Prologue

“Therefore we must strike now. Thou knowest it to be true. If we do fail to strike during this opportune moment, those thieves, adulterers, swindlers, and killers will escape.”

Prince Ari sighed. He knew Lady Ira was right. She’d been watching the Wanderers for months now, and had reported on their various crimes. His subjects complained that the Wanderers had stolen their sheep, seduced their wives, convinced their children to run away with them, picked their pockets, and cheated them out of their money. Worst of all, wanted criminals fleeing Arxian justice would join the Wanderers, and their leader, Akhert, always refused to give them up. Prince Ari had warned them time and again that if they wished to continue to live in the land of Arx they needed to obey the Law. He’d even warned them that only twenty years prior the prophetess Erelah had destroyed the Kufar tribe, a tribe of people guilty of much the same crimes.

“I feel such sorrow for these foolish, lawless savages,” said Prince Ari. “May I speak truly with thee?”

“Thou art the Prince of Arx. Thou needst not my permission.”

“In truth, I would prefer to show these people mercy. Merely banish them, expel them from this holy land,” Prince Ari shook his head. “But the lawless ones have proven again and again that they will not leave by their own accord. The burden falls upon me to drive them out.”

It was such a short time before Ari found himself face to face with Akhert. Armies stood at both of their backs, waiting for the inevitable clash between the two. Ari gazed upon that sorcerer’s smug expression and shook his head.

“Know ye not,” Ari called out to him, “That it is a leader’s onus to protect his people? Yet, even when faced with an army much larger than thine own thou standest thy ground?”

Akhert laughed. “There is much thou dost not know, prince. Thy people, even should they be victorious today, will die long before mine. I bring salvation to all those who come unto me.” The dark-haired sorcerer called out to the soldiers behind Ari. “Do any before me fear death? Have ye sins upon thy head thou fearest that thy God will not forgive? I offer thee true salvation! I will love thee and care for thee in spite of any transgression. Where the other gods offer only judgment and slavery I offer freedom and clemency!”

“Thou wilt forgive any sin so long as they serve thee?” Ari shouted back. “Hear me, my people! Do not fall for this serpent’s trickery! ‘Tis the way to oblivion!” Ari drew his sword. “For the people of Arx, in the name of our God I shall slay thee, sorcerer!”

Akhert drew his own sword from his sheath in turn. The blade was black as night, and a red mist moved along the edge. “May Melech’s dynasty end with the death of his firstborn son!” Akhert shouted back.

“Khol, please put down that book when you’re at the dinner table,” Tamas said.

Khol looked up from the pages of the tome before him, his eyes resting on his father’s. “I was just getting to the best part!”

“You can read about Prince Ari’s exploits from over a thousand years ago later,” said Tamas. “Right now focus on what’s in front of you.”

With his face scrunched up in indignation, Khol placed a ribbon between the pages and closed the book. “Fine!”

As Khol began to eat, Tamas asked him. “So, what was this ‘best part?’ Why don’t you share it with us?”

“The battle between Prince Ari and the sorcerer called Akhert! Akhert had a black sword, and-“

“The best part was the battle?” Tamas asked.

“Well…yes.”

Tamas chuckled. “Oh to be young again and think of war as nothing more than a game.”