A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  Gib glanced up in the direction of the new voice in time to witness Joel’s eyes cloud with resentment.

  “What are you doing here?” the mage trainee asked, posture rigid as he glared into the corridor.

  The other voice was smug, dripping with haughtiness. “Oh, did I come at a bad time? I’m sure you’re still content to practice such shameful acts behind closed doors. I can return later if you have company.”

  Joel narrowed his eyes further, face bathed with color and hands balled into fists at his side. “If you’ve come here to berate me—”

  Smug laughter cut the mage trainee off mid-sentence. “Relax, little brother. I bring news from our father.” A moment later, the unidentified man stepped through the threshold and into the room.

  The similarities to Joel were undeniable. The newcomer was tall and lean, with the same fair skin and blue eyes. His hair was just as dark as Joel’s and almost as long, but the locks of stark onyx were noticeably straighter, while Joel’s fell in gentle waves around his shoulders. His eyes were cold and humorless, though he might have been handsome if his mouth hadn’t been pulled down, contorting his fair features into an ugly sneer.

  Gib sank down in his chair at the weight of the newcomer’s eyes. The young sentinel trainee instantly knew the look. He was being judged.

  Joel was leaning against the wall as though he might topple over without its support. “Gibben, this is my elder brother, Lord Liro Adelwijn, mage and understudy to the High Councilor of Arden.” The mage trainee sounded ill. “Liro, this is my roommate, Gibben Nemesio.”

  Liro barked a sour laugh. “A roommate? They allowed you to have another one after what happened before?” His eyes speared Gib. “Surely you mustn’t have told the poor fool your secret then.”

  “It’s not a secret,” Joel replied, keeping his reddened face fixated on the floor.

  The older brother rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately not. Now it is but a thorn in the side, a family disgrace that cannot be undone. I hope you’re satisfied with yourself.”

  Gib had no idea what the two brothers were talking about. He fidgeted with his sleeve and kept his mouth shut until Liro demanded in a sharp tone, “What’s your name, boy?”

  Gib narrowed his eyes. Joel had already introduced him once. “Gibben Nemesio. I was drafted as a sentinel trainee—”

  Liro waved a hand high in the air. “Nemesio? Not a name I’ve heard before. Are you common-born?”

  Joel made a noise as if in protest, but Gib replied first. “I am. Is there a problem with that?” He didn’t mean to growl the words like a challenge.

  Liro went eerily still. Gib held his ground, though his legs were quivering beneath the writing desk. The older Adelwijn brother straightened to his full height and a dark smile spread across his lips. “Not at all, though I’m certain you’ll know your lot in life soon enough. When war inevitably breaks out, you’ll be sent to Shiraz to die alongside the rest of the peasant army. Your name will be forgotten.”

  “Enough, Liro!” Joel finally found his voice. “Tell me whatever it is you came here to say, and then get out.”

  Liro turned his attention back to his brother. “Father wanted to be sure to extend an invitation to the twins’ Naming Day dinner. If I were you, I would check with their father first. Our uncle seems to be one of the only sane members of our family left. I’m not sure he would be comfortable with your presence.”

  Joel locked his jaw. Gib could feel tension rising in his gut. He had half a mind to leap up and tell this Liro to leave but had no such authority. At long last, the younger Adelwijn brother found his voice, shaken and weak as it might be. “I’ll speak with Father later.”

  “Do not keep him waiting.” Without a further word, Liro let himself out. He glanced back just before he shut the door and his lips lifted into an eerie, forced imitation of a smile. “I shall pray for your damned soul as always, brother.” And then, with a slam, he was gone.

  Gib swallowed at the sudden silence. He looked to Joel but couldn’t make eye contact while he was busy glaring at the floor with eyes that glimmered wetly. Gib cleared his throat and looked away out of courtesy. “Are you all right?” It was all he could think to say.

  No immediate response was given. Joel sat on his bed and such a length of time passed that Gib went back to trying to read, sure that Joel wouldn’t answer at all. When the mage trainee finally did lift his voice, it was flimsily held together. “I apologize. I’m sorry my brother was so rude to you.”

  “Seemed to be the only way he knew how to communicate. He was worse to you than to me.” Gib paused to work up the courage to go on. “Joel, I don’t know what he was talking about, but he was clearly hurting you. I just—I want you to know that I think you’re a good person. I don’t know you well, and it’s all right if you want to keep it that way, but I do think highly of you. Don’t let that swine tear you down.”

  Joel lifted his face and blinked, a single renegade droplet on his cheek. “Diddy was right about you. Yours is possibly the most open and compassionate heart of any man.” He took in a deep breath. “Thank you, Gibben.”

  Gib’s face flushed and his heart hammered all over again, though he didn’t know why. “Gib. Please, call me Gib.”

  A brief while later, Gib excused himself to go to the midday meal. Joel, as always, lingered behind. His custom was to dine exceptionally early for breakfast and late for both midday meal and supper. Gib initially figured it was merely an odd habit, but the more he grew to know his roommate, the more Gib realized Joel was avoiding the people there. With the pieces of the puzzle coming together, Gib was bothered and wanted to find some way to remedy the situation.

  The dining hall was packed when he arrived, which made finding his friends all the more difficult. After his plate was full, Gib wandered through the tables where they typically sat and was eventually flagged down by Kezra. He took a seat between Tarquin and Nage.

  As they settled back down to take their meal, another voice spoke up. “Hello everyone. May I join you?”

  Gib startled, his mouth half full with bread. “Diddy? What are you doing here? I mean, yes. Sit down. You know you don’t need to ask.”

  The young prince laughed lightly and took one of the empty places across from the four of them. “I try to remember, but you have to understand that my manners have been ingrained in me. Mother is very strict about that.”

  “Speaking of which, how did you manage to get away from her on our rest day?” Kezra chided him between bites.

  “Very carefully,” Diddy admitted with flushed cheeks. “I suspect Father is being chastised now for aiding me in my escape.”

  A round of laughter rippled through them. The Queen was apparently having a difficult time allowing her son to grow up. It was only within the past couple of sennights that she’d relinquished her grip enough to allow him to dine in the academy hall. And this was the first time Diddy had managed the feat on their day of rest, which was allotted every seventh day. Gib used the rest day as an opportunity to catch up on his reading.

  Gib shook his head good-naturedly. “It’s so strange to hear you talk about them. I know they’re your mother and father, but they’re the King and Queen to everyone else.”

  Diddy smiled as he picked at his dish, lifting some potato onto his fork. “I shall have to have you over to meet them one day, Gib.”

  It was in jest, but even the suggestion made Gib’s stomach churn. He realized that was the intended effect, but it still unnerved him to consider it. Meeting Diddy had been bad enough. He couldn’t imagine meeting the King or Queen of Arden.

  “Hey. What is that?” Nage’s voice was so loud and unexpected that Diddy stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “On your potatoes. What is that?”

  The prince glanced downward and seemed to be at a loss. “I don’t see anything. A bit of gravy, nothing else—”

  Gib jumped at that as well. The two of them must have looked quite a sight as Nage fumbled on in his deli
ght. “Gravy? Actual gravy?”

  Upon closer inspection, Gib nodded. “It is! I had some once when I was young. Pa had dipped a roll into it. It was delicious.”

  Nage was already on his feet. “I’ve never had any. I have to go get some.”

  Gib held out an imploring hand. “Grab a dish for us both. And some bread.”

  Nage nodded as he raced off, his back disappearing into the crowd. With no distraction, Gib noticed the utter silence surrounding him. Each of the others trained their eyes on him. His face instantly flushed. “What?”

  This only earned him laughter from everyone involved. Gib lowered his head and took up his fork once more. “Shut up.”

  Kezra was laughing so hard her face had gone red, and Tarquin gasped for air. “I forget how different life is for both of you,” he managed to choke out between fits. “Gravy has never been so exciting.”

  Kezra nodded her head but was still unable to speak. Even Diddy covered his mouth, trying to disguise his merriment.

  Gib slunk down in his seat and assured them of how entertaining they all were.

  When Nage returned a few moments later, with a bowl full of gravy and three small loaves of bread, he looked around at them all. “What’s so funny? Did I miss something?”

  Gib said, “Nothing. Go ahead and sit down.”

  They both dug into the gravy with their warm bread and grinned from ear to ear as they ate, oblivious to the stares their friends gave them.

  After the commotion died down, they received a pair of unexpected guests. Two older boys dropped their plates on the table loudly, one on either side of Diddy, and plopped down. “Hey there, buddy,” one of them said loudly.

  Gib recognized both of them. They were the bullies from the first day of class. Diddy had called them his brothers. Gib swallowed. More royalty? Perfect.

  Diddy groaned as they deliberately invaded his space. “Oh, for the love of The Two. What are you doing here? There must be someone else for you to bother.”

  “But we like you,” the leader from that first day spoke up. He was just as lofty and well-spoken as ever. His dark, almond-shaped eyes shone with smug mischief as he plucked an apple from his plate and took a dainty bite. “Didn’t you miss us?”

  “I can’t miss you if you won’t go away.” The prince’s decorum slipped for the first time. His voice hissed through clenched teeth much like any little brother speaking to his irksome elder siblings.

  “Now, now, Didier. That’s not very becoming for a prince of Arden,” said the second boy with a voice so loud it carried across the room. He trained his voice to sound formal, like how the Queen might scold her son.

  Diddy’s face screamed of his discomfort. He looked as though he wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. “Please go away.”

  The boy with the almond-shaped eyes stuck his nose in the air. “You hurt our feelings. You’ll never make a good ambassador like that. And you haven’t even introduced us to your friends.”

  The agony in the prince’s eyes made Gib wish he could come to the rescue once more but he’d have no excuse this time. He knew who the two older boys were now and had no permission to speak lightly to them.

  Diddy sighed, lifting one hand, and signaled to each of his friends in turn. “Tarquin Aldino, Kezra Malin-Rai, Gibben Nemesio, and Nage Nessuno, this is my brother, Hasain Radek, and cousin, Nawaz Arrio.”

  Gib blinked and looked at them both. Diddy’s brother looked nothing like Diddy, but his cousin could have been a mirror double. Nawaz shared the same fair skin, dark hair, and wide, expressive eyes—though his were a shocking blue as opposed to Diddy’s brown. Nawaz also had an odd lock of silver growing over one temple.

  Hasain shared the dark hair, but his was thicker than Diddy’s or Nawaz’s. His shrewd eyes and thin mouth made him look calculating. His soft voice carried well even in such a loud space. “So these were the ones who took pity on you and decided to give you a chance at being ‘normal.’”

  Gib gritted his teeth but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Hasain. Nawaz narrowed his eyes, causing a knot to form in Gib’s stomach. Had he said that out loud? He didn’t like the way those intense eyes focused on him.

  “Hey.” Nawaz’s naturally loud voice seemed to boom all around them. “Aren’t you that boy who mouthed off to us on the first day of class?”

  Gib’s stomach sank, but Diddy jumped in to save him. “He didn’t know who either of you were. Rather, he didn’t know who any of us were.”

  Hasain frowned and stuck his nose in the air. “Where are you from? It would seem your schooling is lacking.”

  Nawaz laughed and slapped a hand on the tabletop. “Did you shit your pants when you found out the truth?” He cackled openly, and Gib thought he heard Kezra and Tarquin snort.

  Taking a slow breath, Gib waited for Nawaz to stop laughing before he responded. “Not quite, but I was startled.” Nawaz laughed some more. Gib turned to look at Hasain. “I’m from Willowdale and you’re right. My schooling is lacking. I was busy raising my brothers on our farm before I was called here.”

  Any merriment either of them may have been enjoying up until that point slipped away. Nawaz sneered and shook his head. Hasain went rigid. Gib prepared himself for more poisonous words and accusations of worthlessness. Both of these older boys seemed not so different from Liro Adelwijn.

  Hasain’s next words startled Gib. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Nawaz shook his head and leaned back from the table as if put off from his meal. “That damned draft has gotta go.” He was talking to Hasain but gestured toward Gib and Nage. “Look at them. They’re boys. A farmer and a Nessuno. Chhaya’s bane, it’s not fair.”

  Hasain nodded. “I’ve heard talk of taking two men from each family, not just one.”

  “Horseshit. Arden’s army is well trained and large enough without forcing new recruits. These old laws need to be struck down.”

  “The King has been trying to get the drafting age raised for years, but the country is torn in two about it. The High Council is overrun with fools.” When Tarquin balked at that, Hasain conceded slightly. “Forgive me, Aldino. Not your father so much as—” He gave Kezra a narrow look. “—some others.”

  Kezra folded her arms over her chest and met his gaze without hesitation. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. My father is a fool.”

  Gib was thoroughly confused by all of this, but Diddy showed some mercy. “Could we please talk about something more pleasant? After all, my friends don’t need to burden themselves with all of this.”

  Both of the older boys shifted back to nitpicking Diddy for his troubles. While this may have been irksome for the young prince, it made for lighter conversation, and an entire mark later, they were all still sitting together. Their plates had long been empty and most of the other students had left the dining hall.

  It would soon be time for chores, but Gib didn’t feel like excusing himself. The conversation had remained light since the redirection, but he was itching to ask more about the draft. King Rishi wouldn’t call for two men from each family, would he? If Tayver were drafted as well, who would look after Calisto? Gib’s insides knotted up at the thought, and he stared at the tabletop until he heard his name.

  “That’s right. Gib is Joel’s roommate,” the young prince was saying.

  Gib glanced up to see both of the older boys looking at him. Shifting in his seat, Gib tried to think of something to say. “Dean Marc thought that Joel would be able to help me learn my way around here and all. He’s been a lot of help.” He fished for something more but could think of nothing, especially under their heavy looks.

  “How do the two of you get along?” Hasain asked.

  Gib thought it an odd question. “Well. He’s a good roommate.”

  Nawaz nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. “How’s he doing? With school and friends?”

  Another odd question, and a bit intrusive. Gib felt like he was being
interrogated. “Uh, fine I guess? I mean, we’re not really friends. He’s two years older than me, after all. But he doesn’t seem to have a lot of people over.” He thought about it for a minute. “In fact, other than on the first day when Diddy paid him a visit, the only other person I’ve seen Joel speak to was his brother.”

  The older boys shared a dark look. Hasain sighed. “Liro visits him?”

  “Only earlier today. Or at least, that’s the first I’ve seen of him.”

  Nawaz grunted his distaste. “That’s enough.”

  Gib nodded. Without thinking, he offered more than he meant to. “Yeah. I didn’t care much for him.” He winced at his own forwardness and immediately tried to correct himself. “I mean, I’m sorry. I suppose Liro is your cousin as well.”

  Hasain smirked darkly. “No need for apologies. None of us like him.”

  “He’s damned miserable,” Nawaz added.

  A couple of young girls came into the dining hall from the kitchen and began wiping down the tables. Gib sighed, readying himself for the inevitability of his own chores. “Yeah, I would agree with you. It seems odd that two brothers can be so different as Joel and Liro.”

  The girl who had been wiping down the table next to theirs turned to look at them. “Joel and Liro. Speaking of the Adelwijns, are you?”

  Nawaz instantly groaned as though he knew the girl. “Damn it, Annwyne, go away.”

  She frowned curtly at him and stuck her nose in the air. “Some of us have responsibilities. We can’t all have rich stepfathers now, can we?”

  Nawaz drew back in disgust. “What do you want?”

  A smug smile formed on her lips. “I was merely doing my job when I heard the mention of Liro and Joel Adelwijn. Naturally, the discussion drew my interest. Tell me, has Joel dishonored his family yet again? Though I can hardly imagine how he could top his last offense.”

  Gib looked at her narrowly. More of this? What were they on about? What could Joel have possibly done that was so shameful?

  Hasain was already leveling her with a glare. “That will be enough from you. Go make yourself useful somewhere.”