The Making of a Mage King: Prince in Hiding

by Anna L. Walls

  Curious, he wound his way through the now-quiet tent to find the source. Cordan was sitting up in the outer room watching over their new guest. When he moved to get up, Sean waved him back.

  He found Manuel outside by their small fire. “What is that?” he asked, nodding toward the direction of the music.

  “That’s the Dance. I’ve heard it every night,” said Manuel, handing him a leg of cold chicken. “Different instrument. Different location. Tonight it sounds like a pair of flutes. It’s right over there. You can almost see them dancing.”

  “Dancing?” Sean looked to where he pointed, and sure enough, by the light of the moons, he could see the heads of some girls and it looked like they were dancing around a small bonfire. Spectators were moving through the camps, so he decided to follow them. He wanted a closer view of the kind of dance that would go along with such sad music and yet attract so much attention this late at night.

  Being tall, Sean didn’t need to shoulder past too many people in order to see what was going on around the fire, but what he saw drew him forward irresistibly. The four girls dancing around the fire were dressed in the four different colors of magic; red, light blue, dark blue and green. Over their heads were sheer black scarves, and in their hands were long narrow strips of white material that shimmered in the firelight like a ribbon.

  Their dance was mesmerizing, intoxicating and sad all at once. They moved like ballet dancers, but the dance wasn’t quite a ballet; it wasn’t quite a belly dance either, but a fascinating combination of both. They wove, they swayed, they bent and stepped, and though they kept the same tempo, each dance was unique. They faced the four different directions with the fire at their center. The white silk flashed and wove around their shrouded forms.

  Beneath the grace and beauty of their dance and the haunting music, was the story. It took Sean a few minutes to recognize it, but he did. As he watched, he and others were drawn forward and the people parted for them. He dropped the half-eaten chicken leg somewhere along the way.

  He was young; what started out as wishful thinking evolved into full-blown desire. He fully intended to dance with those lovely, graceful girls. That he might make an idiot of himself no longer mattered. He didn’t even notice that he had managed to acquire a sword in each hand, nor did he notice the other dancers who had stepped into the firelight with him. All that mattered now was the Dance.

  He not only danced with the girls, he also danced with the fire. He wove between the girls. His steps and moves, evolved from deep inside – somewhere far beneath the magic.

  A long-legged redhead wove her body around him. Her long braid reached for him, thrusting to escape the clinging shroud every time she spun. Other men danced around the fire, but Sean didn’t notice them; for him, they did not exist.

  He spun away from the redheaded beauty and into the arms of another beauty dressed in green; she had green yarn woven into her hair that was piled in wild abandon high atop her head. Her eyes, behind their shroud, were the greenest Sean had ever seen. She made her boneless body grow up and twine around his frame; her long fingers brushed an ear before she spun away in her turn.

  His next turn brought him into the flow of a girl dressed in a dark blue gown with many slits that spilled and then hid frothy white lace at her every move. She too wove and turned and spun around him, her shroud clinging to her with every move. Her hand caressed his face and trailed down his chest and around him as she spun, and then her silk scarf rippled across his neck and cheek for its entire length as she spun away.

  The next girl swayed her way around him bonelessly. Her pale blue gown shimmered with every move she made. He captured her and lifted her high over his head, and they spun around and around, her black shroud threatening to spin away. Between her arms, her legs, and the swords in Sean’s hands, she looked like she might take flight if he let go of her. He had a fleeting thought about getting dizzy and sending them both into the fire, but it was gone before her feet touched the ground. She breezed away and on to the next dancer to intercept her. For a moment, he marveled that he had managed to hang onto her and the swords, but the Dance swept him on and into the fiery arms of the redhead once again.

  Between each encounter with the girls, he danced with the fire, competing with the other men to be the one to defeat the flames. He plunged his swords into its depths sending sparks soaring into the sky, then he spun on to the next girl. He swung his swords with vicious energy. He turned and stepped like a matador as he moved with the girls, stepping between them and turning around them. They’d lean against an arm while his sword cut behind their backs. They’d spin, hanging from his shoulder while he clashed his swords over their heads. They would twine in one direction around him while he did a pirouette in the other. Every few steps, he would beat at the fire, and the wood that supported it, as if it were an opponent. Sparks flew and flames roared. Such times were the only times he noticed other men dancing the same dance.

  At some undefined point, the music changed subtly, and the four girls spun away from the fire to dance around the men. Their black shrouds fell away and their white ribbons twined around the man each had chosen. For the men, the fire remained their main opponent. Every time Sean stepped up to the fire to strike at it, it was on one side or the other of the twirling, swaying, clinging girl with the fiery red hair. It was a miracle that none of the dancers were chopped to bits, as their bodies were close together and the swords never stopped their blurring movement.

  One of the men dropped in a faint, nearly landing in the flames. Someone pulled him away from the fire and carried him into the darkness, and the woman of green joined the woman of red dancing around Sean. They were so close to him, and all of their movements were so entwined, that the blades moved like striking snakes with a mind of their own. The four girls turned and spun around the men, and at the same time, the seven of them turned and spun around the fire.

  Another man dropped and was carried away, and the remaining male dancer was now entangled with the two girls in blue, though like Sean, he still fought with the fire, miraculously missing the extremities of the whirling beauties.

  The attacks on the fire eventually beat it down. As the moons moved below the horizon, the fire also died down. The frenzy of their dance, which had built during this latest stage, now cooled down somewhat, though it wasn’t over yet.

  When the moons disappeared, the Dance became more inverted, and the dancers now moved in slow motion compared to the wild and graceful frenzy that had gone before, but it didn’t happen soon enough to spare the other male dancer. The other man seemed to have depended on the frenzy to sustain him. When it all slowed, he wilted and staggered and was led away; his satellites spinning away and coming to Sean.

  Sean stretched his arms out wide and turned a lethargic path around the dying fire, his swords pointed wide, carving their own circle until they dropped from his grip and his hands found the closest body.

  All four of the girls were pressed up against him now; their hands caressed his body from his face down to his knees. The music trailed away leaving only their labored breathing and a shuffling of feet to brush the air. Everyone who had gathered to watch turned their backs. They stood shoulder to shoulder, each of them watching those around them to ensure that no one watched the dancers anymore.

  By now, Sean wasn’t aware of anything beyond the hands, eyes, curves and colors. The girls were starting a whole new dance with him that had nothing at all to do with the fire that had turned to coals, and yet still roared inside each of them. To the sound of a single haunting flute, their clothes vanished. There was blood and kisses, bites and sweat, tears and cries, laughter and moans.

  By the time the sun made its appearance above the horizon, they were all spent and exhausted. They would have slept there, who knows how long, if people hadn’t come to disentangle them and carry them away.

  Sean’s overly-neglected stomach woke him. He lie there for a moment. I’m never going to be able to tell even Larry abou
t this dream. He’ll never believe it. I’m not sure I could describe it anyway. He rolled to his feet. He was sticky with sweat and dried blood. His legs felt like noodles and he had to try to move his body. Every muscle was highly reluctant to do its job in holding him upright and moving him toward the washbasin that had been supplied for him. It wasn’t a dream.

  Mortified, he washed and dressed. He had to put on the leather pants and silk undershirt that he usually wore under his armor; his other clothes were nowhere to be found. To put off facing the others a little while longer, he shaved and rinsed the sweat out of his hair, taking the time to towel it dry before venturing into the next room.

  Four men he’d never seen before knelt in front of him as soon as he appeared. He looked over their heads to see Elias and Ferris standing behind them. Ferris had a funny grin on his face, but Elias seemed serious enough. “What’s this?” asked Sean.

  All four of the men offered a dagger to Sean, bare-bladed and hilt first. Though they were kneeling, they weren’t bowing. The daggers they offered were all different, but they were all well made and gleamed with the kind of care that said they were sharp.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” asked Sean.

  “It’s their daughters you danced with last night,” said Ferris, still grinning.

  The blood, and its implications, finally hit Sean like a truck. “Oh, Jesus.” He took an involuntary step back wishing for a chair to catch him. He had taken the virginity from four different girls, and now their fathers were here with knives. What am I supposed to do?

  “Take it easy, Seanad,” said Elias with a smile. “It’s not all that bad. You can accept one or all of those knives, and in so doing, you accept their daughters. They then become… well…rather more than a mistress, but less than a wife.”

  “This is called a Knife Wedding and the Dance is called the Soul Dance,” said Ferris. “Very few men finish the Dance. Your father only made it half way through the second stage before he collapsed. Girls all over learn the Dance in order to catch a husband. Most marry soon after dancing in public,” he continued. “There have been many weddings since the beginning of this gathering, but this will be the first Knife Wedding that I know of, provided you accept one of those, that is.”

  Sean looked at the four men who still knelt holding out their knives. Two of them could have been cousins or brothers of Ferris, having much the same coloring and build. One of them could have been Sean’s cousin if he was taller. The other one could have been Larry’s father if he put on a suit and grew a mustache. “And if I don’t…?”

  “They all likely have suitors lined up outside their tent as we speak,” said Ferris.

  Hesitantly, Sean accepted all four knives. “When…” He waved a hand off toward the city. “If…” He didn’t know how to say it. “I would…really like to watch my children grow up.” What else can I do? I will take responsibility for my actions. I will take care of my own children – somehow.

  The men stood up and nodded their heads gravely, then filed out of the tent without a word.

  Elias came and patted him on the shoulder. “You just raised their standing to that of near-nobles. Not that their lives will change that much, but they’ll get that kind of respect from their friends and neighbors.”

  “Why? Because of me?”

  “No, because of the Dance,” said Elias. “Like Ferris said, few men finish the Dance. Since you accepted the knives, their daughters will be treated like queens. They won’t have any of the authority, and their children cannot be named your heir, but they will be revered for the rest of their lives and will want for nothing.”

  “All because of a dance?”

  “All because of a dance,” said Elias. “It’s a very important dance.”

  “I guess.” Sean’s stomach rumbled to the point of cramping and Elias led him out to the fire where a pot of stew was cooling. As Elias filled a large bowl, Sean asked, “What do I do with these?” He held up the knives.

  “So you took them all,” said Manuel, as he came to join them. “I wondered if you might. You keep them somewhere about you. I’ll make you some sheathes for them.”

  That afternoon they made sheathes. By the time they were finished, one hung innocently just to the left of Sean’s belt buckle, one rested less innocently behind his right hip, partially hidden on the inside of his sword belt, one was totally hidden down between his shoulder blades just under his mail, and the last one was fixed under the chest plate of his shoulder piece. The three knives intended to be hidden needed a little help. The width of their flanges created an obvious gap and the one down his back dug in enough to bruise. They went in search of a smith with his tools and had him grind down the flanges on either side of the hilts. By the time they were finished, the knives were nearly unnoticeable. Sean felt rather prickly just knowing they were there, especially since his sword belt already carried two swords, and another – though longer – knife.

  Sean’s knife brides began to arrive shortly before dinner. Their parents brought them and all of their possessions, or at least all of the possessions they had here, which really wasn’t much. The now much-more-modestly dressed girls curtsied almost all the way to the ground and gave Sean their names. The four mothers were crying as they too curtsied, then kissed Sean’s hand.

  Sean felt like he should have said something, but his mind was a total blank and they didn’t seem to expect anything. After seeing their daughters into Sean’s care, the fathers nodded their version of a bow and took their wives away.

  The girls’ names, in order of their arrival, were Campi, the one with green eyes; Sloan, the redhead; Cézanne, the one who had worn the dark blue and white; and Lindleyan, the one Sean had twirled above his head. She had straight, black hair and large, black eyes, and she was surprisingly short. Elias and Ferris returned the introductions then escorted them into the tent to show them where they would be staying. Sean followed, and was both relieved and disappointed to see that they weren’t being shown into his room.

  When they were safely deposited, Elias turned to Sean. “They are not to be touched until it can be confirmed whether or not they became pregnant from the Dance.”

  “Why?” asked Sean.

  He pulled Sean away from their ‘door’. “The child conceived in the Dance will be marked.”

  “Marked? How?” asked Sean.

  “He or she will have a tiny diamond tattooed between their eyebrows,” he explained.

  “But something like that will set him aside for life,” said Sean.

  “Yes it will. Like I said before, a child of the Dance will be revered.

  “The requirements surrounding knife brides and their offspring are very strict. The girl must be a virgin, and this has to be witnessed and confirmed by someone other than her family, preferably by someone in his family. Both Ferris and I visited the girls’ tents while you slept. The fathers, along with one independent witness from the Dance, came here and looked in on you to confirm that you were the man their daughters had finished the danced with. Now, a priestess from the White House of Healers will be sent for to confirm the results of the Dance.

  I’m not even eighteen and now I have four mistresses, and I don’t even have the crown yet. What will Aunt Marinda say?

  Having four gorgeous girls sharing his tent, knowing they are his was ‘mind blowing’. Blasted from his mind were any concerns about Ludwyn. Gone were his plans for the city. Magic wasn’t important. Sean was a basket case.

  The girls didn’t help matters much; they oohed and aahed, making him pose and preen with only a smile, a shy giggle, even a fluttered eyelash. He was such an idiot.

  Ludwyn

  With the intoxicating smell of female perfume overwhelming the tent, Sean found it difficult to sleep, and it wasn’t uncommon to find him out late at night, working out with his swords. With the bank of humanity around the city thicker than an asteroid field, he would go just beyond their crush for these workouts. It also gave him time and space
to think. Just like when they first set out on the road, everyone was looking to him, waiting for him to make the next move, but he needed a plan and he just couldn’t think of one.

  One night, three days after the girls’ arrival, a girl approached from that bank of humanity and handed him a pitcher of watered wine. He didn’t think anything of it. He didn’t even pay any attention to where the girl came from or where she went. She never said anything; he was getting used to people not speaking here. She just handed him the pitcher and left. He took a sip, then drained it. The wine was watered down pretty thin, and he didn’t care for the flavor, but he had worked up quite a thirst.

  A few moments later, he felt dizzy. He stopped to look at the dark city to regain his equilibrium, but it was no good. The city suddenly darted to the side and he found himself facing the campfires, then everything tipped on end and went dark.

  He woke up to the sensation of sitting in a chair, but this one wasn’t rocking. His head was thrown back, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a ceiling high up in the shadows; long colonnades reached up to support it. Focusing on it was difficult since it took him a moment to identify what he was seeing. At about that same time, he realized that it was now daylight.

  He sat forward and his head spun again, so he closed his eyes and hung his head down with his elbows on his knees hoping the spinning would stop soon. He still had the taste of sour wine in his mouth, and if his head didn’t stop spinning soon, he’d be tasting it – again.

  “Stand before your king,” commanded a harsh, gravelly voice from the other end of the vast chamber.

  Rescued from his stomach-churning thoughts, Sean wobbled his way to his feet before he thought about resisting the command. The chair behind him clattered away and massive hands clamped around his arms just above his elbows. All his lethargy washed away as a chill crept up his spine. Suddenly he recognized where he was and who was in front of him, and the hands that now gripped his arms were enormous.