Chapter 1-2

1161 Words
When the village, Amir, finally appeared in Magnus’s sight it was as achingly ugly as the last time he had seen it when he was only a child of ten. He pulled his horse to a stop and surveyed it. Not much to see. Mayhap even less than when he had been sent away by his father to foster with a wealthy baron immediately after the babe had been brought to the village. His instructions had been to not return to Amir until the prince would be old enough to fulfill his destiny. It had been difficult not to see his father for all these years, but Magnus understood the way of things. He’d been forced to pretend his father had died, for there would be too many other questions otherwise. Thaddeus stayed behind in Amir to teach Roland what he would need to know to defeat Veronious. Now, as the sun-filled morning gave way to the appearance of afternoon clouds, Magnus passed a plot of land that had recently been plowed, and was about to turn his horse toward the huts when he noticed bare feet sticking out from a handful of leafy trees to his right. He led his horse closer, dismounted, and took the few steps to where the feet were on display. His well-trained horse would stay where Magnus left him. He discovered the feet were attached to the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Magnus dropped to his knees next to the vision. The man did not awaken. He wore only a plain brown tunic and worn brown linen chausses over braies. Magnus reached toward the smooth, creamy skin of the man’s cheek. He stopped himself just in time. Was this beautiful creature Prince Roland? A golden cloud of curls framed his head, his long lashes a slightly darker gold. His skin was just a bit darker than the pale white he remembered the baby having. His cheeks had a wash of pink across them Magnus found astonishingly appealing. Magnus tilted his head, his gaze fixating on the man’s plump, pert lips. His fingers itched to graze along those lips, testing to see if they would be as soft as they appeared. His own mouth lowered to within inches of the lips, wanting to know if they would taste even a fraction as good as they looked. Magnus caught himself just in time. Likely, if this were Prince Roland, he preferred maidens and would be appalled to find himself being accosted by the warrior who had sworn to protect him. Still he wondered how deeply the prince slept. He’d been ogling the man for several moments and he had yet to stir. “Roland.” The golden lashes lifted, revealing the sky blue eyes Magnus remembered. Their gazes locked for several heartbeats and it almost seemed as though there was recognition in those blue eyes. Impossible, of course. Roland broke the momentary trance that held them by bolting upright. “Who are you? What do you want?” “I’m Magnus,” he patiently explained even as the prince scrambled to his bare feet and backed away. “I know no Magnus. If you’ve come to rob me, I have no coins or possessions worthy of your trouble.” He did not know Magnus? Well, his father may not have used his name when speaking about him, he supposed. “I am Thaddeus’s son.” “I don’t know any Thaddeus either.” Roland’s gaze darted past him and Magnus could tell he was trying to see if he could run for it. Magnus frowned, intent on grabbing hold of the prince before he could run away. He would get to the bottom of this. He reached out to grab Roland’s arm, but he dodged Magnus’s hand and ran around him and toward the huts. “Roland,” he yelled, but the man paid him no heed. Magnus bent down to fetch the prince’s discarded boots and then followed after him at a sedate pace. As Magnus approached the hut he remembered going to as a boy, Roland came rushing out holding a rather crude knife, followed closely by the woman he recalled was named Helen. “Stay away. Mother, go back inside.” Roland scowled. Helen gently laid her hand on Roland’s arm. “It’s all right. Magnus?” Relief that he had been recognized at last flowed through him. He nodded. He did not want to begin trying to fend off attacks from his charge. “Yes. Is my father inside?” She shook her head and then turned back to the prince. “Roland, can you see to this gentleman’s horse? He’s a friend. You have no need to fear.” Roland bit his pretty bottom lip, but put away his knife, with an uncertain glance at Magnus. “Here are your boots, your—” “Hurry,” Helen interrupted, looking rather panicked. She grabbed the boots out of Magnus’s hands and thrust them at Roland, who she pushed toward Magnus’s horse. “The rain will be here any time.” Magnus could tell Roland did not want to leave Helen with the big, scary warrior, but he did not argue and went to look after Magnus’s horse. “Where is my father?” he asked. “Magnus, I am afraid your father has passed.” She took his arm and led him even farther away from the prince. “I am sorry to say he died of a fever not long after you were sent away to foster with the baron. Roland was still a babe.” Magnus frowned, letting her words sink in. Dead? All this time and he had not known? His heart clenched. “Why was not word sent to me?” “We had no means of doing so.” Helen shook her head sadly. “My husband died a few years ago also. It’s been just me and Roland for a while.” He didn’t know what to say or think. He’d always thought his father would be waiting in Amir when he returned. He swallowed. “His grave?” “Just outside the village. I will have Roland take you there later.” Magnus blew out a breath and nodded. “Very well. I have had the prophecy written out for Roland and I have the parchment with me.” “Roland cannot read, Magnus.” He frowned anew. “What?” “With Thaddeus gone, who was to teach him? My husband and I could not read. I dared not send for someone else to teach him. I kept him isolated from others so none would guess his identity.” He was not a patient teacher, but Magnus would have to see to the task himself. As the future savior and ruler of the kingdom Roland would need to read and know various other skills. Helen touched his arm again to get his attention. “There is more.” “Aye?” “Roland does not know who he is or anything about what is expected of him. We thought it best with Thaddeus gone not to speak of it.” She wrung her hands. “He does not know how to wield a sword.” His jaw tightening, Magnus blinked. “The savior of the world cannot do the task for which all the kingdom prays? Nor even defend himself?” “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes downcast. His father was dead and the prince he’d come for was incapable of fulfilling his destiny. A destiny he didn’t even know about. Magnus turned his gaze to Roland, who sat on the ground next to Magnus’s big horse, pulling on his boots. His pretty plump lips were pursed in concentration. Something tightened in Magnus’s chest. “I will teach him all he needs to know.”
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