Michael Manning - Mageborn - The Blacksmith’s Son

Marc snickered, “Ah my friend, this time is different! My father is hosting this event and since it is my home I can bring anyone I wish.” That effectively ended my last good argument. He got up and began leading Star away. He could have ridden her, but he was an excellent horseman and it never even occurred to him to do so after her ordeal in the river. “I’ll have the invitation over in a couple of hours. I’ll send a coach for you tomorrow evening.”

I shook my head, embarrassed, and tried to think of a good parting remark. My wit failed me however, so I had to settle for a simple, “See you tomorrow.” I began walking home, trying to figure out how I was going to explain this to my parents.

The next evening arrived more quickly than I’d imagined and there was the coach, pulling up near our house. My father had actually been rather pleased by my news. He had a fair opinion of the Duke already, and I’m sure he saw this as an opportunity to acquire more favorable terms and business for the smithy. It certainly can’t hurt having your son be friends with the next Duke. Mother was a bit more anxious. She seemed certain I would commit some serious breach of etiquette and get myself and possibly the family into trouble. I tried my best to reassure her, but looking back I see now she was much wiser than I had ever given her credit for.

Stepping into the coach I was surprised to see Marc already within. He gave me a wide grin, “Hullo! Ready to start your adventures?”

I answered in a sour tone, “This isn’t some romance where we’re off to slay dragons and rescue damsels you know.”

“Says you, but I have a rather more optimistic view on these matters. Besides which, there will indeed be some fair damsels at Castle Lancaster over the next few days, some of whom may well need a rescue,” he replied.

“From what?”

“Not what, who!”

I sighed, my friend had developed a definite talent with women over the past year, or so I had heard. “You’d best be careful; tupping the town girls is a far cry from besmirching the honor of a nobleman’s daughter.”

He didn’t answer that, just grinned at me. We rode in silence for a while, till the bailey came into sight and the outer walls drew closer. I was staring out the coach window when something caught my eye. “Marc! Look at that.” I pointed out the window, toward the nearing archway.

Marc poked his head out the window to look in the direction I had pointed, “What?”

“The wall, what are those odd symbols? See them glowing like phosphor?” I was pointing again, trying to show him the glowing runes limning the archway ahead of us.

“I don’t see a thing,” he said as he sat back down, “describe them to me.” I did the best I could and by the time I was done we were through the gate and heading for the stables. “Oh! Of course!” he said.

“Of course what!? Don’t leave me wondering dammit.” The glowing runes had put me on edge.

“You saw the castle wards. Father told me about them, but apparently only people with the ‘sight’ can see them. I’m guessing that includes wizards,” he answered, rolling his eyes up and to the side, as if to indicate he didn’t know any wizards.

“I’m not a… Wait, they weren’t there last week when I came to town. Did your father hire some sorcerer to enspell the walls these past few days?”

Marc stared back at me, “No. The wards are old. They were placed decades ago by some wizard my grandfather employed for a short time.”

“Then why couldn’t I see them before now?”

“Well you didn’t used to possess livestock and walk on water either. Ah! I know! Did you just finish puberty? I noticed the other day you don’t look quite as girly any more…check your balls, are you getting fuzzy down there?” He ducked, laughing, as I threw my travel sack at him.

The coach stopped and a footman held the door for us to step down, so we tabled our discussion for later. Stepping into the courtyard I saw a familiar face. “Dorian!” I called out to a stalwart looking man crossing over to us. Dorian Thornbear was actually the same age as Marc and I. He was not quite as tall as me, standing about five foot ten inches, but he had quite a bit more muscle than either of us. He was the son of the Duke’s seneschal and because of his martial prowess he had already been accepted into the lord’s service as a man at arms. The stiff leathers he wore along with the spear in his hands were visible evidence of this.

“Ho! Master Marcus! Who let this ragamuffin in here?” Dorian said this with a light tone; we had all been friends since I had begun visiting the keep as a child.

Marc spoke, “I’ve invited Mort to spend the week.”

“You going to bunk with me again Mort?” Usually in the past I’d stay with Dorian’s family if I was sleeping at the keep. Technically his family was minor gentry, but they were a lot less intimidating than the Duke’s family. Plus our fathers were close friends.

I started to reply with a yes but Marc interrupted me with a hand on my shoulder, “Not this time Dorian, I’ve convinced him to let me put him up in one of the guest rooms.”

Dorian frowned, “Will there be enough room with all the visiting peers this week?”

“Certainly,” Marc replied.

“But…” I started to object.

“Shhh! Don’t argue, besides you need to be in the main keep if we’re to visit the library at night without creating a lot of questions among the castle guard,” Marc glanced at Dorian who’s eyebrows had gone up at this. “We’re on a secret mission!” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

“Really?” Dorian Thornbear was one of the bravest and most loyal friends I had ever known, but he had a certain lack of guile built into him. He was honest to a fault, perhaps that’s what made him a bit gullible. Not that the young lord of Lancaster was trying to fool him, it was just that Dorian tended to take such things over-seriously. We wound up standing in a sort of huddle near the back of the coach as Marc and I filled Dorian in on the events of the past few days. The three of us had always been as thick as thieves, but I had some concern that Dorian might give away my secret. Deception had never been his strong suit.

“Now what would you lads be conspiring at!?” The loud voice of Marc’s father, Lord James, the Duke of Lancaster came booming from behind us. He was a man of moderate build, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He laughed as Dorian whirled to look back at him.

“Nothing your grace!” Dorian ducked his head as he replied.

“You look well your grace. Thank you for the invitation.” I gave a formal bow; I have always had a knack for keeping a cool head.

“You are welcome, young Eldridge. Please give your father my best wishes when you see him again. I trust you will enjoy your stay with us.” The Duke was unusual among most of the peerage in that he treated all his vassals and even yeomen with courtesy and respect, though he had no requirement to do so. It was a fact that had made him extremely well liked among the people of Lancaster.