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

by Shiriluna Nott

  Lifting the rucksack over his shoulder, Gib gave the closed door to his dorm room one last look. It seemed unreal this should be the last time he would see it for the next few moonturns. Despite its cramped quarters and impersonal feel, it had become his home. Despair rose in his chest. I’m going to miss it all.

  At least as he walked away from one home he could comfort himself with the knowledge he was heading toward another. Tayver and Calisto were sure to have grown since last he saw them. A smile touched his lips as he wondered if their clothes would be too short in the arms and legs now.

  He and the boys would have to write Liza. He hadn’t heard from his sister since her relocation to Winterdell, but he refused to give in to the fear of her demise. She was clever. Surely this brewing war wouldn’t be her undoing, not when she still had so much to give the world. It was his hope, one day, to stand at her side wearing a sentinel uniform. They could protect Arden together.

  Who was to say what the future held? Gib surely had no idea. All he knew was that he’d grown to love Silver City, and in his heart, things would never be the same if he tried to leave it all behind.

  “Gib! Gibben Nemesio! Stop! I finally found you!”

  Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, Gib stopped in his tracks and turned to look over his shoulder. Dean Marc waved as he bustled down the busy hall after the student. Gib’s guts churned. What now? Couldn’t he just go home in peace? The doorway was right there. He could see it. “Yes, Dean Marc?”

  Marc clambered over and waved his hands as he bent to catch his breath. “Just Marc is fine. The school term is over.” He gasped for air. “I need to get out of that office more. Look at me.” His ragged breathing was comical, but Gib did his best not to smile.

  At length, the dean stood to his full height and recomposed himself. “I feared I’d missed you. I need you to come to my office for a moment before you leave. Do you have time to spare?”

  He wanted to say no. If he got on the road while it was still morning he could make good timing on his homeward journey to Willowdale—all thanks to the lively young mare Queen Dahlia had given him as a reward for thwarting the assassin’s plan. Grudgingly, Gib gave in. The dean had been nothing but gracious to him. Gib supposed he owed Marc the favor. “Sure. I suppose.”

  Marc slapped Gib on the back, smiling widely. “Great. Follow me.”

  Gib followed in silence as they traversed the crowded halls. He looked around, scouring passersby for familiar faces but saw none. Many of the dorm rooms already stood empty. It was sad, somehow. Before he knew it, they were at the dean’s office.

  “This way, Gib. Take a seat.” Marc opened the door and ushered him inside.

  “Thank you, sir. Could I ask what this is about—”

  Seneschal Koal stood by the window behind Marc’s polished desk, his back to them. “You could, but you’re going to have to wait a moment to be told the answer.”

  Gib froze. “Uh, h–hello, Seneschal. What brings you here?” His mouth was as dry as parchment. Surely Koal wasn’t here to ask Gib to come back to the Adelwijn estate. Gib could think of no way to refuse the Seneschal without being offensive. Surely Koal, of all people, would understand how badly Gib needed to go home and see his brothers, wouldn’t he?

  Koal turned from the window, his face a guarded mask. “We have much to discuss,” came his cryptic reply.

  Marc put a hand on the sentinel trainee’s shoulder. “Have a seat. This may take a little while.”

  A cold rock settled in Gib’s stomach. Certainly if the seneschal was present, this meeting couldn’t be about his grades, could it? He knew his reading scores weren’t the best, but he’d tried his hardest. He’d also missed several sennights of physical training, but surely his private lessons with Diddy had more than made up for that. “Is something wrong?”

  “That is yet to be decided.”

  The office door swung shut and behind it stood King Rishi, as tall and intimidating as ever. The wolfish smile that cut his face in two did nothing to calm Gib’s nerves. What was this? Was he going to be questioned more about the assassin? He had no idea what else he could tell them. They knew everything he did and they’d analyzed every word at length. What more could he say?

  “Sit down,” the King commanded.

  “Y–yes, Sire.”

  Gib sank into the chair which was typically so comfortable. Today, it offered no comfort. His mind raced as the three men paced the office and finally came to rest along different surfaces—Koal against the sill, Marc in the chair beside Gib, and the King atop Marc’s desk.

  Quiet overtook them for a time and Gib waited on the edge of his seat. A million different ideas ran through his mind, none of them bringing clarity to their current situation. When none of the men offered to break the silence, Gib heard his own shaking voice come out. “Is–is this about the assassin? I’ve told you all I know. I don’t remember a name being mentioned, or an accent. No places were spoken of, not a town or a country—”

  Koal shook his head. “No, no. This is nothing to do about any of that. It was determined the assassin was of Ardenian origin. He had a couple of prisoner brands on his shoulder—petty crimes mostly. We didn’t get a name for him and no one claimed him so his body went to a common tomb.” The seneschal frowned. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever figure out who he worked for.”

  Marc shuffled a couple of papers in his lap. After what felt like an eternity, the dean cleared his throat. “Ah, here we are. I have your marks here. Have you reviewed them yet?”

  Gib shook his head. “I, uh, didn’t know where to find them. I didn’t think to ask.” He tapped his fingers along the arm of the chair. So this is about my grades? Why is the King here for this?

  Marc listed off each score, reading aloud what the professors had to say. A warm blush stole over Gib’s face at the sparse praise from Weapons Master Roland. Lady Beatrice commended Gib on his progress in her law class. Indeed, reading was his only real shortfall—though he’d managed to pass. Barely.

  Koal folded his arms over his chest. “What are your plans for the future, Gib? You’re not getting any younger. You must have some plan.”

  His mind reeled. Plans? He’d never had a plan before. Before Silver City it was plant the crop, harvest the crop, sell the crop, don’t freeze to death, repeat. He hadn’t dedicated much thought to it before now, but it would be a lie to say he hadn’t enjoyed this past year.

  “I–I’m not sure, sir.”

  Koal tilted his head to the side. “Where is your heart, Gib? Do you long to go back to the farm one day or do you think you could be happy here, in Silver?”

  Gib wrung his hands together. “It’s not that simple. If it were just me, I’d stay here I think. But I’ve got two brothers. They still need me.”

  Koal nodded. “There are many opportunities in Silver. Your brothers could come to the city if they choose.”

  “We’ve already thought of that.” Gib looked out the window at the green blooms and smiled. “Tayver is old enough to find apprentice work. And Cal has had an offer from our neighbor to be a farm hand until he’s old enough to apprentice or enter Academy too. But I still need to talk to both of them about it.” It dawned on him that he still had no idea where any of this was going. “Why, sir?”

  Marc shifted in his seat and glanced at the King, who nodded once. Gib sucked in a deep breath and waited. The dean flashed a large smile. “Gib, it is Academy’s decision to recommend you for the scholarly program. This line of training takes four years to complete instead of two, and once you’re fully trained you’ll be able to rise to the highest ranks within the Arden Sentinels or become a politician. One day you could find yourself wearing a red cape or sitting at the royal council table, if you work hard enough.”

  Gib’s mind went blank. What? They wanted him to take the advanced courses? Those classes were reserved for students with exceptional grades or who came from nobility. He was neither a star student nor a highborn. They couldn’t be ser
ious. Gib issued an incredulous laugh. “I, uh, I appreciate the recommendation, sir, but I can’t afford those classes. I’d never be able to pay—”

  The King had remained quiet until now, content to listen to the conversation and observe them all, but now he raised his voice to interject. “We didn’t recommend you pay for the classes—only that you take them.”

  “I could take a job, Your Highness, but I still could never repay—”

  The King’s frown managed to be even more intimidating than his smile. King Rishi leapt to his feet and paced around Gib’s chair, as graceful as ever, even with his right arm in a sling beneath his cape. “Enough of this job nonsense. You won’t have time for a job with these new classes. Your studies will be much more difficult now—so much you’ll probably question why you agreed to them.” He flashed a wicked grin at Gib’s slack-jawed wonder. “But seeing as you won’t have a job, you should be able to keep yourself at the top of your class, correct?”

  “Y–yes, Your Highness!”

  King Rishi smiled devilishly as he walked to the door. “Good. I would expect nothing less from a self-made hero, Gibben Nemesio of Willowdale. Don’t disappoint those who have put their faith in you.” And without a single word of goodbye, he left, the door banging shut behind him.

  Mouth ajar, Gib could think of nothing to say. What just happened?

  His confusion must have been apparent, for Marc barked a laugh. “Well done, Gib! The King is rarely so open with anyone. He must truly like you.”

  Gib swallowed. “I would never have guessed.”

  More laughter met his ears and Koal came to him a moment later to clap a hand on his back. “You needn’t worry for the cost of the classes, Gib. I stepped forward to sponsor you, and after the events from the Aithne ceremony, King Rishi offered free tuition for you anyway. There is nothing else you need do. Just show up when planting is done and resume your classes.”

  Gib’s head swam. Looking at Koal, he wasn’t sure he was really seeing the seneschal. He wasn’t sure if any of this was real or merely a figment of his imagination. When he came back to Academy, he’d be on the same career path as Tarquin. Gib couldn’t imagine what his other friends—Kezra, Nage, Diddy, Joel, and everyone else—would have to say. “Th–thank you. I don’t—I—thank you.”

  Koal smiled. “No, thank you. We’ll see you in a couple of moonturns, Gibben Nemesio.”

  With war imminent and the High Council of Arden and King Rishi Radek at odds with one another, what will become of Gib and his friends? Find out in Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden. Available now on Amazon here!

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