A Prince of Aelon

by Michael E. Villanueva

  But wait! Marcus stopped in his tracks as he realized that he cannot and would not be able to learn magic or hone his skills in this kingdom. He was the heir-apparent and neither the king nor the court and his immediate family would allow or accept any deviation from what he has been destined to become.

  And so the first great challenge Marcus had to face with his decision was to now leave the only life and world he had known. To shed the title, the office, as well as the comfort and security that came with it. Can he actually do so?

  Chapter 4 The Departure

  The following morning all was quiet, as is usually the case at Aelons’ west gates. In all honesty, all is quiet at every gate.

  It is as though thieves do not see Aelon as worth burglarizing, if one considers trekking through a barren wasteland that is searing hot by day and unforgivably cold at night to go rob a city whose immediate valuables are nuts and other farm products, centuries old marble statues and a few non-working fountains or perhaps the robbers would care to break into the castle to strip the walls of their twenty-by-ten foot tapestries, dusty, old, room-size carpets, busts, statuettes and paintings by master craftsmen. But who would be interested in repurchasing immortalizations of the royal family of Aelon?

  No. Any worthwhile robbery of Aelon would have to involve stealing the royal crown jewels, which are kept in a vault adjacent to the kings’ chambers – the most secure of all the royal apartments guarded to such an extent that only sunlight and air are able to pass through without asking permission.

  Truth be told, if not for the unpredictable blasts of sandstorms there would not even be a need to close the gates of Aelon. But closed they are, to protect the citizens, their homes, property and even their meals from the threat of dust clouds that if unchecked would coat everything inside Aelon a light shade of brown.

  Such was the morning of the guards that came on duty, the same kind of morning they have had for years on end. The same kind of morning that even former guards have seen until such time as they grew too old to see properly, at which point they might considered an improvement to the monotonous duty they spent most their lives doing.

  Nothing new or eventful this morning except when one of the two guards noticed a familiar looking figure approaching from within the walls.

  For sure they have seen this person before but not in this manner. As he approached the other guard also noticed the little man.

  They then stared at each other and remained uncertain because the one who approached seemed to be much shorter. Perhaps it was because in this past the person, whom this man they must be mistaking him for, was usually on horseback and was accompanied by an entourage.

  Now, dressed like a common peasant carrying what looked like supplies in a sack and approaching the main gates leading out of the castle, the guards still refused to believe what their eyes were relaying. They held their ground, but only barely as their minds raced to assess the situation.

  Could this just be a commoner who happened to resemble the prince? If so there would be no problem, they would breathe a sigh of relief, crack the gates open and as soon as the little man was out of earshot have a good laugh at themselves while teasing each other. However, what if this was the prince in disguise trying to sneak out of the kingdom?

  If so that would be a problem.

  With a kingly conviction in his voice Marcus spoke, “Gate-keeper, open the doors.”

  Problem, thought the two guards.

  They weighed the possible consequences of their choices: the wrath of the prince if they refused to obey or the wrath of the king if they did.

  In an effort to bide for time and hoping that the prince would simply turn around and go back the direction from whence he came the first soldier spoke in a quivering voice looking down at the prince while trying not to appear as though he was looking down at the prince.

  “Your grace, I do not understand…”

  To which Marcus simply said, “Sometimes the right thing to do cannot be gleaned through understanding, rather, through feeling.”

  The guard dwelt on those words. Would his captain be as convinced if he repeated them in his defense? Would quoting Prince Marcus save them in case they were court-martialed?

  He was now cursing himself for all the times he complained about how dull his career was and that he wished something interesting would happen.

  Yet with great reluctance and still not understanding why, the gatekeeper motioned to the guard across him and as slowly as they dared, opened the huge thick wood and iron gates revealing the beautiful day outside.

  The sun had raised enough to ward off the bitter cold but not to the point of excruciating heat. There was also no hint of the violent, unpredictable winds for which the heavy gates were constructed to hold back.

  Under different circumstances this would be a nice day, thought the gatekeeper, as both of them uneasily stood aside to let Marcus pass. Each felt as though he was watching his life slipping away. But was it?

  As they silently delved upon their emotions they had the sense as though they awaited for this moment all their lives.

  Either of them could have easily pulled Marcus back in with one arm and even if a part of them were tempted to do so, a greater part of them did not want to.

  It was as though the purpose for their very being and their part in a grander unseen design was to open and hold the gates for Marcus this morning.

  As Marcus strolled out there was no pomp or circumstance, just the soft patter of his sandals and the birds chirping as the morning breeze blew. Yet there was something different about the prince. There was a confident self-assurance in his stride so much so that the guards could not comprehend why they were frozen in awe at the sight of Marcus as he walked off into the distance.

  Since exiting the gates Marcus dared not look back lest trepidation or anxiety get the better of him which could cause him to run back to Aelon.

  By the time he wondered about how long he might have been walking the sun was directly overhead. He had been walking for about six-hours, he decided to take a break. After drinking water from a skin he turned around to look back on the route from which he came from and realized he could barely identify the outskirts of the castle.

  He had never ventured out of the kingdom on his own before and he thought that only yesterday the distance he covered today was inconceivable for him to do. This caused him to feel both excited and eager as he swung his sack over his shoulder and marched onwards.

  As he continued down the road he caught himself smiling for he was on an adventure, the first he ever had. He cast aside his title and was now facing life simply as himself.

  He would become the magician which he felt was his calling. How this was going to happen he did not know but he did not care. He had taken the first bold step out into the world and this thrilled him.

  All his life other people told him what to do, where to go, what to say and how to behave. His days were calendared such that he knew what he is going to do for the next three moons.

  However, all that changed today. From now on there are no longer any schedules for him to follow, no more days that he knew how would they would end, no more politely being told where to go. For the first time in his life he was truly free and there was joy in his heart as he thought of the only thing he knew for sure was that ahead, he faced uncertainty.

  Perhaps it would have been helpful if he had been mindful of what he left behind.

  Chapter 5 Mud

  The following day their first encounter was, shall we say, less than ideal.

  She was riding her horse full gallop across the countryside.

  He was still strolling lazily lost in his thoughts.

  She spotted him from afar and thought. That person will eventually stand aside.

  He was strolling lazily lost in his thoughts.

  Fast approaching she realized he was in the middle of the road and her horse had no room to maneuver around.

  He was strolling lazily lo
st in his thoughts.

  Quite irritably she jerked the reins causing her white and deep brown Bashkir stallion to rise as it halted instantaneously letting out a loud neigh.

  By the time the mare had settled Emilia surveyed the road and was surprised to note that there was no one in front or behind them. She simultaneously felt relieved and anxious.

  Relieved because she had not trampled the person on foot and anxious from wondering where he went. Then she heard movement from the roadside ditch and noticed a head rise after which two eyes looked up at her.

  He was wallowing in the mud.

  Emilia could not contain herself as she glanced at this person who in a matter of seconds caused her to feel sheer anger, absolute fright, and now comic delight.

  Upon staring up from the muck Marcus saw the horses’ rider was a young, pretty, tanned brunette with chinky eyes, nice smiling red lips, athletic build but he did not care as he yelled:

  “You crazy wench! You could have killed me!”

  After standing up from the ditch he once again focused his attention on the rider who, he realized, was no longer smiling but was laughing at him.

  “Oh my dear little man, if I wanted to kill you, you would not have even heard me coming,” she said as she dismounted her steed in stitches.

  “I am Emilia from Preytor, I sighted you long before your ears could hear our approach. I would have simply passed you but you seemed insistent on walking in the middle of the road so I decided to demonstrate to you the folly of your choice.”

  She had started to reach out her right hand to Marcus then upon fully assessing his state, subtly withdrew to clasp her left wrist instead.

  Preyton, thought Marcus, one of the northernmost kingdoms of the Draccon Empire.

  A hundred leagues or so away from the border of the Kurtushian Empire and although the two domains are not at odds, there have been little trade between them.

  She was far from home and judging from her light armor and sword, she was some sort of warrior. Yes they allow that sort of thing in the Draccon Empire considered Marcus, although he doubted how truly viable women warriors were, probably more of a nuisance in his opinion.

  “Well, I am Pri…Marcus from the kingdom of Aelon.” He was not trying to be deceitful he just felt that mentioning his title at this moment, looking the way he did, would just cause Emilia to laugh even harder at him.

  “Marcus…Aelon…Oh, the arid kingdom which mostly stores and sells nut products.”

  Marcus felt a bit slighted for he had never heard anyone deride his kingdom directly in his presence.

  “So, Marcus from Aelon how is it that I find you wandering along the road on this particular occasion?”

  Mustering whatever dignity he could assert that moment, he replied, “I am on a quest to fulfil my destiny.”

  In amusement Emilia replied, “And what destiny is that?”

  “To be a magician,” answered Marcus with conviction.

  “You must be a late bloomer then, one’s destiny is usually decided in youth,” said Emilia with a hint of sarcasm.

  Marcus wanted to retort that destiny had decided. He was tempted to tell her that she was actually in the presence of the heir-apparent to the nut-producing kingdom. But not quite sure why, he instead answered:

  “Can not one take hold of one’s destiny? Is it so unfathomable to challenge the fates and set the course of one’s life?”

  To his astonishment Emilia turned serious. She glanced at him in re-assessment. Her eyes belied her thoughts as they seemed to suggest her ponder. There is more to this little man than he appears.

  “So, Marcus of Aelon, you are actually off to shape your destiny. Is that what you are saying?”

  Feeling encouraged he answered, “Yes. I have come to realize that there is more to life than merely following the obvious path and that which I seek cannot be had within the confines of Aelon.”

  “Thus, you decided to turn your back on all that you knew and make a trail for…where are you off to, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  The question deflated his fragile pride. He thought that if he could turn time back he would return to the moments before he lifted his head from the mud and instead stay hidden until he heard the horse trot away. But he could not, and an answer had to be forthcoming.

  At that he sheepishly blurted out “I do not know.”

  And instantly felt stupid, for what kind of moron gets up one morning, packs some necessities to march out into the wilderness without even a clear idea where to go. He was waiting to be laughed at and ridiculed once again, but to his surprise Emilia said:

  “Well, until you do, you might want to join me. I know what it is like to be on a quest which entails shaping one’s destiny, and should it truly be yours to become a magician perhaps I can help you become one.”

  In a tone which reflected his self-doubt Marcus replied, “You think you could?”

  “Being a sorceress, I think I can,” said Emilia who was under the impression that Marcus was questioning her capabilities.

  “No, it is not that I have misgiving about your abilities…”

  “No need to discuss it any further. But first go to the river and wash-off.” said Emilia as she mounts her steed and continued, “Titan will not appreciate you trekking mud.”

  “Titan is your husband?”

  “My horse,” replied Emilia dryly followed by a grunt from Titan. “There is a stream down there.”

  As Marcus turned to head down the river he muttered to himself, “Of course it’s the horse.”

  Chapter 6 Journeying

  The rest of the day was spent walking and riding together. On horseback the trip would have been faster but though all concerned to they at ease going at it on foot mainly because it was uncomfortable for the three of them to ride.

  Marcus was not used to riding behind someone, especially a woman. Emilia was uneasy having a stranger, regardless of how funny he was at her back. And Titan just didn’t like Marcus.

  They engaged in polite conversation which revolved around destiny and magic as Titan followed a few steps behind bearing Marcus’ sack and Emilia’s satchels attached to his saddle.

  In their conversation as Marcus was careful to steer the subject of their discussion nowhere near Aelon and his life there while Emilia was wary that their exchange might find its way to talking about the glorified nut depot from which Marcus came from.

  “Preytor is a long way from here, how is it that you find yourself in these parts?”

  “Oh…such is the life of a sorceress, never in one place for very long.”

  “Did you always know you were destined to be a sorceress?”

  “Not initially, no. I trained as a warrior until I was twenty and became part of the reserve forces. Then one day a sorcerer who had been in the citadel for about a week visited our barracks.

  “At first I assumed he was just milling about, but he looked like he was searching for something. It turned out to be someone. Because when he saw me from a distance he walked purposefully towards me stopped a few feet away, smiled and asked me, ‘Is where you are and what you are doing all that you have hoped for?’ I instinctively answered, ‘Yes of course’.

  “At that he gave a slight nod and shut his eyes. But when he opened them he looked straight into mine and I felt odd.

  “It was as if I became aware of something that had always been there that I had not taken the time or trouble to acknowledge. He then smiled and said he would be in town a few more weeks. Then he turned around and left.”

  “That seemed so…”

  “Strange? Yes I must admit. Stranger still was that in such a short interval of time my immediate ‘yes’ slowly evolved into a no.”

  “So soldiering was not all that you had hoped for?”

  “Well…it had fulfilled its part. I wanted respect and adoration, I received it from my family and peers. I did not want to end up as one of those maidens who kept and cleaned the family abode while waiting to
be wed to eventually keep house with the additional burden of a husband – my chosen career had spared me from that too. But in all honesty, I could not say that that was all I wanted or hoped for in my life.”

  Marcus could very well relate to those sentiments as he added,

  “You were not meant to be a soldier you think?”

  “Not entirely, I think I was meant to be trained. Otherwise I would not have the strength, stamina or disposition to venture forth from Preytor. The training was destined but not the career.”

  “Destiny can be such a strange business. What happened after?”

  “Since I was just part of his majesty’s reserves, I had some time to see the visiting magician, Watoo was his name.

  “I found the tavern where he was staying and asked to speak to him. I wanted to discuss what he meant by his question ‘was this all I had hoped for.’ Again he smiled and replied ‘exactly what you think’ – which quite irritated me back then.

  “I thought, what sort of person answered a question by prodding the one who asked it for the solution. Then Watoo took a deep breath and simply replied, ‘You sought me out, so perhaps you are not as content as you thought you were.’”

  “I see. So was it then that you decided to leave Preytor and begin a new life as his apprentice?”

  “No. I thought he was an arrogant old man and had he been a quarter of the age he was I would have challenged him to a duel. Instead I turned my back on him and marched out of there.”

  “So you had not come to terms with your destiny?”

  “Marcus, don’t be daft! I was one of a handful of female warriors, a great achievement and honor in my realm. I trained for that since my youth and in time I would have been given a regiment to command. You don’t simply throw all that away.”

  “No I guess not. So what happened after that?”

  “I went about my normal duties for awhile but it just was not the same. It was as if after being made aware of something, I was trying to ignore my new found wisdom. Do you know what that is like?”