The Unexpected Prince

by Teresa Grant

  Before that, it was fun to try to make Branadon do things. One time he replaced Branadon’s pipe with a stick in mid suction and Branadon thought he was losing his mind, again. He felt guilty and never really enjoyed the tricks after that. He felt like he was betraying him. Then after the frog incident, he never messed with Branadon again, ever! It was too risky.

  That didn’t stop him from experimenting on plants and rocks and trees and anything else he thought could not be hurt by his meddling. He was getting the hang of things too. He wondered if anyone else in his family had this gift. He didn’t think Branadon did, nor the people that he met at the castle, or they wouldn’t have allowed him to encourage them to ignore him so easily. That was before the frog incident as well.

  Now with the prospect of battle at the mountain, Branadon didn’t need any extra prodding. For as much as he protested, he was already starting to eagerly pack.

  Nat ran to call in Hektor and Hannibal and started to saddle them before he was told. A tiny bit of guilt swept up when he looked around and saw that all of Noni’s repairs were not completed yet, but it was only for a moment, and with a promise to the air, he swore he’d return and finish the job someday.

  By noon they were on their way. As the Dwarves traded insults all day, Nathanial contemplated his short life.

  It seems that each of us has their own special gifts, he thought. Granted mine seems to be a little outstanding, but maybe that’s how everyone else feels about their own gifts. Maybe our abilities are only limited by our own expectations? Maybe, Branadon, Faradon and Borris just don’t have very high expectations for themselves, or else maybe their gifts lie hidden until called upon? Now, if my own limitations are bound only by my imagination, what else might I be able to do? mused Nat, swaying along in his saddle.

  For the rest of the day Nathanial amused himself by hanging way back in the rear of the party. He was changing the colors of trees back and forth, growing small stones in the road into large boulders, and experimenting with his gift more and more, always being very careful not to be noticed. With each task he set himself, he could feel the gift getting stronger. It seemed to feed off itself, building and building until Nat felt he could accomplish anything. After four days on the trail, and keeping his practicing to himself, Nat felt that if he shared his gift with his friends, maybe they might share what theirs were with him.

  That night when they were making camp, Nat decided it was time. Borris was about to light the campfire and start their dinner of three small rabbits cooking, when he leapt back with a shriek as the fire roared into life before he even finished lighting the kindling.

  “Sorry Mr. Borris, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I was just trying to help,” Nathaniel explained, while he handed Borris his tinder box that had gone flying when he jumped.

  “What do ya mean you were trying to help?” Borris hollered.

  Butting into the conversation from behind, Faradon stormed up asking, “How’d you do that boy? That Witch teach you to do that?”

  “No, I taught myself. I can do lots of things… Can’t you?” he asked puzzled.

  “Course not!” Borris answered curtly, “What are you, some kind of Sorcerer or something?”

  “What’s a Sorcerer?” Nathanial wanted to know.

  Seeing Branadon coming over to see what the commotion was all about, he asked, “Branadon, surely you have a special gift, don’t you?”

  “The only special gift I got, boy, is I can out holler anyone. How come you never told me you could do this before? What else can you do?” he demanded.

  “Well… stuff like this,” Nat confessed. All around them things started to change. The trees they’d camped beside uprooted and walked ten paces back, the fire turned blue, the grass grew to waste length, and just to show off a smidgeon, Nat made a horsefly grow to the size of a loaf of bread. That one the Dwarfs quickly squashed with a rock before it could fly away.

  “Stop it!” Branadon yelled. “Put it all back!”

  Instantly everything was as before.

  Branadon put his hands to his head and dropped to his behind with an "Oomph." “Boy… we been together for weeks now. How come you never showed me this before?” He turned an accusing look towards Nathanial.

  “I didn’t think it was that important. Is this bad? I’m sorry… I won’t do it anymore,” Nathan assured him anxiously, becoming upset that he had shook the Dwarf so much.

  “Are you a Dark Wizard, boy?” Borris demanded turning to Branadon, “This is wrong Bran. I’ll have no part in this,” he said vehemently, shaking his head.

  “It’s not bad!” Branadon assured Nat, trying to get control of the situation. “It’s just different! Takes more getting used to, like that Dragon thing at the castle. He… they, seemed like a good pair, just took some getting used to is all. Now, everybody calm the hell down, and let’s start at the beginning. What the hell happened around here while I was ‘away’ anyway?”

  Faradon and Borris were still standing there with their chins wagging in their beards, first Branadon and now this? A real live Wizard in their midst. What next?

  Nathan started to explain, “Well, when I was born a few weeks ago…”

  “Stop… no. Go on… I want to hear everything,” Branadon insisted.

  “Well, I don’t remember my hatching, but Noni told me all about it,” Nat started again.

  “Stop… I thought Elise was your mother? Never mind, keep going,” Branadon insisted resignedly.

  “Well, I was brought to Noni Molly’s by my Dragon mother, and she helped her break me out. My other mother Elise, doesn’t know I’m alive yet, so Mother Silina went to tell her, but she never came back. I really don’t know that much about myself, but I’m learning as quickly as I can, I promise,” Nat assured him solemnly.

  “Who are you and who is your master?” Faradon broke in suspiciously.

  “We’ll not be traveling with no Dark Wizards,” Borris insisted again, still in shock.

  “Don’t be using that tone a voice with the boy, cousin, he’s still my charge, and I’ll do the questioning,’” Branadon growled.

  “It’s all right Branadon,” Nat assured him. “I just told you who I was, and the only master I have is you. I’m not a Dark Wizard, whatever that is, but by the sounds of it, it doesn’t sound nice to me. I can just do things. Like when I reached this age. It felt right so I stopped growing. Would you like me to go back a few years, or maybe get older so I might be smarter?” he asked sincerely.

  “No! You stay just like you are, ya hear me? No more changes. As for all this other stuff, I need to think on it awhile. I’m not sending you away,” he said pacing, but stopped in front of Nat to add. “I just need a little space to think a bit. Why don’t you take the horses over by the stream and make them comfortable for the night? We’ll get dinner going here, and I’ll come get you in a while,” Branadon assured him, as he tried to hold on to a shred of reality, and keep his cousins from harming the boy out of fear.

  He needed to keep everyone apart while they all cooled down. Even though Branadon tried not to make it sound like it was a punishment, Nat hung his head and shuffled off as though he had been sent to the whipping shed.

  As soon as Nat left, both Branadon’s cousins started in on him.

  “Send him back!” Faradon wanted.

  “Maybe we should tie him up,” Borris suggested, reaching for some rope, “Just to be safe.”

  “Stop it! You idjets! Bring that rope near the boy and cousins or no, I’ll hang ya with it. I said I need to think and that’s what I’m going to do! If you can’t keep quiet, I’ll tie your beards in a knot and throw you over a horse. Now give me some time,” he snarled.

  Knowing now was not the time to argue, Faradon and Borris left Branadon to his thoughts. They busied themselves with the meal and setting up camp for the night. Each lost in his own private thoughts.

  Meanwhile, Nathanial unsaddled and hobbled the horses. Then he checked their hooves for any w
edged in stones, gave each one some oats, and rubbed them down. Picking up some pebbles from the creek bed, he absentmindedly turned them into apples. One by one he fed them to the greedy horses that kept nudging at his shoulder.

  “At least you guys appreciate my gift,” he muttered. “I thought they’d all think it was great! Think of all the stuff I could do for them. I didn’t know I was the only one who could do it. The more things I think of, the more I’m able to do. Why do everything the hard way? In fact… the more I think about the whole thing, so what if they don’t like it? I can do whatever I like!”

  As Hektor came over for more treats, Nat had worked himself into a fury. “Just how do they think they’re going to stop me anyway…” he asked the horse.

  That hit home. Nat realized what he had just said. “Now I get it! They’re scared of me!” he cried to the horses. “Hektor, if I were a mean person, just think what horrible things I could do. My gosh, what if I get really mad at someone and hurt them without even wanting to?”

  That thought scared Nat. In fact, this was the first thing in his short life that did scare him, and it scared him bad. Forgetting his promise to stay with the horses until he was summoned, Nathanial ran back to camp to find Branadon.

  “Branadon, Branadon!” Nat ran in yelling. “You’ve got to help me! I don’t want to become a Dark Wizard! I don’t want to hurt anyone! I’ll never do it again! I’m so sorry!”

  As Nathan ranted, years seemed to melt away and once again Branadon found himself staring at an eight-year-old boy, just like the one he had run into weeks ago when they first met, only this little boy was hot. He radiated heat like a furnace and the grass around him started to wither and turn brown.

  Branadon didn’t know if something was backfiring magically, or what was happening to the boy, but he had become attached to the lad, and he had to do something. “Calm yourself now Nat, before you wind up needing a bottle and a change!”

  Branadon shot the other two Dwarfs a glare as he saw them backing away from Nat and making the evil eye sign at him. This only made Nat wail all the more. Before things could get completely out of hand, he grabbed the boy by the shoulders and gave him a good hard shake, hollering, “Get hold of yourself, Nathanial!”

  When that didn’t work, he grabbed the boy to him in a fierce hug and told him gruffly, “It’s Okay Nattie, I’m here, I’ll help you! It will be okay son. We’ll work it all out!”

  Nat was the closest thing Branadon had ever had to a son. And the way things looked now, it was as close as he’d ever get.

  Nat was trying valiantly to get a hold of himself. He cooled off immediately, but tears still ran unchecked down his grimy cheeks. He blew his nose loudly into his sleeve and realized his clothes were miles too large for him. Looking shamefaced at Branadon, and apologetically at the other two Dwarfs for scaring them further, he closed his eyes, took a deep ragged breath and concentrated. Within minutes he was back to his old self, or new self, of about sixteen.

  “I’m so sorry Sir. I’d never thought of my gift as a bad thing before, because I can do so many good things!”

  Still staring at him closely as though expecting the boy to change again before his eyes, Branadon asked him, “Just what age should you really be, boy?”

  “Ya, and are you even certain ya are a boy?” Borris broke in rudely.

  Both of them looked aghast at that.

  “Course I’m a boy!” he shouted at Borris. “It wouldn’t feel right any other way.”

  Turning back to Branadon, Nat replied, “I don’t know how old I’m supposed to be, but this age feels good.”

  Screwing up his face as though just speaking the question was distasteful, Branadon asked, “But, when were you, um, ‘hatched’, Nat?” he choked. “How long ago was it?”

  “Oh that, I think it was about ten or twelve days before you appeared. Is that wrong?”

  “Not at all Natty… not at all,” Branadon sighed.

  The Dwarf finally convinced his cousins that Nathanial was harmless…he hoped. Granted, he did have to threaten bodily harm to anyone who mentioned ‘Dark Wizards’ again.

  The next morning, Branadon rode beside Nat all morning. He could tell the boy had a lot on his mind but did not know how to break the ice. He felt as though the longer he could hold off talking about it, the longer he could put off dealing with it. He didn’t have any answers for the boy. If Nat didn’t know anything about himself, what else could Branadon tell him. It was almost worth dredging up that old Wog again… almost. He could just imagine how helpful she would be.

  “Branadon?” Nat broke into his pondering.

  Dreading what was coming, Branadon was relieved to hear the actual question Nat started out with. “You named me for my Grandmother Natalia, right? What was she like? I remember you saying she had the spirit of a warrior. Were you two close?”

  “I was her Champion, and helped command Arilonia’s armies,” Branadon answered gruffly. To him her death was still raw; he had never had time to grieve.

  “You must have loved her very much,” Nat mused aloud.

  After a long heavy silence, he finally admitted, “Very much. She was a very strong woman. I was relieved when you told me that her daughter didn’t abandon you. It would have meant she’d taken after that wretch of a father instead of her mother. I’d dearly love to know more about how she turned out.”

  Trying to cheer up Branadon’s melancholy, Nat asked a new question, “You knew my Grandfather too? What was he like? Why didn’t you like him?”

  “The less said about that one, the better, Nat my boy. He was never good enough for your Grandmother, rest her soul. She passed on giving birth you know. Anyways, that spineless fool abandoned the baby, uh, your mother, the night she was born. I hope he never darkened her doorstep again after that. His only claim to fame was that he was a descendant of Rhom the Conqueror. I guess that means you are too.” Branadon muttered. “Yes, Nat, there’s quite a few things I think I’d like to know about too, if ever I get the chance.”

  “Why do you only have a year? What happens then? Couldn’t you and Noni, I mean Mollywog,” he corrected himself, “kind of share?” Nat wanted to sound mature and tried exchanging the childish term he’d always called her. Quickly he looked at Branadon, half expecting the old woman to appear and reprimand him for it.

  “Share?… I don’t think so! I don’t know what will happen in the end either,” Branadon admitted. “But I’d best make the most out of what I’ve got, eh? As for the year, that was part of the bargain I made for the babe’s, your mother’s life, the night she was born. Funny, to me it was only a month or so ago, yet time must be catching up with me, because it’s starting to feel like a lifetime.” Giving himself a shake, he looked at Nat and winked, “Don’t worry yourself boy. All our days are numbered, I just happen to know what my number is. It’ll be fine.”

  Trying to lighten the conversation, Branadon began again, “You want to hear about your Grandmother, do you? Well, she and I had some real adventures,” he started. “Just bringing her back to the castle was the worst time though…” Deciding this topic would always end in sadness, Branadon wanted to move on, “I don’t think I’m ready to rehash that one just yet. Another day, Nat. Let’s catch up with those two stony old goats and see if we can hunt us up something special for diner.”

  Up ahead, Faradon and Borris had been discussing the boy and Branadon, and all that had happened since leaving the mountain.

  “It’s bloody spooky if you ask me?” Borris stated yet again.

  “Well, I didn’t, so shut yer yap about it already. We’ve got a bloody spirit for a cousin, why not a bloody Wizard for a companion. If Bran thinks the boy won’t be a problem, then that’s good enough for me,” Faradon answered faithfully, as the other two caught up with them.

  Borris sighed resignedly and accepted the fact that the boy was all right, he then turned his mind to the advantages that such a friend as he, might provide.

  Chapter 19 />
  It had been days since the demons fled Neglavale.

  A meeting with Rylan, Darion, Drake, Luther, Duncan, Mickael, Dryfus and as best as she could, Elise, was being held early in the council room, but talk kept going in circles as always.

  Each time Silina’s name was brought up, any reference to the egg was carefully avoided. It was almost as if they felt, that if no one brought it up, the baby would still be alright.

  Darion was relaying messages all morning from Elise, and his head was beginning to hurt. He wanted action more than anyone but did not know where to begin.

  “Darion, we have to hurry,” Elise insisted in his mind. “I have a very bad feeling,”

  “Can you speak to Silina? Do you know where she is?” Darion asked excitedly, thinking she might have broken through.

  With a sigh, Elise confided in him, “No Darion, I’ve told you, since our little union, I haven’t been telepathic to anyone. Let’s just call this ‘Women’s Intuition’. Tell Rylan that we should go on ahead with the Dragons to scout, and Luther can bring up the rear with his men once we have a heading. We have to start somewhere.”

  Darion relayed this to the rest. As they discussed it, a commotion was heard from out in the hall. To everyone’s surprise, Lady Kathrin was ushered in, and none to gently, by the castle guards.

  “I know who attacked you and where they’re hiding. I will tell you for a price,” Kathrin offered silkily, eyeing Rylan with a wonton look. “I’m only asking for my due. We never did discus any divorce settlement you know my love.” Kathrin’s composure dropped only slightly when Drake shifted positions, bringing him closer to where she stood. But you had to hand it to her, she didn’t give up easily. “I will only talk to you, Rylan.”

  Darion could feel the turmoil going on inside his head. He tried without success to block Elise’s worries about not being a real woman. She was struggling with the thought of Rylan eventually wanting something more tangible, if it were offered to him by Kathrin? Kathrin insisted on speaking with Rylan alone, and this brought on a flood of self-doubt and jealousy that made Darion’s head spin. But, no matter how much this infuriated Elise, she would not allow Darion to pass on her torment to Rylan.