The Making of a Mage King: Prince in Hiding

by Anna L. Walls

  Sean panted as it all resettled, then he looked at Elias. “What are you doing here?” He looked past the torch in Larry’s hand to the distant crags of the cavern and the barely illuminated stone tomes it housed. “What is this place?”

  “This is the crypt of your ancestors,” said Elias. “You’ve been missing since yesterday. We searched the palace from top to bottom. We searched the grounds. We even have men out in the city looking for you. It wasn’t until Mattie overheard someone comment about having to close the doors to the crypt before one of the children fell down the stairs that we even considered looking down here. What are you doing down here?”

  Sean opened his mouth to answer – then it occurred to him that he couldn’t. “I don’t know. I knew…a minute ago… but it’s gone now.” He turned to leave, and realized he had no idea which direction to go; the torch didn’t provide enough light to show the way. The move caused him to feel the heavy belt across his shoulder. He pulled at it and felt the weight down his back. “What’s this?” he asked, and turned so they could see it in the torchlight.

  “I can’t tell for sure in this light,” Elias said, with awe in his voice, “but I think that just might be the ancient sword of King Soran. He was the first of your line.” He noticed something else too that Sean had missed. “And look, you have the horn too. Wherever did you find these artifacts?”

  “Soran gave them to me,” said Sean. It was a memory that surfaced and popped like a bubble. A big man dressed in a white shirt and black pants had hung the belt over one shoulder and the horn from the other. “He said his name was Soran.” He had worn a simple crown. He must have been a king. “Let’s go. Get me out of here. There’s no time,” said Sean, suddenly galvanized.

  “There’s no time for what?” asked Larry.

  “I…I don’t know. Let’s just go before the torch burns out.”

  Hélène and Jenny descended on them as soon as they came through the door to the kitchen. Jenny turned from one of the counters where she had been cutting something and threw herself into Sean’s arms. “Oh Sean, I was so worried about you.” She reared back and clasped his face in her hands. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Jenny,” said Sean. Over her shoulder, he saw that Hélène was relieved to see him, though she was trying her best to hide any overt reaction. He hugged Jenny until she settled down some then he passed her to Larry.

  Hélène turned and preceded them into one of the smaller dining halls, where Fernand brought them a platter laden with food he’d hastily put together for them.

  Sean passed the sword belt to Elias for him to examine while he ate. “Since most of the day is gone already, and since I’m tired, I’m going to start on the people upstairs first thing in the morning. As soon as I’m done with that, we’ll be heading out again. I need to reconstruct the country before winter sets in and locks everything down.”

  Hélène glowered. “Before you leave here, you have to be crowned king. You also need to be married and conceive an heir.”

  “I don’t have time for all that,” said Sean, as he put another slice of ham in his mouth. I’m so tired of someone always telling me what I should do. I have work to do and no time to do it.

  “You can’t just take off without leaving some security behind,” she said, raising her voice.

  Sean raised his voice to match. “There’s no point in being crowned. There’s no one here to acknowledge it, and I refuse to marry someone I haven’t even met. If you want an heir, you’ve told me that I already have three sons and a daughter on the way.”

  “Those children are children of the Dance. None of them can inherit from you.”

  Indignant, Sean stood. “They can if I say so. There’s no one else here. Unless you want me to marry one of the women upstairs, I don’t have time to find a wife,” said Sean, his voice a little louder.

  “The White House of Healers picked a suitable family for you to marry into as soon as you were conceived. Had you been born here, and as soon as a daughter was born to them, the two of you would have been betrothed. As it is, you were lost to us, so it is fortuitous that a daughter was born to them anyway; we can have her here in a week. As soon as she conceives a son, you can go gallivanting off however you please,” said Hélène tersely.

  Sean was on his feet. “As soon as she conceives a son! What if she conceives a daughter? Do I wait around for another year, year and a half, to see if she conceives a son the next time? Forget it.” He leaned forward, his knuckles rapping as they made abrupt contact with the table. “If you want me to wear a crown, fine, I’ll wear a crown. If you want me to get married, fine, I’ll get married. But I’m not going to wait around for ceremonies and formalities.” He turned to Larry. “Larry, get with Manuel and make sure everything is ready for us to depart in two or three days.” He turned to Elias, but Hélène interrupted him.

  “The ceremonies are very important. They show the people…”

  Sean turned back to her. “No ceremonies until I’m ready for ceremonies. What do I have here?” He waved a hand around indicating his surroundings. “I have fifteen loyal fighting men that I know. I have five loyal women that I know. I have four consorts I barely know, a house full of servants and soldiers who may or may not be loyal to their job, and eighty-some-odd psychotic people upstairs still wallowing under Ludwyn’s tortures. Ceremonies would show the people nothing, because none of the people are here and very few of them even know that I exist, let alone that I have a claim to the throne.” He swiped his hand between them in a cutting motion. “Give it up, Hélène. My plan goes forward. Mine, do you hear me? Not yours. You can plan all the ceremonies you want after I return.”

  “I only want what is best for the people,” she said, determined to have the last say.

  Sean spoke a little softer, but with no less force. “I’m sure you do.” He reached up and snatched a circlet of silver from the air, then he set it on the table in front of her; the magical dimension filled him to bursting. “Here, you take the crown. You can have the throne. You can have this palace and everything that goes along with it. I’ll go back to New York and finish high school.” He strode out of the room. He didn’t catch the stunned expressions on everyone’s faces. He didn’t look for it.

  Elias caught up with him just as he was about to leave the palace and handed him his new sword. “Seanad, you can’t just leave like this.”

  “Sure I can. Ask Ferris, I’ve already done it once, and I’m even stronger now than I was then. You don’t have to worry about Ludwyn either; he’s finished.” He took a look at the sword Elias had just handed him, all he’d noticed before was that it was big. The entire thing was nearly as tall has he was. It had a plain, leather-wrapped hilt measuring at least eighteen inches. Another eighteen inches out onto the blade were two heavy tangs angled to catch and trap an opponent’s blade. This stretch of blade was unbeveled and looked to make a good grip for leverage if need be. That left a good two and a half feet of double-edged blade resting in a sheath that looked far too small for it. Farther up on the belt, a heavy hook supported the upper weight of the sword; a strap of stiff leather hooked over the guard to keep it in its place. A simple flick of a finger would knock it loose, but it wasn’t likely to fall away otherwise, and it was stiff enough to be easily available when re-sheathing. Etched onto the blade was what looked like a stylized fire-breathing dragon; it was an impressive piece of work.

  “But Seanad, we need you,” said Elias, pulling Sean away from his scrutiny of the ancient sword.

  “Yes, you do,” agreed Sean, facing his father. “But I have to be the one who makes the final decisions. I remember you saying something once, Dad. Mom and I were ragging on you for some reason I don’t even remember anymore, but you said, ‘I’m sitting at the head of the table. I reserve the right to have the final say.’ You all brought me here. You all have set me at the head of the table. I reserve the right to have the final say. If I can’t have the final say, there’s no point in my bei
ng here.”

  “You have to make some concessions,” persisted Elias.

  “I’ll listen to advice from anyone. I need all the advice I can get, but the final say has got to be mine, Dad, it has to be that way, unless you want me to be something other than a king. I’ll wear a crown, I’ll claim to be king, but a formal coronation will impress no one, and I don’t have the time. I’ll even marry whoever Hélène picks for me and make the best of the match, but I don’t have time to wait for her to get here, and I certainly don’t have the time to wait for her to conceive a son. If that hasn’t happened by the time I decide to leave, it’ll have to wait.”

  “What is this obsession with time you have now?” asked Elias.

  Sean had to think. He never was one to remain idle, but time was pressing hard on him; he felt like he was racing a deadline. “I don’t know, but I have to get all this done in time…” In time for what? “I just have to get it done real soon.”

  “All right, come on back, I gave Hélène the blue stone. She’s going to take you to meet your future bride.”

  “Well, that’ll speed things up a bit. Who is the poor girl, do you know?” asked Sean, turning back to the others.

  “Just her name, but I do know the family. They’re good people and have always been loyal to your grandfather. Their family is well known for their earth and water magic.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Armelle Mirande Aquitana.”

  “That’s a mouth full.” Poor woman. “But if she shows the slightest hesitation, I’ll leave Hélène there without the stone.”

  When they returned to the table, Hélène’s first words grated again, but Sean bit his tongue and did as she said.

  “I ordered a bath for you and I’ll lay out proper clothes for you to wear. We’ll be having dinner at house Aquitana.”

  Armelle

  Hélène had the stone, so Sean let her control the teleport. After all, she was the one who knew where to go. The last thing he expected was to appear on a small hill with nothing but rolling grassland in sight.

  Before he could ask about it, Hélène confronted him. “What is the meaning of this?” She held out a blue stone in each hand.

  Someone had to find out sooner or later. Sean took the two stones from her and compared them in the setting sun. “Can you tell the difference?” he asked.

  Frowning, she took one from him and scrutinized it, then she switched them and scrutinized the second one. “No. I can’t tell the difference.” She took the first one back and compared them together in the sunlight. “One of these is the family treasure, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, the one in your right hand. I found the other one inlaid in a picture in my Uncle Clayton’s manor house along with copies of the rest of them. However, I also discovered that they both work about the same. I gave Ferris one of the copies. He was able to make use of it without noticing anything. How did you get both of them?”

  “Ferris gave me all six of the ones he had soon after I arrived. He wasn’t comfortable being responsible for them. Elias had the idea of taking you to meet your bride and handed me the second blue stone. I still don’t understand, though.”

  “I have two theories about that,” offered Sean. “One is that whoever made that inlaid picture managed to discover the same rocks that the original stones were made of, thereby duplicating the original effects. My other theory is that none of the stones have any special abilities at all, and that it’s just the belief in them that makes them work. However, I have no way of testing which theory is the right theory; I have found little need for them.”

  She looked at the stones again. “Amazing. And you can tell the difference?”

  “Yes, I can. The original set is, of course, the original. It’s a lot older than the other set.”

  “Amazing,” she said again. Then she took note of the setting sun. “We’re going to be late.” She took Sean’s arm again and they appeared in the front yard of a large farmhouse. The first thing he noticed was the generous amount of blond hair. Most everyone he had met so far either had dark brown or black hair.

  Moments after they appeared, servants came out to usher them into the house. Being recognized, Hélène was greeted warmly by everyone she encountered. Sean, however, was greeted warmly enough, but he felt as though he was under a magnifying glass too.

  He was introduced to more than a dozen men and women, and Hélène got profuse apologies for the lack of response due to short notice. A couple dozen people were here, so in Sean’s opinion, these people had acted fast enough.

  The parents were there, as were four brothers and two sisters; one of the brothers and one of the sisters had hair that tipped toward red. Several aunts and uncles were also there, as were many cousins, ranging in age from perhaps their thirties all the way down to toddlers. Some of those also had spouses. Sean didn’t have a clue who the toddlers belonged to. It was all very confusing; introductions consisted of ‘Aunt this’ or ‘Uncle that’ or ‘Cousin so-and-so’, it was impossible to map the connections between all of them without more time.

  In all of these people, Sean didn’t see anyone who might qualify as a marriageable girl, nor did he hear the name ‘Armelle’ in all of the introductions. Every girl here was either already married or much too young for it. I am not going to marry a child. And, since Hélène is concerned about my conceiving an heir, I’m sure she must be old enough.

  A couple hours later, they all sat down at a fine table. The children were taken to the kitchen where they could be tended by the servants and kept out of trouble. Two of the brothers, Ramas and Lars, sat across from Sean, and the other two, Gareth and Denning, sat on either side of him. I feel like a black sheep surrounded by all these fair heads.

  The whole family asked him all manner of questions, but most of the conversation took place between Sean and these four brothers. They wanted to know everything there was to know about the man who was to marry their sister so abruptly.

  Talking about himself was more difficult than Sean thought. Without mentioning the fact that he hadn’t been brought up here, there was little common ground to talk about, but he did his best to smudge over such details.

  After supper, it got interesting. Sean had yet to meet his future bride, but he wasn’t about to bring the subject up himself. No one had forgotten, however. After the dishes had been cleared away, the table was pushed against one wall and everyone moved to the edges of the room leaving Hélène, and by her grasp, Sean, alone in the center of the room.

  They only waited for moments before the parents stepped forward with a young girl between them. She was dressed in a beautiful white dress with her golden hair held up by a white satin ruffle, but the wedding dress couldn’t hide her age. She looked to be no older than fifteen or maybe sixteen. What would my parent’s say? But then he knew the answer to that question. Ever since he turned thirteen and started to appreciate girls, his father had talked to him about babies and where they came from. “Under eighteen is too young; it’s considered child abuse.” His mother had had her warnings too. “Girls can have babies as young as twelve, but that doesn’t make it okay. It’s dangerous for them that young.” And they both would say, “The only way to be sure of not getting a girl pregnant is to keep it in your pants – all the time. You don’t want a baby until you can take care of it.” Sean considered himself too young to marry, but he was willing to do it, if only to shut everyone up, but this was going too far. I am not a child abuser.

  The girl and her parents had scarcely emerged from the bank of relatives before Sean took her by the arm and guided her past her family and outside into the yard. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know,” he said, as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “Why wouldn’t I want to do this?” she asked, her green eyes flashing.

  “Oh I don’t know,” said Sean. “Maybe, so you can grow up a little. You’re too young for this. I’m…”

  “You think I’m too young?” she
said indignantly. “I just turned sixteen. Everybody I know was married before sixteen.”

  Sean was stunned. “But you don’t even know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  She looked at him critically. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  Her brothers descended on them. “Is our sister not good enough for you?” asked Lars, his face threatening to match his hair.

  “No,” said Sean incredulously, then he realized how that sounded and hastily tried to correct it. “That’s not what I meant. I just think she’s too young to get married.” All the philosophies on the subject raced through Sean’s mind. “She’s hardly old enough to figure out who she is, let alone to become someone’s wife.”

  “Are you sick or something, that you want some old lady instead of our sister? What’s wrong with you?” said Denning; he pulled Sean around to face him and raked him up and down with hard eyes as if searching for some deformity.

  Armelle may have been beginning to understand what Sean was trying to say. “There’s nothing wrong with him, Denning,” she said, but it was too little too late.

  “Go back inside,” said Denning, pointing for Armelle to go, then the four of them pulled Sean farther away from the house.

  One of them said, “We’re going to beat some sense into you.”

  And another said, “You’re not going to insult our sister like that.”

  These are her brothers. I can’t fight her brothers. That’s not how I imagined starting a relationship of any sort, let alone a marriage.

  One fist caught him in the short ribs and another across the cheek before he started trying to block. He didn’t have any training in fist fighting or boxing; the only fighting he’d been trained in was with a sword. Now, Sean had learned how to deal out a lot of damage with a sword, and not all of it with the blade, but he felt disadvantaged without one, and doubly so because of who he was fighting.