“Father, the line’s been broken! Our enemy nears the palace.” Paladin skidded across the ornate tiles, stopping at the foot of the throne. “We need the barrier if we’re to forfend the city.”
The king stared quietly at the chaos beyond the window. Fire filled the streets, shouts echoing to the smoke-filled sky. Yet sorrow didn’t cloud his shimmering blue eyes.
Running footsteps caught up to Paladin. “What are you doing?” Werlic hissed. “We can handle what’s coming.”
“We need the barrier.”
“Fairytales. Our magic is best suited in reality.”
“Our people are dying. We need the magic of Prince Orion.”
“And you expect a man who hasn’t stepped foot outside the palace to conjure those abilities?”
A thud resounded along the marble walls. The princes quieted, standing at attention before the king. Not an ounce of gray covered his head, nor did a wrinkle sag his skin. Yet the weight of generations slowed his rise from the silver throne. “I’ve made my decision.”
Werlic gawked. “Now? Garbone is about to fall, and you want to select a successor.”
Paladin glanced at the outside, sweat dripping down his neck. The last sixteen years had been an endless test, he and Werlic constantly improving their magic. All to decide which would take the throne after Father’s passing. Strife on the border had taken the future out of their minds. But it seemed their Father’s reclusion had been focused solely on this one choice.
“Werlic’s the rightful heir,” Paladin said, gaze never leaving the window. “He’s older and more experienced in combat magic. We’ll deal with formality after we’ve driven out the enemy.”
“Agreed.” His brother twisted his fingers, green tendrils trailing through the air. A sparking doorway blocked the window, opening a path to the main square.
The king slammed his staff. Blue wisps emanated from the floor and twisted around the doorway until the spell was snuffed out.
Robes shuffled and whipped as the king turned on his heels. “Paladin, follow.”
Cold filled Paladin’s chest as he looked to Werlic. Black locks shading his amber eyes, curiosity curled his lip. With a shrug, they moved to follow.
Magic swept off the walls and curled around Werlic’s legs, forfending his advance. He shuffled his legs, grunting as he tried to pull apart the magic with his own. “Brother.”
“Paladin.”
Warmth drained from the younger prince, his attention split. But if the smoke outside was any indication, they didn’t have time.
“I’ll be back. Promise.” Shouts followed his hurried steps. The king led him behind the throne to a hidden stairway. Up they climbed, shrouded in darkness. Fingering his dark hair and straightening his blue tunic didn’t quash the anxiety creeping along Paladin’s skin. Every echoing step brought dread.
Until he reached the top. The city of Garbone lay beneath him, thin pillars of ivory holding the mosaic ceiling above them. Golds and blues reflected what little light broke through the ashen sky. Paladin walked the perimeter, touching empty air.
“Come, my king.”
Paladin stalled, gaze locked on the city square and the enemy piling into the streets. Tearing his gaze from the people below, he stared at the resolute countenance of his father. “You’re mistaken. You are king.”
“Not after today.”
Terror and excitement filled his mind. Every cautious step brought him closer to a future he’d only dreamt of. “I’m not worthy of such a title.”
“No, you’re not. But Garbone needs your brother more than you.”
Paladin froze. Jaw locked, he waited for the rest of the sentence. To hear his effort and tenacity had impressed the king. That his humility and servitude made him a great leader.
The king knelt on the decorative paneling. “Magic has consequences, small and grand. But its power is vital to our survival. Which is why Prince Orion didn’t hesitate to tie himself to the well of magic.” With a sweep of his hand, he said, “His father built the palace as a conduit. He and Orion trained in this very room, where their magic was strongest.”
Paladin swallowed his disappointment, but fear clung to his heart. “Which is why they came here during the Inciting War. Orion tied himself to magic to create the barrier that decimated his enemy. But the magic was so great that he died. His father was never heard from again.”
A chilling smile surfaced on the king’s face. “Prince Orion lived. But when he discovered he lacked magic outside the walls of the palace, he stayed inside. Living for hundreds of thousands of years behind walls of marble and glass.”
Paladin reviewed his history lessons in his head. “Garbone’s only fifty thousand years old.”
The king gave a half-hearted hum. “My bad. Time becomes irrelevant after twenty thousand.”
Stomach sinking to his boots, Paladin backed away. The selfless king he’d so admired, the greatest warlock of all, had been his father. A man who hardly looked thirty had somehow lived fifty thousand years. Jaw loose, he sought words.
“Stop gawking, boy,” King Orion tutted. “As you said, Garbone has little time.”
Paladin wheezed, trying to find his footing. “The barrier. You can do it again.”
The king’s smile grew. “That’s why you’re here. So you may do as I did fifty thousand years prior.”
“Which is?”
The air thinned as the king removed a knife from his belt. And handed Paladin the hilt.
***
The palace shook. The wisps of blue holding Werlic released. A sea of magic emanated from the castle, sweeping across the city. Racing to the window, the prince watched as the barrier cleared the sky, doused the flames, and carried their enemy out of their borders.
He yipped wildly, running toward the passage. “Brother. Father!”
Before reaching the darkened entrance, Paladin stepped out. A gold circlet like their father’s wrapped around his brow. Black hair now stained white, his blue eyes shimmered with untold energy. He gripped their father’s staff, body tense and shaking.
Werlic couldn’t decide on a question, glaring from the crown to the passageway. “Garbone’s safe.”
Paladin walked in a daze. Gaze falling on Werlic, tears pricked his eyes. “I know.” The staff clattered to the ground.
Werlic grabbed his brother, both dropping to their knees. Paladin convulsed in his arms, tears wrenching his lungs. Werlic kept waiting for their father to emerge, to explain what had happened.
But he never returned.