The Making of a Mage King: White Star

by Anna L. Walls

  “The lady keeps a close leash on me,” said Guire, with a rueful shake of his head. “It’s the drink, you know. She watches me close and my wife keeps me busy.” He grinned, and Sean saw spots of color on his scrubbed cheeks.

  “And another Lorraine will be born next summer,” suggested Sean, smiling back. Guire only shrugged, but his smile didn’t fade. Sean turned to the last living Lorraine son in the family, now riding on his right. “You look well too, Leto. How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing as well as can be expected. Nightmares at night is all. I still have mornings when I wake up and I don’t know where I am. Walking those halls again feels odd when I never expected to, ever again. I’ll get used to it, though. Mother is keeping me pretty busy, too.”

  Sean remembered that Leto had been joined by the Dance, and his somber tone spoke of pain he could understand, if only a little. “How are you doing…otherwise?” with a gentle finger of magic, he gently pushed at that tender spot he himself knew so well.

  Leto looked at him with surprised, and suddenly red eyes. “I…want to die,” he whispered, and looked away quickly, struggling to maintain his control in front of all the people lining the streets, waving them past with cheers and white scarves in their hands.

  Inside the palace compound, Lady Lorraine swept them all into the big house. There was warm wash water at the door to freshen themselves with. Sean thought it was a little much, but he did it anyway, and the rest of his men followed suit.

  The sun was shining, but the air was still chilled, so there were cloaks to take; a servant took what they resigned and set such things as helmets and gauntlets on a shelf, and hung their cloaks on hooks. No one offered to give up their swords and no one asked for them; if the king wanted to go armed, no one was going to argue.

  Inside the main hall, they discovered musicians in every corner, dancers and jugglers mingling among the people, and food weighing down every table.

  Lady Lorraine met them dressed in fine, black silk encrusted with diamonds and sequins. She glittered with every move, looking like she just stepped in out of the rain. With a low sweeping curtsey, she said, “My lord, welcome, welcome, come in and enjoy.” She wrapped her arm in his and led him into the vast room.

  She led him around the room, introducing him to the many guests she had invited. In between introductions, she carried on a constant chatter about her successful entry into the city and about how her people had ransacked the palace to pull out its previous occupants. Through it all, Sean watched as her son, Leto, did his best to find a corner where he could be left relatively alone. He stood stone-faced and glowering, though he was amiable enough to anyone brave enough to approach him.

  The evening was well along before Sean could extricate himself enough to find a moment alone. “Dad, can you hear me?”

  “Sure, Seanad, you sound troubled.”

  “The Dance, what happens after it’s broken?”

  “What?” asked Elias, appalled. “What’s happened?”

  “Don’t worry, just tell me. What can be done when one of the pair dies? What can be done for the other?”

  “Oh, that’s a hard one,” said Elias. “It isn’t common that one outlives the other, not for long anyway. I suppose the best thing to preserve the survivor would be to have another joining, but I don’t think that would be very easy. It would take an exceptional person to be willing to take on…”

  “There are enough people here. I should be able to find someone who would be willing.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Just helping a friend, Dad. Thanks.”

  “Choose carefully, Son, the Dance can be…brutal sometimes.”

  “I’ll be careful, Dad. Thanks again.” He headed into the crowd again, and avoiding Lady Lorraine, who looked like she would very much like to have him on her arm again, he wove his way through the people, smiling and nodding as he went, until he located Leto’s new hiding place. “Leto, your mother introduced me to way too many people, and I’m sure they were all the right ones. How about you introduce me to those she missed?” He did his best to sound like he would not take no for an answer without making it sound like a command; there are some advantages to being the recognized king.

  Reluctantly and even grimly, Leto did as his king asked, and they wove their way through the crowd. A lot of women were here; all of them, Sean was sure, were hoping to be married, or have their daughters married, into this family, or even to someone in the royal court. As they walked through the people, Sean watched the young ladies they passed as much as those they spoke to. Not that Leto concentrated on the women, Sean suspected he might be avoiding them, but under the circumstances, he couldn’t avoid too many of them.

  The women ranged in age from sixteen, on their first coming out, to women old enough to be Sean’s grandmother, all with eyes only for the young new-come lord and his companion. Leto, who was in his upper twenties, was a handsome man, but his bald head, dark eyes, and permanent frown kept nearly everyone at a distance.

  It didn’t take long for Sean to weed out the women who looked at Leto and saw only the demon that lurked over his shoulder. He discarded too those who saw only his title and this palace that he could hand them, and eventually settled on a handful who admired the man. Eventually, he chose a woman who was too shy to speak to them, but watched them with doe eyes whenever they were within sight. She was dressed in her best, and she reminded Sean very much of the Nord woman, she too had been proud even in her poverty, and still willing to pay men to go after the members of her family held by the guild.

  After several passes through the crowd, Sean headed for that one. Upon seeing them heading directly for her, her eyes grew large, but she didn’t retreat and her curtsey was graceful and deep. Sean lifted her to her feet and began to lead her in a circle around Leto and himself. Eventually, he got Leto moving too, so that the two of them were circling him confused. “The Dance,” he whispered into the ears of the different musicians around the room, and they began to play, taking a few moments to coordinate and play a unified tune. Under his encouragement, the two of them began to step in time with the music.

  Seeing what was happening, the people began to move back as far as the confines of the room would allow. Leto glared at Sean with ill-concealed fury. Sean saw it, but he divided his attention for the young woman, too. She was fascinated and terrified. “Armelle, help me; dance with us. Help me build this fire.”

  She appeared, body and soul; he had brought her without really intending to, but despite the piece of paper still in one hand, she joined her hands with theirs and they became a foursome. Face to face, Sean and Armelle turned; their hands grasped the hands of Leto on one side, and the lovely young woman on the other. Their turning guided the other two around in a slow circle.

  The sight of Armelle absorbed Sean’s awareness and the magic between them kindled a tiny spark between Leto and the young lady. There had been no introductions, but right now, he didn’t care what her name was. All he wanted was for this to work.

  As the dance evolved, Sean and Armelle moved apart, drawing their hands together, bringing the new dancers closer. Leto lost his anger as he fell into the liquid brown eyes of his new lady. He struggled and bucked; he was highly reluctant to resign his loss and allow another to take up the painful end of the tie, but the woman was strong and gentle, holding and petting, turning and preening in all the right places. As select members of the audience played their part, the magic grew strong, especially with the king and queen dancing the Dance too, in an orbit around the new pair.

  This painful ecstasy was almost more than Sean could stand, but he was determined to remain detached enough so that he and Armelle would not be the first couple to retire from the dance floor. He wanted his magic…their magic, to feed the flame between Leto and his new wife. He wanted their joining to be every bit as strong as his was; it needed to be strong lest it be eroded by the previous loss.

  Despite his struggles, it happened, an
d helplessly, Leto spun his mate toward the stairs and his room, struggling all the way, making every step a slow resignation.

  With that, Sean could resign too. He let the magic consume him completely and was only slightly aware of a servant scurrying in front of them to find them a room. He didn’t notice Laon and Ferris following. Long before they reached their door, he wasn’t noticing anything at all except Armelle’s glowing smile and her laughing green eyes.

  Coming back down the stairs the next morning, Sean was certain he was walking on air. He found his men scattered around the hall in various stages of repose, sleep, and awake. He also found Lady Lorraine and led his wife up to her for proper introduction. “Lady Lorraine, this is my wife, Armelle. I must extend my apologies for making so free with your son. I hope he won’t be too angry with me.”

  Lady Lorraine greeted Armelle with a deep curtsey, then said, “It looked like he was sorely tempted, my lord. If he’d had his sword on, or if he’d been bold enough to reach for yours, he might have had a go at it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry, and I’ve seen him throw some serious temper tantrums, young and old.” She took a cup of steaming tea from the tray of a passing servant; Sean and Armelle each took one too.

  Armelle turned to take in more of the hall she had only glimpsed the night before and said, “Here he comes now.”

  If there was going to be trouble between them, Sean didn’t want everyone to see, so he strode across the room and snagged Leto, leading him outside and away from the others, leaving his new wife to make her own way through these new waters. Once the doors were closed, he faced Leto. “You can hit me if you want. Maybe I deserve it, but I couldn’t see you wasting away. I feel it just being at a distance; it must be so much worse…” He couldn’t bring himself to put it into words, not with Armelle standing so close for a change.

  “I could kill you for what you did, but I feel much better now. The pain is still there, but…” A look of embarrassment crossed his face. “I don’t even know her name. How could I…? I have just…” He looked back at Sean. “She takes very good care of her end of the link, so the pain will ease in time. I do have to thank you for that. The desire to die from the loss is very strong. The will to live can only win the battle for so long without help.”

  They clasped hands and Sean said, “I think you better go back in there and meet you wife, don’t you?”

  Leto laughed. “I guess I really should. Tell me something, since you’re such a good matchmaker…how do you meet someone you’ve already married and spent the night with, doing things you wouldn’t imagine…well, maybe you would. Was that your wife?”

  Sean was laughing now too, pleased that Leto was not too angry with him. “You walk in there and take her hand and say, ‘Hello, my name is Leto Lorraine, and you are…’ Come on, we’ll make it a full round of introductions. I’ll introduce you to my wife, too.”

  As comically uncomfortable as it was, Leto did exactly as Sean suggested and learned that his new wife’s name was Mishelle Nancy, from a prominent, but poor family to the south. In the hopes of finding a wealthy husband, she had come to court and was given the position of handmaiden to the previous lady of the house, much to her regret. She was unwilling to discuss the particulars about that relationship, and her face colored at the very idea. Well, that was something between her and her new husband; there were no secrets under the Dance.

  After their introductions, Lady Lorraine said, “You will all stay for breakfast. I insist.”

  “Fine, on one condition,” said Sean.

  “And that is?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

  “That it’s only a meal. No music or dancing this time,” Sean said with a grin.

  Leto nodded, then grinned at his new wife.

  After breakfast, Armelle filled Sean in on the latest. “Twenty demons arrived from Nord last week. Apparently, the Nord district had four garrisons. Two were along the northern border, guarding the river and two were inland. It wasn’t clear why there were so many, but the district is rather large.”

  “Twenty? Well, do what you can for them. Dad told me you were housing them in the dungeon. I suppose there’s nothing better.”

  Afterward, painfully, Sean sent Armelle back to the palace. Sending Armelle back was the worst part of the morning, and as a result, Sean’s departure from the city was almost hasty. He didn’t see Leto’s look of sympathy. He had never had to deal with the bond at extreme distance, but he knew, just the same.

  Hitting the Road

  Under gathering clouds with temperatures above freezing for the first time in over a week, Sean and his army headed east in files of two soldiers with their packhorse between them, and Seth and his men bringing up the remounts in the rear. Sean set a grueling pace. He had saved gouts of time by learning how to gate halfway across the country, but that didn’t mean that he, therefore, had time to spare. He just felt he had a better chance of getting out of these mountains before the snow trapped them – not a terrific chance, just a better chance – and languishing in a mountain cave, wounded for more than a week had just taken a chunk out of whatever time he had saved.

  Every mile that slid under his horse’s hooves ate at Sean in a way he couldn’t describe, except to say that he was running out of time, and no one seemed to understand. They understood better when he said he was trying to beat the snows, especially now with winter licking at his heels, but they still didn’t understand his worry. It felt like a giant hand was pushing him between his shoulder blades and pulling all his nerves and muscles into a hard fist in the process.

  Moving along the road did indeed ensure that Sean was seen marching under the White Star banner. Not only was the road well-used by all manner of people going about their business, but the countryside around them was littered with small farms. Everyone seemed to have massive gardens, all bare now, and there was a large assortment of livestock providing meat, wool or milk.

  The people they passed, whether on the road or in the villages, watched them gape-mouthed. Some waved tentatively, but not many. Sean remembered that the stories about the White Star were not stories of peace and prosperity; they were stories of destruction and fear. It was no wonder the people weren’t overly happy to see an army, small though it was, marching under it.

  Most of the time, Sean managed to find them deserted places to camp for the night, then they were off again early in the morning. The only hot meal he allowed them was the stew the girls made for them while they set up camp at night. If it wasn’t for them, he might not have bothered with even a fire, so it was probably a good thing that women had come along.

  Every evening, before trying to find some sleep, Sean would scout ahead. He was determined to skip miles where he could, but he also knew that Manuel was right, and Ferris had agreed. He would travel the road within five miles of any farm, town or village.

  He also trained with Laon, and even with little Kendal, before moving off to try and tire himself out the rest of the way with his own exercises, and every night he tried to sleep with only marginal success. Breaking camp at first light and not stopping until the sun touched the western horizon, they managed to cover nearly forty miles a day.

  Every day the clouds pushed up behind them, growing thicker and darker, seeming to cut into Sean’s desire to leave early and stop late by robbing the necessary light to do so.

  Sean resented the gathering storm. He resented the need to be seen. He resented the miles that sped by under his horse’s hooves, and he nearly came to blows with Ferris, Cordan, and even Larry as they all struggled to keep him grounded and sane.

  On the fourth evening, Sean waved Laon away and Kendal had sense enough to be satisfied with lessons from Ferris. Sean made his way to a ridge overlooking the camp. He was sweating from exertion that wasn’t accomplishing what he wanted when he heard a rolling boom of thunder somewhere to his right. He looked back at the camp behind him and saw that everyone there had looked too. Sheet lightning tickled the peeks uncomforta
bly close to their position. I picked poorly this time; we’re exposed on this ridgeline. I didn’t think of lightning.

  Sean looked back along their trail; the last place they had passed about four miles back had been a sizable goat ranch. Sean was planning to gate over these peeks in the morning, covering the next twenty miles in a blink, putting them out a couple miles before the next homestead along the road. He was going to scout the site that evening, but now he fervently wished he had moved them already. The storm had finally gathered enough to become angry and it would catch up with them all too soon.

  He stood there above camp and watched the storm approach. More than one patch of bushes or dry grass were set alight by lightning strikes that succeeded in reaching the ground, then they were quenched by the sheet of rain that combed across the landscape in a vast curtain of water. The water didn’t worry him so much, but they were completely exposed to the lightning, and there was no chance of outrunning it now.

  Desperately, Sean gathered himself. Ignoring Ferris and Cordan, who were running for his position, he pushed a shield across the whole camp. He only peripherally noticed Seth and the rest of the men trying to keep the horses from getting too upset and bolting; he noticed them only because of his desire to keep them contained under his shield.

  Whether it was his use of the magic or the inevitable, Sean never knew, but the lightning that reached for his encampment hit his shield, skittered across it and found him. The outpouring of magic turned Sean into a living conduit and he drank at the lightning like a dying battery, using it to feed the shield that seemed to draw even more of the lightning.

  When the freezing rain finally reached them, the lightning had gone on and Sean was left staggering and shaking. He barely noticed Ferris and Cordan picking themselves up from the ground and covering the rest of the distance between them. He lifted his shaking hand in front of him and started to laugh, knowing that he sounded demented, but finding that funny, too. He saw afterimages in spectral flavors and the rain felt like green and blue, it was all so very funny and he couldn’t stop giggling.