The Making of a Mage King

By Anna L. Walls

What would happen if you lost your parents, and then found out they weren’t your parents at all?

The death of Sean’s parents launches him on an impossible journey where he finds himself the legitimate heir to a throne. Whether it was somewhere or some-when, he had no time to figure out.

Feeling like a giant hand was pushing him between his shoulder blades, pulling all his nerves and muscles into a hard fist in the process, Sean was driven to touch every section of the country. But that wasn’t his only problem.

Will Sean survive long enough to actually sit on the throne his father should have sat on? Will he live to see the birth of his own heir? Only time will tell, but first he’ll have to wake up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna L. Walls
• Release date: Dec 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370450701

Anna L. Walls

I grew up a rancher's daughter hoping to inherit the ranch and run a riding school for city kids. However, my brother bought the ranch from our parents in order to avoid an inheritance tax and I ended up joining the army, marrying my fisherman husband and moving to the wilderness of Alaska where I raised two wonderful boys. One of them gave me an old laptop computer and now I'm a published author. Go figure.

Book preview

BOOK ONE



Prince

in

Hiding

First Magics

Sixteen-year-old Sean stood in the queue, waiting his turn to compete with the saber. He looked up at the bleachers. He had no problem locating his dad; his parents sat in the same place every time. His dad was talking to their flat mate, Gordon. His mom couldn’t make it this time—she had to work. Every year since Sean’s first tournament, his parents gave him a choice. Since the tournament and his birthday were generally only a few days apart, Sean got to pick which event his parents would attend, since it was impossible for them to get both days off from work. Sean thought of a compromise. He really wanted them to watch him compete, so, as a birthday present of sorts, they could take him out for a special dinner afterward.

When Sean, Gordon, and his father returned home that evening, they were greeted by a squad car waiting in front of their apartment building.

Sorry sir, the officer said as he met them at their taxi. Sean’s father was a sergeant with the mounted police. The officer looked uncomfortable talking in front of Sean and Gordon.

Go ahead, officer. We’re family, said Elias.

Sorry sir, the man repeated. He hastily took off his hat and gripped it in his fists. Sir, you need to come down to the station. It’s your wife, sir. She…she’s dead. You need…

Sean didn’t hear anything else. The monotone voices of his father and the officer no longer translated into words. He found the hood of the police car and leaned on it, his sword case hitting the pavement with an audible thump.

Gordon wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Come on, I’ll get you inside.

When school started two weeks later, Sean didn’t go; he still wallowed in a fog, aimless and lost. Elias was no better, though he was perhaps more animated. He went from brooding in his chair for hours, to pacing the floor furiously. If he spoke, it was generally one version or another of the same thing. Analeace was found dead at the door to the tower where she worked, and no cause could be found. They say it was as if she’d simply stopped living. People here don’t simply stop living. They’re not looking hard enough.

After Elias was allowed to go back to work, Gordon took Sean to school and then spent hours helping him catch up on what he’d missed. He was also there to keep him going—quite a difficult task at first.

Between relentless lessons with Gordon and those with the sword, Sean slowly started functioning again. When Master Mushovic decided to include the claymore in his sword lessons, he discovered it to have a very satisfying weight with which to work out his emotions.

For an entire year, Sean struggled at every turn. The vacancy left by his mother’s death haunted him. His grades slipped, but Gordon made sure they didn’t slip too far. He wanted to quit his lessons with the sword, but his father wouldn’t hear of it. It helped that every class left him feeling like he’d won something, though he couldn’t identify what.

On the anniversary of his mother’s death, Sean and his father visited her grave. They stood there, not speaking, with their hands in their pockets, wishing it wasn’t raining.

Ten days later, Sean found himself back at the cemetery, this time standing over his father’s grave. Killed in the line of duty was all he knew. The particulars of the incident hadn’t been released, nor had the results of the investigation—Sean was still a minor and Gordon wasn’t family.

Sean felt so lost. He stopped going to school and even skipped his sword lessons. Not even the Sword Master’s heavy claymore could ease this pain.

The day after his father’s funeral, Gordon took him to the bank and they opened his parents’ safety deposit box. Inside, Sean found several leather pouches containing an assortment of gold, silver, and copper coins of a completely unfamiliar minting. Among the pouches were two stones. Sean remembered an incident that happened nine years earlier. A kindly old man from another era, dressed in armor and bleeding to death in an alley, had given him a sword belt and a pale blue stone. It was identical to these two in shape, but their colors were very different; one was red, and the other blue, but it was a much darker blue than the one he had. He remembered thinking at the time that if he’d had more of those stones, he’d have a blue orange. He’d liked oranges then, but ever since that day, he hadn’t been able to look at an orange without seeing the bloody hand that had given him the stone. He took up the stones and fit them together. Well, now I have half an ‘orange’. He thought of the soft rabbit pelt he’d wrapped that stone in. He hadn’t opened his treasure box since then either; he’d stowed it deep in his closet, in his favorite hidey-hole, and never went there again. The sword belt, he’d stowed under his mattress; it was a wonder his mother never found it, then again, he’d never looked to make sure.

Gordon pulled an envelope out of the box and handed it to Sean. Thoughts of the past vanished. His name was written on the front in his father’s bold hand.

With hands that threatened to tremble, he opened the letter and read.

Sean looked at Gordon, who’d read the letter over his shoulder. What’s the meaning of this?

Put that and the stones in your pocket. Let’s go see Ferris and Cisco. Gordon scooped up the pouches and followed.

As they walked back to the apartment building from the bus stop, Sean felt like he was walking on wet ice. Everything he knew about his life was slipping out from under him. There were six stones after all, and they were supposed to be of some use. The man and woman he’d known all his life as Mom and Dad, were not. If Elias isn’t my father, who am I? Air for his lungs seemed difficult to come by. He was a king—somewhere ‘not in this world’. If I… His voice failed him. If my name isn’t Moselle, what is it?

With a sigh, Gordon answered his question. Your name is Seanad Éireann Barleduc-Ruhin, and as soon as you can wrest your crown from your Uncle Ludwyn, you’ll be king, and rightfully so. His voice sounded strange. Two of your protectors are now dead, and though the circumstances might be seen as pure dumb luck, we must assume that you are no longer safe here. You must learn everything about who and what you are—it can’t be put off any longer. Then we must find a way to take you back.

Questions refused to organize themselves into coherent words; questions about his family, the stones…questions about everything…flung themselves through Sean’s head like a tidal wave, or perhaps a frag grenade.

At their building, they didn’t go all the way up to their apartment; they stopped on the fifth floor and proceeded down the hall to Ferris’s apartment. Sean had been there a million times; they’d been up to the Moselle apartment many times as well. Ferris and Cisco had been close friends with the Moselles and with Gordon; they’d attended both funerals, but what did they have to do with this?

Cisco invited them into the living room with a wan smile. She still grieves for Elias, and for Analeace too, I suppose. I envy her. I wish I could wallow in grief for a while too, but it seems I’m not to be allowed the luxury.

Ferris stood to offer them the couch, and when they were settled, he and Cisco each produced another stone. The one Ferris laid on the coffee table was shiny black and the one Cisco produced was gleaming white. Gordon then set another one on the table; his was green. As Sean added his parents’ two stones to the collection, Cisco said in a soft voice, The red stone belonged to Elias, and the dark blue one had been Analeace’s stone. We lack only the element of air, Seanad. Your Uncle Clayton carried that stone, and he has been dead for nine years now. We were never able to find the stone he carried. It’s an unfortunate loss, but at least you won’t be completely defenseless.

The muscles in Sean’s stomach began to quiver, but he tried to keep his head and ask the right questions. He’d just learned a very unsettling piece of information. A man with kindly eyes, wearing studded armor, sitting in blood-splattered snow, kept flashing through his mind. What’s the difference? he asked, without the sixth stone?

Ferris leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Each stone is a focus for one element of magic. Here is earth, fire, water, light and dark. He pointed at each stone he described. "With all six stones together, they create a whole far stronger than any one alone. Once you learn how to use each one of the magics, combining them in twos and threes is the next step. As soon as you master that, you’ll begin to use the stones to magnify and focus your skill. With these stones, even if you only have a little of one or more of the magics, the stones will help to fill the gap."

The difference is, said Cisco, without all of them, wielding them as a whole, is impossible. The whole is far more powerful than any part, and if you happen to be weak in air magic, the other stones won’t help you to fill the gap. Without air magic…

I…have the sixth stone, said Sean. In his head, he’d fit them all together into the fist-sized orb their shapes would make. The size had been right, but the colors were very different.

Gordon, Ferris, and Cisco all looked at him with open astonishment.

Sean clenched his hands tightly in his lap to hide their unsteadiness. I found this man in the alley one day. He was dressed funny; he wore armor and a cloak, but I didn’t know that then. Sean gasped for more air and plunged on. He was bleeding. He’d killed someone. I never knew who he was. He never gave me a name. He gave me a real pretty blue stone, just like these. He told me to keep it secret and safe. Once again, he felt the old man’s cold and bloody hand.

Sean ran from the room as his uncle’s words echoed in his mind. It’s valuable, very valuable, so you must keep it safe and never give it to anyone, no matter how pretty she is. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was young enough to be unable to control them, and old enough not to want anyone to see. My parents are dead. My ‘parents’ aren’t even my parents. That thought was so much worse than them being dead. And now, on top of everything else, he learned that the man he’d watched die had been his uncle. My uncle died right there in front of me, and all I did was run and hide.

Sean didn’t know how long he lay there on his bed, but the room had grown dark.

Gordon came in once, but Sean ignored him and he left without saying anything.

Eventually Sean drifted off, but his sleep was filled with scenes of death, both real and imagined. His mother walking up to a door in a dark parking lot, and then just crumpling like a broken doll. His father riding through Central Park, and then some junky shoots him in the back. His uncle sitting in that alley, blood splattered everywhere, staring at him with gentle eyes that had suddenly gone empty.

That last scene woke him with a start. He remembered the weight of the sword belt in his arms, the blood-slick stone clasped hard in his fist. He’d hidden that belt under his mattress. He remembered how hard he’d worked to wash all the blood off and then to make sure his mother would never find it when she made the bed; it had been the only place big enough to hide it.

He flipped the light on and shoved the mattress to the floor. The sword belt looked a lot smaller than he remembered. He picked up the belt and pulled each blade from its sheath. The long sword’s long, straight blade was three and a half feet long; a bit longer than the sword he used in his fencing class. The short sword had been carefully made to match, but its blade was only two feet long. The dagger was nearly eighteen inches of evil, slicing edge; looking like a miniature scimitar. Obviously it would come out of its sheath only when the fighting got up-close and personal.

After looking each one over carefully, he slid them back into their sheathes and wrapped the belt around them, remembering the last time they’d been wrapped like that. Then he dug his long-unopened treasure box out of the back of his closet.

He fingered through the things that had been so important to him when he was little. There was a shiny white skull that might’ve belonged to a small dog. It was only missing a few teeth; one of them he could remove himself. There was a braided string; it was about a quarter-inch wide and maybe six inches long, woven of red, white, green, and blue threads. He’d stashed other little things in the box too, odd buttons, a piece of a zipper he’d learned how to take apart and fix again, a wooden spool of orange thread that was almost empty, a short telephone cord, (the kind that goes from the receiver to the body of a phone). Left for last, he unwound the tattered white rabbit pelt, rolling into his hand the blue stone.

Setting aside the box, he held the stone up to the light. What kind of gemstone is pale blue? He could see no impurities within the grain; in fact, he could see no grain at all. It could’ve been a carefully shaped and polished piece of glass for all he knew. He fisted it, painfully aware that it was no longer slick with blood. Then he scooped up the sword belt and went in search of answers.

Gordon sat in the unlit living room, staring at his hands, or perhaps staring at nothing. He looked up when Sean came in. A look of sincere pain crossed his face when he saw the sword belt.

Sean set the stone and the sword belt on the coffee table. Tell me about my family, he said as he took a seat across from Gordon. The question echoed heavily in the empty room.

Gordon sighed. Your father was Crown Prince Deain Ruhin. Your mother was Lady Kassandra Barleduc. Your father had two younger brothers, Ludwyn and Clayton. Gordon shook his head sadly. Ludwyn’s personal magic was almost exclusively black magic. He had no interest in developing any others, though he could use the stones. No one knows exactly how it happened. Gordon sighed again. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and scrutinized his hands. When Ludwyn’s penchant for blood and torture could no longer be denied, King Lardeain had him locked away in a tower; he couldn’t bring himself to punish him as the laws demanded.

He sighed again, but the breath was shaky. In his isolation, Ludwyn must’ve figured out a way to reach one of those stones guarded by the crown, or perhaps out of desperation, he developed his own ability. The hinges on his door were…melted. The next anyone knew, Lardeain and your father were dead. I saw and ran to warn Clayton, and he succeeded in getting your very pregnant mother and the family treasure away, along with the rest of us. Elias and Ferris were members of your mother’s personal guards, and Analeace was her personal maid. Cisco was with her too at the time. Others who had been loyal to Lardeain and Deain were either already dead, or making their own escape.

Gordon took another deep breath and plunged on. We came here, but the teleportation was very hard on your mother. She…she went into labor too early and…things went wrong—I don’t understand that sort of thing. Your mother died within hours. Cisco was forced to take you from your mother’s belly, or all our efforts would’ve been for nothing.

Sean winced, but he kept on. The treasure was the stones? he asked.

Yes. Many people can wield magic with varying degrees of strength and talent, but the royal family had the stones. With them, the king was unsurpassed. With those stones, he could watch over his people and protect them. We couldn’t allow Ludwyn to have control of them. He’d use them for…for other things.

And this teleportation you mentioned? continued Sean.

Teleportation is air magic. Clayton was very strong in air magic; with the stone, coming here was simple.

So, it was my Uncle Clayton who died in that alley? pressed Sean, wanting verbal confirmation.

Gordon sighed and scrutinized his fingernails. Yes.

Sean leaned forward and looked Gordon directly in the eyes. "Assuming everything you’ve told me is true, tell me why I should go back. What is there for me…there? I know no one. No one there knows I exist. Hell, I could’ve been a girl. You tell me I’m the rightful king there. You tell me I can use magic, but why should I? What’s wrong with this life?"

Gordon seemed to shrivel before Sean’s eyes, and his voice shook. "You must go back. You have to destroy Ludwyn. You are the only person who can."

Why me? What’s so special about me? asked Sean. He’d already made his decision, but he wanted justification, and he wanted a little revenge.

Gordon reached across the table in an abortive gesture, his eyes pleading. You are of the royal bloodline. You have the stones—all of them. You should be able to use them. Clayton tried once, but he didn’t have time to master them all together. The blood of Barleduc also runs in your veins. Barleduc is a branch of the royal family that has long been estranged from the ruling family. The White House of Healers fervently hoped that joining the two bloodlines once again would strengthen future generations’ control of the stones, and ensure the protection of the people.

Gordon came around the coffee table to where Sean sat and dropped to his knees. Please, you must save our people…your people. There’s no telling what evil Ludwyn has been able to accomplish in the last seventeen years. He pressed the blue stone back into Sean’s hand. Use this—call Ferris and Cisco. Cisco can show you how to see that my words are true.

Sean looked at the stone in his hand, then back at Gordon. You didn’t say if you and Cisco were any relation to me and my family. Just how loyal are you? And just how mixed up in this is Mushovic?

Gordon sat back on his heels. "Me? I was what I’ve always been, a librarian and a teacher. My father taught your father and his brothers. It was to fall to me to teach the next generation; you, Clayton’s children, even Ludwyn’s children, though I’m certain no woman would have anything to do with him. Unfortunately, Clayton’s wife was nowhere near when we left, and there was no time to retrieve her; and later, she refused to come. That left you. And your Sword Master? Elias said once that he was a man born in the wrong time. I think he was born in the wrong place too, but him being there wouldn’t have changed anything. Him being there would only have deprived you of him here, as I’m sure he would’ve died there right along with your father and your grandfather. He has been a valuable asset to you, but he cannot be involved in this."

And Cisco? prompted Sean.

Cisco is…was a priestess of the White House of Healers; she was brought in as a midwife.

What’s this White House of Healers?

White magic is inside…physical magic; it’s used for healing, mostly. The White House of Healers is where people take their injured. Cisco is what you would call a doctor here, except the Healers use magic instead of a scalpel most of the time.

Tell me more about Ludwyn.

Gordon grimaced. Like I said, he had an…appetite for torture and pain. It was bad enough when he…when he did what he did to animals, but when he turned to people, Lardeain had him locked away in a tower apartment; Ludwyn was his son. He was a royal prince. The king couldn’t bring himself to punish his son any further for his crimes. For almost ten years, Ludwyn was kept from magic.

And then everything went wrong, continued Sean bitterly, then he went to the telephone and punched in the familiar number. When Ferris answered, he said, Would you and Cisco please come up here? Gordon seems to think you can show me something.

Yes, my lord, said Ferris, as if such orders had come from young Sean all his life.

Sean went to the window to look out over the city while he waited for them to arrive. The words ‘my lord’ echoed in his mind. Just over there, around the corner, was where his uncle had died. I didn’t even know I had an uncle—now I have two. One is dead, and one will surely want to kill me as soon as he learns of my existence, if he hasn’t already heard. Three people died to protect me and I didn’t even know I was being protected. Was it a bizarre series of accidents or is someone actively hunting me?

There was a knock at the door, interrupting Sean’s thoughts, but he let Gordon answer it. He listened as Gordon hastily explained what had transpired as he ushered them into the living room. Sean turned around when Cisco made a small sound; she was looking at what was lying on the coffee table. Ferris touched the hilt of the long sword briefly after he ushered Cisco to a chair.

Sean was suddenly in a very foul mood and his pent up pain lashed out. You all must’ve been very close. I’m sorry I missed out on that. He spoke brutally, and Ferris winced. Unsatisfied, he choked on his foul mood and went to find something to eat.

After a quick sandwich and a glass of apple juice, he was slightly better company so he returned to the living room to face his parents’ best friends.

All six stones now lay on the coffee table in plain view. All but the black one and the white one were a translucent color that caught the eye. The other two were opaque, and Sean noticed that the eye slid away from them easily, making it difficult to notice any finer details.

Cisco rose from her seat and picked up the white stone. She motioned Sean to a seat on the couch, and then sat down beside him. She took his hand, and laced their fingers together around the stone. Think of what you wish to see. I’ll start this, but you’ll be the one seeing.

How can I know what I want to see when I’ve never seen it before? asked Sean.

Tell me and perhaps I can help, Cisco said with an encouraging smile.

I suppose…I suppose I should…I would like to see my uncle…what’s his name…Ludwyn?

Lord Ludwyn should be at the palace, said Cisco. We’ll start there.

How can I be sure this’ll be my vision and not just something you want me to see? he asked. Her eyes are red. She must’ve been crying?

This is a ‘seeing’, not a ‘dreaming’, her eyes darted to the other stones on the table. What you see is what is. You would be able to feel me, and perhaps even see me, if I was with you. Close your eyes. She closed her eyes and Sean followed suit. He had the brief sensation of slumping back on the couch, but he had to catch himself as…

…he found himself standing in a huge stone room with a high, shadowed ceiling. Colonnades were spaced down both sides of the room in support of that faraway ceiling. Curtains on vast windows along the side waved gently in a breeze he didn’t feel. He looked around, seeing what could only be a throne at one end, but no one else was here and little else decorated the place. He turned to look at the rest of the room, but the move spun his head. He closed his eyes and reached for the closest colonnade…

* * *

…and found wood under his fingers. He opened his eyes to see what looked like the inside of a barn, but it could’ve just as easily been another fine hall. More pillars marked off roomy stalls and more curtains fluttered in the same breeze, though the windows were smaller. Sean looked down the length of the center run, just to see if another throne stood there, but the run ended at a large chest or grain bin; he’d have to go closer to tell which.

No horses poked their heads over their gates, so he looked into the closest stall and then stepped back in horror. The horse standing there had eyes that were wide and red with…craze. Its face was stripped and bloody; its flanks and legs were too. The straw under his feet was testament to blood already shed. This horse would kill anything that moved because anything that moved caused it more pain.

Sean threw himself away from that vision…

* * *

…and found himself in a prosperous town square, or perhaps it would’ve been if bodies weren’t hanging from a gibbet and people weren’t lined up in chains or locked in stocks. The people he saw who weren’t so displayed darted quickly in going about their tasks, as if they desired not to be caught out in the open. Curious, he walked down a main street lined with shops. No one spoke with anyone else unless they had some business to conduct. No one strolled at leisure. There are no children. There are always children running and playing or going to school, they were always around—but not here. He turned to see if he’d missed them somewhere and…

* * *

…found himself walking along an empty dirt road, rutted from old use and partially grown over now. Small farmsteads could be seen on both sides of the road, but the fields were empty. I grew up in the big city; what do I know about farming? Surely, it isn’t too cold to start planting something—to start working the soil. He bent down to feel the dirt, but he couldn’t touch it. He tried again and found it cold, but not frozen; damp, but not muddy. He spotted some new grass growing along the road. If grass grows, crops should be growing too. He looked at the shell of a house. Blackened walls told of a long-ago fire.

He looked up at the blue sky. Did my uncle do this? How many people died here? His depressing thoughts were rewarded by rain. Rain would hide his tears. He’d seen relatively little death, but he was getting so tired of it. I will not let Ludwyn cause another death.

* * *

Sean opened his eyes at the sudden absence of rain hitting his face, to find himself once again in the stables looking at the fine black stallion with the bloody nose and legs. He stepped into the stall. He reached out and touched the horse, brushing away his pain and wiping away his blood. Now, to find the man responsible for all this pain and blood. He turned, intending to find the palace, determined to search the place for the man who could do such a thing to such a beautiful creature, and found that…

* * *



A New Way

Sean opened his eyes to find Gordon supporting his head and tipping some water to his lips. Take it easy. Drink.

He swallowed, and then coughed. He tried to sit up, but found himself too weak to accomplish the deed. Lifting his hand took more strength than he could muster. What happened? he asked, and coughed again; his throat was dry as a bone—a very old bone.

You took what was supposed to be just a viewing, and turned it into a joining, said Ferris, from somewhere beyond his view. Something akin to awe was evident in his voice. "You not only did a joining, you did a major joining. I think you used every stone but fire. I’ve never seen such a thing before, not on the first try. What were you thinking?"

Gordon helped Sean to stretch out on the couch and Sean closed his eyes against the vertigo as his feet were lifted up. If there’s something I shouldn’t do, he whispered, perhaps you should explain it to me, so I don’t try it again. Explain it to me now, please. What happened?

You should rest, said Cisco.

"I am resting. Tell me," he insisted.

Ferris sighed with exasperation, but he tried to explain. "Until now, we’ve kept you away from the use of magic. No one here uses magic; I’m not even sure if anyone has any magic. We thought that to teach you earlier would’ve attracted too much attention; it’s difficult for children to keep such a large thing secret. Now it appears we’ve been found, so we can’t put it off any longer."

The stones, Ferris, said Sean. Tell me about the stones.

As I told you before, each stone focuses one element of magic. This is what you did that you should’ve put off until later: the light blue stone focuses air magic, with air magic you can have some control over things that air affects. Its most common use is to hear something.

I was listening to what…what Ludwyn was saying. He was… holding court, I think you might call it.

Ferris continued while Cisco put a cool washcloth over Sean’s eyes. The green stone focuses earth magic. I suspect you wanted to touch or move something.

The ground, offered Sean. I wanted to see why nothing had been planted yet. I wanted to see if the ground was still frozen.

The dark blue stone primarily focuses water. What did you do involving water?

It started to rain. Did I make it rain?

Ferris continued after an almost imperceptible pause. You were already using white magic to see. That leaves black magic. Black magic is like white magic—internal—physical—but it can be tricky to control. It comes easiest when you’re angry; did you try to control some creature?

I think I must’ve been angry, said Sean. There was a horse…all bloody…insane with pain. I healed him, that’s white magic too, I think…and a man…screaming. Sean was so tired. "I stopped…him… from…hurting… he felt like he was turning to liquid and seeping into the cushions of the couch …anymore…" Voices stopped making sense after that, as his awareness spiraled into darkness.

Sean must’ve slept for hours, but the rag over his face was still cool. He moved his hand, and in doing so, felt like he’d accomplished something profound. He pulled the rag from his face and looked around. The windows weren’t so dark anymore. A light came from behind the couch, from the direction of the kitchen. Sean pushed the laden blanket away and used the back of the couch to pull himself up. Gordon had fallen asleep in the chair. Dad used to sit there.

Sean pushed himself to his feet and wove his way toward the light—toward the kitchen—on unsteady legs, squinting at the too-bright light. He saw Ferris and Cisco sitting at the table with steaming cups in front of them. A few steps closer and he saw two more people sitting at the table across from them.

He reached the closest chair, gripping its back for much needed stability, and stared at the two newcomers. It took him an inordinate amount of time to recognize them—something was wrong. The details started to fall together like heavy, iron puzzle pieces clanking into place. They were his best friends from school. They were bound to their chairs with wide black straps. They were gagged for silence with something similar, though not as wide. The green stone was resting quietly in the center of the table.

Tall, blond Larry was well on his way to being the star basketball player, though he was only a junior in high school. He and Sean had become friends one summer during fencing lessons, but Larry had been forced to quit because his parents couldn’t afford them. They remained close friends anyway, and could be seen crossing sticks almost anywhere. Larry and his girlfriend, Jenny, always came to the tournaments to cheer for Sean. Larry’s face was red now and veins stood out in his neck. His blue eyes were bloodshot with fury, and perhaps with fear as well.

Jenny was in the pep squad at school. She and Larry had been virtually inseparable for over a year now, but she was Sean’s friend too. Tears made her face wet.

Larry and Jenny had been there for him when Analeace had died. Today had been a school day, so wasn’t yesterday and the day before. They must’ve heard what had happened and had come to see if Sean was all right.

Sean gripped the chair he was leaning on until his fingers hurt. What’s the meaning of this? His voice was raw, but he staunched the urge to cough.

We couldn’t allow… Ferris began with a glower. Cisco started to get up. She was probably going to help Sean, but he forced them both back, willing them to remain in their seats. Cisco let out a squeak of alarm and Ferris’s eyes bulged in open astonishment.

Gordon hurried up behind him. He must’ve heard Sean’s voice, but then he was buffeted aside by the other five stones as they came rocketing in from the other room.

As soon as they arrived, all six stones hovered over the table and started to spin. These are my friends, growled Sean, You have no right… He made their bindings vanish. His fingers dug into the chair. He needed it to hold himself up. With his teeth clenched tight, he said, "You will not harm my friends." A different echo was behind his words, but he paid it no mind. He reached out to the spinning stones and they came together in his hand with a smack, then he reached out to the rest of them and took them away.

Sean had been told many times that he learned quickly, but he also had a temper. It didn’t come out very often—in fact, he could count the times he’d lost his temper on one hand without even using all his fingers—but when it did come out, the results were pretty nasty. Thinking to protect his best friends from these people who’d suddenly become strangers, Sean thought to take them away to somewhere safe, but the spell felt unwieldy, and his head was exploding again. He had no idea if he’d succeeded. He lost the chair and all the lights went out.

The first time he woke up, all he knew was that there wasn’t enough room inside his skull for this much pain. He could scarcely discern that hands were holding him down.

He woke like that several times before he figured things were improving. As long as he stayed very still, it felt like only his face was exploding. The rest of his body just felt like he’d fallen from his apartment window fourteen floors to the pavement below.

Sean improved slowly. The day came when he could pull the cold rag from his face without dying or fainting. His head still hurt enough to make him leery of moving it, but he could open his eyes a bit and look around. Jenny’s face was the first thing he focused on. Hi, he said, or tried to; scarcely a whisper came out.

Another face replaced hers. Do you know my name? Do you know your name?

Sean reached up to touch her short gray hair. Her hair has always been too short. Cisco. He tried to swallow. Water. But when her hand slipped under his neck, he screamed.

Sean’s recovery continued to progress, and eventually he felt brave enough to try sitting up. At his first struggles, Cisco came over to help. You seem to be very lucky. You could’ve turned yourself into a complete vegetable using that much magic so soon, said Cisco, as she saw Sean propped up against the wall at his back. As it is, you’ve dropped us into the middle of nowhere, and you’ve managed to lose the stones. You may never be strong enough to go back for them.

He knew better—or he thought he did anyway. He prodded a hard knot in his belly and winced. I haven’t lost the stones, but she doesn’t need to know that just now.

Cisco threw a rag into a bucket of water with enough force to splash some of the water onto the dirt floor, and then she went back to whatever she was doing across the room. Why is she so pissed? She must be angry about being dropped in the country instead of being left in the city, but what did she expect for my first try.

He took the opportunity of being left sitting by himself in his corner to take in his surroundings. He recognized the place, but he couldn’t remember where he’d seen it. Where did the roof go? Their camp was inside what was left of a small house. It had four once-white walls that had suffered a substantial amount of fire damage, yet the walls were mostly intact. There were three windows and two doors, all missing, likely victims of the fire. A crumbling fireplace dominated the fourth wall. If any other things in and of the house had survived the fire, it had been looted or used in the current little blaze that flickered on the stone hearth in front of the useless fireplace.

Ferris and Larry came in. Ferris noticed that Sean was sitting up and headed in his direction. You’re looking better, he commented as he squatted down in front of him.

Sean waved his hand limply. I’m not that much better. What is this place? he asked. Where are we? He reached up to hold his head together with one hand while Ferris filled him in.

I can’t be sure until I find someone to ask. I think we’re quite a ways from the city, or there’d be more traffic. I’ve taken a look around as far as I dare to go. Two more farms are in no better condition than this one, and another is just empty.

Sean closed his eyes and leaned his head gently back against the wall, and Ferris gave way to Larry and Jenny.

Hey man, said Larry. What have you gotten us into? Gordon told us a little, so did Cisco, but Ferris just glares and tolerates us.

Jenny was snuggled under Larry’s arm.

I’m sorry. I’m just learning all this. I guess I screwed up, said Sean.

Cisco said you almost died, said Jenny.

Sean gave her his best smile. His head was hurting a lot and his hand wasn’t helping anymore. I’m indestructible, remember? You always said so.

Yeah, with a sword, against wimpy New Yorkers, but this is different. You scared me. Jenny sounded almost like a little girl when she said those last three words.

Sean was truly sorry—sorry for this, sorry for everything. He held out his free hand, but instead of just taking it as he expected, Jenny came close to crawling into his lap. Grunting with the aches that Jenny’s actions found, he was glad that Larry moved closer too. Jenny was Larry’s girlfriend. He didn’t want Larry jealous over her. I’ll get you back to the city as soon as I can. I promise. When I’m better, we’ll go back.

Jenny’s warmth and Larry’s shoulder touching his were soothing, and Sean found himself dozing off.

The day after Sean made it out of the house for the first time under his own power, Cisco gave him a small exercise to work on. She handed him a little rock about the size of a shooter marble. As he looked at the thing in his palm, she said, As soon as you can lift that, we’ll continue your lessons.

Confused, Sean looked from her to the rock and back.

Air magic, she said. Use air magic to lift it.

Okaaayyy—air magic—she wants me to suspend the stone on air. The first time he tried, he knew he must’ve done something right because he found himself on his hands and knees trying to turn his stomach inside out.

Cisco was back at his side in a flash. She propped him back up on the bench, and then she gave him a drink of water. She looked concerned, but didn’t apologize. When he handed her back the chipped cup, she found and handed him back the rock.

Within a week, he could manipulate the four different elements of magic with some ease, though he’d only done small things, so Cisco made the tasks a little more difficult. Here, she handed him a few old, dried-up corn kernels. Make them grow.

After that, she brought him a bucket of water and an empty bucket. Make the water flow from one bucket to the other. Try not to lose too much.

Then came fire. Make this stick burn. She didn’t put the stick in his hand, which was a good thing since the entire stick burst into flames the first time he tried.

When he’d mastered the four separate elements of magic enough to satisfy her, she had him begin to combine them. Combining the magics was more a matter of imagination than rote, but after he developed a feel for each one, doing the small tasks Cisco came up with weren’t really all that difficult. She had him doing things like making a crooked stick straight, or turning a handful of dead grass into a flower. Larry liked that one. Sean let him give the flower to Jenny.

As soon as Sean was strong enough, he started accompanying Ferris on his scouting trips. He went nearly every day in order to protect their location from unwanted eyes, and to bring back meat. With Ferris, the lessons were very different. With him, Sean learned how to stifle sound and hide their tracks. He even learned to kill. That was black magic. He knew hunting was important. They needed to eat, but killing with magic was…unsettling. Finally Sean asked, Ferris, why are we still here?

You’re not strong enough yet, he said as they crept up to a small rise to see if anyone might be interested in their little corner of the world.

What’s to getting stronger? I’m out here with you. I don’t get headaches anymore. If you want me to learn more magic, tell me what to do. I already do the things you and Cisco ask me to do; I’ve figured them out. Am I supposed to do bigger things? Let’s just start walking. We can’t be that far from the city.

They crawled back down from the rise and Sean erased their passage as they went. Make it rain, said Ferris. It’s the least noticeable big thing you could do.

Sean looked up at the sky; there were only a few wisps of clouds being blown about by the wind. He’d done this before. He’d been grief-stricken and angry then, and he couldn’t remember whether it had been cloudy or not, but if he could do it once, surely he could do it again. He reached up as if to pull the rain from those tiny clouds.

They surged into thunderclouds, and as they came clashing together, lightning struck a tree not too far away…then it began to pour.

Now comes the fun part, yelled Ferris over the noise of another lightning bolt, not to mention the deluge. Make it stop.

Pulling the elements for a storm together wasn’t so hard, but pushing them apart again was a different matter. Then Sean remembered something he’d learned in science class. Water was made up of hydrogen and oxygen, and lightning was only static electricity. He broke down the water and equalized the electrons between the clouds and the earth. The storm vanished in a fog bank that quickly blew away with the wind. Then he sat down very fast.

Ferris was beside him in an instant, kneeling in the mud his young charge now sat in. You did it, and on your first try. I didn’t think you’d be able to. I’m impressed.

Just a little high school science, said Sean. I used to be pretty good in science class. I never thought I’d be using it like this, though.

Come on, let’s get back to the farm. Cisco will want to hear about this, said Ferris.

We’re not all that far from the farm. I’m willing to bet she already knows about the storm, said Sean. He was still a little dizzy.

Taking Charge

When they reached the farm, Cisco was not pleased about it just dumping buckets for all of five minutes, and still definitely not pleased when she learned that Sean caused it. Then again, she hadn’t been too pleased with anything ever since they came here. What do you mean, taxing yourself like that? You could’ve set us back days, if not weeks.

Sean had never heard her yell before. When she ran out of rant, it occurred to him that she might be the one who was making the decisions for the rest of them. Cisco, why are we still out here? Why aren’t we going back to the city?

You’re not strong enough, she replied hotly as she chucked a sodden stick back onto the drenched remains of the fire. You’ll never be strong enough. Without the stones, you’ll never be able to face Ludwyn. Then she seemed to realize what Sean had said. Just where do you think we are?

"What makes you think I don’t have the stones? Is it because I don’t use them every day? I try not to use the stones. I want to learn the magic first. What good is a tool if you’re handicapped without it? He grabbed her hand and pushed it against his belly. He had a strong six-pack, but the added lump could still be felt if you pressed hard enough just above the navel. I hid them from you, so you couldn’t use them against my friends again. Of course I hadn’t intended for you to be anywhere near my friends again, but I kind of messed that one up. The last time you used them, you did it while I was asleep. This way, you can’t use them without my knowing."

Sean looked around the camp and noticed everyone staring at him, and he realized that they were all wearing the same clothes they’d worn while sitting in his kitchen. Then everything fell into place. He remembered the farm from his vision. We’re nowhere near New York City, are we? Everyone just looked at him, confirming his suspicion. Ferris was frowning; he’d probably mentioned it, but Sean couldn’t remember. Well, apparently we came here a little unprepared. Sean turned to Ferris. Stay here and watch out for the others. Feeling foolishly rash, he pulled Cisco into a hug and thought of his living room.

* * *

She guided him to the closest chair and watched him for a moment. You’re doing better and better every time you try something. Did you use the stones with that?

I don’t know, I suppose so, he said. Didn’t you tell me I’d never be strong enough to do this without them?

Yes, I did, but you see, I can’t feel the stones anymore, not any of them. I’ve been close to them for seventeen years, and now it’s as if they don’t even exist. That’s why I thought you’d lost them. You’ve not only put them out of easy reach, you’ve managed to shield them. Whatever possessed you to imbed them in your own body?

I honestly can’t say. I was doing good just standing up at the time. I think it was easier than trying to find a pocket. He wavered to his feet. Go to your apartment. Get whatever you think you need. I’ll do the same here. Grab some blankets too.

Sean started to go through his room. He threw some changes of clothes on the bed along with his sword case. He poked through all his belongings. He left his treasure box behind; he knew that when it became known that the apartment had been abandoned, everything left behind would likely be thrown out, but he didn’t really have room for such a thing anymore.

In his parents’ room, (he really liked that word, ‘parents’—he wished it were true), he selected some clothes for Jenny and some for Larry. Larry was tall like Sean, but not as wide across the shoulders and hips. Elias’s things would fit him a bit loose and a bit short, but they’d be better than nothing.

As he dug things out of the closet, he discovered something way in the back, under plastic; something he never knew existed, but should’ve expected in light of recent knowledge: a set of chainmail armor with a black and red tabard hanging over it.

Fascinated and thrilled, he pulled off the plastic and examined it. The shirt was made of a heavy canvas weave and looked long enough to sit on. Stitched to it was thick leather that covered the shoulders and extended down the outside of the arms almost to the elbows. The elbows had their own reinforcement, and the leather at the cuffs, which also reached almost to the elbows, was especially thick. Another heavy panel of leather was stitched down the back and the front. It closed across the front by buckling under the right arm. Covering everything was fine-linked chain mail, caught at several points to keep it from rubbing too much. It reached from the collar down several inches past the cuffs and nearly a foot below the hem. It was attached tightly to the shirt where it buckled under the arm, and had its own buckle at the neck and several catches in front of the shoulder and at the wrists. The whole thing was stained black.

Cisco came in just as he found the sword belt on a back shelf. She saw what he’d discovered, and said, You should try it on. It’s not your father’s, but it’s close; we might be able to adjust it. It might come in handy too. Here, I’ll help you get it right. She dug in the closet for other things and produced a silk undershirt that hung well past his waist, and a pinafore of quilted felt that would cover his shoulders and chest. Then after some muttering, she produced a box with bits of metal that fit his legs, and a pair of well-used gloves with metal scales stitched across the back.

As she helped him with buckles and getting things right side front or right end up, Sean asked, What happened to…um Elias…oh the hell with it. What happened to Mom and Dad? What happened to Uncle Clayton?

She looked up at him. I can only speculate. She studied his face. "When Clayton’s body was found along side the other man’s body, there was nothing to identify either of them. Of course, they announced that the autopsy revealed that both Clayton and the other man had died of multiple stab wounds. We learned of his death when they posted pictures in the papers in hopes of someone coming forward to identify them. We could do no such thing. We never learned who the other man was or why they’d been fighting. Had we gone to identify him, we would’ve discovered that his swords were missing as well as the stone. No one else knew such things existed, so how could they know they were missing?

Analeace’s death is a mystery, she continued, after only a slight hesitation. The police never found any leads, and as Elias’s wife…they looked very hard. I know of one way to achieve that effect, but magic isn’t used here.

Sean also now knew of one way to kill without leaving a trace. Ferris had taught him. It was really quite simple, just reach out and stop the heart—take the electricity away. He shuddered. Someone must’ve found us; no one else would be able to do such a thing.

Now Elias’s death was much more typical to New York City, continued Cisco, speaking quickly. He was involved in a shootout with some gang and caught a bullet in a place not protected by his vest. The bullet hit an artery and he bled to death quickly.

She rose from buckling the last piece of metal to Sean’s shin and picked up a helmet. You look so much like your father. He was only twenty-six when he was killed. She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back before setting the helmet in place. He kept his hair a lot shorter though. She turned back to the closet and produced two cloaks. She tossed the light gray one onto the pile on the bed; the heavy black one, she fastened around Sean’s shoulders with special pins.

He stopped her when she started to add Elias’s sword belt to the costume. I think I’ll use Clayton’s sword. It’s bigger. Anyway, the last thing he said to me was that he hoped it would serve me better than he did. Was he my protection when I was outside?

I’m not entirely sure what Clayton did with his time. We didn’t see him very often, but it would be something he might do; that or keep our tracks covered back there—anything that would put him between his brother and us. Perhaps he was discovered. Perhaps he was protecting you from someone who’d managed to follow him. Only he knows what happened that day. She stowed Elias’s sword belt with the rest of the things gathered on the bed, then began to tie the corners of the blankets together.

They did the same in Gordon’s room, and then finished up in Sean’s room. After they raided the kitchen, Sean looked at the pile they had accumulated. We’re going to need some horses now with all this, unless you plan to take up permanent residence in that little farmhouse. I guess we could figure out a way to rebuild the roof and find something to cover the windows and doors. Food could get a little short, though, said Sean, with a mischievous grin.

Oh shut up, growled Cisco.

Sean’s smile faded as he picked up Clayton’s sword belt from the coffee table where it had been left. He drew each sword and examined it. Maybe we should go shopping before we go back, he said, thinking of getting some sort of oil for the leather and a stone for the blades.

Nonsense, we can get whatever we need there a lot cheaper. She gathered all the bundles up in a tight pile then looked him directly in the eyes. Are you ready for this? It’s far more than what we came with.

Sean buckled the belt around his waist then pulled her close. I don’t know; am I? he said, and thought of the scorched farmhouse.

* * *

He managed to retain his feet this time, but only because he didn’t try to walk anywhere. Ferris came charging out, and then blanched before heaving a