Fifth Sorceress

The Tome shall be read first by a seed of the victors who, years later, shall become the sworn enemy of those same victorious ones. The sire of this seed shall, having abandoned the victor's cause, live as an outcast. The six of the craft who remain shall select one from their midst to lead them in peace for sixteen score and seven years, choosing, in turn, many who shall wear the stone. From the seed of one of those who wear the stone shall come the Chosen One, first preceded by another. The azure light that accompanies the births of the Chosen Ones shall be the proof of the quality of their blood . . . --PAGE 478, CHAPTER ONE OF THE VIGORS OF THE TOME True peace of mind comes only when my heart and actions are aligned with true principles and values. I shall forsake not, to the loss of all material things, my honor and integrity. I shall protect the Paragon above all else, but take no life except in urgent defense of self and others, or without fair warning. I swear to rule always with wisdom and compassion. The succession oath played over and over again in his head like a bad nursery rhyme. He couldn't get it out of his mind no matter what else he thought about. No matter how hard he tried. That was why he had come this morning to his favorite place. To be alone in the Hartwick Woods. He reached behind his right shoulder for another throwing knife, gripping its handle automatically and smoothly bringing his right arm up and over in a swift circle, releasing the blade in yet another trajectory. It twirled unerringly toward the target he had carved in the huge old oak tree. And as he now stood looking at the blade that lay buried next to the others he had thrown, he knew that the fact it would accurately find its mark had been a foregone conclusion. He had been doing this all morning. His right arm was sore, his body and face were covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he was dirty from head to toe. He didn't care. He pushed the comma of longish black hair back from his forehead and ran his hand through it to where it grew long down the back of his neck. Looking down at his clothes, he suddenly realized just how filthy he really was. He was wearing what he always wore when he came up here: the black leather knee boots and trousers, with the simple black vest that laced in the front across his bare chest. The vest that always allowed plenty of free arm movement for his practice with the knives. True peace of mind comes only when your heart and actions are aligned with true principles and values. I shall forsake not, to the loss of all material things . . . He watched the next knife wheel toward the target, swiftly burying Prince Tristan the First of the House of Galland, heir apparent to his father, King Nicholas the First of the kingdom of Eutracia, stood alone in the woods, practicing with his knives and thinking over what his future was about to bring. In thirty days he was to become king of Eutracia, succeeding his father to the throne at the occasion of his father's abdication ceremony. It always occurred on the thirtieth birthday of the king's firstborn son, and had been a joyous custom of Eutracia for over the last three hundred years, ever since the end of the Sorceresses' War. But there were no more sorceresses in Eutracia to fight, and peace and prosperity had reigned ever since--in no small part due to the continual guidance given to the reigning king by the Directorate of Wizards. But there was just one problem. He wasn't looking forward to his thirtieth birthday. And he didn't want to be king. He also did not wish to be counseled by wizards for the remainder of his life. No matter how he tried, he just couldn't get the truth of his feelings out of his head. Nor could he forget the oath that the oldNewcomb, Robert is the author of 'Fifth Sorceress' with ISBN 9780345448927 and ISBN 0345448928.