Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  Still, he drew the water away, leaving a spell going, that would push it off toward the lake, in an area that should, he hoped, allow things to run off. Once set though, he was able to walk away from it. A thing that he’d done hundreds of times, without really thinking about it. The spell was on the space around the icy hill they were creating, which was covered with green grass at the moment.

  The arrows carried spells away from him as well, to good effect. Clearly both still took work to maintain and it did feel a little harder when he got too far away from things. That probably meant that, regardless of how he’d been thinking of it, the issue was casting the spell further than ten paces from his body, not the energy needed traveling that far.

  That should mean he could put a spell on something, send that away from him, say carried by another person, or leave the area after that himself. Things like traps, for hunting. Like his arrows from earlier. Then, when something appropriate walked by, it would die.

  His brain struggled then, trying to work out how to get something out into the water far enough to be where the fish really were and still get them in the end. That wasn’t going to be easy, he didn't think.

  When he worked his way back over to his tiny hut, there was a bundle of oak staves in front of it. None of them perfectly straight, though they’d clearly been selected for that factor by a person with a good eye for such things.

  Next to that were a smaller version of the same thing, hidden from view until he got close. That had softer wood in the mix. Which was very useful. How it had come to be there, he didn’t know. To him it was an obvious hint that his evening had best be spent on that kind of thing, once the light was gone. In order to work correctly one of the things was set up to glow like the sun. Then he stuck one end in the ground, standing the thing up a good five feet from where he worked.

  After half an hour, working the whole time, on making the staves straight, rolling them on a flat rock and heating them with magic, Master Tolan walked over to him.

  “Master Brolly! We were wondering if you might share your magical light with us. We have some ledgers to go over and the print is hard to see in the evening, I fear.” He seemed a bit fussy about the whole thing.

  It was also very nearly the first thing that the man had asked of him at all. Muttering a bit, he picked up a stick out of the pile. The man hunched like he was going to be beaten for impertinence, though he truly did straighten nicely enough when it just started to glow.

  “That will last till sunrise. I can turn this one here off with a word, so that’s easier for me. I guess it will need to be buried or something when it’s time to sleep?” It was a bit of an oversight on his part, doing it that way. Then, he was probably going to bed first. It was warm enough that he hadn’t bothered with a fire for himself, though there were several of them in the camp that night.

  Master Tolan simply chuckled, waving his brightly glowing stick a bit.

  “This is a wonder. Did the position of the elk turn out to be helpful?”

  “It did! I got five of them. Big things, too. If it isn’t a problem we should work out how to get more of… Well, everything. In the morning?” Now it was his turn to feel awkward, asking for things like that. Now that it was his turn, he suddenly understood how the older man had felt moments before.

  The other man, dressed in fairly clean clothing, his face smiling in the light he held, nodded, happily it seemed.

  “That would be grand. I have to admit, the instant you asked earlier, I realized that I hadn’t been doing that all along. It was foolish of me. Imagine, not thinking of that for all these years? It happens though. Until later, then, Master Brolly?”

  “Until later, Master Tolan.”

  When the man walked away, Anders got back to work. He had the supplies he needed, as long as he devoted himself to getting it all done in a timely fashion.

  Chapter twenty-three

  The idea of using traps didn’t exactly work. His idea, a magical trap, had been set on several stones, which were put around the trail that led to a small stand of apple trees he’d found. Most of those weren’t ripe yet, though enough were close for him to spend half a day there, collecting ripe fruit for later. When he came back he’d discovered the issue with what he’d done.

  Seven elk and a small herd of eleven deer were all dead, along the trail. The babies were there as well, since they’d been too small to trigger the thing. He felt horrible, killing the little ones, but did it anyway, since they’d die without a Mother to care for them. That got him, part of him, to worry about how his own Mother was doing without him. Not that her care had been a huge part of his life. Most days he barely saw her.

  In fact, it hadn’t truly gone the other way that often, Anders knew. Lyse Brolly wasn’t that great of a parent, when he really thought about it. She was kind to him and loving, without really putting in the time and effort that it took to turn a willful boy into an adult man that would make a positive difference in the world.

  Still, inside, a little part of him ached when he thought about her not being there with him. Even though he was happy about it at the same time. War was no place for women. Not refined ones like her. There might be camp followers or ladies that made a living offering services to the soldiers, of course. They tended to be far more common. That or the wives of the men on campaign. Thankfully they didn't have any of that sort with them on the trip they’d taken, since they would have had to have been sent away.

  Otherwise they’d be hostages when the enemy finally came for them. The scouts on the other side, including their Wizard woman, hadn’t located them yet. That was a thing that Master Tolan was very certain of. Their generals, of which they had two, were under specific orders not to do more than lightly harass the Istlan troops.

  Which was what had happened to the men that had rode out first. They’d been lightly harassed to the point that none of them had lived. A thing that was instructive about how their group would be treated, if they were found.

  Huffing and puffing as he walked, Anders had to make four trips to get all the animals. One of the young ones was gone by the time he came back for it. He didn't have enough rope to bleed them all, so it took hours to get the work done. The cooks were actually a bit upset with him, for bringing them too much work. They didn’t complain about the tiny animals being there, however. That part got a smile.

  “These will be tender. We should earmark them for the Prince’s meal. We have coarse flour in, which isn’t elegant enough. Still, it’s the best we have. This is a lot of meat you have in, Master Brolly.”

  It wasn’t the head cook, being the other one there, Jamis, who would speak to him when he came by, which happened a few times a day. That was mainly in order to make certain the ice supply lasted and things that needed it were frozen solid.

  He wasn’t old or anything, just about two decades. His brown hair was unremarkable, though he was willing to let Anders in on the rumors around the camp.

  “Currently, everyone is complaining about the new flour, since it’s the dark kind. As if that’s not going to fill a rumbling belly well enough? I’d say they just didn’t know how good they got it, ‘cept as they really do. We’ve been given fair good food, this march. Which they know, since none of them have had to sacrifice their old boots in order to get something to eat. It isn’t all cakes and pies, surely. Then, this lot doesn’t get that kind of thing anyway. They could use more porridge. Oats and grains, we could make for the mornings. That’s all though and not something to task our hunter with.” The man was working as he spoke, parting out one of the little deer that had been gotten in. It was cute, in a way that left him feeling sad for its lost life. The bigger, older ones, were easier that way.

  After a moment, the chatty man went on, never slowing in what he was doing.

  “They should be drilling in the days. I know that the Captain wants to rest ‘em, since they have the time. There’s naught else all to do here, which is bad for the men. They’d built us up right
nice. It isn’t enough to keep grown men occupied for long. Trouble will start, afore long, given that.”

  There was probably truth to that, Anders knew. After all, the men had been grumbling about the lack of action, which was a bad sign. Especially since the other, larger, force had simply sat in their own camp, not moving at all.

  Master Tolan had been spending his evenings on learning all he could about them. From the letters the older general was sending home to his wife, which were more than a bit saucy, to the fact that their own cooks weren’t getting even half of the supplies that they needed to feed the men each day. They had their own forces out hunting, which more or less worked. The men weren’t all that good at it and the larger animals had left the area within walking distance of their main camp.

  They were down to hunting squirrels and that was leading to some men going hungry every night.

  On their side they went to sleep with full stomachs, which made a large difference in how they were handling things, so far. The tension of living there, knowing that, one day, probably soon, a small horde of fighters would be coming to kill them all was difficult to take. Anders certainly felt the pressure of it, each and every day.

  Over the last five mornings he’d asked Master Tolan specifically if there was any direction he needed to avoid, so he wouldn’t be caught out, trying to get in a bit more food. The answer had been that all was clear, so far. In the early mornings he’d been seeing to cleaning the man’s clothing and went over that of the Prince and Captain Horner every few days. They had other attendants, after all.

  Twice he’d made small pies that had been shared with the men, all of them including the attendants, so that they could have something nice, occasionally. Most of the time he’d spent sitting in front of his own hut, making arrows, until the night before, when the arrow heads had run out. That meant he had a hundred of the things ready to go, sitting in his hut.

  Before bed he did his bow exercises, pulling the thing slowly, over and over again. Never letting the arrow fly from it, unless he had a good target ahead of him. While he walked to where the work was, he went over various spells, including new things that would be nice to have. For instance, he’d made up a word for oil, just to get the grease stains out of clothing. Then he’d worked it every day, in his head, so that it would be ready in case dinner ended up going down Master Tolan’s shirt front one day.

  Given where he was, Anders also created a new word for blood. It would, sooner than later, come up for him.

  Dinner was eaten sitting with the grown men, even if the other attendants weren’t called over for it directly. That… Honestly, it had more to do with Master Tolan being polite to him than it did any imagined importance on his part. Perhaps it had a little bit to do with the fact that Prince Alpert was his Father. It was a thing that, as it turned out, Captain Horner hadn’t been made aware of at all. Which really, when he considered it, left Anders feeling better about the man. He hadn’t been truly rude, treating him like a child. A thing that made sense from the outside, given the man could know no differently.

  As they sat around the small fire, a magical light next to them, even if it was only past twilight and the sky wasn’t black yet, the sturdy looking Captain turned to him, seeming interested.

  “The cooks complained that you’d brought in too much meat for them to tend to today, Master Brolly. In good humor, of course. No one out here would truly make an issue of that. I just sent over a few of the foot that know how to handle that kind of thing to help out with the work there. It was enough to be impressive, I tell you, gentlemen. It must be in your blood, for it to be so. Is your Father a good hunter? That kind of thing can carry down the line.”

  Anders knew what to say, which was that his Father had died in the last war. It was what he’d been told to believe his entire life, until several months before. It was hard to believe that things had changed for him so much in that short of time. Starting with that damned crystal. Which had both saved and destroyed the boy who once was.

  Before he could speak, Prince Alpert laughed a bit. It was still in that conversational vein.

  “He’s mine, Captain. Off line. When I was not that much older than he is now, I’d fallen in love with his Mother. She’s… Lyse is nearly high enough in the noble lines for a marriage to have been made between us. It nearly was, since my family values our own. There was a chance at a blood merger with Barquea, so I ended up with Princess Aisla instead. A good woman, if not who I would have chosen.” He stopped then, sitting up straight. “Not that I wouldn’t claim Anders as my own. He’s a good boy. It’s not allowed, for political reasons or I would have done so.”

  Anders didn’t let anything show on his face then, nodding.

  “Or, if it works better for you, my Father died in the last war and I was mustered for this due to the Queen having a vision with me in it.”

  Master Tolan, who wasn’t a brilliant fighter, was good when it came to court style matters. At least he changed the topic then, as Captain Horner went wide eyed, sitting next to Anders.

  The older man, their Wizard, nodded.

  “We need to go over things but when I was searching earlier, it felt like their Wizard noticed us, finally. That won’t mean instant movement, perhaps. Soon though, if I have to guess. I was hoping Master Brolly would sit with us. No offense, gentlemen but his memory is sharper than any of ours.”

  It was true, at least when he used his skills for such things. It had missed him for the most part, in his first life. In this new one he was finding that being able to commit things from his own life to memory like he could really helped in a lot of practical learning situations.

  “Certainly, Master Tolan. I’m out of arrow heads to put on fletched arrows, anyway. I have a certain number for bolts as well, which are partially done. That might not be needed. No one has come to me for spares yet, anyway. Not that I wouldn’t help you anyway, it being my assigned task here and all that. Instead I’ve been spending all day out hunting and fishing. When I go home, everyone will think I’ve been on a relaxing holiday, when I tell them about it.” If, naturally, he made it home again.

  There was one thing that had been said that hit him. Well, two, in that the Prince had claimed to have loved Lyse. That was new to Anders, who didn't know if it could be trusted at all. In there had been news saying that Lyse was a noble woman. No one had ever truly mentioned that to him. He hadn’t been put in with the servant children, of course. A thing that had left him feeling better than they were, even as their parents were constantly there for them and they played with each other outside the castle, with games like chase and wrestling.

  He’d been kept back from that, the others not letting him join. Their parents politely removing their children when Anders came to play in an area. Eventually they’d done that kind of thing all on their own, with a few exceptions. Daren Willet had talked to him, waved and made funny faces for his amusement when they’d both been younger.

  Most of the rest acted like he wasn’t wanted. Anders had responded by not seeking them out, in turn.

  Not truly getting the idea. If Lyse was some kind of noble woman, say one partially shunned from her family, for having a child out of wedlock, then the servants might well have acted as if Anders was more important than his station, in order to protect themselves. Their little ones as well.

  Something in his words were waved away by Tolan, who smiled at him, looking across the fire.

  “Indeed. I was told, by the King himself, that I should seek not to stress you with requests. A vision sent you here, not his will. That kind of thing runs hot and cold for the Queen.” He glanced at the Prince then and seemed slightly embarrassed. “Not that she doesn’t have the true gift. Indeed, when correct she is well gifted that way. About half the time she is, in fact, which is good for that kind of thing. The future is simply not written as of yet. A thing seen might be what a powerful person makes of it, not only what is needed. Events can be changed and often are. It’s one of the r
easons that my school of magic deals in other forms of information first. What is happening now, in far off places. Where a specific object is, or the thoughts of men, no matter how far they might be. What weather will come, since in the short term that’s far more accurate than the events of men. Past a few days or weeks, seeing into the future is too rarely accurate. You can only see what is likely at the time you are in at the moment.”

  The words were helpful, at least to Anders. He’d heard rumors, in his life as Farad, to that end. That seeing the future tended to be less than perfect. It was nice to see that hadn’t really changed. It would give anyone with that kind of knowledge far too much power, otherwise.

  The Prince, still eating his rather tender venison, which had probably been roasted baby deer, waved some smoke from his face. That was sober and considering, in the moment.

  “A thing that she brought up herself. She felt very certain on this, so Father felt he had no choice but to send Anders along with us. Even king’s must, at times, answer to their wives. At least if they want peace in the castle. Speaking of which, I wish I knew what was going on there in the moment. Word could have reached there days ago. If we have aid coming, I’d love to know about it. I don’t suppose you could contact someone there, Master Tolan?”

  The older Wizard sat up a bit straighter.

  “I can read those there. That doesn’t get a message to them, or I would have tried to send things that way, instead of riders going. It seemed wrong to probe the mind of the King that way.” He stopped then, waiting for an answer.

  “We could try Princess Aisla? I don’t think I can read her mind or anything, not even knowing how to start with that kind of thing. She’s contacted me using magic before, so there is a link that way.” It was probably the wrong thing to say, though the Prince just snorted.

  Then he nodded.

  “You know, she did mention that. It sounds useful, in getting your attention to pick up messages for delivery. What do you propose?”