The Making of a Mage King: Prince in Hiding

by Anna L. Walls

  Ferris snagged Sean’s elbow and pulled him to a stop. “What are you after this time?”

  “Just another victim, Ferris; he’s just a bit bigger and a lot madder.” Sean turned away from him and looked across the landscape in front of him. He pointed ahead. “I’ll go to that hill. You can watch from here. You stay here, though. If I can’t control him, he might come for the camp. He’ll go for several people over only one. You might have to kill him. In fact, if I can’t control him, I’ll have to kill him.” He walked off before Ferris could ask any more questions. He didn’t want to give him the chance to talk him out of it. He was such a beautiful creature; he couldn’t leave him to such torture, he just couldn’t.

  The hill was about a half mile from the camp, and when he reached it, he looked back just to make sure he was in plain view. Ferris still stood where Sean had left him.

  He found a convenient rock and sat down. This target was easier to find; he had seen him twice and he’d taken a good look at him. Something was different somehow. A roaring violence was all around him. The screaming, thundering creature that appeared before Sean bore little resemblance to the quiet, staring creature he had seen in the stable. He climbed the sky with huge pawing hooves, trying with insane fury to reach any moving thing around him. His screams echoed across the hills, and Sean was sure that Ferris wished he had a scoped 20mm right then.

  Blood flew from the horse’s mouth and stained his heaving sides. Heavy leather reins whipped through the air, suddenly loose of any hold, and a heavy saddle slid to the ground as now absent hands were no longer trying to cinch it around him. When his pawing hooves met the ground again, he kicked out and bit at absent targets on first one side, then the other. He was such a machine of death and fury that Sean forgot how close he was to him. He forgot that he himself could so easily fall under the creature’s killing frenzy, but his immobility may well have been the very thing that saved his life.

  Sean sat frozen on the stone and watched the mountain of horseflesh lash out at targets that were no longer there. How many men did it take to control such fury? Only seconds passed, but it seemed much longer, so much was packed into those seconds. As soon as the horse realized that nothing around him was moving, he stopped and stood completely still. His bloody nostrils were distended and blowing, and the skin on his sides was quivering and twitching. Then his eyes locked on Sean. They were wide and bloodshot, just like before. He stood there twitching and blowing. Occasionally, he would shake his head violently as if to rid himself of the bridle. The reins whipped around and ropes of blood flew from his mouth.

  They must have stared at each other for fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe longer. Sean blew his breath at him from time to time; by coincidence, the wind was in the right direction. The horse could get all the scent of him he wanted. The horse thumped a hoof at Sean – first one, then the other. Then he dropped his proud head and extended his nose.

  Sean reached out a hand and the horse flinched away, but Sean still held his hand out. This might turn out to be a long exercise in patience and endurance.

  Sean waited until well past noon before standing, almost wishing he’d waited longer, but they were making better progress then it appeared.

  The sun was just touching the horizon when the horse finally let Sean touch him. With that touch, Sean made all his wounds go away. He made all the blood turn to dust, which he dusted away with his hand, wishing for a brush. He eased the headstall from the horse’s head and dropped it by the saddle; it had an odd looking bit, but his attention was for the horse.

  It took some coaxing, but the horse let Sean open his mouth. What he saw brought tears to his eyes. The inside of the horse’s mouth was little better than rotten hamburger. His teeth were broken and the bit had had sharp edges all over it. As a result, the tender flesh inside his mouth bore little resemblance to a mouth.

  It was very late by the time Sean was finished going over the horse, but it wasn’t over yet. Staying near him, the horse bent his head to graze. Using fast snatches, he looked up at Sean often as if to make sure he was still there, standing between him and his nightmare, making sure he did not turn into one of those nightmares when he wasn’t looking.

  Sean started to work on the gear that had come with the horse, counting his lucky stars for each piece; he didn’t know what he would have done with the big horse without them. He went over the bridle and smoothed away all the sharp edges. Thanks to all the riding lessons his father had given him, he knew what needed to be fixed.

  Before he picked up the saddle, he looked back toward the camp. He was sure Ferris still stood on the hill watching in his direction, but it was too dark to pick out a single man dressed in black standing on a dark landscape. Sean thought of Ferris hearing him like using a telephone; he’d never done it before. “Ferris, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, where are you?” Sean could imagine him looking around for the source of his voice.

  “I’m still here with the horse. Everything’s all right. I’m staying here. Don’t worry.”

  “That thing’s a menace. You should kill it now. You’ll never be able to bring it around the rest of us.”

  “We’ll see. How’s Errol?”

  “Better. He’s slept a lot. He came up here to watch you for a little while. He doesn’t say much.” After a pause, he said, “You be careful with that…creature.”

  Sean smiled. “I will.” He picked up the saddle and began to run his hands over every inch. He must have cut his hand a hundred times before he was satisfied, but it was too dark to see well, and touch was probably the best way to find the nasty, hidden things anyway. Then he went over the blanket the same way.

  By the time he was finished with the gear, he was exhausted, but he wasn’t about to let himself sleep yet. He turned his attention back to the horse. A certain amount of reeducation had to occur, and he’d just as soon work on that while the horse was handicapped by the dark and still very dependent on him for security.

  Sean worked with the horse all through the night, and when the sun cleared the eastern horizon, it found him sitting on top of the biggest horse he had ever ridden. He’d seen Clydesdales before, but he’d never ridden one.

  Sean took him for a run and was pleased to learn that he’d apparently had some training before the torture; he remembered all the riding signals, and Sean was sure he knew a lot more, he just had to figure out what they were. After he had worked up a good lather, he directed their path toward camp.

  When they got close, Sean dismounted and led the horse the rest of the way. He did a good deal of praying too. How do you ask a horse not to kill your friends? He had about five minutes to figure it out.

  When the camp came into sight, everyone was standing there watching to see what would happen next. The horse stopped in his tracks and stared at them, wide-eyed.

  Sean turned to him and hugged his face to his chest. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “These are my friends. Please be good.”

  Maybe some of that was something he understood; maybe some part of it was a familiar command. There was no way of knowing, but the horse huffed, then butted him away from his face, and they continued to come closer to the camp. He was tossing his head and blowing before they reached the perimeter, but his walk was relaxed.

  When they reached the fire and stopped, Ferris said, “That went better than I thought it would.”

  “Me too,” Sean admitted. “Everyone, come over here, one at a time. I want him to get a good nose full of each of you, then I’ll picket him off to the side somewhere. I don’t think anyone should go around him unless I’m real close.”

  Much to Sean’s amazement, that’s exactly what the horse did. Every time someone came close, he shoved his nose into their chest or face and sniffed them. Even Errol came forward hesitantly. He received a special snort or two, but when everyone had made their introductions, the horse stretched toward some new grass.

  Sean took his headstall off and hung it from his saddle. T
he horse then went only far enough to find grass, which he ripped up hungrily.

  Sean watched him for a moment. He must be starved. I’m sure he prefers the taste of new grass over blood. He turned back to the fire. “I’m starved.”

  Cisco turned to assemble a generous sandwich out of the last of their New York supplies, and Larry and Jenny found a seat nearby.

  Jenny said, “He’s gorgeous, Sean. Wherever did you find him?”

  “He’s dangerous, Jenny. Stay away from him,” said Sean. “He was being tortured, just like Errol. There’s no telling when he might have some kind of flashback or something.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking I have an advantage; you see, I took his pain and fear away, then I mastered him. At least I think I did. You’re just someone who hasn’t hurt him yet; he may never really trust any of you.”

  She looked at the horse. Sean could see her disappointment, but she didn’t know anything about horses. Her greatest experience with horses was a carriage ride through Central Park with Larry last Valentine’s Day.

  “Listen Jenny, give him a few days. Maybe you can charm him later, when he becomes a little more used to us.”

  She smiled brightly at the suggestion. “I’m going to call him ‘Prince’. I mean, after all, it’s only fitting that a king’s horse have some sort of title too, and I can’t very well call him Princess.”

  Sean smiled. “Prince it is then.” He liked it; the horse carried himself with an arched neck, and despite the fact that his feet were the size of dinner plates, he stepped with dainty precision. He definitely wasn’t a plow horse.

  Later, as Sean devoured his sandwich, Errol came up to him and hunkered down beside him. He had been given some clean clothes. “You should destroy him,” he said. “He’s a destrier. He has known nothing but pain.”

  “You’re probably right, but you see, when I was learning how to ride, there was an old man working at the stables. That man knew more about horses than any ten men. He told me there are some basic truths about all horses, no matter what. The most important one is that a horse is a herd animal. If you take the herd away, he’s vulnerable. I’m hoping I just gave him back his herd, and that he feels safe with us.” Sean finished his sandwich and took a long drink of water. “What about you? Have you figured it all out yet? Do you want to tell me about it?”

  Errol drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “I wish I could forget it all,” he said.

  “Who was the girl?” Sean asked.

  Errol looked at Sean as if he were seeing a ghost. “How do you know about her?”

  Sean took a deep breath and plunged in with both feet. “I was there. The day you were brought before Ludwyn for – what did he call it? ‘Lechery’ I think. Start there; tell me what happened.”

  Errol drew away from him with a wary look in his eyes. “Were you one of the guards?”

  “No, I was just eavesdropping. Come on. Get it off your chest. I’m told it helps to get it out in the open.”

  Errol gulped two or three times then began. His words were hesitant at first, and obviously painful, but once he started, there was no stopping him. “She…was…a servant in the palace. I delivered coal to the kitchen. The first time I saw her was the winter before last. I helped her carry coal to the second floor, for the braziers up there. It was a very cold winter that year, you know. We talked. Later, she would just be around when I delivered. I looked forward to those deliveries, even though they were at the palace. No one liked making deliveries to the palace.” He took a deep breath, and then continued. “We…we fell…in love.” He closed his eyes. “I loved her so much.” He let out a single hic that was supposed to be a chuckle, but didn’t quite make it that far. “That was early last spring…only a few months ago. There was still snow on the ground.” He paused a moment. “We made love in one of the empty rooms. The next morning, guards came to my home. They put me in chains and dragged me to the palace…to the king. I had never been so terrified in my life before that day. I don’t even remember what he said. All I remember was the pain. He was…he was…burning…me. Then it stopped.” A look of puzzled wonder came over his face. “It just stopped. The next thing I knew, I was being ordered away. They took me to a cell down in the dungeon. He came to me some time later. He was angry with me, but I don’t know why. He had the guards whip me. It went on like that. I don’t understand it. He’d come see me; sometimes he’d question me. I couldn’t answer his questions, I tried…I tried so hard, but I didn’t have the right answers. I couldn’t say the right thing. He’d get angry…so angry, and the guards would hit me or burn me or…other things.”

  Sean reached over and rested a hand on his shoulder. The pain was still there. The wounds were all still there. I’m surprised Cisco hasn’t taken care of this already. Sean hadn’t seen him limp or cringe with pain since he woke up in his lap, but it was all there. He brushed it all away like he had done for the horse.

  Errol started and then looked down at himself. His wounds hadn’t been visible, what with the clothes he now wore, so the look was only a reflex.

  “Tell me about your girl. I’ll try to bring her here too,” offered Sean.

  “You can’t. That was part of my torture, part of the payment for my crime. I don’t even know what I did wrong. He made me watch her die. She took such a long time to die. He did… Her screams…” He buried his face in his knees, his shoulders hunched hard.

  Sean pushed to his feet. “Damn it!” he cursed himself. Why didn’t I think of her? I hadn’t spared her much more than a glance. Somehow, I had managed to protect Errol from Ludwyn’s magical advances, but I hung her out to flap in the breeze alone.

  Beyond High School

  They broke camp as soon as Sean was ready to move, and Prince found himself packing their bedrolls instead of his rider. Being led along the road seemed to be something new to him, but he was more than willing to come along.

  As his thoughts roiled, Sean took to playing with the horse. At first, it was just the idle motion of his hand as he constantly touched him. He liked the feel of his slick coat – what there was of it. He soon found out that the horse was what could only be called ticklish. As he diddled his fingers down his flank, the horse shook his skin. It was such a funny feeling that he did it again, and so did the horse. The third time, Prince swatted at him with his tail. When he swatted him the second time, Sean caught his tail and held it in his hand, then gave it a little tug. The horse looked around at him and Sean used the hair in his hand to tickle his nose, making him snort.

  The next time this little scenario progressed all the way to snorting, the horse was walking around him in a spiraling circle, but by then Sean was giggling. Their antics made everyone look around, but if they stopped, the horse stopped too.

  Playing with the horse only distracted Sean from his thoughts for short periods. He felt that he was making mistakes right and left, and it bothered him.

  Before my parents died, the biggest problem I had was organizing my daily schedule so I had time to do the things that were important to me. I never worried about anyone else, not even Larry and Jenny. If they wanted to spend time with me, they came to me. I love my time with them, but I didn’t do much to make it any easier for them.

  Now, my schedule is gone. I’m walking down a deserted road in the middle of nowhere trying to make sense of being a king. What do I know about being a king? Kings somehow managed entire countries. They managed people, crops, livestock, trade – so many things I can’t think of them all. All I ever managed was me.

  He shook his head at his own thoughts. Before everything fell apart, I figured I might take some sort of business course, but college was still a year away, and then there was four years of college. After that, I would still be a long way from any kind of management.’

  He had to chuckle at himself. Hell, I don’t even know how to drive a car. Mom and Dad didn’t own one. Mom worked fifteen minutes from home and Dad’s pa
rtner always picked him up on the way to the station. We always took the subway or bus for anything else.

  Sean tried to assemble all the things he did know. I’m decent at math and algebra, adequate in English and literature, pretty good in science and biology, not bad in history and social studies. Then there was humanities class, art, and sports. What is there to help me now? My skill with a sword? A lot of good my trophies will do me now.

  He turned his thoughts toward what he had learned outside of school. Dungeons and Dragons, the way my parents played it, was a study in solving some problem, or finding some artifact while fighting my way through all manner of monsters. I had to be sure I bought enough supplies to get to where I was going, that I had proper armor or magical items, then I had to make sure I could carry everything. With all of that in mind, if a monster, or monsters, attacked, anything in the party, including the horses, could be a target. If a packhorse or wagon was lost, I had to decide how much more I could afford to carry on my own back. He remembered one time when he had lit off a fireball while running through a methane swamp. He had been warned about the smell, but that hadn’t been enough. By the time the damage had been counted up, his mom hadn’t been too pleased with him. Her spell book had been one of the casualties.

  Risk was simpler. I needed to build up my armies, then walk a fine line between spreading them too thin as I pushed some other army off a piece of real estate, and not moving soon enough, allowing someone else to expand and push me back. Kings managed armies, but when you got right down to it, Risk was rather distant. Armies were made up of flesh and blood men, men who required supplies and gear, men who got sick or injured, men who had families and fears.

  Monopoly was just money management. How much money can I afford to spend in order to make it back with interest while still being able to afford to lose? That kind of thing might help me with the real estate market, but I see no use for it here.