A Prince of Aelon Read online

  Followed by the thought that perhaps, he was just not appreciating what he had right now.

  He then decided to brush away all these notions of the future, as well as of ruling out of his mind and to focus on more pleasant pursuits. After the next moon the cold spell was due to break as the seasons change and soon after theater players were arriving to stage a performance which he was sure would entertain him.

  The thespians will perform The Fable of Squire Temperton a play he had enjoyed in his youth and had not seen in years. The story tells about a talented but fiery and misdirected youth who was helped to find his way by Ysmulk, a minor magician who may have been better-off as a jester.

  With thoughts of the future out of the way Marcus walked down the hall looking forward to the changing of the seasons as well as the theatrical performance that was to come.

  Chapter 3 A Play

  Six weeks later the curtain rose to The Fable of Squire Temperton, a play performed about ten years before.

  The story was about a young lad named Temperton who was no more than 16, of medium stature with chiselled good looks, brown hair and strapping tanned physique which came about from constant exposure to the elements. Temperton was a street-wise orphan who learned early in life the primary rule that there is strength in numbers and he was joined on stage by his friends Ciro, Olram, and Skiffe.

  Behind the four friends a street scene was revealed, a crowd enters, the four characters of note then went about their business of picking the pockets of pedestrians in the throng and lifting items off carts and boxes.

  After a while sentries entered and were taking an interest in their activities. This prompted Ciro, the eldest at 18 and the most cunning to speak to his friends.

  “The marshals have become wise of us. Let us try our hand at rabble-rousing in the countryside where we are not known nor recognized until such time as they lose interest and forget our group.”

  The others agree but not before Temperton un-accidentally bumps into an elderly man and relieved him of his side purse.

  “Old fool should be more careful walking these streets, there are treacherous people about,” said Temperton as he gleefully opened the satchel and found an intricate gold ring inside.

  The following scene finds the four friends tending livestock in the countryside. Somehow the herd they watched over grew while almost simultaneously the flock from another herd nearby would diminish.

  This resulted in confrontations with other shepherds which were almost always followed by a fistfight. Being used to the ways in town they knew it was all a matter of tenacity and persistence. Thus, if they sensed a fight they always made the first move and regardless of how much bigger or the number of their foes, they would not back down for they knew eventually that these farm people would relent.

  At the end of the day the friends take shelter in an abandoned hut not too far out of town. Their conversations usually revolved around the same subject.

  “Someday my brothers we shall be back in town and eventually roam within the castle walls of Enthal once again,” Said Ciro

  “Why go back?” asked Skiffe.

  “Indeed Ciro, why return? We are like kings out here,” chimed Olram.

  “Kings of what?” began Temperton, “Only shepherds fear us and that is temporary. In time they will be wise to our rouse.”

  “Then we shall fight them as we always have and see them run like squirrels,” laughed Skiffe.

  “Even so,” continued Temperton, “are you not tired of the way we live, if we can even call it that. We slave in the heat and the rain, sometimes we sleep sometimes we don’t for months on end. Then we earn a little, sell a sheep or two, sneak into town for a weekend of fun and frolic then run back here before we attract attention.”

  “On that note, when we are in town, where do you head off to Termperton? A secret rendezvous with a lady perhaps? Not that it’s any of my business,” Skiffe smiled.

  “You are right Skiffe. It is none of your business,” retorted Temperton.

  To calm the moment Ciro interjected, “We all once in a while go about our own business in town. Is that not right Olram? You too ey Skiffe?”

  The two nodded as Ciro continued, “But indeed, this is not living.”

  “What if this is all there is for us?” said Olram.

  “This cannot be all there is, I refuse for it to be all there is.” replied Temperton.

  “We have some money to spare. Tomorrow what say you to a bit o’ fun in town?” proposed Ciro, and the others let out a unanimous cheer of approval.

  The next day the friends are once again walking the streets of Enthal wearing hats and robes and mingling with the people so as to not attract attention. Then they huddled together.

  “Our usual meeting place near the main gates before sundown,” whispered Ciro.

  “And no one dare remove your disguises for we’ve all pilfered from every shop in town,” he added, to which the four of them snickered.

  With that the friends disbanded and went on their separate ways.

  Temperton, wearing an old brown robe and a farmers’ hat, moved cautiously through the crowd but as he approached a shop he removed his hat and robe then slipped on a ring.

  Upon entering the shop a short, old, and balding man who stood behind a counter greeted him with a smile.

  “Ah, Sir Ramsdale! You must have been engrossed with matters of state. I have not seen you for a full moon. I was starting to get concerned.”

  “About the welfare of your book Sir Flamound?” replied Temperton with a smile as he drew out a small brown leather-bound book.

  “Oh no, of course not, however, I know that your wellbeing is my book’s wellbeing. So I am pleased to see that you are both in good order,” smiled Mr. Flamound.

  “Have you any new acquisitions to let?” asked Temperton.

  “Yes, from the land of Britannia, penned by a young, new and up-coming writer I hear. A William something or other, but I can only let it out for two weeks and unfortunately for a higher sum than usual. But you understand the value of rarity and the premium attached to it,” said Flamound deferring to the ring Temperton wore.

  “Indeed I do sir,” replied Temperton with an uncomfortable smile. “Do you mind if I review it for a while.”

  “But of course, sit yourself down and take all the time you need,” said Flamound as he gestured to a chair facing the store window.

  Temperton had been so engrossed with the book that he did not realize that the sunlight that illuminated his reading also cast its beam upon the ring causing it to sparkle. A shadow then came up beside Temperton. He looked up to see who had blocked his light and as he did he was shocked to see two sentries staring down at him.

  “Is that your ring?”

  “Of course it is,” replied Temperton angrily.

  “Then you are a member of the sorcerers’ guild?”

  “The wha…yes I am.”

  “If that is the case I am sure you would not mind demonstrating a bit of magic would you sir?” said one of the sentries with contempt.

  “Certainly,” said Temperton with a smile. “Please stand back, I will need a bit of room for this is a disappearing trick.”

  As the sentries stood back Temperton jumped through the window and left the sentries scampering. But as he ran through the street a stool seemed to have appeared out of nowhere tripping him up causing him to fall flat on his face allowing the sentries to catch up and apprehend him.

  As Temperton was about to be dragged away a voice spoke from behind them,

  “Gentlemen, I thank you for assisting my apprentice.”

  Temperton looked behind and saw that it was the old man whom not too long ago he lifted the satchel which contained the ring.

  “He is your apprentice, Wizard Ysmulk?”

  “Yes indeed, he just recently joined us and I’m afraid being cooped up within the castle tower where I work does not suit him. He has yet to get over his penchant for running off fancy free
.”

  At that point the guards loosened their hold as Ysmulk eyed Temperton then, in half-jest, says to the sentries,

  “Remember his face gentlemen, you might see him wandering about again wearing my ring,” said Ysmulk as he removed the ring from Tempertons’ finger. “He does see himself a magician already.”

  “Yes, we wondered about that when we recognized the Wizards Guild Crest.” said one of the guards.

  “You should not borrow other peoples’ property without their permission,” said the other as they let go of Temperton and walked away.

  Temperton looked at Ysmulk and said, “Well, you got your property back, I’ll be off then.”

  “Not so fast young man.”

  Temperton froze in his tracks.

  “I do not fancy myself a liar and you shall not make me one.”

  “What do you mean?” answered Temperton in annoyance.

  “I called you my apprentice for that is what you are now.”

  “What?! What’s this about then? Punishment for taking your ring? You have it back, no harm done. I’m leaving.”

  “Those officers know your face. Walk away from me and you shall never enter Enthal again.”

  “You mean if I don’t do as you say, you will report me to the guards? That’s not fair! Listen old man, neither you nor anybody can make me do what I don’t choose!”

  “You are right on all three counts; yes, if you are not to be my apprentice, I shall inform the marshal’s office. Indeed life is not fair. You probably learned that from first-hand experience. And lastly, neither I nor anyone can make you do anything you do not choose to do. I am merely showing you the possible consequences so you can now decide more clearly.”

  Temperton stood there dumbfounded as Ysmulk continued to speak.

  “If that is all you have to say then, follow me,” Ysmulk turned his back and walked down the street. Temperton followed.

  “Are you really a wizard?” asked Temperton.

  “Yes of course. Although I must admit I am not a good one. For example, I just meant to have you stop at your tracks and that stool flew out from nowhere and tripped your feet. It could have been worse though, what if it bashed your head.”

  “You did that? Will you teach me how?”

  “Yes and no. Though I can make you aware, I cannot teach you how since I myself am not totally sure how the magic occurs or if you are truly destined for it. You see my relationship with the fates is more a matter of awareness rather than practice.”

  “The fates?”

  “Yes, for example, how you came to be in possession of my ring.”

  “I stole your purse.”

  “True, but for the past moons I had been carrying my ring in that satchel. The inspiration had been that the one who would come to possess the ring shall be my next apprentice. Little did I know that it would be lifted from my person.”

  “How did you know you would get it back?”

  “I did not. I was walking about minding my own business when I heard the commotion from the bookshop as you broke out and started running. I noticed my ring on your finger and that was that.”

  “So it was all luck?”

  “Destiny. You will be amazed how magical things appear when you are open to destiny of fate. Tell me boy, do you have any high ambitions, grand plans or dreams for your life?” asked Ysmulk

  “None. And why do you ask?”

  “I was just wondering: Why learn to read if thou hath no further ambitions, plans or dreams.”

  “Perhaps during my youth, just like others I did have ambition. I recall watching the parades of foreign dignitaries being greeted upon their entry to Enthal, I found out that they were emissaries and as such, they were accorded respect when they ventured to other lands. But that is a childish matter since I was not born into privilege so as to allow myself the luxury to contemplate such silly things.”

  “Yet in spite of which you still taught yourself to read, driven perhaps by your childhood desire to become something more than who you are,” said Ysmulk softly.

  At those words, Prince Marcus suddenly became aware of himself. It was as if Ysmulk had thrown the question at him and he was struggling to come up with an answer. No, a justification. For just as he was beginning to come to terms with his role, it felt as though the actor knew his hidden struggle and brought it out in public.

  Marcus was only half focused on the performance from then on. The other half of him was in deep self-deliberation. He was the heir-apparent, eventually he would be king. What more is there? Still, he was restless. Becoming king may be all there is for most. But could it be, odd as it may seem, not for him?

  The play was now where Ysmulk met the king of Enthal who gave him a mission, to strike an accord with the Northern tribes and pacify a moody Chieftain whose actions influenced the course that the neighbouring tribes took.

  Accompanied by Temperton, the magician tried a conjuring spell which backfired and resulted in a small discharge that surprised more than burned the Chieftain. The tribe was shocked, and as Ysmulk was about to be seized by the soldiers of the irate tribal leader, Temperton took centerstage, bowed low, respectfully addressed the infuriated chief and spoke,

  “Thy self-confidence is admirable, oh mighty Chief.”

  “What do you mean? What are you saying?”

  “It takes the most self-assured of rulers to have the confidence and luxury of not taking matters so seriously so as to be able to rise above events and even laugh at themselves.”

  Silence befell all. Then, the chief grinned. Followed by a chuckle, then laughter, and before long the whole tribe was roaring in amusement.

  Only at this point did Temperton dare to take a peek and as he looked towards Ysmulk. He was surprised to find that the magician was already looking his way with a knowing smile on his face.

  Temperton cautiously stood up, went to Ysmulk and said,

  “Did you do this deliberately?”

  Ysmulk beamed at him and replied, “The fates dear boy.”

  Word of Tempertons’ quick thinking reached the king of Enthal along with the insistence of the Chieftain that Temperton be made emissary to the Northern tribes. This behest was swiftly granted.

  Soon after Tempertons’ inauguration as Emissary to the Northern tribes, Ysmulk was assigned by the Wizards Guild to another realm to assume more sedate duties.

  At their parting, Temperton asked Ysmulk, “Honestly, are you really a magician?”

  “My friend, do you still doubt?”

  “It is just that…real magic conjures up amazing things. You just seem to muddle along, no offense.”

  “None taken. But if you will note, my muddling along turned out to be the first step to creating an emissary,” replied Ysmulk with a wink.

  “It is not the same. That was more luck and circumstance rather than magic. What I mean is that real magic is an inherent power in the magician.”

  “Is that not what happens when one prompts circumstances? Even though it did not happen as you would wish or have come to expect, could that not be magic as well? My dear boy, I am but a vessel of the fates. Most of the time I haven’t the slightest idea as to what shall happen but I have come to believe that what happens was meant to be.

  “In which case, anyone who allows himself to be open and used by the fates could be said to have worked magic. And you must admit the result certainly has more value than tricksters who make animals and things appear from out under sleeves.”

  “But if that were the case, then anyone could call themselves magicians.”

  “And why not, making a difference in another’s life is quite a feat, wouldn’t you say?”

  “A difference in other’s lives?! That is utter foolishness, it is not how the world works.”

  “Just because it does not, does that make it wrong?”

  “Oh my friend, I do admire your naïveté and childlike ways. I suppose the fact that we became friends is magic enough. Good luck on your new post.”
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  “And you in yours, Emissary.”

  With that Ysmulk took a few steps forward, turned to face Temperton who asked curiously,

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fair thee well, my friend,” replied Ysmulk with a broad smile.

  A cloud of smoke followed the wave of Ysmulks hand which engulfed him. This caused Temperton to smile and laugh as he expectantly waited to see his bumbling old friend after the smoke cleared.

  As the mist started to clear, he clapped his hands at Ysmulks’ new joke but when all the smoke finally dissipated Ysmulk was nowhere to be seen.

  There was thunderous applause as the curtain rose for the actors to take their individual bows.

  As Marcus applauded, he found himself admiring the bumbling old Ysmulk. True, his powers were dubious, but you could not help but appreciate his wit. Was it Ysmulks magic or his power of persuasion that allowed Squire Temperton to rise up to become more than who he was?

  Funny, Marcus always related himself to Squire Temperton and how he would someday become more than who he is at present but for the first time he found himself paying notice to Ysmulk.

  Then from the back of his mind a thought overcame him which made him whisper,

  ‘That could have been me.’

  Feelings of gloom and melancholy began to form within Marcus for what he was starting to believe was a missed opportunity. Then, the sadness beginning to shroud him was quickly washed away by the realization that it is not yet too late, that he could still chase this new found vision of his.

  After the play, Marcus hurriedly raced to his chambers as if trying to catch up to his thoughts which ran fast in front of him.

  He had to become a magician! Never mind if he had not been trained in that craft, after all if Ysmulk is to be believed, everyone has a bit of magic in them. He need not be be great or famous nor make a living from it for at any rate, he was still a prince and would always be one.

  Being a prince means you are supposed to be one of the lucky ones, then why must you settle with being unhappy if you have the capacity to find fulfillment and meaning?