Free The Sword And The Dragon by M. R. Mathias Page B

with Lord Gregory and Lord Ellrich. None of the kings and queens of the east seemed to remember the wars, or even the generations of hope and peace that had followed them. It seemed that every kingdom, save for Westland, was growing discontent with its boundaries, or the trade agreements that had been long established. Some rulers were bold enough to check the strength of their neighbors. Defenses were tested, weaknesses were exploited, and alliances were formed. It had been that way all of Glendar’s life, and that was good for Pael. Pael had a grand plan, and he was patient. Some would say that he was as patient as an age.
    “But, Master Wizard Pael,” Glendar said coolly, from his recently deceased father’s throne. “The sword is the power of the kingdom.”
    “In symbol only,” Pael lied. “It’s no matter, Ironspike will soon be recovered, my Prince.”
    “It’s your Highness!” Glendar corrected, a little more forcefully than he had intended to. “I am the King now, Pael.”
    The wizard had found him sitting on the throne this morning, about to call court. It was ridiculous. Until now, Pael had kept his anger in check, but no longer. 
    In a flourish of black robes, the wizard flashed from in front of the throne, to directly behind it. His chalky white bald head pressed against the side of the throne, and his hot chemical breath found Glendar’s startled ear.
    “You’ll be the King when I say you can be King, boy!” His voice was full of malice and power. “On the morrow, you’ll bury your father with tears in your eyes. The day after that, I will let you take the crown.”
    Pael was already moving around the throne and down the three steps in front of it. He appeared to glide, as if under his floor length robes his feet and legs weren’t moving at all. At the bottom of the steps, he turned and looked back up at the brooding Prince. 
    “After all that is done Glendar, you may then be
my
King.”
    A dismissive wave of Pael’s hands kept Glendar from catching the dual meaning in his last statement. 
    “We have more pressing business Glendar.” Pael’s voice grew serious. “Lord Ellrich has men quietly looking for the sword already, and Lord Brach is commissioning the Call to Arms that will soon be posted in all of the Westland cities. Soon, he and his captains will ride out and round up every able bodied man and boy who can fight, after you formally make the command, that is. Lastly, Lord Gregory is preparing to ride to the Summer’s Day Festival with the group of competitors that will be representing Westland this year.”
    “Lord Gregory is my father’s man,” Glendar said. “He will rally against our plans. I don’t think he’s to be trusted.”
    “You don’t think.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. “That is your biggest problem, boy.” Pael’s tone was mocking. “I know Lord Gregory is not to be trusted. Why do you think he is about to go to Summer’s Day, when he really wants to be preparing to bury his king? He was ordered, before your father died, to lead the competitors this year. I had your father sign those orders. Lord Gregory will be brawling and grieving from afar, while we are getting all of our things in order. When he returns…” 
    Pael paused as an idea came to him. He had to laugh at the absurdity of the coincidence and the old saying that fit the situation. 
    “To kill two birds with one arrow,” he mumbled the words aloud.
    “What?” Glendar asked. 
    He never understood the wizard’s quiet ramblings. More often than not, he found Pael hard to figure out, even when he talked plainly.
    “Nothing!” Pael’s gleeful smile had faded. “
If
Lord Gregory returns from Summer’s Day, then we shall deal with him.”
    A sinister grin crept across Glendar’s face when he realized that Pael had said, “If Lord Gregory returns.”
    “You should take a symbolic escort of men and visit your mother’s grave in the garden yard later