The Eighth Warden Ch. 007-008

Shavala would have to climb the tree to retrieve two of the arrows, so she headed in that direction. Lele joined her, always happy to climb.

#

"Next two!" Armsmaster Javin shouted at the trainees.

Corec looked at Barat and shrugged. Barat nodded and picked up his shield from where it was leaning against a bench.

The two boys went to the sparring circle, lowered their face guards, and drew their swords. More and more, Corec had found himself drawn to using a greatsword Jesson had given him, rather than the sword-and-shield style favored by the knights. A shield kept a soldier alive in a fight, but he couldn't get over his awkwardness trying to use one. The greatsword let him use his entire body to power his blows, and by using both hands, he could swing it a bit faster than someone trying to control an arming sword with one hand. With the greater speed and reach it provided, he could block or prevent most strikes. His plate armor could absorb the rest—as long as he didn't let them hit a joint or a gap.

For his first five years at Hightower, all of the weapons training was done with wooden practice swords, but as the trainees got older, they were sometimes asked to spar with real weapons so they could feel the difference. Javin warned them not to use their full strength, but accidents happened. Kevik had been stabbed through three months earlier, but one of the priests visiting the fort at the time had healing magic and was able to save him.

The trainees practiced for an hour or two each day. After six years, it added up, and Corec was pretty sure he could handle himself in an actual fight if one ever happened.

The rest of their time was spent doing chores and sitting in classes. Some of the classes were similar to what the tutors had taught back home, and he found that he was still expected to study literature, mathematics, and courtly graces. Others were different. Instead of farming techniques, they learned military history, tactics, and logistics. If the kingdom ever found itself in another war, the knights would be responsible for leading and managing the army, the conscripts, and the noble families' guardsmen.

Other than his chagrin when he discovered he hadn't managed to escape mathematics after all, Corec didn't mind the classes. They weren't difficult, and it gave him something to do. He liked weapons training the best, though, and grinned behind his helmet when Javin gave them the order to begin.

The two boys spent ten minutes trying to spar, but Javin kept interrupting them to have them repeat moves they'd just made or try different ones. He finally let them loose to spar on their own, but by then, Corec's head had started feeling fuzzy, and he wondered if he was coming down with something.

As the bout began, Corec realized Barat's training at Northtower must have been good, and the two found themselves equally matched. At one point, Barat got in a good shot that bounced off Corec's cuirass, and Corec felt something...shift in his mind. He stumbled, and found himself down on one knee.

"Is all right?" Barat asked, stopping his advance. "I do not hit too hard?"

"Keep going!" Javin shouted. "You're in the middle of a fight. You don't stop and talk to the enemy!"

"I'm all right." Corec got to his feet and shook his head, trying to clear the fuzzy feeling. "Let's start again."

They continued the match. Barat was good with his shield, able to move it fluidly in a way Corec had never mastered, blocking any strike sent his way. He was also stronger than Corec had expected, so Corec decided the way to win was to wear out his friend's shield arm. He was attempting to do that when Barat blocked up and left, and tried a tentative stab from the right while Corec's sword was occupied. Corec stepped back to avoid the hit but tripped over something, landing on his ass.

Barat stepped forward to end the match, thrusting his sword lightly toward Corec's cuirass. Corec knew the sword wouldn't hurt him, but something inside his mind didn't. A shimmering barrier formed, curved around where he was sitting. Barat's sword bounced off the barrier and he dropped it, shaking his wrist. The barrier disappeared a moment later, and Corec felt the fuzziness in his mind disappear as something inside shifted back to normal. Activity in the practice yard came to a halt.

"What in Pallisur's name was that?" Javin asked.

#

Mother Ola looked up from her desk at the sound of the knock.

Her assistant, Sister Verla, was standing in the doorway. "Treya is here as you requested, Mother."

"Thank you, Verla. Send her in and close the door, please."

The girl in question was ushered into the office, and Ola pointed her to one of the chairs facing the desk. Treya was young, but it had been clear for years that she would be a great beauty when she grew up, with her delicate features, pale blonde hair, and startlingly blue eyes.

"Treya, child, how are you today?"

"I am well, Mother. Thank you for asking."

An uninformative response, but at least the girl had taken her etiquette lessons to heart.

"Your teachers tell me you are doing well," Ola said. "How are you finding your classes?"

"I enjoy them, Mother. Well, most of them. I especially like learning about history."

"I'm glad things are going well for you. I'm sorry about the unpleasantness when we first brought you to Tyrsall."

The child closed her mouth in a tight line and didn't speak, apparently still angry about being transferred away from her friends at her first orphanage.

Ola tried a different tact. "I know you wished to remain in Four Roads, but Tyrsall is the largest chapter house of the Three Orders. Men of true wealth simply won't travel to Four Roads when they're looking for a concubine. Once you join the order, you'll see that Tyrsall was the right choice."

"I'm not going to join the concubines," the girl said matter-of-factly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not going to join the concubines. I'm going to join the mystics."

"The...mystics? Child, whatever for?" Ola couldn't believe what she was hearing. Every indication as Treya grew up had suggested she'd be perfect as a concubine.

"I want to learn how to fight."

"Fight?" Ola asked faintly. She came from the Order of Scholars herself, and had never been interested in any sort of physical activity.

"Yes. My parents were farmers, and they were killed by bandits. I will learn to fight, so I'll never be helpless. Four Roads didn't have any teachers from the Order of Mystics, but Tyrsall does. Sister Kelis has agreed to take me on as her student."

"Child, I don't think you understand what you're asking for. The mystics' training is very difficult. You would be a natural as a concubine! You'd have your choice of men across the top families in the city. You know how important the concubines are in keeping the peace."

"All the orders do that," Treya pointed out. "I will join the mystics."

"You can't do that!" Ola tried desperately.

"Why not? The teachers always say we can join any order we wish, or none at all. If I can't join the mystics, then I'll leave the orphanage as soon as I come of age."

"Let's not be hasty," Ola said. "If you truly wish to join the Order of Mystics, that is your right. I was simply expressing that I believe you'll come to regret it."

The mystic training was grueling, and Ola doubted the slender wisp of a girl would make it all the way through. Treya would be allowed to change her decision at any point up till her sixteenth birthday, after which she'd be considered too old to begin concubine training and would have to make another choice. Ola would rather have the girl among the mystics than have her leave the Three Orders entirely, but when had she grown such a backbone? Ola decided to re-read the letters she'd received from Mother Yewen at Four Roads. Had she misunderstood Yewen's hints about the child? Had her own staff simply believed that any attractive girl would choose the concubines? There had clearly been a breakdown in communication somewhere.

#

Corec finished packing his clothing, then took stock of the situation. He had his horse, his armor, and his sword, and had saved a fair bit of the allowance his father had been sending him. He'd need to buy food and travel supplies, and then figure out a way to pack it all into Max's saddlebags. All in all, things weren't as bad as they could have been. At least he wasn't locked in a cell anymore, as he had been for the first two days after the incident.

Jesson burst into his room. "What the hell is going on? I just got back into town, and everyone's saying you've been kicked out of the order for practicing dark magic!"

"It's not dark magic! I tried to tell the tribunal that, but they wouldn't listen. It's not like I wanted to do it."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask for it, and I don't know how to stop it. It just makes light when it's dark, and it blocked a sword from hitting me while I was sparring. That's all!"

"Knights of Pallisur aren't allowed to use magic!" Jesson said, stating the obvious.

Corec pointed to his packed bags.

"No," Jesson said, "I mean the rule is that you can't use magic. As long as you pledge to not do it again, they should allow you to stay. We just need a real tribunal."

"What do you mean, a real tribunal?"

"You know as well as anyone that there are priests, and then there are priests. Javin told me the names on the tribunal—not one of them is blessed by Pallisur. Tibon and his lot are all administrators and sycophants. We need a new tribunal headed up by a real priest. You'll make your pledge to them, and then you can stay."

"What, and have the rest of the priests hate me for as long as I'm here?" Corec asked. "Besides, none of the blessed are in town, and I told you, I can't stop the magic, so the pledge would be a lie." He'd made his peace with leaving, and didn't want to draw things out.

"Have you tried stopping?"

"Yes!"

Jesson sighed. "Are you going home, then?"

"For a visit, but Father follows the same rules as the order, so I'm not going to stay." In truth, he wasn't planning to return home at all, not wanting to deal with his father's disappointment, but he didn't want to argue with Jesson about it. In any case, the trip home through the mountains was unpleasant in the winter, and he'd just been there a month earlier for the Midwinter celebrations. Visiting his family could wait.

"What are you planning to do after that?" Jesson asked.

"East, I think, away from Larso. The free lands, or maybe farther. I can find work as a guardsman or something."

"Talk to your father first. He may have some ideas. The coastal cities don't look to Pallisur much. You could go there rather than leaving the kingdom."

"I'll think about it."

"Well," Jesson said, eyeing the bags, "it looks like you're leaving now?"

"The tribunal wants me gone by sundown."

"I'll walk you out of town. And if you're interested, on my last trip, I ended up with an extra pack mule I don't need. I haven't figured out a name for him yet, though."

###

Chapter 8

Present day...

"Thank you for allowing us to camp out here," Corec said to the farmer as he handed over five copper coins, on top of the two silver he'd given the man the night before for additional supplies. With the pack mule to carry everything, and by supplementing their meals with what they could find or catch along the way, they'd have enough food to get to the elven border camp and then back to the West Road before needing to buy more.

After saying their farewells, Corec and his companions returned to the rough trade road and continued southwest toward the forest. The farmer had said it was another hundred twenty miles to the forest, which Corec figured would take four days since they were walking, though riding wouldn't have been any faster given the condition of the road. If they met up with a caravan, it would take longer but would be worth it—the elves allowed traders and the occasional hunter, but Corec didn't know how welcoming they were outside of that.

He was in front, leading Dot. Katrin and Bobo were behind him, walking next to each other so they could talk. Bobo had offered to lead the pack mule.

At one point, Katrin said to Bobo, "Why did you decide to visit the hillfolk, anyway?"

"Well, as I said, I'm a seeker of knowledge. The hillfolk have been settled in one place for longer than almost anyone, except for the elves I suppose, and maybe the eastern cities. I hoped to find some wisdom among them."

"Did you?"

Bobo sighed. "It was a great disappointment, I'm afraid. Small towns and farming villages, full of the superstitious and ignorant. If I wasn't a priest of the Fox, I suspect they would have run me off sooner."

"You aren't a priest," Corec reminded him, calling back over his shoulder.

"Seeing as how they still follow the old gods, I'll let them decide who is and who isn't," Bobo said. "I suspect I'm as legitimate as any of the others wandering the hills. I certainly did the work of one."

Corec shook his head. "Just keep it quiet when we get back to the West Road, will you? We're still close enough to Tyrsall to fall under its rule, and there are laws about pretending to be a priest. Maybe the villagers won't catch on, but somebody will."

"Fine, fine, I'll be careful," Bobo said.

"If you didn't find what you were looking for, why did you stay for so long?" Katrin asked.

"I wanted to keep looking. There are records of old civilizations, you see, and we don't know where all of them were located. I was hoping to see, perhaps, some old ruins—something to suggest that the hill people weren't always backwoods farmers. But, alas, nothing."

"Why not go back west? You're from Matagor, right?"

"Ah, well, I've already been west. I decided it was time to visit the east. I have a question for you, if you don't mind."

"All right," Katrin said.

"How ever did you get your tattoo to glow so brilliantly? Is it the ink? There are a lot of people who would pay a lot of money for markings like that. Is it common out this way?"

Corec stopped walking and turned back to watch. Katrin had stumbled to a halt, briefly covering the rune on her forehead with her hand before looking down in embarrassment.

"It's not a tattoo," she mumbled.

"Pardon?"

"It's not a tattoo. We don't know what it is."

"You don't know what it is? Then how did you get it?"

"We don't know!" she exclaimed. "They just appeared." She pointed at Corec. "He's got one, too!"

Bobo looked at Corec's forehead questioningly.

Corec tapped his right arm. "They showed up a few days ago. Some sort of magic, but we don't know what caused it. We're going to ask the elves, to see if they have any ideas."

"Fascinating," Bobo said. "You must let me study them. Perhaps I can help!"

Katrin gave him a sour look.

Corec shrugged. "When we stop for the night, I can show you mine. It looks the same as hers; just the location is different."

Bobo nodded. "And they appeared out of nowhere?"

"No, it..." Corec paused, then looked at Katrin. "That night at the inn, you said your forehead itched. Did it?"

"Yes! And you wouldn't let me..." She blushed and stopped speaking.

"My arm was itching in the spot where the rune appeared. It stopped after it showed up. Maybe for a week? A week and a half? What about you?"

She stared at him for a long moment before speaking. "At least a week. I don't know—I wasn't really paying attention."

"I think it may have happened in that village where I saw you play," Corec said. "And if it started that long ago, it might not be just us. There might be other people with these things, too."

She shook her head. "I don't want to think about it. Could we talk about something else?"

"Of course, my dear..." Bobo said.

They continued on their way, Bobo telling Katrin tales about his time among the hillfolk, though he didn't speak much about his life before that.

They'd been walking for another hour when two men who'd been hidden by the trees suddenly stepped out in front of them. They were unshaven and wore dirty clothing, and Corec could smell them from where he stood. The one on the left aimed a crossbow his way while the other held a curved backsword-a type more commonly used by light cavalry, but it would be just as dangerous in the hands of a man on foot. A crossbow bolt probably wouldn't penetrate Corec's plate armor, but that didn't make him any less wary. Katrin and Bobo were right behind him, as was Dot, and he'd taken to leaving the face guard off his helmet since it was uncomfortable. An unlucky shot could hit any of them.

"Well, well, Father," the man with the sword said, looking at Bobo. "We just wanted to talk the other day. Was it really necessary to run away? Where'd you find these two?"

"Why, gentlemen, I wasn't running away," Bobo said. "I merely had to hurry so I could meet my friends on time. And, as you can see, I did. We can talk now, if you wish."

At first, Corec couldn't figure out why two highwaymen would waylay a man in full armor, but then he saw the look the swordsman gave Katrin. Realizing a fight was inevitable, he focused within himself and prepared his barrier shield trick, feeling something within his mind shift once it was in place. The barrier would only last for a few minutes at most, and would only block one or two hits before dissipating, but if he could get the crossbowman to waste his shot on it, then he could take him down before he could reload. The barrier would shimmer briefly if it was hit, but with Katrin and Bobo behind him, maybe they wouldn't notice.

He decided not to wait any longer, figuring that a cocked crossbow being pointed in his direction constituted enough of a threat. He didn't intend to let the men rob him, and he wanted to get the fight started before the barrier wore off.

"That's kind of you, Father," the swordsman said, "but it was very inconvenient having to track you down. I think we deserve something for our trouble."

"I'm afraid I don't have any—"

Corec charged forward, drawing his sword from over his shoulder as he went. "Get behind the mules!" he shouted back to his companions.

The crossbowman was surprised by the rush. His shot went wide, not hitting the barrier at all, and he dropped the crossbow to grasp for the dagger on his belt. Corec's sword was still up when he got within reach, so he slashed down diagonally. The man wasn't wearing armor and the cut went deep where his neck met his shoulder—he died almost instantly, falling with a spray of arterial blood.

Corec spun to his right, swinging his arm out as the other man slashed at him. He tried to catch the sword on his vambrace, to make sure it bounced off rather than finding a gap in his armor, but it hit his barrier shield instead. The shield shimmered and disappeared, but the man's surprise over it gave Corec time to grip his own sword with both hands and thrust forward.

The highwayman dropped his weapon, but when Corec tried to pull his own sword back, the dying man staggered along with it—the sword had gotten stuck in his ribs. Corec braced himself and pushed the man off with one hand while pulling back on his sword with the other. Without the blade to support him, the bandit fell to the ground, the damage to his chest too severe for him to live any longer.

After making sure that both men were dead, Corec wiped the blood from his sword and sheathed it, then turned back to face his companions. They were both peering wide-eyed at him from behind the mules. Bobo was clutching his walking cudgel as if worried he was going to have to use it for something other than walking. Katrin was pale, and even as Corec watched, she stumbled, having to grab for Flower's saddle to remain on her feet.