by Jason Tesar
“Sir,” called a voice from behind.
Saba continued walking, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything.
“Sir, may I have a word with you?” came the voice again. It echoed slightly off the stone buildings on either side of the street.
Glancing over his shoulder, Saba noticed a dark-robed man walking briskly in his direction. If he was trying to be stealthy, he was not very good at it. “My good sir,” he called out. “It’s late, and an old man needs his rest!” Saba was now almost jogging, watching with his peripheral vision to ensure that the man wasn’t showing any signs of aggression.
“Please. I must speak with you,” the man pleaded, finally stopping his pursuit.
Good. Saba thought. If you mean me no harm, then whatever you have to say can wait for the light of day.
Suddenly, Saba looked ahead and noted another man dressed like the first, standing under a torch post half a block away. He immediately came to a stop. “What do you want?” he called out, trying not to sound scared.
“We wish to speak with you about a very important matter,” the second man called back.
“It’s late. Perhaps we can talk over breakfast.”
“No,” the man behind him said, from much closer than before. “We have been waiting for you for too many years. We are done waiting!”
Saba turned back around, looking to the nearest alley for an escape route, but the shadows in the alley began to move. He turned to run across the street, but stopped when he saw dozens of other men coming out of the darkness, their cloaks billowing in the slight breeze. In a matter of seconds he was surrounded by strangers.
“What do you want to talk about?” he called out, turning in circles to keep an eye on the nearest man.
One of the figures stepped forward. “We are looking for someone and we need your help.”
“Who are you looking for?” he asked. Suddenly, he heard a footstep behind him and whirled around to confront the man, but it was too late. Something brushed past his shoulders and immediately cinched his arms to his sides.
“We’re looking for you,” the man replied with a calm, methodical voice.
Saba glanced down at the rope, which now restricted his movement. He tried to scream for help but one of the men stuffed a rag into his mouth, muffling the sound. Suddenly his vision of the streets of Orud disappeared as someone slipped a cloth over his head. With his heart beating frantically in his chest, Saba held completely still, powerless to do anything but comply.
But there was no struggle. Saba waited, wondering why they were not dragging him off or beating him. He received only silence for an answer, which was no answer at all. Then, faintly, he heard the sharp clipping sound of hooves on stone. It was a horse. No, several horses. And they were moving in his direction. Saba waited a few seconds, listening intently, also making out a wagon, presumably pulled by the same horses.
Saba yelled for help as loud as the rag in his mouth would let him. He took a few steps in the direction of the horses before he felt a sharp tug on the rope around his arms. He lost his balance and fell to the street.
“Settle down, old man,” an amused voice commanded. “That’s your transportation, not your rescue.”
The man’s words were confirmed when the wagon stopped next to Saba. He was lifted to his feet and escorted to the rear of the wagon where he was, to his surprise, placed gently inside. As he lay on the floor of the wagon, which jostled with the movement of the horses, Saba’s heartbeat began to slow. He tried to make some sense of the situation.
Is this an arrest? These men were not soldiers, so that was not a likely answer. Whoever they are, they have not harmed me other than scaring an old man half to death. They must want me alive! That, at least, was an encouraging thought as the horses took him away.
* * * *
Kael was awakened by a tapping sound at his door. At first he thought it was a dream, but it happened again. The night air was cold on his skin as he threw back the covers and went to the door. It made a creaking sound when he opened it, loud as a trumpet in the stillness of the night. Donagh and Narian were standing just outside of the door.
“Are you hungry?” Donagh whispered.
“Why?”
“We’re all going down to the kitchen to get some food.”
Kael peered out into the hallway and saw several of the others standing in the shadows, waiting.
“We’re not supposed to. We’ll get caught.”
Narian leaned closer. “That’s why we’ll have to be quiet.” His teeth were the most visible part of him when he grinned.
“Alright,” Kael said. “Let me put something on.”
“Hurry up,” said Donagh as Kael ran back to his bed and pulled a tunic from the clothes chest. When he rejoined them in the hallway, the group was stopped at Berit’s door. He was the only one left.
Donagh tapped at the door and it opened almost immediately.
“What are you guys doing?”
Soren made his way to the door. “We’re goin’ down to the kitchen to sneak some food.”
“Whose idea was that?” Berit asked, suspiciously.
“Mine,” Soren answered. “Now get some clothes on. You’re coming with us.”
“Alright. Hold on.” Berit closed the door.
After several minutes Donagh knocked again. “What’s taking so long?” he whispered, as loud as he could.
The door opened and Berit came out into the hallway, fully clothed as if they were going to the arena.
Horace laughed out loud. “We’re not going on a journey; we’re just going to the kitchen.”
“Be quiet!” Soren said in a harsh whisper. “You’re going to get us caught. Let’s go.”
The boys followed Soren to the end of the hall, where he signaled for them to stop. “I’ll go down and make sure it’s safe.” He crept down the spiraled stairs, keeping close to the wall so they wouldn’t squeak. It was several minutes until he came back up, waving the group forward.
They went single file down the stairs, running quietly from shadow to shadow until they made their way through the dining hall and into the kitchen. “Everyone grab something and we’ll take it back to my room.” Soren was the oldest and no one had any problems following his lead, especially when he seemed to know what he was doing. They all looked around for anything edible—fruit, bread, anything that could easily be carried back upstairs. Kael was eyeing a cheese block when Horace came out of the ice room struggling to lift a piece of salted meat twice the size of his own head.
“Find something smaller and hurry up,” Donagh told him.
Arden tried to stifle his laughter as Horace slipped going back in. He was promptly silenced by Soren, but couldn’t keep from giggling under his breath. When Horace came back out empty-handed, Arden started to laugh all over again.
“Let’s get out of here,” Soren said, and they all followed him back upstairs. Creeping down the hallway, they stopped at Soren’s bedroom. “In here,” he waved to the group. One after another, the group piled into Soren’s room until he locked the door and opened the window to let in some moonlight. Kael and Berit sat on Soren’s bed and Soren joined the others on the floor. Everyone placed what they had taken from the kitchen in the middle. Soren and Narian began to divide the spoils and deal out everyone’s portion.
“Soren. Where are you from?” asked Coen, stuffing a chunk of bread into his mouth.
“Nortuk,” he answered simply.
“Did you ever go on kitchen raids there?” Coen asked, his smile reflecting the chuckles around the room.
“Yeah, all the time. In fact, that’s the only way to get food where I come from.”
Coen’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Didn’t your parents feed you?”
Soren looked up suddenly from the food and glanced around the room. His face was void of emotion. “No. My father died when I was a baby; I don’t even remember him. And my mother died a few years ago, so I had to fend for myself.”
“Well, everywhere, I guess. I just wandered around the city, mostly looking for places to sleep and get food. It took a while, but I found this tavern in a rich part of the city. They used to throw away the food that their guests didn’t eat. They had these barrels in a back alley where they put the old food until there was enough for someone to take it away.”
As Soren spoke, all the boys leaned in closer and kept their eyes fixed on him. Kael thought that they had probably never heard of such a thing before. Or, at least, that’s how it looked. He, on the other hand, would often run across such boys in Bastul when he and Ajani would sneak into the city. Some of them were very nice, but others were mean to everyone they met.
“I remember one time,” Soren continued, “I showed some of my friends to this place. They weren’t careful. I told them to wait until nighttime when everyone was sleeping, but they were hungry and they didn’t want to wait. It was only barely past sundown when they ran over to the barrels and started tipping them over, looking for food.”
Rainer and Horace’s faces curled in disgust.
Soren stopped his story. “Have you forgotten already what it’s like to be truly hungry?”
Kael immediately thought of their time in jail, and cringed. He just wanted to forget.
When everyone went back to chewing on their food, Soren continued. “Anyway, the owner came out. I guess he must have heard my friends. I was waiting across the alley and I saw the whole thing. The owner saw the barrels tipped over and grabbed one of my friends. The rest of us started to run, and we didn’t even see, at first. Well, he started hitting on this kid.”
“What did you do?” asked Coen.
“What do you think I’m trying to tell you?” Soren snapped.
Coen laughed. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“So we all turned around and went back. By the time we got there, the kid was beaten up pretty bad. The rest of us weren’t even sure what we could do about it, but we had to do something. When we gathered around the man, he must have panicked, because he took my friend and threw him against the wall. The kid hit his head pretty hard on the stone. The owner tried to run back inside, but I chased him and hit him in the back of the head with a stick that I was holding. He fell down, just inside the door like he was sleeping. The others helped me drag him out into the alley and we just started kicking him until our legs were too tired to kick anymore.”
“What happened to your friend?” Donagh asked.
“Oh. He didn’t make it.”
Everyone was silent, except for Coen. “He died?”
“Yeah. It was that last throw against the wall that did it.”
“What about the owner?” Coen asked quietly.
“Oh, I’m not sure. But I hope he died too. We never went back there after that.”
Kael had a nauseous feeling in his stomach. After the horrible experience of their imprisonment, he was disgusted by the thought of someone living like that their whole life. And the callous way that Soren spoke of the whole event gave him the shivers. “I hope it wasn’t like that all the time,” Kael said.
“No, not all the time, but I have a lot of those kinds of stories. The rest of the time we just wandered around, bored and hungry.”
“Well, I’m starting to get tired. I’m going to bed,” Arden said, standing up and stretching. His thoughts were echoed by most of the other boys, who left the room as well. Kael stayed, as did Berit and Narian. Through the night, they traded stories of their homes and parents. Kael didn’t say much, but asked lots of questions. Their lives were fascinating, but Soren definitely had the hardest time.
When morning came, Kael found himself on Soren’s bed, facing the wrong direction. Narian was gone and Berit was asleep on the floor, huddled in a ball.
Soren was putting on his shoes. “You guys had better get ready or you’re going to be late.”
Berit woke suddenly at the noise and promptly ran out of the room with a look of panic on his face.
“Sorry I took your bed,” Kael said as he was leaving.
“Don’t worry about it. I can fall asleep anywhere.”
“Thanks,” Kael said, and went to his room to get ready for morning meditation time.
~
The morning’s exercises were a struggle because of the lack of sleep, but Kael made it through. The late morning studies were the most difficult, however, as Kael couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. As Ukiru spoke of the history of the Orudan Empire, his voice sounded like the steady beat of the ocean waves, lulling him to sleep. By the time the afternoon rolled around, the sleepiness had faded, replaced by excitement for the coming lessons.
As always, Ukiru stood facing the boys in the arena. “We are fast approaching the year’s end. You have all learned many things that will be of great use to you in the future. However, the exercises thus far have only been concerned with how to control yourself in various situations. The next step in the training of a warrior is the control of his horse.”
The boys bristled with excitement. For most of them, a horse represented the life of the wealthy, and was not something that everyone was privileged to have.
Ukiru waved a hand, and at his signal, ten horses walked into the arena, each one led by a monk. “A horse is a valuable tool in the arsenal of a warrior. With knowledge of how to use it well, it can be a great advantage in any war. Use it without proper knowledge and it can be a great distraction. I have seen many warriors go down in battle because they did not have command of their horses. These beasts are powerful. It is best to have this power working for you and not against you. Today we will begin learning how to ride a horse. The best way to learn is to do, so everyone choose a horse and we will help you up.” Ukiru walked to the nearest horse, where he waited to help Rainer.
The boy grabbed as high up on the saddle as he could while placing his foot in the stirrup. With one fluid motion, he pulled himself onto the horse.
“Very good, Rainer. I can see this is familiar to you.”
“Yes, sir. My father owns many horses.”
“I’m sure he does,” Ukiru replied. “But the All-Powerful is your father now, and he owns many horses as well. In fact, all of the horses that have ever lived are his. You must put your old life behind you and press on.”
His last words were spoken loud for the whole group to hear. “Is everyone ready?”
“No, sir,” came a muffled reply.
“Who said that?”
“Me, sir,” said Jorn, stumbling out from behind his horse. Jorn was a stocky child and was having difficulty pulling himself onto the horse.
Ukiru walked over to help the boy. “Jorn, you are heavier than the other boys, but you are also stronger. Use your weight to your advantage. Lean into the horse and pull hard with your arms.”
The boy tried again, following the advice of Ukiru. He was able to stand in the stirrup, but was unable to swing his leg over the animal. Ukiru grabbed his foot from the other side of the horse and pulled his leg over the saddle. “This takes much practice, but it will come in time.”
After each child was mounted on his horse, Ukiru motioned for one of his own. When the monk brought it the children gasped at its beauty. It was black and shiny and walked with gracefulness. All of the other horses were brown in color and didn’t look quite as strong as Ukiru’s steed. He took the reins from the monk and ran his hand down the nose of the animal. “First we will start with a few basic commands. These horses are already trained, so for now, you will simply learn to command them. At some point you will learn to train one of your own, but that will come later.”
After a few simple lessons on how to control the horse, Ukiru sprang up into position with ease, not bothering to place his foot in the stirrup. They rode out of the arena and into the bright sunshine. There was a chill in the air and several patches of snow clung to the shadows, left
over from a storm that had passed through a few days ago.
Kael was excited to ride. His father used to take him on rides before it became dangerous to travel around for pleasure. There were many things that his father wasn’t able to do because of his position within the Empire. I guess that’s why they found Saba. A thought suddenly came to him. “Did you know that far to the east is a tribe of people who train their horses to obey their voice?” The thought of Saba had sparked a memory of one of his lessons.
“Yes, Kael. That’s right.” Ukiru slowed, letting Soren take the lead. “But in battle, there are many voices. Whose voice will the horse listen to? No, it is best to lead these animals by hand. A rider must always have one hand on the reins, which is why it can be a disadvantage in battle. But if trained properly, a rider can never lose to a man on the ground.”
Kael was about to say that these people also train their horses to be led by hand or by the pressure of the rider's legs to accommodate any situation. But he suddenly didn’t feel like finishing his story. He only sulked for a few minutes before the enjoyment of riding overcame him once more. The sun felt good on his back, and the lurching motion of the walking horse was soothing, like being in a boat.
The group rode for a few hours before circling back to the stable, arriving just as the sun went down. Ukiru leapt off his horse and helped the children down as well. When Kael’s feet touched the ground, he found it difficult to walk. His knees were cramped and his feet hurt, despite the fact that he had not walked on them for hours.
“Everyone is dismissed. Wash up and we will have our meal.” Ukiru handed the reins of his horse to a stable hand as other monks came out to take the rest of the horses.
~
Later that night, as Kael lay in bed, he thought back over the months that had passed since he had arrived at the monastery. It was fun to learn everything that they were being taught. These boys had all become friends to him. And Soren was a closer friend than any. He had seen things and had traveled to places that most people three times his age would never get to. But even with last night’s raid of the kitchen, Kael couldn’t help feeling like he didn’t belong here. No matter how much he enjoyed his time here, he felt an even stronger sense of growing isolation.