The Making of a Mage King: White Star (20 page)
Read The Making of a Mage King: White Star Online
Authors: Anna L. Walls
“Yeah, I hear you. Where are you?”
“I’m over here at the end of camp. You’re good at sports; come teach these kids how to play soccer.”
When he showed up around the edge of Sean’s tent, Sean made him a ball and bounced it at him. He caught it deftly. “I’m not sure I remember how; I might be a little rusty,” he said grinning.
Jenny, at his elbow, was grinning too and she nudged him in the ribs. “Just remember that only the goalies can use their hands,” she said.
At the sight of a ball, the kids’ faces lit up. They may not know the game, but a ball could only mean one thing:
play
, and they’d had precious little of that over the past few years.
Sean watched as Larry and Jenny divided up the teams. They couldn’t play girls against the boys because there were only four girls, so they did their best to make the teams as evenly balanced as they could. Once that was done, they started clearing the field of larger rocks and setting up goals, all while Larry was explaining the rules.
Due to the difference in ages within the teams they bent a few of those rules, but since the goal was ‘play’, that didn’t matter all that much. The four youngest boys were the goalies, two on each side. The girls were supposed to be the last defensive line, but it all deteriorated quickly.
As Sean faded again, he seemed to recall Larry scooping up one of his goalies who happened to have the ball, and run, dodging all the players, all the way to the other end of the field so that he could throw the ball past the opposing goalies.
At Jenny’s laughing protests about him trying to play football, he said, “I didn’t touch the ball.”
When Sean woke, it was dark and he was in his bed, in his tent. He had no idea if he’d walked here on his own or if someone had carried him. There was one hot body curled next to his side and another one crowding his feet. He turned his head to see who was beside him and his dry throat rebelled. He started to cough and had to sit up until he could control it.
Laon poked his head in. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.
“Oh just peachy,” replied Sean, as he lay back down. His throat felt raw and the cool air down his back left him chilled. Neither of his bedwarmers had moved.
Mattie came in with the morning sun streaking in behind her through the tent flap and her cool hand on his forehead woke him to another bout of coughing that felt like he was trying to rid himself of his lungs. “You’re still running a fever. I think you should stay in bed today.” She chivied Charles out of bed, but didn’t disturb young Kendal.
Sean agreed with her. He still had a headache, and as soon as he moved, he felt the rest of his aches too. Great, he had an entire castle to conquer only ten miles away and he was doing good to make it outside to pee.
By the time he got back, Mattie had his breakfast of hot cereal waiting for him, but after a few bites he just couldn’t eat anymore. Chilled to the point of shivering, he crawled back into bed beside Kendal.
His shivering ultimately woke the kid, who looked at him with bleary eyes. “Why are you shivering? You feel hot to me.”
Mattie came in then. “He’s sick, Kendal. Why don’t you go outside?”
He looked confused, but he went. “Is this the first time he woke up?” asked Sean.
“Yes, it is. Here, I want you to drink this tea, then I want you to go back to sleep.”
“Mattie, I don’t have time to be sick.”
She watched to make sure he drank all of the tea. “You have been beating yourself against your wall for weeks now; you’re worn out, it’s pure luck you haven’t been sick before this. If you want to continue to keep the pace you’ve set for yourself, you need to take the time to get better now.”
“I’m cold,” he said as he handed her back the empty cup. He couldn’t fight her, she was right, but he had never been a good patient; he couldn’t stop himself from complaining either, and he couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he shut his mouth and pulled his blankets up under his chin.
Sean spent the next two days in bed alternating between sweating and throwing his blankets off, and shivering and wishing he had more blankets. He wasn’t hungry, but he still tried to eat something; every time he did, about a half an hour later, he got rid of it violently, one way or another.
His fever broke sometime during the third night, leaving him sweaty, sticky and chilled. Mattie authorized his bath, but she insisted he take it in his tent rather than out in the cold creek. Laon heated two buckets of water for him and Mattie provided soap.
He felt much better once he was clean, though the task of washing himself left him exhausted. Mattie had a simple breakfast ready for him when he came out to squint at the sun for the first time since the first soccer match. He had heard several bouts of shrieks and squeals during his convalescence, so he knew that the soccer games continued. He liked the sound of kids laughing.
He picked a spot in the sun within sight of the current game and ate his breakfast. Watching them reminded him that he had the beginnings of his own team at home.
“How’s it going, Dad?” he asked.
“Seanad, you’re calling a lot these days.”
“I’m just getting over the flu or something,” he said. “And maybe I’m a little homesick. How is everything? How is Armelle doing…and the others?”
“Aside from a little morning sickness, they’re just fine. Ferris has a message for you about that. He says ‘get home. Any man stupid enough to have more than one pregnant woman under his roof should be the one to mediate between them.’”
Sean smiled. “That sounds like Ferris. The girls are being a problem, aren’t they? They’re not picking on Armelle, are they? I warned them about that.”
“Ach, they’re just young women, all of whom are intimately attached to you. It’s all normal, or as normal as such a situation can be. Don’t worry about us and don’t worry about Armelle, she’s learning.”
“If you say so. Say, Dad, how do you breach a castle? I can’t decide what I should do. I don’t have the manpower to take it by force. I suppose I could use magic, but should I? I’m confused.”
“Have you taken a look at the place?”
“Not really, not yet.”
“You can’t plan much if you don’t know what you’re up against.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m just a little unfocused. Thanks, Dad. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“My pleasure, Son. Another thing, apparently, the council you set up in Ambiani has been busy. A party arrived yesterday bringing five demons that had been stabled at a second garrison in the district. They discovered that some of them belong to influential families, but they’re not equipped to care for them. I wasn’t comfortable housing them upstairs so they’re down in the dungeon for now. What do you want me to do with them?”
“Do what you can for them. See that a healer tends to them as much as possible. I’ll do what I can for them next time I’m home. I suppose if they sent their demons to me, others might too. I’ll be in touch.”
Sean opened his eyes to see that, once again, he had an audience, only this time it was an audience of one. “Hello Kendal.”
“I figured that must be my name. Everyone keeps calling me that. Are you my dad?”
Sean’s heart got a painful yank. “No Son, I’m not your dad, but I’m willing to stand in for him if you want.”
“Sicily says you took my memories away. She says I was getting real sick and that I’m better now. She says I might have died if you hadn’t done what you did.”
“That’s what I thought, too. You can have your memories back whenever you want, but I really think you should take more time to learn who you are first.”
“I was sleeping in your tent when I woke up. Charles says I can stay, but Miss Mattie wants me to ask you first.”
Sean had to smile. “If Charles says you can, then it’s certainly fine with me.”
Kendal shifted his feet a little; there was more, but he wasn’t sure.
“What? Just ask your questions. The only stupid question is the one you never ask.”
“I don’t… I’m… Something’s wrong.”
“You can use magic. You’re pretty strong with fire magic and you have some control of air magic too. Because of what happened, you’ve been shielded. That’s another thing I’ll undo as soon as you’re ready. It’s the shield that makes you feel ‘wrong’.”
“Will I get used to it?”
Sean shrugged. “I did. Though I wasn’t shielded like you are now, I grew up without knowing anything about magic. I only started to learn about it a couple months ago, so speaking from some experience, it’s not so bad.”
“I don’t remember it. Will you show me…something?”
Sean stood and stretched his aching body. “Sure thing. I need to take a look around. You can come with me, if you want to.” The movement sent him into another coughing fit. He was almost ready to go back to the coast just to find some relief; this dry air was killing him.
Sean was still valiantly trying not to cough when he handed his dishes back to Mattie. She, bless her, handed him a cup of hot tea, which helped. By the time he reached his tent, Laon found him.
“Where’ve you been?” asked Sean. He was so seldom out of sight.
“I’ve been trying to do like you do. I think you need to teach me how.”
“Do what?” asked Sean.
“Do what you do with your swords or with your horse for that matter. It…works…for you. I want it to work for me, too.”
Sean batted him on the shoulder. “All right, I’ll try to teach you what I do, but not today. Today, I’m going to take a look around our target and see if I can figure out what to do about them.”
Ramire Moselle
Sean strode into his tent, leaving Laon at the entrance standing guard. Kendal looked at him questioningly when they passed him, but didn’t say anything; he’d probably ask his questions later if he couldn’t figure it out himself. Sean sat down on his chair and pulled the boy into his lap.
“What are you going to do?” asked Kendal.
“For you, I’ll take us on a short flight, like a bird, then I’ll bring us back here. Paddn didn’t like it at all; it made him sick, so if you don’t like it, I’ll leave you here. I need to look in on something, so I really must go.”
“Okay,” he said in a small voice. His eyes were as wide as an owl’s eyes in his small face.
Sean wrapped his arms around him close so Kendal would feel as safe as he could make him feel, then he took off. He made it feel as much like a bird as he could.
They soared around the camp. Cordan was taking the men through some training. Manuel and Leo were out working with their horses. Mattie was grinding something in her stone mortar.
Sean flew over his tent. Laon was standing out front working with his sword. Sean circled around to watch; it looked like he was furiously fighting a ghost. There was nothing wrong with his moves, but he wasn’t allowing the ghost to have any substance. The end result just looked painful.
They flew over the new soccer field. Larry and Jenny were talking, but it looked like the game was going to start without them, until Paddn dropkicked the ball directly into the center of Larry’s back.
Larry turned around in mock rage and tackled him, then held him upside down and made him pick up the ball, which he threw to a teammate. After that, the soccer game turned into a big game of ‘keep away’.
They flew past Laon again, and into the tent to land…
Sean opened his eyes to see Kendal with his eyes squeezed shut. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Kendal’s eyes flew open. “I don’t think I like flying either,” he said hurriedly. “But I can see how it would be useful.” He fidgeted. “Can I go now?”
Sean set him down and watched him walk to the entrance, trying not to hurry. Before he left entirely, Sean pulled at his shirt with a little air. “Tell Laon to stop before he hurts himself,” said Sean, and the kid was more than happy to have a mission to go along with his leaving.
With a chuckle, Sean turned back to his original task.
Sean was standing on a wide stone wall. On the other side of thick crenellations, the plateau that stretched out to the horizon was marked by only a few narrow roads and they were little better than wagon trails. The guards that passed him were stiff with military training, discipline and order. They paced their posts, keeping a wary eye on the horizon, completely unaware that another man stood there right beside them watching them.
Sean looked down into the closest courtyard. Training exercises were in full swing. This particular class looked like intermediate-level training with the sword. There was some resemblance to his own lessons, but Sean thought his teacher back in New York City, Master Mushovic, was a much better teacher, however the size of the class here might have been a hindrance.
Sean started walking around the outer wall past guards that paced in the opposite direction. There were different courtyards, separated by short, vine-covered, decorative walls, and all with some sort of training exercise going on inside.
In the front, in the largest space between the front gate in the outer wall, and the front entrance to the castle that dominated the center of the complex, Sean saw a man in manacles hanging from a post.
Standing next to him, Sean saw that he had been whipped, but as he looked closer, he noticed that his shirt had been removed rather than shredded, and he could see that the whip had been wide; the welts left behind were nearly an inch wide. There were two cuts, likely made by the fact that the strap had twisted, but they had been cleaned and doctored. The man’s head hung against the post between his arms that were wrapped around the post and pulled high, but not so high as to take the weight off his feet, and though his wrists were red and bruised, they weren’t damaged. This had been a punishment, but it had been
only
a punishment, not a torture. He would likely be back on duty tomorrow, if not later today.
Sean left him untouched and turned his attention to the castle. The name ‘Châlons’ drifted to the surface of his mind, and he filed it away to add to his map as he turned his attention to the inside of the castle.
The wide halls buzzed with military activity. Runners were retrieving or delivering messages on the run. Officers marched to destinations only they knew, a few stopping to confer with others for a moment before moving on. He even saw three different squads being trotted down the center of the hall by a squad leader who looked to be calling cadence.
In all of his looking, he didn’t see a single mage. There were a few who showed a dim glow, but it was dim enough that it was very likely they had no idea.
The central complex had five floors, and each of the wings had three. The wings were devoted to barracks, and each wing sported an infirmary on the ground floor. There were perhaps a couple dozen injured men in the combined wards.
As he walked through one of the infirmaries, Sean saw one man who looked to be near death. He was bloodless white and blood stained the sheet that covered him. In another time and place, a sawbones might have cut the leg off, but it didn’t look like they did that here. This had been a strong man. Sean couldn’t resist, he healed the damaged artery in his leg, then brought his blood pressure up a bit; he didn’t want the man to make a full and sudden recovery. When the doctors discovered what Sean had done, it would cause talk enough.
Sean then started heading up. Someone was training an army here and he wanted to know who he was. He needed to know how to deal with this. There were easily a couple thousand men in training here. Even with every mage now in his camp, Sean didn’t think he would stand a chance; they were simply too far outnumbered.
As Sean climbed, the number of men in the halls decreased in direct proportion to their rising rank. He expected the decorations and furnishings to be plusher too, but that wasn’t the case. Though the quarters became larger and a few servants were evident, officers’ quarters were just as austere as the barracks.
The uniforms were also kept simple, only the silver or gold braid or braids at their left shoulder indicated their rank. On the fifth floor, Sean realized that he must have gone too far in his search for an officer in charge. The rooms were shrouded and dusty from disuse, so he started back down.
Sean headed toward the front of the building;
he
would want to look out over the front gate if
he
had a place like this. The man he found gazing out of the window almost caused Sean to lose his concentration, but he had to know.
“Dad, you have to see this. Are you sitting down? I’ve never done this before.”
“All right, I’m sitting. If you want me to see something you are looking at, just think of me standing next to you without taking me there.”
Sean did as he said, and he could almost feel him at his shoulder. It felt like the two of them were sitting together watching TV.
“Do you know this man? I swear he looks just like you, only older.”
When Elias didn’t answer right away, Sean doubted he had done it right.
“Dad, can you see this?”
“I see it, Son. That man… That man is my father. Where are you?”
“I’m in Arden; I’m looking into the castle I told you about. What’s your father doing here?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
Elias’s voice sounded odd.
“Can you be spared for a couple days? I’d like you to be here for this.”
“Give me an hour or so to tell Ferris what’s happening, and I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll be back in touch when I’m done with this place.”
Sean broke the connection with Elias. What was Elias’s father doing in command of a place like this? Sean looked more closely at the man. In a way, this man was his grandfather. Even though Elias had never mentioned him, he still felt the tie.
Sean moved closer to the man, scrutinizing him. Like Elias, he was a couple inches shorter. His short hair no longer had any trace of the black that his son still had a generous share of, but they wore it exactly the same way. Lines on his face told of years, sorrows and pains; very few of them told of happiness or laughter. He was leaning against the windowsill just now, but Sean could tell that he still stood straight, and the saber at his hip said that he was still strong enough to wield it.
As Sean stood there, the man who had been chained to the whipping post was brought in. He still had no shirt and he looked a little rough, but he stood straight. The officer who brought him, halted him in the center of the floor, and then stood back a couple paces.
Elias’s father turned at their entrance and the two of them exchanged a few words before the man was dismissed with a wave of the commander’s hand. The man thrust his sword hand forward, palm out, fingers spread, then left, followed by the man who was likely his immediate superior. The gesture was reminiscent of a ‘Heil Hitler’ salute, only not nearly as high. It was an obvious display of the empty hand, but it was extended only heart-high.
After the two men left, the commander paced over to his desk and placed the knuckles of one hand on the hard surface, though he was by no means leaning on it. His mouth was tight; he had a problem, and it appeared to be a big one. Sean was certain it had nothing to do with him, not yet anyway.
