Michael Mathias - The Wizard and the Warlord

“I guess I will go with Oarly,” Phen said reluctantly. He'd actually hoped to spend some more time with Telgra. He’d have plenty of time with her soon enough, he told himself. Thinking about Oarly’s warnings, he decided he would probably have too much time with her.

After a half hour of sparring with the wagon drivers, Mikahl decided that Lord Gregory was right. He had already chosen two archers and was now watching several matches on the yard to see who he would choose as swordsmen. He liked the youngster named Jicks. He was originally from Wildermont and had been held as a slave in Dakahn for a time. Jicks was only sixteen or seventeen years old, but that was close to Phen’s age. Mikahl liked the way Jicks improved during every session, and the way he strove relentlessly to prove himself.

His second choice, Mikahl decided, would be someone with battle experience and years under his belt. Mikahl felt sure that with Oarly’s proficiency with the axe and hammer and his ranger skills, along with Phen’s magic, two archers, and Jicks’s sword, the group would be able to handle any trouble. Hyden’s ability as an archer was second to none, but he tended to take wild risks. A man with a cool head, a sure blade, and the reasoning of many years in the field is what Mikahl wanted to add. Lord Gregory would be perfect for the job, but he wouldn’t dare take the Lion Lord away from Lady Trella for more than a few days. He himself needed the Lion Lord’s wisdom to manage the realm far too much to do without him anyway.

“I like Jinx,” Phen said as he stepped up.

“It’s Jicks, and he is in,” Mikahl replied, not looking away from the training yard. “Phen, go over to that group of archers and tell them that on my command they are to start loosing on the men sparring.” Mikahl scratched his chin. “Tell them to send high arcing lobbers, and use target tips. Remind them that we don’t want a bunch of injuries.”

Phen nodded that he understood the command. “What are you up to, Mikahl?” he asked, knowing that any use of title was forbidden on the practice yard.

Out here, a stable boy could whip the High King, or any ranked solider, without worry of retaliation. If he had the skill. Mikahl was extraordinary with his blade, though. The best swordsman in the realm could barely last five minutes with him. And that was without Ironspike. If Mikahl used his magical blade, the fight was over before it got started. Phen admired the fact that even now, as High King, Mikahl went through a vigorous ritual each and every morning. His dedication was admirable.

“I want to find out who of the lot is calm under fire,” Mikahl answered Phen’s question with a grin. “Besides that, Oarly is out there.”

A moment later, Mikahl called out, “Attack! We’re under attack!”

As arrows came raining down around the combatants, some men dove for cover while some scrambled about. Oarly went streaking straight for a weapons rack to grab up an axe, which impressed both Phen and the High King. Jicks took up a defensive position in front of his king and ignored the falling arrows.

Mikahl scanned the yard and the chaos that had taken it over. He saw his man standing with his sword still clenched in his fists. The man was looking at the archers angrily with his wooden shield over his head to protect himself. His opponent had run off.

The man was at that age where gray starts to streak the hair over a man’s ears and the rest of it starts to thin out. Not as old as Mikahl would have preferred, but old enough to command his own respect from Oarly and Hyden. Mikahl was even more pleased to see sergeant stripes on the man as he strode over to him.

Phen called the archers off, and after he saw who the king was moving to speak to, he jogged over to Jicks and introduced himself properly. Phen liked the fact that Jicks was from Wildermont. Brady Culvert, who had gone on a different quest with him and Oarly had been from there as well. King Jarrek made sure all of his soldiers were competantly trained. The two younger men eased close enough to hear what Mikahl was saying to the sergeant.

“So, you’re from Highwander then?” Mikahl asked, seeing the insignia on the his leather protective gear.

“I am,” the sergeant said. It was clear that he had a hard time keeping himself from adding a “Your Highness” or at least a “sir” to his answer. “I fought those stinking corpses both days, first at the west gate, then again at the breach near Whitten Loch.”

“Aye,” Mikahl nodded, respectfully noticing the scars around the man’s mouth. During the battle of Xwarda, the west gate was where the demon wizard’s undead army came through into the city. It was one of the bloodiest, most gruesome battles ever fought.

“What’s your name, Sergeant?”

“Welch. Buxter Welch.”

“Are you married, Lieutenant Welch?” Mikahl asked.

“It’s Sergeant, Highness,” the man corrected kindly. “My wife died in the battle, along with my unborn son.”

Mikahl clasped Buxter on the shoulder. “It’s Lieutenant Welch now, even if you don’t choose to go on the quest.”

Lieutenant Buxter Welch smiled a smile filled with broken teeth. It appeared that at one time he had taken a sword hilt or a mace to the face. “I wouldn’t have been out here fooling with these youngsters if I didn’t want to go, my king.”

Mikahl laughed. “You’re going to hold rank over the rest of the escort. Jicks here is your main blade.” Mikahl gave the young swordsman and Phen a hard look that told them both what he thought about their eavesdropping. “Come, I’ll introduce you to the archers.”

Once they were away from Phen and Jicks, Mikahl continued speaking. “Phen, Master Oarly, and especially Sir Hyden Hawk, are not under your command, but you are not under theirs. I expect you to respect Sir Hyden Hawk’s wishes, but I also expect you to draw on your experience and speak your mind with them openly. They’ll risk their lives for the most trivial things if you don’t remind them what they are about. I need you to be the voice of reason among them. Now, let’s go find those archers.”

Later that evening, after dinner, Lady Trella spoke to Telgra quietly in the ladies’ sitting room. Queen Rosa was there, as well as a few of the younger ladies in attendance. Trella had hoped for something more private, but didn’t want to offend Queen Rosa. Trella was also certain that Rosa would love to comment because the topic of this conversation was going to be her hero, Pin. Lord Gregory had brought several things to his wife’s attention in hopes that she would speak to the elven girl. It was awkward, but she agreed there was reason for concern. Phen was well loved and no one wanted to see him hurt, or pulled too far from his studies.

“He adores you, you know,” Lady Trella said, getting to her point delicately. “He doesn’t understand the differences between elves and humans. At least his urges won’t allow him to see reason.”

“I adore him as well, my lady,” Telgra admitted. “I suppose I hadn’t paid any mind to those things either. When I’m with Phen, I forget that I’m an elf. I can’t quite explain it.”

“You’ll live to be a few hundred years old, the gods be willing,” Lady Trella said. “If he’s lucky, he might live to be eighty. Are you ready to watch him grow old, and are you willing to force him to watch you stay young while he withers?”

“Oh, my lady.” Telgra wiped away a stray tear. Nervously, she scratched Spike behind his prickly ears as Trella’s revelations hit home. “I don’t ever want to hurt Phen. It feels so right when I’m with him. What should I do?”

“Follow your heart,” Queen Rosa said. “Pin is very special to me, but I see plainly your love for him. To deny him that now is as wrong as to hurt him later. You must choose.”