His eyes lost their focus and his cries went quiet, but he started to repeat some of what Sean was saying. As soon as he completed his first sentence, Ferris touched Sean’s arm and nodded. “That’s enough,” he whispered.
Sean released him and watched him sway for a moment, then he had to turn away. His stomach clenched and writhed. He went to Prince and had to lean on his solid frame. It wasn’t enough. He bent over and deposited the dregs of his breakfast at his feet, then he tried to do it again, just in case he missed something. He was still heaving when Cisco and the others joined them.
Cisco did her version of healing on him. “Equalize yourself,” she said. “Settle yourself.” He felt her touch go through him, but it didn’t settle his stomach. He straightened and took a deep breath. “Now heal your horse, you can do it better than I can.” She then turned to the others.
Mattie came up to him as he did as Cisco said. She rested a hand on his shoulder and looked at his face. “You’re pale; are you well?”
He was still leaning on Prince, but Prince was standing on all four feet now. Fortunately, his shoulder was just strained, not counting a few bruises and a bite or two that broke the skin, but nothing serious. “I’ll be fine. I just don’t have much endurance yet.” He pushed away and turned around to look at his first battlefield. He was glad someone was standing close; he might have fallen if Mattie hadn’t caught him when he swayed. He felt odd; he wasn’t dizzy or even weak, it’s just that his brain was operating in cold molasses, and the rest of him was working too well…too easily.
Five men and three horses lie quite still along the road. The other three horses were standing a short distance away with their heads hanging. Sean set the horses in motion toward them. It was a weaker form of compulsion, but the magic threatened his stomach’s stability; he was beginning to dislike black magic.
Mattie turned to him when he threatened to double over again and rested a hand on his stomach. Her touch was different from Cisco’s. It was weaker, almost wobbly, but it served to settle his stomach.
He paused near the other rider; his eyes were still dilated and unfocused, though his gaze followed him. Then he moved on to meet the horses. Walking was a bit of a challenge; he had to be careful how he moved his feet and where he stepped. He felt like he was walking on a tightrope and it kept shifting ever so slightly. He leaned on Mattie more than he wanted to.
“What are you going to do?” asked Mattie, after they reached the horses.
Sean started to inspect each horse. “We need horses. It would be a shame to leave them behind.”
“These horses belong to the patrol. They’ll be recognized,” she said. “They should be chased far away from here.” He could hear the fear in her voice.
“You’re probably right, but then, they would just be recognized somewhere else, and get someone else in trouble.” He found the small brand on each of their shoulders and erased it. The second horse he looked over had a strained fetlock tendon, but other than that, all three horses appeared to be in good shape, if a little thin. He led them back to the others.
Sean was starting to recover and he looked over the bodies strewn across the battlefield. What a waste. Then he had a malicious idea. One at a time, he teleported them all to the great hall of his uncle. Let them bleed all over the place. Let him see the results of what he’s done. Sean included himself with those creations; after all, if it weren’t for his dear uncle, he’d still be in New York. When the last body was gone, not even Mattie could keep him on his feet.
When Cisco saw him fold, she came over instantly. She gripped his jaw and gazed into his eyes, then she dropped her hand, giving his jaw a bit of a toss in the process. Her lips were tight as her hand clenched into a fist and she whirled away. Ferris and Larry poured Sean into his saddle, then lifted Mattie up behind him to keep him there.
Sean could just as well have qualified for zombie status. He was awake and fully aware of what was going on, he just didn’t have a body he could call his own; he was little more than a rag doll.
Ferris put their new member on one of the new horses and tied his hands behind his back and his feet tightly beneath the horse’s belly.
Errol took control of the mule again and mounted up with the rest of them. With Mattie up behind Sean, everyone was riding.
Mattie didn’t know how to ride, so Ferris was going to lead Prince, but Prince had his master where he wanted him and he saw no reason to follow someone else. Finally, Ferris just tied a knot in the reins and looped them over the pommel of Sean’s saddle. How they had remained intact through the fight was a wonder.
Since they were all mounted now, they could move faster, much to the dismay of the mule. The faster pace kept all four of his feet occupied. So, as long as he was kept in the middle of them, he kept up.
After a couple hours, Sean was feeling a lot better, so they put in a couple more hours, alternating between walking and an easy canter. He wasn’t up to a gallop yet, not on a big horse like Prince, and it was certain the mule would not have cooperated that much. Jenny was a natural and soon got used to the feel; she had a lot to learn, though.
By the time they were ready to stop for the night, they had covered more than twenty miles since that morning. Sean was exhausted, but he managed to stay awake until after supper, then he let Mattie put him to bed – he even let her pull his boots off. She didn’t go any further, for which he was thankful; he didn’t think he could have protested much.
Lessons
Errol woke Sean early the next morning. The sun was only just beginning to lighten their surroundings. “The prisoner wants to talk to you.” His expression said that he didn’t approve. “He’s been insisting.”
Sean moved to throw back the covers and discovered that Mattie had once again joined him. He rolled away tucking the blankets around her so as not to wake her with the chill of his absence, and grabbed his boots. As he and Errol crossed the camp, he saw a pot by the fire. “Is there any coffee?” he asked.
Errol had never heard of coffee before, but he saw the direction of his glance. “I’ll warm up some chamma for you.” He pointed across the camp. “He’s over there.”
Sean looked where he pointed and found the man tied to a tree. Ferris must have tied him; I suppose it was a good idea. He sat down on a nearby rock to put his boots on. “Errol told me you wanted to talk to me.”
“You have compelled me to teach you. Now is a good time to start.” the man’s voice sounded course as if it had been long unused, or perhaps damaged.
Sean looked at the barely-discernable eastern horizon. “Now?”
“Now your mind is uncluttered. Now you are doing nothing else.”
Sean finished lacing his boots. Aside from being half-asleep, the man’s right. “What’s your name?”
The man hesitated for much longer than Sean thought necessary for such a simple question. “I don’t…” He gave his head a slight shake. “I don’t have a name.”
“Everyone has a name. How am I supposed to talk to you? What am I supposed to call you?”
“I don’t have a name,” he said again, with a little more force. He sounded angry, but with no facial expression, it was difficult to tell.
“Well, I need you to have a name. I had a fighter once in Dungeons and Dragons named Byron. I think it’s a good name. From now on, until you can tell me your own name, I’m going to call you that, all right?”
His mouth worked and twitched, his eyes darted back and forth. “As you wish,” he finally managed.
Sean changed the subject. “What’s our lesson today?”
“If I am to be your teacher, today I find out what you don’t know. Untie me.”
“Can you be trusted?” asked Sean.
He looked at Sean with a flat expression. “No, I can’t be trusted, but I am compelled to teach you. I must do that. I advise you to keep me in chains.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Sean.
“Your compulsion tells me to teach you h
ow to fight a man like me. Your first lesson on that topic is to keep me in chains; I cannot be trusted. A man…like…me must never be trusted.”
Sean had never expected to hear such an answer from anyone. “I don’t think I’ll need chains. We don’t have any anyway.”
The man, now dubbed Byron, looked up at Sean and he may have been surprised. Sean untied him, then pulled him to his feet. “What are you going to teach me next?”
Byron’s face contorted and he lunged at Sean, or at least he tried to.
Sean lifted him off the ground. “I got that lesson, I think. What’s next?”
Byron stopped struggling. “We go get your horse,” he said as if nothing had just happened, his face immobile again.
They went to where Prince was grazing and spent the next couple of hours going over the signals that Prince should know. Sean learned about a dozen different touch and spoken signals that Prince knew from the ground.
The freakiest thing he learned that morning was him lying flat on the ground. This in itself was one signal that Prince knew. When Sean didn’t move, he came and stood over him, placing one massive hoof near his shoulder. Damn, that horse has big feet.
His next signal was to touch the closest hoof. Prince lowered his head and smelled Sean’s face, and then he carefully lowered his bulk very close beside him. The next evolution of this routine was Sean throwing a leg over his back, then grabbing a handful of mane. As soon as Prince felt that Sean had a good enough hold, he heaved himself to his feet. He would then take his rider away from the battle to somewhere he felt safe. This worked with voice commands too. Horses have very sharp hearing and all Sean needed to do was whisper.
Prince knew other voice and hand signals that prompted him in a variety of attacks should Sean be unhorsed and still need him to fight.
When Cisco called them to breakfast, Byron and Sean headed back to the campfire. They had taken no more than a half dozen steps when Byron froze. He was staring at the camp, the fire, the people, and he was working his mouth and face between a grimace and holding it still. Unable to resolve some conflict inside him, he spun away and turned his back on the whole scene. “You should tie me. I cannot do this,” he said, in a coarse hiss, made harsher by his damaged vocal cords.
Sean rested a hand on his shoulder. “You are bound. I hold you, remember?” The conflict was still behind his eyes and hidden beneath his scars, so Sean didn’t push it any further. “Go over by the tree. I’ll bring your food to you.”
Tension Sean had missed under Byron’s heavy leather armor, left the muscles under his hand, and he went to sit where he had been tied for the night. For the last few hours the man had seemed almost normal, reminding Sean strongly of the old man at the stables in New York City – competent and gruff, even blunt, but full of information. Sean went to the fire and Cisco handed him their bowls.
Ferris looked from Sean to Byron. “He’s dangerous. Do not get too friendly with him.”
Sean nodded a brief acknowledgement and took their bowls over to where Byron sat. They ate their breakfast in silence. When Byron was finished, he handed his bowl back and Sean noticed that his hand was shaking. He also noticed that he only had a single, small, warped portion of one fingernail on that hand. He’d seen people who bit their nails until they were far shorter than the end of their fingers, but he had never seen someone with no nails at all; it sent chills up his spine.
After their breakfast was all cleaned up, they headed out once again. This time, Mattie mounted up behind Ferris, because Byron intended to continue Sean’s lessons as they rode. He and Sean moved a couple hundred yards ahead of the rest while Errol and Larry went on ahead to scout as well as to hunt.
Ferris hadn’t liked being taken by surprise by the likes of their new member and his companions. He also didn’t like leaving Byron untied, but Sean couldn’t do what he needed to do and lead Byron’s horse; Byron would be unable to teach him anything other than voice commands with his hands and feet tied. Sean figured that he would be little problem as long as he could focus on teaching.
Byron took Sean through the next series of signals that Prince knew. The signals were a variety of hand, voice and foot signals, but mostly they were foot signals. Sean had Prince kicking with one or both back feet, reaching out with one or the other front foot and rearing up to reach out with both front feet. Then he had Prince sidestepping by just walking sideways, as well as a funny little hop where he almost jumped sideways. Prince was a pretty agile horse for his size.
They didn’t stop for lunch, though they did take a break from the lessons. Ferris caught up to Byron and Sean and passed them a water jug and a small loaf of flatbread. Sean handed over the water jug, then traded it for half the loaf of bread, and they ate their lunch as they rode.
“This is good,” said Sean, as he bit into the bread. “I’ve never had anything like this before. I wonder what Cisco put in it.” It was just a passing comment to fill the air as they ate. He didn’t expect any kind of answer. He figured he might ask Cisco when they camped, if he remembered.
“It’s usually made with nuts and herbs, but it tastes like she put in some apples and something else I can’t place,” said Byron, quite conversationally, then he shuddered and nearly dropped the bread before he could recover.
They were almost finished with their meal when Errol came pelting back to them. “We found a small herd of cerfin; Larry called them deer. He told me to tell everyone to wait here, and to invite you, sir, to come, if you wanted.”
Errol must be excited, that is the most animation I’ve seen out of him since he joined us. “Great.” He turned to Byron. “Well, Byron, would you like to go hunting?”
Byron looked like he was having some kind of apoplexy. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was pulled into a grimace, his hands gripped the saddle in front of him with white knuckles, and he was gulping air through his clenched teeth.
“Byron, are you all right?” asked Sean, as he reached over and gripped his shoulder.
Byron gulped a mouthful of air and looked at Sean, his eyes overly wide and indecipherable.
“Errol,” Sean said, to get his attention. “Go.” He waved him back toward where he had come from.
Errol glanced at Byron and nodded, then spun his horse and sped off as fast as he’d come.
Sean scarcely spared any notice to Errol’s departure. “Byron, show me that signal again; the one that made my horse kick with his left leg.” He hoped that getting back to something more familiar would help Byron.
Like a drowning man, he reached for what Sean offered and drew a shuddering breath before answering. About an hour later he was recovered enough to continue as if nothing had happened. As they waited for the others to return, Byron tested Sean on all the things they had covered so far. He was a good teacher; patient, but exacting and persistent. He never lost his temper with his student, even when he couldn’t make some of the signals work right the first or second time. His patient manner kept Sean from getting frustrated.
Larry and Errol returned at a much slower pace, bringing with them two of the small creatures Larry had called ‘deer’. Sean had only seen pictures of deer, and he was pretty sure Larry had done no better, but they seemed so small, and they didn’t have the rack he expected. Byron made no reaction to them, so Sean was inclined to think that it was the concept of the hunt that had him locked up so bad. Now that they were dead, they were just meat.
Cisco and Mattie did most of the rest of the butchering with Jenny trying to help, but the whole process was punctuated liberally with a lot of ‘eews’ and ‘ughs’. Watching her was quite amusing, as she did little dances with her feet, or held a hoof with the tiniest possible part of her finger. All of this was accompanied by all manner of disgusted expressions. Even Byron smiled a little, watching her from where he sat away from the rest of them. She hung in there though, and did whatever Cisco told her to do. Fortunately, no one mentioned to her that Errol and Larry had already gutted them befor
e they brought them back to camp.
After supper, Byron and Sean went to the edge of their camp to try a little sparring with sticks, doing their best to make use of as much of what they had covered during the day as they could manage with only one horse with the necessary training.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, they went over other things that had to do with the care of a horse like Prince. He showed Sean how to make Prince lift up one foot after another so he could check for rocks or inspect his shoes. The blacksmith back at the village had refused to go anywhere near Prince, but his shoes looked relatively new. Sean found out that there were special shoes he could get for him that turned his feet into deadly weapons, but he wouldn’t likely find them anywhere but in a garrison city.
By the time it was completely dark, both Prince and Sean were ready for the sack. When it appeared as if he was going to do just that, Byron touched him for the first time. “You must tie me again. You cannot hold me in check while you sleep.”
“Can’t you hold yourself in check?” asked Sean. He was not sure that he would ever quite trust him, but he knew that he was seriously messed up in the head and he wanted him to get better.
Byron looked Sean directly in the eyes. Sean saw an extra glitter in his eyes before he looked away. “You must never trust me,” he growled.
Ferris tossed Sean a section of rope as they walked to a tree of Byron’s choosing. He bound him hand and foot, then to the tree so that he could lie down. Then he found an extra blanket and spread it over him. “Good night,” he said. Byron didn’t respond.
Sean lay awake for a while thinking on the puzzle that was Byron. Some time after the camp had settled down for the night, Mattie came to slip under his covers with him. “Why do you wait for everyone to fall asleep before coming here?” whispered Sean. “Everyone knows you’re here in the morning.”
The Making of a Mage King: Prince in Hiding Page 8
