Michael Mathias: Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

“It was Hyden Hawk doing the meddling and match-making, from what I hear,” Queen Willa defended with a devilish look at Mikahl.

“I was just trying to show Princess Rosa the High King’s sword-I mean his swordsmanship,” said Hyden.

Mikahl’s glaring eyes spoke volumes about the quality of the revenge he wanted to exact on his friend.

“Nevertheless,” Willa went on, hiding her blush in the mane of the lion’s fur. “I do think she’s taken a liking to you Mikahl. She is smart, very pretty, and it’s obvious that she has caught your eye as well.”

“We’re riding in the park tomorrow,” Mikahl said. “If I could get some time with her, without all of you meddling and eavesdropping, I might be able to have a conversation with her. Until I’ve done that much, she is just another pretty girl to me.”

“I believe you’re right, Queen Willa,” said Hyden with a nod. “He has fallen for her.”

The clang of Mikahl’s steel on the practice yard the next morning was louder and sharper than usual. Hyden came down with the elven longbow Vaegon had given him, and could tell immediately that Mikahl was hammering out his frustrations on some unlucky opponent. Since the day their friend Loudin of the Reyhall had died, Mikahl had risen every morning and put himself through rigorous drills with his sword. The feel of the longbow in Hyden’s hand, and the ringing intensity from Mikahl’s blade brought back a memory of the four of them on their trek through the Giant Mountains. This in turn spurred an even earlier memory of Hyden and Vaegon competing in the archery tournament at the Summer’s Day Festival.

Either he or Vaegon would have won. The winner’s name would have been carved on the Spire at Summer’s Day with all the other champions of the realm, to be seen ever after. That seemed like a life-time ago to Hyden, but it had been less than a year. It was a shame that they never had the chance to finish the contest.

This morning he was unintentionally giving a demonstration on packing the wizard’s eye full of arrows. He could get four of five in the center, but hadn’t found a way to squeeze the fifth one in yet. But it wasn’t for lack of trying. It wasn’t his aim, it was the size of the wizard’s eye. The center of the target was just too small to take five arrow tips completely inside its circumference.

“What you need is smaller shafts, Sir Hyden Hawk,” Brady Culvert said from behind him.

Hyden turned and smiled at the strapping young man. Brady was tall and bulky, but hardly any of it was soft. His unruly dark curls left him with a boyish look. “No more of that ‘Sir’ crud. Not if you’re going with me, Brady,” Hyden said matter of factly. “We travel, we fight, and we work together as equals on our quest.”

“What should I call you then?”

“Hyden, or Hyden Hawk is what my friends call me, and any friend of King Jarrek’s is a friend of mine.”

“Hyden Hawk it is then,” said Brady with a nod. “My father used to buy hawkling eggs from your people at Summer’s Day. He said they were the best for sending important messages, such as troop orders and other royal documents.”

“Don’t let Talon hear you say that,” Hyden joked as he began unstringing his bow. “I use to climb the nesting cliffs in the spring to fetch them down.” He thought of his younger brother Gerard then, and the ring Gerard had found among the nests up there. Sorrow threatened to take hold of him.

The loud clashing of Mikahl’s sword filled the silence. Hyden forced Gerard and his terrible fate out of his mind. “You’ll not need your plate armor; chain mail might even be inappropriate. Good leather with rings should do. I have a feeling that we might have to do a bit of sneaking about, maybe some climbing as well, and a lot of walking.” Hyden paused to look over at a commotion that had broken out. Apparently Mikahl had dislodged an opponent’s sword and it had flown into a bystander.

“I pity his sparring partners today,” Brady said with a grimace of understanding. “He seems exceedingly aggressive for some reason.”

“He’s riding with the Princess this afternoon. All of this royal hoopla is keeping him from being himself.” The concern in Hyden’s voice betrayed how deep his friendship with Mikahl had become. “He wants to go with us more than you could imagine.”

“He’s the High King. All he has to do, is what he wants to do.” Brady scrunched his face up in confusion. “Besides all of that, who’d rather go sailing after pirate treasure with a bunch of louts than ride with Princess Rosa?”

Brady pulled his chin in and gnashed his teeth together in a regretful cringe when he realized he had just called Sir Hyden Hawk Skyler a lout. But to his surprise Hyden was grinning at him.

“You’ll do just fine, Brady,” Hyden spoke his thoughts aloud. “And it takes a lout to know one.”

Phen was waiting in the tower study when Hyden came down the next morning. “I can go!” The boy yelped excitedly. At his feet lay a big burlap sack full of his personal belongings and his extra robe. “When do we leave? What should I bring? What texts are we taking? Master Sholt said that I have to keep tutoring you, so I know we should at least bring three or four books. How about Tales of the Sea? How long do you think we will be gone?” All of Phen’s questions were asked with one breath. Hyden chuckled as the boy inhaled deeply. He was about to begin again when Hyden stopped him with a question of his own.

“What did you learn about the Silver Skull?”

Phen looked at him with a perplexed expression for a moment. “How do you know that I know anything about the skull?” Phen asked.

“I am a great wizard,” Hyden said sarcastically. “How else?”

“I’m starting to see what Master Amill meant when he said that you were a natural,” said Phen with a shake of his head. “Without even casting a spell you got me to scour the books for you.”

“You’re just extra curious, Phen.”

“I am, but you made Princess Rosa fall in love with the High King yesterday afternoon when you tricked the two of them. At least that’s what the gossipers about the castle are saying.”

“I just gave her a little more to think about is all. Not much more, I assure you. Besides, I had to get him back for that Yule gift he gave me.”

“He said it wasn’t him,” Phen said.

“Just… He and I are even for the moment, and that’s that. Now tell me about the skull.”

“The Silver Skull of Zorellin is the artifact’s proper name,” Phen started. “I only found one listing about it in the Great Tome of artifacts. Darin wrote that the skull could be used to speak with the dead, the undead, and some of the more intelligent demons. But,” Phen strode over to the table and pointed at the exposed page of the topmost text lying there, “In Dahg Mahn’s untitled journal, the one that speaks about the Seal and other things relating to demon kind, it said that the Silver Skull of Zorellin can be used to transport items, and people, to and from the Nethers.”

“Does it say how?”

“Wait, Hyden, I’m not done,” Phen’s voice was sharper than he intended it to be, but he didn’t stutter or stop his lecture. “In a book called Zorellin, that I got from the master’s library last night while all of you were at the feast, I found a bit… Hold on.” Phen went to his bag, rummaged through it a moment then came up beaming. In his hand was an ancient text. He held it up as if it were a great prize, which in this case, it was.

“In here,” Phen tapped the cover of the book. “It tells how the wizard Zorellin made the skull, and how he used it to enslave the demon of Krass, who he eventually used it to kill King Baffawn the Bloodthirsty for the good of all mankind.”