He frowned. ‘Every time.’ This was silly. A child would know this.
‘Were you to go in that pit, you would be the lion. Everyone would know you would win. So no one disagrees. But when it is hard to say who will win, people disagree. And then they argue with coins, and the one who guesses best wins the money, just as the fighter who fights best wins the fight. This happened in the pits where you fought, too, but where the fight is to the death, the fighters become even more desperate and the end is harder to predict.’ He shrugged. ‘And then there are some who just like the blood.’
He thought about this. Fighting with no skill. Fighting with no death. He stepped back towards the pit and cast a glance at the two men, one on his knee and the other hammering at the upraised shield. He spat in disgust. ‘This is not fighting. I do not like this pit. I will find another.’
‘There is no other, lad. This is it in this place. And in many others. There are two places where you will find the level of contest you seek. The Arena above ground, where skill is prized, and the pits below, where death is sought. You have triumphed in both, a unique achievement.’
Brann felt a surge of interest. ‘Then I will go there.’ He started walking.
Cannick fell in beside him. ‘Should you go to either place, there are those who would kill you before you had a single contest.’
He shrugged. ‘Then I will kill them.’
‘You do not know how.’
This man was stupid. ‘I know killing.’
Cannick smiled. It looked sad, which was a strange smile. ‘You do indeed. But you need to learn how to do it without getting yourself killed by them at the same time. That power is inside you, but it is hidden. You need to learn that even a lion may be beaten by dogs, if there are enough dogs. You need to learn to think.’
‘I think when I fight.’
‘It’s a different sort of thinking. For when you are not fighting.’ Brann frowned in confusion. The man’s words did not make sense, but Cannick continued. ‘Grakk is taking you somewhere to help you learn what you need.’
That, he could understand. ‘Then we must go there. We must leave.’
This time the man’s smile was a proper smile. He looked happy. ‘In the morning, you shall get your wish. Now, we should return to the tent to prepare for that.’
They reached the tent as Grakk was returning with an excited Marlo. Hakon looked up. ‘Welcome back! How was the pit?’
Brann thumped onto a thick rug beside Sophaya, who was toying with a small stone, rolling it between each finger in turn at a speed that was hard to follow. ‘It was not fighting. It was pathetic.’ He pointed at Grakk’s head as he ducked into the tent. ‘He will take me to learn to think so I can kill people but not die.’
Grakk looked at Cannick. ‘A rather simplistic description.’
The veteran’s mouth twitched in a half smile. ‘You wanted me to try deep philosophy?’
The tribesman nodded in acceptance.
Sophaya flicked the stone at Marlo’s head. ‘Someone looks surprisingly cheerful considering they have come back here to say farewell to their darling friends.’
The boy’s grin grew even broader. ‘Did you notice? There is good reason.’
Grakk stepped over to the supplies and started picking through them, selecting some and discarding others. ‘He will be accompanying us.’
‘What?’ Cannick clearly didn’t like surprises.
Grakk straightened. ‘The young Scribe returned and caught us at the livestock merchant. A messenger had found him as he returned to the palace. The word around the area we have so recently vacated is that a boy of a description matching Marlo, and known by many who have lived there for some years, has been seen in the company of the boy gladiator who is sought. There is now coin offered for news of either boy, and should young Marlo be found, they will have their particular methods of asking questions.’
Several of the swords that were native to this region were of a slim, slightly curved variety and so several of those left for them were of this sort. Grakk sorted through them as he spoke until he found two that satisfied him. While Brann was happy to fight with any weapon that came to hand, he found he had a liking for the straight swords. He supposed he had preferred them in the time before his memories started. The tribesman continued, while pulling on a harness which would allow the blades to sit crossed on his back: ‘He has been released from his duties with Cassian and will travel with us for his own safety. Comparative as that safety may be.’
Brann felt pleased. The boy seemed to want to be helpful, and he smiled a lot. He wouldn’t like him to be harmed.
Cheerfully, Hakon slapped Marlo on the back, which seemed to be his main form of communication. ‘Welcome to our happy band,’ he said, steadying the boy’s stagger with his other hand. Gerens nodded once in acknowledgement and, grinning, Sophaya unerringly flicked another stone that pinged off Marlo’s head.
Marlo beamed. ‘This is going to be exciting!’
A grunt came from Cannick. ‘Give me boring and uneventful any day. Let’s just settle at the moment for all of us getting back unharmed by man or nature.’
‘Starting now, select what we need,’ Grakk commanded. ‘Clothing suitable for the path ahead is over there.’ He looked at Sophaya. ‘Same for everyone. We will not be dressing in fashion for the court.’
The girl rose in a single smooth movement. ‘When have you ever seen me dress anything but functional, dear Grakk?’
‘At the court. On our first day, if you remember.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘That was with purpose, too, do you not see? Were a leopard able to dress as a gazelle, would it not do so?’
Grakk stared at her. ‘Indeed.’ Brann noticed that there was amusement in his eyes, though he knew not why, for she had merely stated a fact, and one that made sense. ‘In any case, find clothing that fits, then take a spare set. There are packs there, also. Then weapons, a blanket, for the night is colder where we are going than in the city, and anything else you see that you may need, though do not take any more than you do need. Our mounts may be hardy, but they will need energy more than we will, and we should not overburden them. Cannick will assist me with the food provisions and cooking equipment.’The old warrior nodded. ‘Of that which you leave here, anything that can identify you goes on the fire outside. The rest can be left here and will be removed on the morrow when our benefactor sends his people to take the tent. Soon we must sleep for what few hours remain of the night, as our start is early.’
As Brann pulled his tunic over his head, his eye caught a design marked on his arm: a strange and fierce beast and writing he was unable to read. When they had washed blood from him after fights, these marks remained, so they must be a part of him. He looked at the shapes adorning the bald man’s scalp. They seemed the same sort of thing, just different shapes.
Grakk turned at his approach and looked at the arm Brann proffered. ‘You have lines on your skin,’ the boy said. ‘I have this picture on me – do you know what it is?’
The man nodded. ‘You were brave, very brave, and you helped a lot of people. This symbol was an honour from them, a way for them to say thank you.’
Brann considered this. ‘I like helping people.’ If that was why it was there, he was happy. ‘And the writing?’
Hakon stepped beside him. ‘They are runes. It is how my people write down their letters. It says, “Dare to dream; trust your heart; let your soul fly.”’
Brann’s eyes narrowed. That stirred a memory, but only the start of one, like a picture forming in the smoke of the fire that swirls to nothing just as your eyes try to grasp it. A name remained, though. ‘Valdis.’
The room fell silent. He looked around the staring faces, and settled on Grakk. He was good with answers. ‘Who is Valdis?’
The bald man drew a slow breath. ‘She is a friend. She chose those words in the runes for you.’
‘Then she must be a good friend. Is she?’
‘She �
�’ Grakk looked past him at Hakon.
The large boy smiled gently. ‘She is. She most certainly is.’ He clapped a hand on Brann’s shoulder for a moment, then turned back to his preparations. Satisfied, Brann did likewise.
Without being asked, Marlo assisted Brann with his clothing – loose-fitting trousers and tunic and a light cloak with a broad strip of cloth hanging from one side of the hood, all in dark shades of blue, and a pair of light but sturdy boots – and tossed him a blanket. The boy was indeed most helpful.
‘Thank you. You are a good friend.’
The boy’s eyes grew moist. It seemed a strange reaction to Brann, especially as there was a quiet smile on his face. ‘Friends help friends.’ He gripped Brann briefly on the arm, then turned to his own belongings.
Following the lead of the others, Brann stowed his meagre belongings in a pack but kept out the blanket for the short rest ahead of them. Hakon had happily festooned himself with steel: a longsword, a fighting axe and a throwing axe on his belt, a spear and a large round wooden shield beside his blanket, and more knives than could be counted, stowed in more places than could be seen. Brann looked longingly at the swords, and Cannick caught his eye.
He stared solemnly back at the man. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It is not permitted.’
‘Not yet,’ Cannick grinned. ‘Maybe in a few days if you behave yourself.’
‘Behave myself?’
Gerens looked up from where he crouched over his pack. ‘Not kill anyone.’
They settled down and Brann let sleep come to him. Taking rest whenever he could, he was used to. In his cell home, there was no sky that darkened and lightened, and you never knew when your effort would be required.
When he woke, it was instant. That was also a beneficial ability in the City Below. The others were being roused, and in moments the tent was bustling with the brief activity it took to ready themselves. Brann looked at them, at their weaponry. Hakon carried more than most men could bear the weight of and Grakk had his crossed blades on his back; Marlo bore a curving blade similar to Grakk’s pair, while Cannick and Gerens had on their hips the straight swords that had caught his eye, with the boy also having chosen a small, but heavy-looking club and two knives: one a familiar-looking long dagger and the other a slim blade that, even in its sheath, promised a needle-like point. Sophaya was the only one who had not taken a sword – she had answered Hakon’s surprised look by asking why she should want the extra weight of something she had no ability to use – but had managed to equip herself with a selection of knives of a startling variety, including a harness that extended down the front of her torso to hold a rack of throwing blades, their handles facing alternately to suit each hand. She had also picked up one of the local bows, a short one that curved and curved again, as had Marlo, while Hakon had been particularly happy to have discovered a much longer, straighter bow.
Bann had understood the words from the grey-haired Cannick, and he was familiar with the feeling of being without a weapon among armed men, as every man he had encountered from his cell to the pit and back again had carried a blade of some sort whereas he had only been permitted what had been thrown to him in the pit and retrieved at the fight’s bloody conclusion. But still, to be part of this group, and yet to see them with weapons to hand while he buckled on an empty belt, left him feeling uneasy. It was not a fear born of vulnerability, for all he could remember was fighting with whatever came to hand; it was more a sense of being different among those who called themselves friend. Perhaps if he behaved. Perhaps, as they had said, if he didn’t…
‘I will try not to kill anyone.’ He was standing before Cannick, looking into the man’s honest face.
‘I know you will.’ The man’s voice was solemn, genuine.
‘I do not seek to kill. It finishes a fight.’
The man frowned, but strangely he did not seem angry. ‘It does indeed, lad, it does indeed. But sometimes it is better not to finish a fight that way. And sometimes it is better not to fight at all.’
‘What are these times?’
‘That is what you must learn for yourself. Once you knew these things yourself, on occasion better than the rest of us. Which is why we make this journey, to reach someone who Grakk believes may help you remember. And which is why, until you remember, it is best that your access to weapons is not overly easy.’
Brann nodded, and turned away, but the old man continued: ‘You can, however, keep what is tucked into the back of your breeches.’
His hand went instinctively to the knife hilt. ‘How did you know?’
Cannick’s eyes smiled. ‘I have spent a lifetime staying alive. It helps to be able to notice these things. And it would be overly cruel to deny you absolutely everything, I think.’
Brann nodded again and moved across the tent to take his pack. He liked this man. But he would also have liked a sword.
‘We should collect our mounts and be off,’ Grakk suggested. He paused, though, as Hakon hoisted a water cask to his shoulder with a grunt and stomped out of the tent. ‘Alternatively, I am thinking, why carry our provisions to beasts of burden when the beasts can come to the provisions? Cannick, my friend,’ he said. ‘Would you mind waiting here to protect our belongings? We shall return before long.’
Hakon set the cask down outside the entrance to the tent with a puff of relief and held aside the flap to let the others emerge. ‘I would naturally have been happy to carry that and more,’ he said, ‘but of course I am even happier to take the advice of such a learned man.’ They left Cannick sitting contentedly on the cask, watching the world pass by.
Brann could smell the livestock before he heard it, and heard it before he saw it, but when he did so it was with surprise at the scale of the animal pens. Horses, oxen, goats and fowl were gathered in a huge area that teemed with imminent travellers who collected and bought animals that would carry them or their goods or fill their stomachs. Grakk headed to a fence behind which a collection of fine-looking horses stood, but his companions were surprised when he passed the pen and stopped at the next, the man waiting at its gate greeting the tribesman with the enthusiasm of a merchant who had been well compensated. They were even more surprised at the pen’s contents.
Brann stared at the beasts in astonishment. They looked like several animals had been rearranged into one beast, long of leg and neck, narrow of head and with a hump on the back that looked anything but healthy. In the City Below, a man had come to clean their cells every so often who was bent and had a hump to his back, and these beasts seemed to suffer the same affliction. Marlo saw his expression.
‘You do not have camels where you come from?’
‘I don’t know where I come from.’
Hakon was equally astounded by the animals. ‘I do know, and we don’t.’
Now Marlo was surprised. ‘Then how do you cross desert and deadlands?’
Hakon grinned. ‘We don’t have those either.’
Marlo shrugged. ‘Fair enough. Just be content with the generosity of our benefactor in providing such animals. You will discover their worth.’
‘Generosity?’ Brann was puzzled. ‘These beasts are deformed, they are sick. They have a growth on their backs.’
Marlo laughed. ‘That hump is the sign of a healthy camel. Some say it stores its water there, some that it has another sustaining purpose, but whatever is true, the fact is that these beasts can manage far longer than you and I without taking food or water, which make them great friends to have in empty lands. That, and their broad feet that walk well when the sand becomes soft.’
Hakon’s face brightened. ‘We fit similar lattice frames to our shoes for soft snow.’
‘Ah, yes, snow.’ Marlo’s face had also lit up. ‘I would most certainly like to see this snow.’
Hakon’s eyebrows had risen. ‘You know of snow?’
‘Indeed.’ He flicked a thumb at Brann. ‘He told me of it.’
‘I did?’
Grakk’s voice cut through their
conversation as he beckoned them over. ‘We are fortunate enough to have been supplied with nine of these beasts, and all are of excellent quality.’ The animal handler beamed in pride. ‘There will be one for each of us to ride, and two to carry the extra supplies. Our friend here,’ at which the handler puffed up even more, clearly delighted at the thought of friendship with such clients, ‘has supplied us with suitable tackle for each animal’s purpose. Sophaya and Marlo, are you familiar with such beasts?’
Both nodded. ‘Young children from the poorer quarters are invited to ride in camel races,’ Marlo explained. ‘They are light and easily enticed with just a few coins.’
‘And,’ the girl said drily, ‘it matters less if they fall off and are trampled.’
‘Then we are grateful that neither of you fell off and are here to help us,’ Grakk said. ‘We shall lead a camel each, that which will be our own mount, and I will also take Cannick’s while you two will each also bring one of the pack animals.’
Brann was wary as he took the corded rope of many twined colours that hung from the harness of his beast. The only animals he had come across at close range were those replete with tooth, claw, muscle and savage rage that had been sent to kill him in the pit, and therefore his only interaction with animals had been to put as many inches of steel as he could into them as many times as possible. The camel regarded him balefully with a sidelong look from on high, as if it knew his history. Nevertheless, it followed willingly enough when he tentatively pulled the cord, and he was able to lead it after Grakk and his two beasts.
They stopped at the edge of the livestock holding area, where a long row of stone troughs sat, brimming with water. Grakk indicated them. ‘This is the most valuable commodity in the desert, but here it is free, as is tradition, in gratitude towards those who brave the sands and sun. You will notice a post with a rag by each trough: a black cloth indicates water for animals, and white for people. Take your camels and let them drink their fill and, while they do so, fill up your own two waterskins so we might save that which is in our supply of water casks for the path ahead.’
Hero Grown Page 25