Palace of the Twelve Pillars
The Peace Summit was in shambles, the prince kidnapped.
When the rival king realizes he kidnapped the wrong prince, hostilities escalate. Loyalties to each other and country are tested for the twin princes of Crato, Joachim and Brandan.
Joachim, captive of King Waldrom, faces deception and betrayal as he struggles to find his way home. Brandan, at home with a father focused on rescuing Joachim, wrestles with his own demons as he searches for his place in the world and the favor of his father.
Torn from the safety and peace of their childhood, they are thrust into a world where bonds of family, brotherhood and roles as heirs to Crato are tested. Through war, spiritual journeys, death and marriage, will they choose the path of good or evil? Who can be trusted, as the world they know slips into a whirlpool of chaos?
You’ve met the princes now read their story.
Croifan straightened up, dusted off his clothes. “Not a success, I think. Get another plant, Brandan, and let’s try the spell again, but this time use all the steps.”
Shaking his head, Brandan said, “Master Croifan, this
exercise isn’t necessary. We’ll never perform re-growth spells. That’s all done
by low-level adepts. We’re much more important than they are.”
“You’re no more important than the lowest serf in your
father’s kingdom.” Croifan pounded his staff on the floor. “Do it again.”
Brandan with his deep voice chanted. “Powers of Ramajadin
quicken the streams of creation within your deepest regions and enable this
tree an increase in the life blood that feeds all living things and frogs.”
With a turn of his hand, Brandan whispered, “Ignis.” The trees erupted into
flames separating the twins from
Croifan, now a small green frog.
Glancing around the room in disbelief, Joachim yelled,
“Brandan what have you done?”
“Nothing. Now let’s get out of here while we have a
chance.” Brandan stalked to the door. “I
have had enough of him and his lessons.” He stormed out of the training room.
Joachim yelled, “Summergo,” and ran into the garden after
“Thanks for not
saying anything to Father. I would be seeing the abbots for sure if he found
out about my little spell.”
Turning, Joachim brushed Brandan’s hand away. “Maybe I
should have told Father. Haven’t you learned not to use your magic for evil,
especially during lessons?”
With a push from Brandan, Joachim fell to the hard ground. “Well,
aren’t you Sir High and Mighty, like you haven’t thought about doing the same a
time or two?”
He scrambled to his
feet. “Yes, but I would never actually do it. That’s the difference.”
“Well, maybe you
should once in a while, and then you might be more human. Besides, who does it
“It hurts you and tears your relationship with Asha. If you
have no self-control with Master Croifan, how can you ever expect to be king?”
Diving for his brother, Brandan caught his red tunic on a
nearby glingkol tree.
Joachim jumped aside
and Brandan landed in a patch of
“Setting that little
fire won’t prevent me from being king.” He stood and caught his breath before
punching Joachim’s jaw and then fell to his knees on the small hillock
exhausted and gasping for breath.
Joachim wiped blood from his lip, staining the sleeve of his
silver tunic, and regarded his brother. He remembered the warning Croifan
drilled into their heads from day one of their training. “Magic of any kind
leeches the energy of the adept. You must learn to conserve your resources.”
He offered Brandan his hand. “You deserve to pay. You have
no control over your magic, which makes it dangerous.”
hand, Brandan pulled him to the ground, rolled over on top of him and sat on
his chest. “Don’t lecture me about magic. I can control my magic. I choose not
Then his gaze fell on Waldrom. Here was the man, so smug and condescending, who sought to destroy Crato and threatened his parents. He didn’t seem the least bit imposing reclining upon his throne. Disgust overwhelmed the prince, and it was all he could do not to spit on the floor. The man was the antithesis of his father, who, with his broad shoulders and compassionate demeanor, commanded the respect of all who knew him.
The king rose from the throne and waved for the guard to bring Joachim forward.
“Prince Brandan, I presume. I’m King Waldrom.”
“Prince Brandan? No, I’m Joachim.” Waldrom stepped back, and Joachim saw the fire burning in his eyes.
“What do you mean, you’re not Prince Brandan?” Waldrom looked at the guard holding Joachim and waved his hand. A candelabrum flew from the wall, hitting the guard and igniting his beard. The guard swatted wildly at the flames while Waldrom advanced on Melvane, standing by the door. “How could you grab the wrong prince?”
The wizard dropped to his knees. “My Lord, our spies told us Prince Brandan would be in the training room.
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