Choosing Their Paths

To his surprise, Wells managed to refasten his cloak and pull on his boots without assistance. Sir Halron finished scrawling on the parchment and handed it to him. "Keep this with you," he instructed. "Show it to the guards inside the throne room. Enjoy your audience with the king."

"Thanks," Wells said, accepting the form. "How do I get there?"

"That door on the left," Sir Halron replied, gesturing to a simple wooden entrance.

"Thanks," Wells repeated, stepping through it, immensely relieved to be free of the guard captain's oppressive office. He found himself in a small antechamber, not unlike the one leading to the balcony, but at the far end stood another pair of magnificent double doors flanked by six guards.

Wells presented the paper to the nearest one. The guards gave it a cursory glance, nodded, and silently swung the doors open for him. Wells stepped into the throne room.

His jaw dropped. He had never witnessed a room of such breathtaking opulence. The highly polished marble floor was laid with alternating tiles, one of which was inlaid with the Anolin crest. Sumptuous velvet curtains, embroidered with gold thread, framed the floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were studded with portraits of former monarchs in ornate frames, and a colossal crystal chandelier hung from the high, vaulted ceiling.

Most remarkable of all, Wells thought, was the throne itself. It rested upon a dais five steps above the main floor, shaded by a fine canopy that was strangely reminiscent of the blankets in their chamber. The throne was crafted from gold, upholstered in the same deep blue velvet as the canopy. Inscribed across its headrest in elegant script were the words HAELEN BALENIR.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Nikolai whispered from behind him.

Startled, Wells turned. "Yeah," he breathed. "You don't see anything like this back in Michigan."

"How was your interview?" Nikolai asked. When Wells looked confused, he elaborated, "The inspection." Wells described the physical search and the bizarre mimicry. Nikolai nodded. "He seemed to suspect I was possessed by a warlock for a time, but he was eventually satisfied."

Wells nodded. "I wonder where the king is," he remarked. "You'd think he'd be here."

"Perhaps he won't appear until everyone has been cleared," Nikolai suggested.

"Yeah…" Wells murmured. The tense silence was broken ten minutes later when Alexa stormed into the throne room, her face a vivid shade of red.

"Hey," Wells said. "What's wrong?"

"That man!" she hissed. "Did he make you undress?"

"No," Wells and Nikolai said in unison.

"Well, he made me take off my dress!"

"What's so bad about that?" Nikolai asked. "You were wearing an underskirt, weren't you?"

"Yes, but still!" She spent the next few minutes fuming about Sir Halron’s audacity before falling silent. The rest of their group soon joined them, with Cirus arriving last.

"I trust your examinations went smoothly?" he inquired.

The boys nodded, but Juliana and Alexa still radiated indignation. "It is merely a precaution," Cirus said gently. "One can never be too careful. His Majesty could be attacked at any time."

"That would certainly make for a more interesting day," a warm voice spoke from behind them.

They all turned to find King Haelen standing there. He was dressed much as he had been the day before, yet he seemed more substantial, more regal than the man who had delivered the speech, his hair perfectly combed. A broad smile lit up his face.

"Cirus Crewe," he chuckled, "I take it these are our visitors from Jonas's world?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Cirus replied, introducing each of them and saving Wells for last. "He was present at the Council yesterday."

"Indeed," Haelen said, his eyes on Wells. "You're the boy who repaired Anolin's original crest." He extended a hand, and Wells shook it. "You will be a fine sorcerer one day, I believe."

"Thank you, sire," Wells replied, a flush creeping up his neck.

"Astalor's hoof, why must everyone be so formal?" the king mused, more to the air than to Wells. "Call me 'sir' if you must, but I would prefer it if you simply called me Haelen."

"Yes, sir," Wells said, struck by how Haelen managed to seem both more relaxed and more kingly at once.

"Now!" Haelen clapped his hands together. "To business." He ascended the dais and settled onto his throne. "Lord Cirus, what are your plans for you and your apprentice?"

"Well," Cirus began, "I had intended for Wells and me to journey to the Holtwood in Anolin to find his animal guardian. From there, we would travel to the Burning Plains by way of the Cinian River. We could remain there, largely undisturbed, until Wells is proficient enough in magic to return his friends home."

"My what?" Wells asked, baffled.

"Your animal guardian," Cirus said calmly. "I will explain after our meeting."

Wells glanced at his friends, who looked just as perplexed, and shrugged as King Haelen continued. "That sounds like a solid plan," he acknowledged. "But what of the others?"

Nikolai was the first to speak, stepping forward to stand before the throne. "With your permission, sir, I would like to remain in Tor Alian. Perhaps I could make use of the Royal Library to study the histories of Anolin and Remira."

"Ah, a scholar," King Haelen grinned. "You are welcome to stay at the castle, of course. The room you occupied last night can be yours."

Nikolai inclined his head. "Thank you, sir," he said, stepping back. Wells thought he seemed almost arrogant, likely a calculated front to get what he wanted.

Vance took Nikolai's place. "King Haelen, sir, I've always wanted to learn to be a knight. Would it be possible for one of your men to train me?"

Haelen shook his head. "I am afraid not. My knights are all preparing for war." Vance's face fell, and he began to turn away. "However," the king continued, a smile returning to his face, "I believe I can persuade Sir Alaric to take you under his wing for a time. I shall send for him after our meeting."

A wide grin split Vance's face. "Thank you, sir!" he said, executing a clumsy half-bow before moving aside for Juliana. Her normally pleasant tan had gone ashen, and she was trembling.

"Sir," she began, her voice thin, "I was told I have a great deal of that… that magic energy. Since Wells is getting training as a sorcerer, would it be possible for me to be trained as an oracle?" She looked as though she might be sick.

"I can speak to Lady Isilde; perhaps she knows of an oracle willing to take you on," the king said. "She would normally train you herself, but given the circumstances…" His voice trailed off. "In any case, I will see what I can do."

"Thank you, sir," she whispered and scurried back to the group, trying to hide behind Vance and Wells.

Aidan strode forward, looking King Haelen directly in the eye before rolling his own. "Well, politics has always interested me," he said bluntly. Wells heard Cirus mutter "Astalor's hoof" under his breath at Aidan's flagrant disrespect. "So I was thinking it might be cool to stick around and see how you do things. I mean, where I come from, monarchies are pretty outdated, replaced by democracy and all, but I think it'd be neat to see how yours works."

A thick, uncomfortable silence descended on the room. Juliana leaned toward Wells. "He is such an idiot," she whispered in his ear.

"He is," Wells whispered back with a grin, "but I don't think King Haelen minded. Look." He gestured to the king, who had erupted in peals of laughter. The sight of a man in such regal finery laughing with the uninhibited joy of a child was almost surreal. His friends looked stunned, but Cirus simply gave a slow shake of his head.

When his laughter subsided, King Haelen wiped a tear from his eye. "Never in my life have I been addressed so plainly," he said. "And I thought it was magnificent! All across Anolin, people bow and scrape and treat me as a god among men. But you, young man, you spoke to me as a man. I shall oversee your education myself."

"Your Majesty, are you certain that is wise?" Cirus interjected quickly. "You are preparing for a war."

"Be that as it may, I think this could lighten the mood around here," the king stated. "Relax a little, Cirus."

"Sire, I simply don't think this is a good—"

Before Cirus could finish, the throne room doors burst open and Galano and Erebos clattered in, flushed and panting as they slid to a halt before the throne. It looked to Wells as if they had run the entire way.

"Sire," Erebos gasped, clutching a stitch in his side, "your guards have apprehended someone trying to enter the castle. They believe he is just a thief, but they require your final judgment."

King Haelen heaved a long sigh. "Very well," he said, turning to the group. "I am afraid our meeting must end. We can convene here tomorrow morning after I have spoken to the individuals I promised, and we will finalize the arrangements. Lord Cirus, when did you intend to depart?"

"Tomorrow," Cirus answered. "I must first teach Wells the basics of horsemanship, and then we will set out for the Holtwood."

"I actually already know how to ride," Wells put in. "I took lessons a couple of summers ago."

Cirus looked surprised. "Well, that shortens our travel time considerably. I suppose we can leave after lunch, then." At that exact moment, Wells's stomach rumbled. He suddenly realized that between last night's skipped dinner and this morning's missed breakfast, he had only eaten a single apple since before they'd reached Tor Alian. He was starving, and lunch sounded divine.

"Alright," said King Haelen. "Then I shall meet with the rest of you to—"

"Your Highness, please, time is of the essence," Erebos interrupted impatiently, shooting a disdainful glare at the six friends that made them shrink back.

"Yes, yes, very well," the king replied. He rose from his throne and hurried from the room, with Erebos on his heels. As he disappeared down the corridor, he called back, "I will meet you all at ten o'clock tomorrow!"