The Advisor's Apprentice

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King’s Choice II:

The Advisor’s Apprentice

by

Mandy M. Roth

Dedication:

 

To my readers. Thanks for your support.

  

Chapter One

 

Andrija of Braluse made his way through the village of Sabian shocked by the state of it. Once rumored to be a paradise, tucked partially in the forests of the Kingdom of Braluse, Sabian now seemed more like a post war zone. No longer did it boast beauties as far as the eye could see, or wealth. It looked shaken to its very core. The smell of smoke still rode the air from the fires they’d been told were set.

Andrija spent much of his time visiting other regions of Hafoca and even other planets altogether. In his five hundred years of life, he’d seen many advances come about. Although Hafocaians preferred to live the ways of the old, they were keenly aware of technology and the evils it could bring. They kept just enough to assure their planet was protected from others and that was all. They, unlike many planets, had the advantage of natural born weapons—of supernaturals.

During Andrija’s travels to other planets, he’d come across one called Earth. The planet’s rich history had been of interest to him since it was rumored that many of the Hafocaians had resided there long ago, helping to build what Earth knew as its Greeks and Romans. From his understanding the Hafoca even had a hand in establishing Native American and Aztec races. It made sense. Much of their language overlapped as did some of their customs, not to mention appearances. It was a shame to know that the Native Americans, Aztecs, and almost all Earthlings for that matter had been wiped out. The Earthlings’ greed and desire to possess technologies greater than they could control had been their downfall. It would not be Hafoca’s. Regardless of how much each of the kingdoms on Hafoca fought, they agreed on one thing, they would not become like Earth—a veritable wasteland. They valued nature too much to allow such a thing to happen. Or so he had thought prior to arriving in the village.

Hafoca males possessed something most Earthlings did not.  They possessed magik. It was sacred and bestowed upon all males at birth. With this great gift came immortality and the ability to shift forms. Only a few females were born being able to wield magik and up until Andrija met his sister-in-law, he thought them to be a myth. Something the females of the world cooked up to make them feel more special than they were.

It was a fact of life for the Hafoca that their women were kept based on their beauty and health. Assuring the lines continued was the most important thing of all. Other planets tended to look down upon them for such behavior but in truth, they weren’t the only ones who practiced selective mating. They were just one of the few who confessed to it at all.

The Sabian village of today looked much the way Earth had in the aftermath of their global war. It hardened his heart, knowing that his queen, Dijana, hailed from the tiny village. Though Andrija had never personally visited the village before, he knew from others that Sabian had been spectacular. It was anything but now.

He sighed.

Poor Dijana.

She had only just given birth to his nephews and was resting at the castle with his brother, King Jakov. As head advisor and brother to the king, Andrija had volunteered to journey to Sabian when the reports of an attack occurred. Never did he expect to see the destruction before him now. Drago, head guard of the seventh legion, continued to mumble under his breath about the state of affairs in Sabian. Drago had been stationed in Sabian for close to nine cycles and was the primary reason news of the attacks made it to the palace. He’d shifted forms, into that of an eagle, and exhausted himself by flying all that distance in the blistering heat to alert the king to Sabian’s need. Andrija, Drago, and armed guards had left at first light and had ridden on horseback for nearly four straight days.

All were amazed at Drago’s stamina.  Their people, the Avistaurus of Braluse, were part human, part shifter and were immortal—at least the males were and the females were, as well, once mating was complete. Hafoca was inhabited with various forms of bird-like shifters. Each tribe was able to shift into a bird of prey and some other form of animal. The Avistaurus’ shifted forms were that of an eagle and a bull. Since Drago wasn’t a full-blooded Avistaurus, he shouldn’t have been able to hold his shifted form as long as he had.

Several villagers rushed out to greet Drago, spewing forth tales of the attack and of the losses they had suffered. They were irate with the King’s armies for letting them down and Andrija couldn’t say he blamed them. Their lives had been threatened and many had lost all they had. It often took days, sometimes weeks for news to travel from the edges of Braluse to the palace. Jakov would never intentionally leave them at the mercy of invading troops.

Andrija glanced back at Drago and found him shaking his head as he soaked in even more destruction. The man wore the normal hair style of the men of Braluse. The sides of his head were shaved and a long, chestnut brown braid hung over one shoulder. Drago’s silver eyes unnerved many but Andrija had never been bothered by them. He was aware of the fact that Drago’s mother wasn’t a full-blooded Hafoca. She had been the result of an Earthling, or human, as so many of their kind liked to be called, and a Hafoca male mating. By rights this and this alone should have prevented Drago from being able to serve as a royal guard. Andrija had grown up with the man, befriending him when they were but children and stood his ground, demanding Jakov allow Drago to serve. Jakov had caved easily enough because he, too, valued Drago’s friendship. Andrija did more than simply value Drago’s friendship. He trusted Drago fully. Not many men outside of Andrija’s family could claim that right.

 A group of men in long black robes moved forward from the crowd. They immediately went to Drago. “They came for our women. News spread of the Queen being the Sacerdos of the Sabian Antistitas and they thought to steal the rest of the priestesses from us. They managed to take many of them. The others scattered and have not returned to us as of yet.”

It was as Andrija expected. The lure of possessing females whose power was virtually limitless was too great for outsiders to pass on. It was something the men of Braluse had had problems with long ago. At one point in Hafoca history, the lands were littered with priestesses. Many men of the old times believed the women to be too great a threat—being on equal footing with them wasn’t an option. Large mass hunts happened, systematically wiping them out. It was part of the reason the priestesses were first thought to be extinct. Dijana’s arrival had proven otherwise. Now, every power hungry warlord in the surrounding areas was no doubt eager to get his hands one of the Sabian Antistitas. A greater healer they would never know and the additional magik to their clans would make them virtually unstoppable.

An older man, who must have chosen to age instead of keeping his immortality, bowed his head. “Several of the priestesses did not survive the initial attacks. They are laid to rest in our burial grounds.”

Andrija’s gut clenched. He fought the urge to be sick. Such a loss. “What of the queen’s sister? What of Tiegan? Is she laid to rest, as well?”

The elderly man stared up at him with wide unforgiving eyes. “We know not what has become of her. She was taken into the forest some four days past by men from Conias. We were unable to track her scent. They have managed to mask her from us. The enemy still lurks within the forest and our strongest men joined the royal guards, leaving the rest of us to try to defend our homeland without their aid.” There was no accusation his voice but there should have been.

Andrija heard the same story through Braluse, how virile men had joined the guards rather than choosing to stay and protect their villages. Yes, the guards were many but they were spread thinly throughout the lands. He cast a wary glance at Drago, wondering just how few men he’d been able to station in Sabian. From the look upon his friend’s face, the number was low. Very low.

Drago was dismounting and handing the reins to the elderly man before Andrija could comment. “Come. We shall search for Tiegan’s trail. If there is one to be found, we shall uncover it.” 

Without hesitation, Andrija did the same, dismounting and racing into the forest in search of not only Dijana’s sister, but any surviving priestesses, as well, though the queen’s sister would take precedent. It was a sad truth. The survival of their race meant that only the strongest could prevail. The line of magik that Tiegan came from was powerful. So much so that it had to be protected at all costs.