing of it all, there was no indication as to whom the wizard was or where he was going; meaning that he could be anyone and anywhere, even on his way to attack Cyrian right at that moment.

"Pack up camp," Richard suddenly said as he stopped his pace abruptly. "What we’re going to do is return back to the kingdom."

The wide surprised looks on the men's faces couldn’t be exaggerated as they couldn't hide them despite their best efforts. Thing is, Richard would have normally ordered them to ride out and search for the wizard, not stopping until he had been found and destroyed. But he had just ordered them back to the kingdom without a concrete plan; almost like he was retreating in fear. Anyway, they bowed and left to do as he had ordered.

Richard knew exactly what the men were thinking, he had been with them long enough to know what they were thinking at a given moment, and he wondered if they were right. Was he really running away from a battle out of fear without even realising it? He asked himself. Of course, the Soul of magic, whatever it was, was very dangerous; his father had explicitly told him. It would greatly unwise of him to order his men out and against it without even knowing what they were walking into. And then there was the matter of the wizard too. Whoever they were was powerful and dangerous also. And obviously, they were no respecter of anyone either if what happened to Tristan and the Barren landers of Begermen could be used as a judging point. But the question remained that was Richard really afraid of them?

"No, I’m not," the prince assured himself with a vehement shake of his head. "I am Richard the Slayer, son of Nicolas the Vanquisher, and I am afraid of no magic or its wielder." He was just going home because he had promised to be back early, he reminded himself. He would go home and be crowned king. Then, he would return and it would be the Soul of magic and its wizards that would be afraid of him like they were his father.

And with that thought firmly in mind, Richard decided to take a stroll into the forest before they left camp. However, what the prince didn’t know was that the path he had chosen would end up with him confronting the very thing he was hoping to avoid; but he was soon to learn not so long later.

***

Richard had been gone for a while, way longer than he had said he would be. But he knew that his men would willing to wait for him no matter how long he took and so, he kept on going.

It was already evening and Richard could see the sun about to set through the forest canopy. He had gone for a walk which had turned into a run and then into a swim; but he still wasn't satisfied.

The forest had surprisingly provided itself a suitable distraction to his troubled soul and although the prince would never admit it even to himself, he was actually scared that all his worries would return if he left. And so, despite the reasonability to the contrary, he continued his walk deeper into the forest.

"And I think this is about to turn into a hunt," he said with a smile as he spotted a deer not so far away.

Unfortunately, Richard didn’t have any hunting weapon on him; he was supposed to be on a peaceful walk after all. But his father Nicolas had trained him in the act of hunting without the usual weapons and he was extremely good at it.

Bending down, he retrieved a dagger from his boots, careful not to alert the deer as he readied it for a throw. With a true aim, he threw the dagger but the weapon only skimmed past the deer, scraping its skin just as it swished past to lodge in a tree nearby.

The animal gave a pained shout as it took to its heel and Richard followed suit, retrieving his dagger just as he raced by the tree and behind the deer. It wasn't his intention to let the animal suffer but he had to admit that he felt good as he chased it through the forest. It was a thrill and that thrilling excitement flowing in his veins was what made him feel like what he truly was; a warrior.

He was almost upon the now very tired animal when it swerved so suddenly he lost it, bursting into a clearing instead. It was empty. Or so Richard had thought before he turned and came face to face with a girl. And as he was soon to learn, she was the one kind of hunt he hadn’t prepared himself for.