The Making of a Mage King: White Star (3 page)

Charles didn’t show up until well after dark. Sean was pacing around the watch fire and driving both Larry and Cordan nuts by the time he was brought in on the back of one of the sentry’s horses and dropped off, then the man returned to his post without further explanation. Charles strode up to the fire and held his hands out to the warmth. He didn’t look any worse for the wear, so they all watched him in silence until he felt the pressure of their eyes and looked around. “What? What are you all looking at me for? I didn’t learn anything you didn’t already find out for yourselves. The second son of the Basse family is the commander of the garrison. The eldest son was taken by the king…uh…Ludwyn…eight years ago and never seen again. Their father died three years later and the rest of the family went into hiding shortly thereafter. I think they’ve been coming around more often in the last few years, but no one uses their name, so everyone is protecting them. The commander holds his position by sheer guts and the rumor that his name is just a coincidence.”

“That’s a lot more than I learned,” said Sean. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, that kid you blessed…the whole dockside is talking about your blessing. Anyway, he’s something like a third or fourth cousin, though not by marriage. He was the only survivor found in his parents’ fishing boat. He had just been born within hours of being found.”

“That means he was another product of my uncle’s,” said Sean bitterly. “Ludwyn didn’t know that the boy’s mother was pregnant when he snatched them from their boat. Why else would there be a newborn infant out in a fishing boat? What was their name? Did you catch that?”

“It was ‘Calvados’.”

Sean reached into the darkness back to the palace. “Franklin, can you hear me? Franklin, wake up and answer me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m awake. I’m awake. What is it?”

Sean felt his desire to strike a light, then his confusion when he saw no one in the room. “This is not a dream; it’s Ruhin, now wake up the rest of the way. I need you to tell me if we have any survivors there by the name of Calvados.”

Sean could feel him trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes,
“Calvados, Calvados, I don’t recognize the name. Just a minute, let me look. You told me to keep track of who wrote and who didn’t.”
Sean felt him move to another location.
“I still think you should let me keep track of what they wrote, but I haven’t transcribed anything bad. Calvados, Calvados, Calvados,”
he muttered. Then finally,
“Yes, I have a Calvados woman here; she’s one of the worse cases, though. No one can get through to her long enough to understand much of anything. I doubt they ever will. I’m surprised we got a name out of her.”

“I see.” Sean thought for a while. “Franklin, I want you to sit with her tomorrow. I’ll be in touch sometime during the day.” He broke the connection. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he wanted to do something to help that little blind boy and his mother. They weren’t going to make it off the docks without some kind of help.

After they had all gone to bed, Sean lay awake. He dug out the hairpiece Armelle had given him. He wished for someone to play a little music. He wanted to dance with his wife. She always had such a glorious way of ending the Dance.

He slipped out of bed without waking Charles and dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, his last pair.
Maybe I’ll go back to New York City just to go shopping. Maybe I’ll take Armelle; I wonder what she’d think.
Dressed, he took up his ancestor’s great sword. He hadn’t had very many chances to practice with it since he got it.

He slipped out of his tent and went to the edge of camp. He stood there for a few minutes looking at the two moons peeking through the clouds, showing their freshly washed faces. The air felt wet enough to wring out, but there had been no rain. He saluted the moons and wished for some of the technology of Earth that could explain their two drastic differences. Legends and myths were all very exotic, but he was curious.

The moons were just below the horizon when the watch commander, a man by the name of Saris, found him. “My lord, Lord Morgan is looking for you. Young Master Charles is having a bit of a fit.”

Sean finished his set and looked at the man. It took him a moment to recognize the name ‘Morgan’. He almost never used Larry’s last name. He strode back toward his tent thanking the man as he passed. It was time to get ready for his grand entrance.

As he closed on the watch fire, he saw Larry raking his fingers through his hair with Jenny fussing over him for doing it with his fingers instead of a comb. Sean smiled when he looked up and saw him; he too smiled as he took the comb from Jenny and started to pull it through his hair. They both needed a haircut.

Charles burst out of the tent just as Sean was about to pull the flap aside and they collided. Fortunately, Sean wasn’t holding his sword in front of him, or the boy would have skewered himself. He hastily pulled himself together and said, “You were gone. I was worried.”

“I’m frequently gone, why were you worried?” asked Sean.

“I just have a bad feeling about that town. You shouldn’t go there by yourself.”

“Really?” Sean looked over his shoulder toward the town, though he couldn’t see it because they were camped was out of sight in a valley. “I wasn’t going to go into town alone, but thanks for the warning. I’ll be more cautious.”

After Sean was suited up in all of his metal glory and had managed to choke down a partial bowl of gruel, they all mounted up. The camp was packed and loaded. Seth and his men would move the horses north and find a place where they could cross the river. They would all leave as soon as this business was finalized. Sean made Charles and the girls go with them, though they weren’t too happy about it.

Sean then sent select squads of men to strategic locations in and around the city. After giving them a chance to reach their positions, Sean, leading the rest of his men, headed in. Prince seemed to know that they were making a special display and decided to step especially high. It was an odd, bouncy gait, but it wasn’t unduly rough. The city gates stood wide open and deserted, so they entered uncontested. This should have indicated that trouble was afoot, but Sean missed the clue since nothing else seemed amiss; only a single guard had watched over the gate yesterday.

They reached the edge of the market square just as morning could be said to be in full swing, and once again everyone stopped what they were doing to watch their entrance. The people were slightly more alarmed than they’d been before. A warhorse with an armored rider was a very frightening sight, and there were three of them. Another rider shrouded all in black and tied to his saddle started a wave of murmurs and whispers. The way the people were all poised, it was certain that if their entrance had been any more exciting, everyone in sight would have gone running and screaming.

Sean led them on through the square toward the street that led to the garrison. Now that he was mounted, the street felt far narrower than Sean liked and he was beginning to feel cramped. Suddenly Larry was launched out of his saddle with a cry. Sean scarcely had time to register the arrow that protruded from Larry’s shoulder before he rolled out from under the horses to the dubious cover of the building wall.

Another arrow buzzed past Sean’s face and he looked up to the rooftops to find the archers. His men, those who had bows, were returning fire, but they had few targets to shoot at. All Sean had to do was see the smallest portion of the man and he had him disarmed and hanging down in front of them in an instant. Within moments, he had accumulated seven men and no more arrows were coming at them.

After the second volley, several of Sean’s men had swarmed into the building and up onto the roof. By the time two more volleys had flown, they had reached two of the men shooting at them; they weren’t too gentle with them, but they were still alive when they were brought down.

Of the fifty some-odd arrows that had rained down on them, surprisingly little damage had been done. One man had been killed because the arrow had found the gap next to his neck and the arrow had traveled directly down several inches. He died very quickly.

Mostly the damage consisted of cuts, though several horses had arrows lodged in their rump or shoulder. In some cases, if the arrow had been turned, it would have merely sliced the skin.

The wounded horses had done some damage of their own. Six men other than Larry had been thrown from their saddles, and not all of them made it out from under hooves. Aside from those few who had caught an arrow, there were a couple concussions, one badly broken nose and a crushed shoulder.

As soon as the roofs were declared safe, Sean turned his attention to his wounded. When he got to the dead man, he closed his surprised eyes and called Elias, “Dad, can you hear me?”

“Seanad, is that you? What happened?”

“We’ve just had a minor skirmish and we lost a man. I’m sending him to the stable yard. See to it that he gets a decent burial and tell his family I’m sorry.”

“I will. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” replied Sean, and he broke the connection. He was disheartened. He sent the man home then handed the reins of the now riderless horse to the nearest man. He was getting mad. By the time he mounted again, he was more than a little pissed and the men held in front of them could see it. “March or be trampled,” he said to them, as he dropped them to the street. They marched. Sean didn’t give them the option to dodge to the side or run too far ahead.

When they came in sight of the garrison, Sean saw that a small revolution was already in progress, but without knowing which side was which, they really couldn’t participate. They did, however, block all the exits from the compound and fought anyone who was inclined to take them on, and there were several such attacks.

When the fighting was over and the prisoners were locked up, a man came and presented himself to Sean; everything about him identified him as an officer. “My lord, Captain General Basse was wounded in the first surprise attack, but he wishes to see you. If you will, follow me please.”

Sean followed with Larry at his side. Cordan remained in charge of the rest of the men and he sent a handful of men after them. Larry was getting better with a sword, but he wasn’t a bodyguard yet.

Inside the garrison house, their guide led them toward the small infirmary. A stream of wounded was heading in the same direction, either being carried on a stretcher or making it on their own. Shortly before they went through the same door the wounded were going through, their guide led them through a side door and into a small bedroom.

The tall frame of Captain General Basse was laid out on the narrow bed and a significantly older man was sitting beside him. He was dressed in light armor, but its poor fit said that it was more for his protection than it was for him to fight in.

The older man turned to look at the arrivals as their guide quietly rested a hand on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He rose and came to stand directly in front of Sean. Sean removed his helmet and the old man studied him closely before speaking in a quiet voice, “I knew your father and I knew something of his father as well. They were both honorable men. Are you an honorable man too?”

Sean dipped his head in greeting. “
Ruihano
Basse, I never knew my father or my grandfather, but in a way, you could say that I have met them.”

The old man’s eyebrows climbed at Sean’s address, but he didn’t let it interfere with his train of thought. “So, you have been accepted. I’m glad to hear it. The crown sits well on your brow, unlike your uncle who, I understand, couldn’t bring himself to touch it. I watched you dance the Dance. I was impressed; few men finish the Dance, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone use two swords, though I’ve heard that your father did.”

“You were at that gathering? I don’t believe I saw you there.”

He smiled. “We met, but you were somewhat less than coherent at the time. I was honored to turn my pavilion over to you and your men,” he smiled wider, “and your knife brides.”

“That was your tent? That was very generous of you, thank you.”

“It was nothing.” Then he returned to the current subject. “My son tells me you intend to turn back the hands of time. Is that true?”

“I don’t know about ‘turning back the hands of time’, but I do want to undo my uncle’s evil work.”

A cough sounded from the bed, and the younger Basse raised a hand. Both Sean and the elder Basse moved to his side and the old man took the hand as he coughed again. Sean rested a hand on his chest and found the imbedded arrowhead deep inside; it had broken from the shaft, either upon entry, or when they had tried to remove it. Sean made it go away and healed the bleeding that was slowly killing him. He had been bleeding to death for hours, so he wasn’t going to jump up out of bed immediately, but he was no longer going to die.

He gasped and coughed in response to Sean’s actions, but then he inhaled and smiled weakly. “That’s better,” he whispered. “The arrowhead was designed to break away, and it did. I had my men make them for use against demons; I didn’t expect they would be used against me.”