The Making of a Mage King: White Star

by Anna L. Walls

  “That would take fire magic, wouldn’t it? I was never very good with fire,” replied Paddn.

  “I suppose it would, some,” said Sean. “I’ve never done it before.”

  “My uncle was a blacksmith,” said Paddn, with an odd expression in his eyes. “When I was little, he used to say I’d apprentice with him when I was big enough.” He took a deep breath, purposefully skipping over uglier memories attached to the topic. “He told me there was a way to heat up, then cool down the metal that made it tougher, otherwise it was just metal.”

  Sean took the shoulder piece; Mattie’s grandmother had given it to him. It was scraped and dented, the linked sections that had covered his shoulder and arm were hanging from broken links, and the metal band that extended across his back had been twisted almost as if a giant had crumpled it in its fist. The leather strap that held it all in place was somewhere in the pile with the rest of his armor. “I don’t know; we’re not making armor, so the temper is already there. We’ll just be straightening out the kinks.” He brushed the band flat between his hands, then handed it back to Paddn. “What do you think?”

  Paddn set aside the breastplate he’d picked up and took the piece Sean handed to him. As he was looking at it, Sean noticed Kendal standing frozen about a dozen yards away, staring at them with wide eyes. “Kendal, come on over. How’ve you been?” Almost as if he had been caught staring, Kendal moved forward hesitantly. It seemed like his eyes got wider the closer he got. “What’s the matter, Kendal?”

  “I just heard… You killed… You almost… They said…”

  Sean covered the rest of the distance between them, picking up the boy in a hug that was just as desperate as Manuel’s had been. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Everything is fine.”

  Kendal clutched at him as if he were the breath of life itself. “I was so afraid,” he said in a small voice.

  “Don’t be afraid, Kendal. I’m very strong and I need to be here for a while yet.” He continued to hug the boy until he felt the pressure let up. Holding him so he could look in his eyes, he said, “Have you been practicing with Laon while I was away?”

  The boy’s face lit up; his fears had been proven false and now they could be discarded. “Wait ‘til you see!” He squirmed down and was off almost before Sean had let go of him. When Sean didn’t follow him, he turned and called, “Come on,” and waved him to follow.

  Sean, Larry, Elias, Gérard, and Paddn followed to find Laon working with the new men, the knights. They were mounted and working their horses through a complicated routine that looked like they were defending some central point from a major offensive, or doing a square dance. Every move was punctuated by a barking yell that echoed across the valley. Somehow, Sean strongly suspected that he would be that central point if anything ever came at them.

  As Kendal ran up, Laon called a halt and dismounted. He had seen the boy and the others who followed. He hadn’t noticed Sean’s return or heard the cheers over the noise of their own endeavors here on the far side of camp. He dropped his reins to the ground and gave the horse a curt command, then he was striding toward them with a long-legged purpose when little Kendal caught his sleeve and whispered something to him. He smiled and nodded, then waved the boy off. Kendal ran back past Sean; he was so excited his feet scarcely touched the ground. Laon covered the rest of the distance at a more sedate pace.

  “I can see you’ve been busy since I’ve been away. I’m impressed,” said Sean as the man got closer.

  Laon’s aspect changed under the praise. “It has been a group project. We have worked very hard and have developed several plans.”

  “Great, just remember that nothing ever happens as planned. Try to stay flexible. What is it that Kendal wants to show me?”

  In answer, Kendal ran up again with two swordsticks and handed one to Laon. For the next half hour, Sean watched little Kendal match swords with Laon, and aside from the fact that he was grinning like a Cheshire cat, he was very obviously learning. Teaching Kendal had also helped Laon, since he was forced to notice small things and take care with the force he used, without sacrificing the precision.

  After that, Sean was obliged to watch Laon put his men through their paces, and Kendal kept up a running commentary about what they were doing. The child’s voice did much to unwind nerves that had been knotted since seeing the dismembered body of his uncle and then his horse, and he was impressed with what he saw. Real combat would be the test to tell if these lessons would hold.

  Laon had already had them working hard for a couple hours before Sean had showed up, so as soon as the demonstration was finished, he dismissed them and each of them gave Sean a deep bow as they filed by.

  Sean went back to his tent with Laon at his usual place by his shoulder. Much of his gear had been put away for him, but the sight of his twisted armor reminded him that men had died here too. “Men were killed. Who were they? What did you do with the bodies?” he asked.

  Laon named off four men, but no faces came readily to Sean’s mind; when his report indicated that identifying the men had only been possible by roll call, thus finding out who was missing, he was glad they had been buried quickly. Since that first death, Sean had promised himself he would send his casualties home to their families. However, in this case he wouldn’t want their families to see them in that condition.

  Sean spun on his heels and called his father, who had halted by the fire. “Dad?” When Elias came the rest of the way from the fire to where he stood, Sean said, “Are you ready to go back to the palace?”

  “I was just getting used to the excitement,” said Elias.

  Sean gave him the four names. “Express my regrets to their families. Find some plausible excuse for my not sending them home.”

  “When you get there,” continued Sean, “tell Ferris to pack up. He deserves a break. Let him know I’ll pick him up this evening in time for supper,” said Sean. When Gérard stepped up beside his brother, Sean sent them to the palace.

  While he had been talking to Elias, Laon had finished moving Sean’s gear into the tent. Moving the armor had been especially unsettling for him. When Sean had finished, he said, “I’ll send for a smith from the city…”

  “Don’t bother; thanks anyway. I’ll fix them myself.” Then his eyes fell on the forlorn saddle. “You can, however, go into the city and see if you can find a horse for me.”

  “That won’t be necessary, my lord. I’m sure Frezon will give up his with no complaint. He tries hard, but he’s afraid of the beast; that’s never a good combination.”

  “If he’s afraid, why did you put them together?” asked Sean.

  “He wanted to try; he does all right and says nothing, but I can see it.”

  Believing everyone should be able to try, Sean asked, “How about we ask for a voluntary resignation of a horse?”

  “My lord, they would all willingly offer you their horse. It would be a race to see who brought their offering to you first.”

  Sean groaned; he didn’t want that, it would cause too much confusion, but he also didn’t want Frezon to feel demoted because of his need for a horse. They had plenty of other horses that were easy enough to commandeer. He just needed something to ride.

  As it turned out, the fact that Sean had lost his horse was news that would make it through camp every bit as fast as the fact that he had defeated the old king. Sean was just finishing with his armor when the man came to see him.

  The man bowed and spoke. “My lord, I’m Frezon and I…um…heard that you lost your horse. When you wanted to bring the destriers back from the city, you asked for volunteers to replace some of the knights who had…other obligations. Um…” He was unsure how to proceed. “I have decided that I would much rather return to the ranks. Them horses is just too big,” finished Frezon.

  Sean looked him over. “There were two volunteers that were to take the extra destriers; where’s the other one?”

  “Coser’s horse went nuts, my lord. Seth had him destroyed,
” he answered, and backed away a few steps.

  “Well then, I suppose we should go meet my new horse,” said Sean. So we lost another horse. Apparently, they didn’t change riders very easily, regardless of how they’re treated. I’ll have to remember that. A significant part of a warhorse’s training is fierce and undying loyalty to one man, and this one in particular would now be working on his third rider, not to mention the torture at the hands of men who had been a large part of that training. It was understandable that he might be…a little intractable. Though the signals were all the same, or close enough to be of little consequence, each man had a different touch. Using magic where needed in order to protect himself from the creature’s teeth and hooves, Sean saddled the horse and mounted.

  He soon found that it would take a lot of work before the horse would accept him without protesting, and a great deal more work before he would be loyal to him, if that would ever be achieved. Well, I’ve always liked a challenge.

  Sean stopped butting heads with his blockhead-of-a-horse when they were both drenched in sweat. He hobbled the beast by his tent then turned to see what was for lunch, only to discover that it was long over. Still, leftovers were filling.

  Mattie nudged Lyra toward him with a whisper, as Sean flopped down in an accommodating camp chair.

  The girl bobbed a dainty curtsy, spreading her blue skirts gracefully; she looked much prettier dressed in skirts than she did in the plain gray shift she had worn before. It was obvious that something was bothering her. Before, she had always been bold, looking him directly in the eyes and speaking her mind openly, but now, she looked upset and hung her head. “My lord,” she started, then shifted her feet and clutched at her skirts. “My lord,” she tried again then sniffed; only then did Sean notice that she had been crying.

  He looked up at Mattie, who was watching with sympathy. He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What is it Lyra?” he asked, as he peered into her face. “Why are you crying?”

  “Oh, it’s so stupid,” she said, tears flowing now despite her struggle to control them. Then she blurted it out all in a rush. “Can I have my magic back? I could help Miss Mattie or stand in for her when she has to be away. I could…”

  “Lyra, all you had to do was ask,” said Sean, speaking gently. He broke his shield from around her and the white cloud of her magic glowed cleanly again. “You don’t need to sell me on it.” She stopped and sniffed again. Her eyes were red. “Tell me what happened.” He glanced up at Mattie again, looking for some sign as to how far he should push this.

  Lyra’s eyes threatened to overflow again and her mouth worked in an effort to keep her chin from trembling. “It’s so stupid,” she repeated, then plunged ahead. “One of those big horses went all wild and Seth got kicked. He said he was okay, but…”

  Sean glanced at Mattie again and she gave him an imperceptible nod. “You used to heal birds and cats if you found them hurt, didn’t you?” asked Sean. He leaned back in the chair again. “I’ve beat myself against that horse for hours and I ache all over. Why don’t you make sure I didn’t hurt myself?”

  Lyra nearly squeaked with fear. She would have backed away and perhaps even run, but Mattie had moved to stand directly behind her. So bolstered, Lyra reached forward. She had never done such a thing before, but Sean took her hand.

  The magic did things for both of them. Sean could tell that Lyra’s personal magic was much stronger than Mattie’s would ever be, but she was inexperienced and timid this first time. Regardless, she washed his aches away wherever she found them, leaving him relaxed and mellow.

  Lyra however, got a firsthand picture of all the injuries Sean had ever taken that were more than a scratch. The magnitude frightened her and when she withdrew, her hands were shaking.

  “Nice touch,” said Sean, feeling nearly drunk he was so mellow. Then he waved Laon over to them. “I want you to do the same thing for him.”

  Both Laon and Lyra were confused by the request, but she did it just the same. Laon was left groping for another camp chair and Lyra was crying again.

  “Now you know what I am fighting to undo,” said Sean gently. “Those men will be the first to put themselves in harm’s way, and if you’re going to help Mattie, you may need to tend them. I didn’t want you to be surprised then when it might make a critical difference.”

  Blinking back more tears, Lyra drew herself up, then she bobbed another curtsy. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, then backed up directly into Mattie’s arms.

  Mattie guided her back to the fire where she pushed her into yet another chair and pressed a cup of tea into her hands, then she returned to Sean with a tray of cold meats and flatbread.

  “Teach her everything you can, Mattie. She may need it,” said Sean.

  On Display

  Shortly before supper, Sean retrieved Ferris. The man was positively ecstatic to be away from the palace and ‘all his pregnant women’. Almost the first thing out of his mouth was, “If you have to get a bunch of women pregnant, never put them in the same house. Man never built a place big enough for such a thing.”

  Sean suspected that most of the discomfort was in Ferris’s mind, because, by all accounts, Ferris’s accounts, the women seemed to be getting along well enough. Sean suspected that a good deal of that was because he wasn’t around to be getting jealous over.

  Shortly before supper, Sean sent for Charles. “How would you like to be my messenger?”

  “Messenger?”

  “Go to the palace and tell Lady Lorraine we will make a formal appearance tomorrow before noon.”

  “On my way, sir.”

  “And Charles, you can stay there and wait for us, but I don’t think you should go into the city. I don’t think the local guild will give you another chance to escape.” I wonder what kind of little secrets he’ll stumble upon at the palace.

  Sean spent the rest of the evening finishing his armor. He had to recreate much of the padding, then renew the enameling; it was delicate and time-consuming work. When he was finished, he gave Larry a padded glove and had him hit him as hard as he could in some of the more damaged areas just to see if the temper had remained intact despite his manipulations. He found out that blows to his back still hurt, so he thickened the padding there, but the temper seemed to hold.

  I’m probably going to need a wheelchair by the time I’m eighty. Then he had to smile; it was nice to know that he planned to still be around when he was eighty years old. Shifting his shoulders, he made a few other minor adjustments to the fit, then went to work on his new horse for the last few hours until full dark.

  Having had very little but ill-treatment at the hands of man, the beast didn’t like to be touched. Sean intended to keep the horse close by him at all times and dependant on him for food and water, but for now, if he was going to ride into the city tomorrow, the beast really needed a bath. Sean shed his armor and wrestled the creature a few yards downriver from camp.

  With a stiff brush and a bar of brown soap, Sean scrubbed the creature to within an inch of his life, then he kept scrubbing…then combing…then brushing, because apparently he was liking this despite himself. As he scrubbed, the horse stopped trying to bite at him, lowered his head and relaxed his wary posture. From time to time, he shook himself, splay-legged, from head to foot, causing soapy water to spray everywhere. Sean would just douse him with more water and start scrubbing again. Eventually, the soap started to raise a proper lather and the horse was moaning with pleasure.

  After dousing the horse with plenty of water and brushing the last of the soap away, Sean conjured a scraper and scraped him as dry as possible, noticing in the process that the horse had put on some weight after a week of proper graze. He led him back to his tent, where he proceeded to brush him dry after fitting him with a nosebag with a full measure of corn, laced with molasses as a reward for being a good boy about the bath. He hoped that some wall had been broken down. He’d give the horse a bath every day if he had to, to achieve that.


  With the horse standing quietly, the brushing revealed that, though he had gained weight, he still had some health issues. His hair, what there was of it yet, was still rough and dull, and his mane and tail hair broke away too easily, but being cleaner helped him look better. Now I have to think of a name for him. ‘Bubbles’ just won’t do.

  The next morning, Sean wanted to put on a good show, but he didn’t want to overwhelm the city, so he left half his troops behind with orders to have the camp ready to move at a moment’s notice. He figured that Lady Lorraine would keep him for the rest of the day, but just in case, if he made it back to camp in time they would move, the slow way, if not today, then at first light in the morning. Regardless, he didn’t want to spend half a day breaking camp.

  After leaving Cordan in command at the camp, he left Jenny there too; a woman had no place in a military display, he entered the city at the head of his knights. He wanted to show off his strength. He strongly suspected that if any district really wanted to cross him, he would be hard-pressed to hold his own without using a lot of magic to destroy the enemy lines. He knew from experience that he was not the only commander to use magic, and it would be foolish to think that he was so powerful that he couldn’t be taken by surprise.

  Those thoughts made him thankful for the small stone disk Laon’s sister had given him. He touched his armor above where it rested, very thankful that it hadn’t been broken during the altercation with his uncle. Shoving aside the thought of sharp shards of stone inside his chest, he looked at the people around him.

  Like most other gatherings, these people glittered merrily and he was pleased as well as wary to see some of the stronger among the gate guard.

  Waiting for them inside the city gates were Leto, Sarré, Guire, and Louis, the four of them no longer looking like farmers now that they were washed, trimmed, and dressed fine. As Guire fell in beside them on Sean’s left, Sean said to him, “I’m glad to see you haven’t found your way back into the dungeons. You look well.”