“We missed you last night, Chap,” said one of the men.
“Yeah, I had to run an errand,” said Chaplin.
“Decimus said he saw you leaving the city. Where were you headed so late?” asked one of the other men.
“You got a girl you haven’t told us about?”
“Nothing like that. Clint’s the ladies’ man,” answered Chaplin shoving Clint.
“Eh, Chap’s more interested in that horse lord anyway,” teased Clint.
“Ha ha, you sly Chap?” laughed the other men.
“Ha ha, why don’t you ask your mom,” said Chaplin.
There. Falcon heard the sound of feet moving in unison; he tuned out the conversation and focused on the sound of stamping feet. Once he heard the sound right in front of the cart, he poked his head out ready to run. A split second before he took off he heard another sound. When he looked back there was a fat soldier struggling to keep up with the main group. Falcon waited a moment longer and then took off running as fast as he could. First running directly toward the perimeter then he cut left and paralleled the group running past. Finally he jumped to his right and rolled into the stables, throwing his hands up for dramatic flare. Success.
He took a quick peek behind him to make sure nobody had noticed then grabbed a pitchfork for the next part of his plan. The dress may have been a new idea for Falcon but posing as a stable hand was not. One of his punishments when he was younger was to muck the stables. After he finished he was dirty and stinky but he’d realized that if you were dirty and stinky people tended to avoid you. Perfect if you were trying to avoid detection. After he finished mucking out of few of the empty stalls his disguise was complete but he still had one thing left to do.
Falcon put the tools back where he found them and took the shovel. He put the head of the shovel in between two rails of the stall and kicked it until the head was deformed.
“Perfect,” said Falcon to himself.
He took the broken shovel and checked the courtyard again. There were two gates to the courtyard. Falcon normally left out the east gate for his lessons with Rocious so this time he went for the west gate.
Falcon kept his eyes down and walked as casually as he could to the west gate, dragging the broken shovel behind him. He tried to ignore the few glances his way, and keep focused on getting to the gate. About thirty feet to the gate Falcon was forced to stop for the soldiers to run past, and then walked right through the gate, trying not to smile. But then a few steps past the gate a guard walked in front of him.
“Ho there, where you headed?” asked the guard.
“Shovel broke. Takin’ it ta da smidth,” answered Falcon trying to drop his accent in case they realized he was from Reed.
“I don’t think so,” said the guard standing behind him.
Falcon swallowed, debating if he could outrun them. He was pretty fast but these were grown men who trained every day, usually running in armor. He needed another plan and fast. If he failed to escape this time, getting a second chance would be nearly impossible. Feeling his chances of freedom slipping away, Falcon dropped the shovel.
“Craftsmen are on the other side of the city,” said the guard who originally stopped him. The other guard picked up the shovel and handed it to Falcon.
“Thank you, sir,” said Falcon.
He propped the shovel on his shoulder and started walking down the street trying to keep his nerves in check. He was free! But then a twinge of remorse hit him and he looked back at the castle. He had only been there for three and a half weeks but he had gotten somewhat comfortable in those halls. Plus, it was beautiful; stone towers built into the face of the mountain. The natural features of the mountain blended seamlessly with the man-made towers and walls. It was almost like the mountain had formed itself into a castle over time. Falcon took a second to find his own room but something else drew his attention.
One of the windows on the southern side of the castle exploded outward and sent out a shockwave shaking the ground. Falcon jumped back and tripped over his broken shovel. When he looked up again a clump of debris from the explosion was about to land directly on top of him.
Chapter 8
Choices
Rocious watched that innocent looking stable boy look up at the castle, “Gotcha!”
He blew out the nearest wall and used another explosion to launch himself over the courtyard, then a final explosion to cushion his landing.
That last explosion usually had the added benefit of making sure there were no surprises waiting for him when he landed, but this time it made sure Falcon could not run while the dust settled.
Through the dust from his last explosion, Rocious looked down at Falcon, “Where’s your dress?”
Falcon waved some of the dust from his eye. “I left it for Flor to get later.”
“How thoughtful, you know what else would have been thoughtful?” Rocious kicked the broken shovel out of his way, “a good-bye, or a thanks for taking care of me. Or not fucking running away in the first damn place!” raged Rocious.
The guards ran over to investigate the scene.
“What’s going on here? Rocious? Do you need help?” asked the guards.
“Get back to your post, the castle can’t guard itself,” barked Rocious.
Rocious flicked sparks on the ground while he waited for a response. Falcon brushed some of the dust off his clothes and started walking away. Rocious grabbed his shoulder but Falcon pulled away from him. Rocious tried to stop him again but when he saw the look on Falcon’s face his anger faded away. Falcon did not regret running; even after being caught he was determined to leave. Rocious glanced back at the castle. He could drag Falcon back there easily enough and Dominick would probably be happy. Then he turned back to Falcon, still walking away determined to leave. Rocious was a stubborn son of a bitch too. He knew that dragging Falcon back would only make him try harder next time.
So Rocious caught up and walked next to him, “Where are we going?”
Falcon kept walking but his eyes flicked to the side, “What?”
“I presume you didn’t come up with this scheme without having a destination in mind. So where are we going?” asked Rocious.
“Home. I want to go home,” said Falcon.
Rocious took a deep breath and looked at the ground. His shoe was smoking. At some point he must have started flicking sparks again. He rubbed his hands together to keep them occupied.
“I’m sorry, we can’t go back there,” said Rocious.
“I don’t care. I want to see Fort Reed again,” said Falcon.
Rocious tried to make Falcon look at him.
“I can’t take you there, not until we figure out what happened.” Rocious reached for Falcon’s arm again, “Let’s go back to the castle.”
Falcon pulled away again, “No, just leave me alone. Everyone is always telling me what to do but all I want is to go home.”
“No. You said it the other day. You’re my ward so I can’t leave you right?” asked Rocious.
“You left me. Now you only want me to go back so you don’t get in trouble,” said Falcon.
He was right; maybe he should let him run.
“You’re right, I left you. I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not. I am a nasty shit, I don’t like being with people. I don’t want to be here, you don’t want me to be here. But do you see anyone else coming? No, because quite frankly there is nobody else,” said Rocious.
Falcon started crying.
Rocious threw his hands up, “Shit! I told Dom I’d make it worse.” Fuck, he was supposed to give him something to care about but instead he told the kid he was completely alone. Rocious almost gave up but then he grabbed Falcon around the waist and tossed him over his shoulder, causing him to start screaming to put him down.
“Shut up, I’m not taking you back to the castle,” said Rocious.
Falcon started hitting Rocious in the back but he was only eight and Rocious ignored it. Falcon quickly realized his tantru
m was futile and gave up. Once Falcon calmed down Rocious carried him through the city to the stone wall that divided the second ring from the third and jumped up to the same spot he stood on the night the dragon attacked. Finally Rocious put Falcon down.
Rocious leaned on the battlements and looked back toward the castle, “What do you see down there?”
Falcon felt a few tears run down his cheek and wiped them away, “My people,” he said.
Rocious looked behind him to the section of the city that was destroyed a few days ago. It was still early but there were already people out working to repair the damage.
Rocious leaned on the wall to watch Falcon’s people, “Yeah, mine too. Most of them I don’t even like but a long time ago I decided I was tired of losing the people I see every day. The war killed them, whether they were soldiers fighting with the legion or civilians. Doesn’t matter, the point is they died and I missed them. I was pissed, but instead of running away I decided to do something. The fucked up part is that most of these people think I’m a hero. The thing they don’t seem to understand is that I’m not doing it for them, I do it for me.”
Falcon’s tears flowed freely. He covered his face and turned away from his people, sliding down the battlements until he was sitting. Rocious sat next to him, pulled him a little closer and let him cry.
Falcon stopped crying for a moment and his chest heaved, “I killed Paul.” He burst into more tears causing his whole body to shake. A few times he stopped shaking and mumbled the same thing. “I killed Paul.” Rocious sat with him holding his shoulder.
“I know,” said Rocious.
They stayed there for a few minutes, Falcon just crying and sneezing out his pain. Rocious sat with him, trying to be unaffected by the boy’s pain but he not only knew it, he could feel it. Eventually Falcon calmed and sat up on his own. Rocious took his arm back and waited for Falcon to clean his face. The only blessing was that there was barely any latent magic in the area since Rocious had used it during the attack.
“I really did kill Paul,” said Falcon, calmer this time.
“Yeah, I know,” said Rocious.
“I don’t know how. I didn’t mean to,” said Falcon.
“It’s your emotions, Falcon. Normally they are barely intense enough to attract magic from a few feet away. Right now, you’re pulling magic in for blocks, there’s just not much around at the moment. If it’s intense enough, you can pull it right out of someone. He was close to death so it was easier,” said Rocious.
“It wasn’t magic. I touched his hand and he died. I felt him die,” said Falcon starting to cry again.
Rocious grabbed Falcon’s hand and closed his eyes. Rocious pulled at Falcon’s magic, forcing them into a battle of wills.
“You feel that? It’s the same thing,” said Rocious.
“It was you,” breathed Falcon wide-eyed.
Falcon pulled back trying to hold onto what was his. Rocious let him go, allowing the link to break. Falcon sat panting rapidly trying to regain his composure.
“What happened with Paul was mercy. He was dying, you eased his passing,” said Rocious matter of fact.
The two sat in silence, watching the sunrise. Falcon stood up and stretched, Rocious took a breath to enjoy the sun on his face.
“You still want to run away?” asked Rocious.
“I never wanted to run. I want to go home. I don’t want to go back to the castle,” answered Falcon.
“I don’t have anywhere else for you to go. What’s so bad about the castle anyway?” asked Rocious.
“It’s not a good place. The servants are scared to talk, my friends can’t visit me, and there are weird rules for everything,” answered Falcon.
“I’ll talk to Dominick, make it feel more like a home for you,” said Rocious.
Falcon did not really want to go back to the castle but as he looked down at his people rebuilding he realized they were not running, they were standing tall in the midst of destruction. If they were fighting, he had to also.
“Okay, now what?” asked Falcon.
“You go back to studying,” said Rocious.
Falcon considered jumping off the wall but then he nodded, “Okay, but can I have something else to read?”
“No. That’s the only book I own.”
The next few months went by without any real excitement aside from the constant flow of scouts in and out of the castle. Falcon fell back into his study routine, and seeing Thomas and Lucian every seventh day. The only surprising thing was that Falcon was growing closer to Drake and Fafnir. At first they were reluctant to spend any real amount of time with Thomas and Lucian, but after a few weeks Fafnir began saving seats for Falcon and his two friends at the challenge matches.
Towards the end of the fall season Drake and Thomas spent the entire match talking about the fighters and debating who would win. Drake would describe the fighters’ style or weapon choice, and point out why they would wait for a riposte. Thomas ate the information like a starving man, trying to dissect each fight. In the end, Thomas had become annoyingly proficient at betting on the fights. Even Drake was unwilling to bet against him.
The atmosphere in the castle had not changed, if anything it was worse. The entire place was on guard, as if there would be an invading army at the gates every morning. They still had not figured out why the dragon attacked or even where it came from. There were just rumors that it was sent by Duke Eikard or came from Laza. Falcon knew the rumors were wrong. Nobody could control a dragon.
Falcon and Rocious were traveling with a small group of soldiers led by Sergeant Chaplin. They had three war carts, two filled with various goods and supplies; the third one filled completely with broken weapons and raw ore. The destination was a place called Spring Forge. The soldiers talked about it as if it was a luxurious vacation but the impression Rocious gave Falcon was that they were going to a slave camp.
On the fourth evening of their weeklong journey the men made camp while Falcon studied his book under Rocious’s supervision. After the camp was set a few of the men prepared dinner and they sat around a small fire sharing a meal. Falcon ate slowly, trying to avoid having to read the book for the thousandth time.
“What are you reading?” asked Chaplin from across the fire.
“It’s a dictionary,” answered Falcon.
“Must be an interesting dictionary, you’ve had your nose buried in it since we left,” said Chaplin.
Falcon glanced across the camp to where Rocious lounged against a tree, watching the sunset.
“I hate it. I was supposed to learn magic, instead I have this,” said Falcon showing his tiny book.
“Just learn it quick and ask for something else,” advised Chaplin.
“You done eating yet?” asked Rocious loudly.
Falcon took his book and started walking toward Rocious with his head down, “Yes, sir.”
On his way he handed Chaplin his empty bowl, “I memorized it months ago, and there is nothing else.”
Chaplin looked over at Rocious to see if there was some reason he made Falcon read the book so much, “Hey, why do you keep torturing the kid with that book? He says he memorized it already,” asked Chaplin.
Rocious pulled himself away from his the sunset and joined the rest of the men around the fire.
“That true?” asked Rocious.
“Yeah,” said Falcon.
“Okay, do you think you’re ready for the next lesson?” asked Rocious.
“Yes,” said Falcon perking up.
“Decimus, are you still carrying around Colville’s old knife?” asked Rocious.
“Yeah. It’s in my pack, but trust me, you want another blade if you wanna cut something. It’s more of a memento than a functional blade,” said Decimus getting up to fetch the knife from his pack.
“Dec, I don’t trust you to do anything except swing the sword, not even sharpen it,” injected Chaplin.
Decimus handed the knife to Rocious, ignoring Chaplin. Rocious took t
he knife, grabbed a branch from the pile of wood for the fire and then handed the knife and branch to Falcon.
“Look closely at the knife, recognize anything?” asked Rocious.
“The symbols from my book,” answered Falcon.
“Runes, but yes. Carve the same runes in the branch then hand it to me,” instructed Rocious.
Falcon took a few minutes to carve the runes into the branch, making sure to get them perfect before passing the knife and branch to Rocious. Rocious examined the branch for a moment, turning it over in his hands, then finally nodded satisfied with Falcon’s carving.
“Did Colville ever show you how to use the knife?” asked Rocious.
“It’s a knife, I know how to use it,” said Decimus.
Rocious just stared at Decimus.
“No, he just told me it was Arthur’s,” answered Decimus.
“Aye, Arthur made it to practice. Watch,” instructed Rocious.
Rocious held the knife for the group to see, then pushed a sliver of magic into the hilt of the knife. The runes began to glow a faint red along the blade. Rocious grabbed the hilt tight and forced more magic into the hilt causing the runes to glow brighter. A moment later flames burst from the hilt covering the blade and extending a foot and a half past the tip. The group stared at the knife, stunned into silence until Chaplin spoke.
“How long has that been in your pack?” asked Chaplin.
“Four years,” answered Decimus, greedily focused on the knife.
Rocious let the flames die and stabbed the blade into the dirt before turning his back to pick up the branch Falcon had just finished carving. Decimus went to snatch the knife but burnt his hand on the hilt before he could pull it out of the ground. Rocious turned back and smacked Decimus full on across the face.
“Fool, let it cool down and pay attention to the rest of the lesson,” said Rocious.
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