The Making of a Mage King: Prince in Hiding

by Anna L. Walls

  She held her hand up to silence his explanations. “Did you see it?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I saw him die.”

  She clasped his hand. “May I witness your memory?”

  Sean looked at Ferris. This is new.

  “There’re a lot of little things he hasn’t learned about yet,” Ferris said to her. “Go ahead, Seanad, if you think you can face it again.”

  “Um…okay,” said Sean, wondering what would happen next.

  A few days after my eighth birthday, I decided to go directly from the bus stop to the library after school. The library was only a couple blocks from our home, but it was twice that far from the bus stop if I stayed to the streets, so I decided to take a couple shortcuts to make the trip faster. I knew exactly where I was going and how to get there. It’s just that this would be the first time I went to the library from the bus by myself.

  As I walked along with my book bag on my back, I heard a clash and a cry up ahead, just out of sight. I froze. My home was some ways behind me. The library was closer, but on the other side of the fight. Suddenly, the alley was dark and narrow, and the buildings were so tall and unfriendly. I wanted to crawl under a dumpster and hide, but the only one I could see was by the fight.

  For what seemed like forever, I listened to the scary sounds of metal on metal, and the cries and grunts of pain from where I cowered in a doorway. Then everything went quiet, so I decided to creep forward to see. Maybe I could run past and reach the library before anyone caught me. Maybe they would be gone.

  When I peeked around the corner, I saw a man sliding down the wall to sit in the snow. I must have made some sound because he looked at me. Another man was sprawled in the snow, not moving at all, and red was splattered all around.

  “Come here, boy,” he said. His voice was a grumble, but he didn’t sound at all mean or angry. I edged toward him, stepping way around the other man and the red splattered snow. He had to be dead. I’d never seen a dead man before.

  The man grimaced and shifted. “Come here,” he said again. “I have something to give you.”

  I thought of my treasure box. He was a strange looking man, but the strangeness was just his clothes. He was wearing a funny looking metal hat, and his shirt looked like my favorite sweater; only it was made out of metal. He had worn gloves without fingers on his hands, and soft boots on his feet, and a blanket around his shoulders.

  I went a little closer, but all that blood was scary. “You’re hurt real bad. I could go for help. My mom is still home. She’s pretty good with…” I looked at the Band-Aid I had around my finger; the cut under it was pitiful compared to the cuts I could see on him.

  “No,” he said. “Don’t bother your mother.” He pulled at buckles on his shoulder and finally pulled something out of a pocket inside. “Here,” he said, holding his find out to me. He saw his hand was all bloody, so he tried to wipe the blood off on his pant leg.

  He reached again to give me what he held. His hand was shaking now. A hand that looked so strong shouldn’t shake. I reached out and caught it when it seemed like it might drop, and he pushed what he held into my hand.

  “Take this and keep it safe, keep it hidden. Never tell anyone you have it.”

  His hand fell away and I looked at what he had left behind. It was a strangely-shaped, pale blue stone. If I had some more like it, I would have a blue orange; I like oranges.

  I looked back at him and saw him watching me. “What is this?” I asked. “It must be very valuable. Are you sure you want to give it to me?” I glanced at the stone, and back at him again. “Did you steal it?”

  He laughed, then coughed, making a face. “No, boy, I didn’t steal it, but it is valuable, very valuable, so you must keep it safe and never give it to anyone no matter how pretty she is.” He began to pull at his belt buckle. It was a big, heavy thing. I had never seen a belt like that before.

  He was breathing hard by the time he pulled that great belt free from around him, but when he was finished, he wrapped it around what had come with it and thrust it at me.

  I knew what it was. I had read about knights and…such…though I had never seen a real sword before. He pushed the bundle deeper into my arms and said, “May my swords serve you better than I did, my lord.”

  I looked at the bloodstained, metal-studded belt wrapped around the sheaths of three swords that ranged in length from really long to, well, still too long. I was scared. I looked into his eyes. I wanted to understand why he had given these things to me – why me?

  His eyes still looked at me, but they were…wrong. His face was too still. He hadn’t shaved in a long time. His beard was gray.

  I ran for home.

  Sean lifted his head from his arm. Tears were running down his face and he was shaking from the residue of the childhood terror that dredged up so many other sorrows along with it.

  Marinda also had tears in her eyes. “I knew it,” she said, and brushed the tears from her eyes. “They found him. He thought they were onto him, so he sent us into hiding and left. He didn’t want to lead them to us, and he was certain they wouldn’t be able to find him there…but they did.”

  Clayton stood by her chair and rested his hand on her shoulder protectively, lending his support in the face of this renewed grief. “So, you really are who you say you are,” he said.

  Marinda sighed. “And the rest of you?”

  “Only I remain now,” said Ferris. “There were two other survivors, but one was sent back, and the other ended up being a traitor, so Seanad sent her to Ludwyn.”

  Marinda looked at the young man at her elbow. “You sent her all the way to the capital? That’s a long way to teleport someone. Clayton would take himself there like that sometimes, but he did it only in emergencies. Don’t you think it’s risky, sending someone to him who knows so much about you?”

  “The risk is minimal,” said Sean, as he rubbed his eyes. “All she knows about me is what she knew back there.”

  “He made her forget the whole last year, and then some,” said Ferris.

  “Really?” said Marinda. “However did you ferret out those details? Are you sure you didn’t forget something important?”

  “She’s the one who did the ferreting,” Sean explained. “I just laid down the parameters. Memories are like files; I just grabbed a handful of the latest ones and made them go away. She knows who I am, but she doesn’t know we’re here.” He rubbed at the grit in his eyes again.

  “I’m not going to pretend to understand what you just said, but I can see that you’re exhausted,” said Marinda. “Off to bed, all of you. Jenny, I’ve already shown you where you’ll be sleeping; you and Mattie go on now. Larry, why don’t you show Seanad where to go? And don’t think you can go swapping around – not under my roof. We’ll get a preacher in here as soon as we can, and make things all proper.”

  As they trudged up the stairs, Sean could hear Marinda and Ferris continuing to talk. At the landing where the steps turned to go farther upstairs, Larry turned to Jenny and spoke, pulling Sean’s attention away from trying to listen to the conversation they were leaving behind at the table. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to get much of a choice, but just the same, I wanted to ask.” He got down on one knee in front of her and took both of her hands in his. It all looked so very romantic. “Jenny, will you marry me?”

  Sean was gape-mouthed, but he wasn’t the only one. Jenny was too, but at least she had sense enough to answer. “Of course I’ll marry you, you blockhead. I wasn’t about to let you get away.”

  Larry almost jumped to his feet again. He scooped Jenny up in a big bear hug and whirled her around and around. Mattie giggled as she and Sean were forced to back down the stairs a couple steps; there really wasn’t enough room for all that on the little landing.

  “Bed!” called Ferris from the table and they broke up after a lingering kiss. Sean was just about to turn and give Mattie a kiss, but she skittered past Jenny and Larry and disappeared up the stairs, almo
st before the complete thought had been formed.

  Marinda’s Touch

  Sean lie in his bed and listened to Larry fall asleep. He listened to the voices of Marinda and Ferris downstairs until they were silent. When there was nothing else to listen to, he began to toss and turn. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t drift off for more than a few minutes at a time, nor could he seem to force himself to lie still.

  He gave up and went back downstairs. The moons were shining brightly through one of the windows, so he went there to look out. He had never paid much attention to the moon before – there wasn’t much opportunity in the city – but seeing two moons was still a jolt to his sensibilities. He stood there and tried to sort out the different shadows they caused. He was used to sleepless nights like this; he knew what to do. Occupy the mind with some tedium while keeping the body still long enough for the mind to slow down too. Usually it was a book – preferably something rather boring.

  He jumped when a hand rested on his shoulder. “I’m sorry…Aunt Marinda,” he said, trying out the title with the name. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She smiled; her gray-streaked hair fell in a thick braid far down her back, and she wore a simple white robe over a long nightgown. “I’ve always been a very light sleeper. Your Uncle Clayton used to have nights like this. No matter how tired he was, he couldn’t sleep. He’d leave the bed and gaze outside. He’d stand here just like this until the restless energy seeped away. Sometimes it took hours.” She rubbed his back and he winced when she touched the still-tender bruises.

  “It must run in the family; I’ve done the same from time to time, ever since I can remember.”

  She guided him to the table; she hadn’t missed his wince. “Sit down here. Let me have a look at that wound of yours. If it still hurts that much, it certainly can’t help you fall asleep.” She sat him down with his back to the counter where she lit a lamp then she peeled his robe and nightshirt off his shoulders. “You say you did this yourself? How?”

  “I was questioning Cisco about her treacheries. She told me that, to keep up appearances, she had to have me remove the arrows; she said she couldn’t do it herself. Maybe she couldn’t.” The thought angered him, but he finished. “She said she wasn’t strong enough to heal me. She borrowed my magic, for strength I guess. She told me that she was going to take the stones then, but apparently, I took control of the link and healed myself. I only remember it vaguely.”

  “That should have worked regardless of how clumsy the joining was. Either she had no idea what she was doing, or healing was the very last thing on her mind. This is a mess.” She turned him to face her. “It’s quiet now. If you want, I’ll try to fix it, but it’s going to hurt.”

  She makes it sound like it’s something that should be done. He nodded.

  “Lay your head down on the table. I’m going to bind you to hold you still; try not to fight me off.”

  He did as she said, then had to bite his lip in order not to cry out and wake the rest of the house. Her binding was strong, but he still had to fight to stay still. Sweat sprang out and ran wherever gravity took it, as it felt like his lungs were being torn out with thin, sharp hooks. The whole ordeal only took a few moments, but he was whimpering by the time she let him up.

  She poured him a mug of something from the stove that was still warm, and helped his shaking hands guide it to his mouth. After a couple gulps, she said, “Take a deep breath or two and tell me how it feels.”

  He was highly reluctant to do any such thing, but for her… He took another gulp of tea and set the cup down on the table before he spilled it. He held his hand out in front of him and tried to stop its shaking. He steeled himself and did as she asked. He felt it; it was like tugging on a few widely spaced hairs just a little, but it didn’t really hurt. He hadn’t realized how much it had hurt until it was gone. He had been so sore all over, what was a little more pain? “A lot better, thanks,” he said.

  “Good,” she said, with a sympathetic smile. “Finish your tea, then go on up to bed. It will make you very tired.”

  She helped him get his nightshirt and robe back on, then she disappeared into the darkness of the house. Sean extinguished the lamp behind him and sat in the dark looking at the moonlit double-exposure patch on the floor. He sipped his tea. He had just flexed his abused trust and he hadn’t been burned. It felt…good.

  Aunt Marinda’s voice woke him early the next morning with a soft chuckle. “I thought I told you to go to bed,” she said, as she ruffled his hair in passing.

  Sean sat up and wiped the drool from the side of his face with a hand that felt like a lump of lead. I didn’t think I drooled. I don’t even remember lying my head down. Then again, the cup of tea wasn’t finished either.

  Sean wobbled his numb extremities out the back door to relieve himself and found that nightshirts weren’t really meant for it. How do women do it with all those skirts? He found a washstand by the back door and splashed cold water on his face, then raked his wet fingers through his surprisingly short hair. That’s right, Aunt Marinda cut it last night.

  When he came back in, he went up to his room where his bedroll was wrapped around what clothes he had. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he came back down to find a steaming mug of chamma waiting for him. The cook stove was only just beginning to get warm. “You must be able to do fire magic too,” he commented.

  “Oh not really; I can manage a pot of chamma if I have to, but that’s about the extent of it. Are you feeling better this morning?”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I’m awake.” He drank his chamma standing. If he sat, he might stay there. He cooled his cup a bit and gulped the contents down. Nasty stuff. “I’ll be out front,” he said, as he headed for the door, snagging his sword belt along the way.

  A few yards from the front door, he put himself through the first real workout since the day he met Mattie. As soon as he felt warmed up, he went to the barn to get Prince. He needed to learn how to work with him too; he also needed to learn how to make them work together smoothly.

  Sweat was just beginning to show on Prince’s shoulders when he felt a blow directly between his shoulders. Tender bruises raged and he whirled Prince to return the attack. Time dilated as too many things happened all at once. He returned the attack much as it had come. Aunt Marinda was turning in anger to a man with white hair. They both went flying as Sean’s spell took them. He teleported to catch his aunt before she hit the ground, and they tumbled in a tangle. He managed to take most of the brunt of their fall, though his back screamed from the effort.

  She picked herself up off him slowly, laughing. “Well, I guess we deserved that. Darrel, are you all right?”

  The white-haired man was also picking himself up off the ground, fingering the back of his head. “I’ll have a lump the size of my fist in a few minutes, but I’ll live.” He turned to Sean. “Nice return. Quick…but you need to guard yourself so the attack can’t get to you in the first place, at least not without you knowing it’s coming.” He looked at Marinda guiltily. “Sorry about the blow in the back. I didn’t know you was only just recovering from being wounded.”

  “I’ll live,” said Sean, as he climbed stiffly to his feet and shifted his shoulders; he wasn’t about to admit how much they hurt. He felt like a real heel having punched an old man and his newly-acquired aunt, knocking them to the ground.

  “Git your skinny butt back in that saddle,” said Darrel. “I might be an old gaffer, but I taught your father and both his brothers everything they knew.”

  “Does that include magic?” asked Sean.

  “Of course it does, though not officially. You could use a few pointers with them swords too, though you looked pretty good before I interrupted you. Go on, back on top with you.”

  Aunt Marinda chuckled. “Breakfast in an hour, Darrel.”

  “Right ma’am.” Darrel stopped his lesson half an hour later, giving Sean time to cool Prince down and not miss breakfast. Sean remem
bered the old man way back when saying, ‘A man takes care of his own horse and doesn’t foist it off on someone else.’

  “I’ve seen a lot of fine horses like these two,” said Darrel, as he watched. “I’m glad two of them are being used the way they was intended. It’s a crying shame what Ludwyn does to them.”

  “Is it Ludwyn who does it, or does he just command it done?” asked Sean.

  “He did it to his own horse first. It since died, probably of malnutrition or infection. He don’t ride out no more, but he makes sure there’s some in every garrison, and he orders them kept healthy by magic so they last longer. He makes those demons that ride them much the same way. Tortures them til they crack, then uses even more pain to make them what they are.”

  “I’ve found that one out,” said Sean bitterly.

  “That man of yours, Manuel, he has a few nightmares under his belt, I can tell. He credits you with his new lease on life.”

  Sean shrugged and tickled Prince until he swatted him with his tail. He gave it a tug, then gave his nose a shake when he turned to look around.

  After breakfast, he and Darrel went out into an empty field and threw magic at each other until they were both dripping with sweat. Darrel was strong in all the magics except white, which wasn’t really an attack magic.

  As they made their way back to the house for lunch, Sean asked, “Darrel, forgive me for asking, but there’s a lot of things I don’t know. How is it that you’re so strong in magic? I was under the impression that such strength was only found in the royal family.”