Michael Manning - Mageborn - The Blacksmith’s Son

By now Marc had gotten himself up as well and he was shouting something at me. Looking at him I realized the colors were strange. It was definitely my friend but he looked different to me. Glancing down I stared at the unconscious stranger. There was something familiar about his face. He had long gangly arms and legs and his head was covered with thick black hair. At last it hit me, and a cold shock ran through me as I recognized myself lying there upon the ground. With that realization I felt a surging sensation and felt myself rushing toward my empty body, and then there was only darkness.

Sunlight filtered in through my closed eyelids, which made me wonder how I could have slept so late. Normally my mother would have awakened me with the dawn to start my daily chores. The bed was comfortable however, so I decided to sleep a little longer and see how long I could manage before she came to rouse me. Then I felt warm breath on my face and heard a snort, as if one of my father’s horses had somehow gotten into my room, but that couldn’t be… could it? I cracked one eye and was startled to see Star looming over me, with Marc sitting on the other side of me.

“Thank the gods you’ve woken,” he said. “I had begun to think you were going to pass over to the other side.” His face held a slight smile, though I could see tension written in his expression.

“Why am I lying on the ground?” Even as I said this I realized it was true; I was lying on the damp grass, not far from the river. I started to sit up and everything began to twist and turn around me as waves of dizziness washed over me. I have a stubborn streak though, so I sat up anyway and stayed that way till the world quit whirling about.

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” he replied. “For some reason you felt you could drag an entire horse out of the river by yourself, and even worse, you promptly passed out as soon as you got to the edge of the water. You nearly drowned.”

“How did Star get out?” I had a strong suspicion that I knew exactly how she’d escaped the river, but I still couldn’t believe it.

“The best I can tell she’s been possessed by a water spirit.” Marc stared pointedly at me as he said that, and I knew him well enough to tell he had a different opinion. “Right after you passed out she walked up and out of the water, walking over the top of it about thirty yards before she made her way onto dry ground.” He paused then, as if to see what I might say, but I held my tongue. “Then she walked back up over the top and proceeded to drag you up and over the edge of the embankment with her teeth. All in all I’d say her behavior was rather unhorse-like.”

I looked down, unsure what to say, “Well…”

“You might as well tell me. I’ve already seen several unbelievable things today; I’m not likely to call you a liar at this point.” Marc and I had been friends since we were small children, so trust wasn’t an issue; it was simply that I couldn’t understand what had occurred either. I gave up attempting to understand, and just described my experience as best I could. It took a while, but Marc was a good listener. After a while I ran out of words and just sat there, looking at Star grazing nearby.

Marc looked pensive. He had a brilliant mind, when he chose to employ it, and I could see the gears turning as I watched. Finally he spoke, “Let’s lay it out in plain view. You sent your spirit into the horse and took control of her body. Then you used some sort of magic to allow Star to walk on top of the water…”

“Now hold up,” I interrupted, “I didn’t use any magic, nor would I know how to!”

“What else would you call it Mort?” He stared at me; his gaze was direct and unwavering.

“Ok, well obviously something amazing happened, but that doesn’t mean that I was the cause, source or principle agent behind the…” I had lapsed into our most familiar form of speech, the type we used when discussing matters of science or philosophy. He wasn’t buying into my circumlocutions though.

“Bullshit,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“You heard me, bullshit. Don’t try to talk your way around it. You’re not talking to your parents, or any of the other dullards we know, so don’t try and feed me a bunch of crap. You need to own up to it and face what happened head on. You did it. You did something miraculous, and that makes you either a saint or a wizard. Given your general lack of piety I’m leaning toward the latter.”

“You’re crazy,” I replied intelligently, “I don’t know the first thing about magic.”

Marc smiled, “I don’t either, but I do know one thing.”

“Such as?”

“Wizards are born not taught, so lack of knowledge is no defense.” Deep down I suspected he might be right. We were both full of questions, but the experience with the river had left us cold, wet and tired. We agreed to keep the details of what had happened secret, at least until we could figure things out.

“Come to the keep tomorrow and we’ll go through Father’s library,” he said. Marcus’ father was the Duke of Lancaster, a fact I frequently tried to forget.

“I can’t. I’m supposed to help Dad with a load of pig-iron tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow evening then. In fact, tell your parents you’ll be staying with me for a few days," he replied.

"I can't do that. What will they think?"

"They'll think it's wonderful their son is hobnobbing with the nobility." Marcus never held his higher social station against me, but he had no qualms about making full use of its advantages either. “Listen, I’ll send a runner over this evening with a fancy invitation. Your father will be so impressed he won’t even consider refusing.” Marcus grinned at me with his usual irrepressible smile.

“I think your plan leaves a bit to be desired,” I replied. “Don’t you need some sort of excuse or reason for the invitation?” My parents knew about our odd friendship as it had never been a secret. Marcus and I had met when we were boys, playing in the courtyard of the Duke’s keep during one of my father’s delivery trips. We hit it off immediately, although I’ve never been sure why. I suspect it was because he was the first child my own age with enough imagination and wit to keep up with my elaborate games of pretend. Soon after that my parents began getting ‘requests’ from the Duchess for my presence to help entertain her son. The Duke and his wife were remarkably forward thinking when it came to ‘mingling’ of the classes, but still as we entered our teenage years I had seen less and less of Marcus as he was required to spend more time with people of proper breeding.

“Hah! You’re coming over for a social gathering and boar hunt my father arranged for this week.” Marcus had an incredibly smug expression on his face, as if he had impressed himself with his own cleverness. The idea wasn’t that clever so I knew he was hiding something.

“You just made that up didn’t you,” I accused.

“Not a chance!” He had a definite glimmer in his eye. “Father planned this party two months ago. Young men and ladies of gentle breeding from all over the realm will be descending on our noble duchy this week.”

That gave him away. “Young…oh wait! You sneaky bastard! This is one of those ‘mixers’ your parents have been sending you to in order to properly socialize you with the gentry!” In point of fact Marcus resented the social gatherings his parents forced him to attend and spent most of his timing describing them to me as dull occasions attended by dimwitted fops obsessed with their own self-importance. I was sure he secretly enjoyed them at least somewhat; he merely presented them in a negative light to make me feel better since I couldn’t attend. Which raised a question. “Wait, wait, I’m confused. How do you intend to bring a commoner along for this thing?” The ‘commoner’ of course was me; I had no illusions about my social standing.