by Stuart Daly
This was going to be close!
Caspan swallowed back the lump in his throat. He could feel, from how the top length of wire was positioned, that he was almost there. All he had to do now was slot in the lower length of the wire for the chest to open.
‘Come on!’ he urged himself on.
The sound of footsteps from behind revealed that Roland and Kilt were getting closer. Out of the corner of his eye, Caspan saw that Lachlan’s lock was hanging by a thread. A few feet further along the line, Sara ran to one of the chests and started rotating the first of the combination wheels.
This was going to be over any second now. But still Caspan couldn’t get the bottom length of wire to lock in. Panicking, he forced his stiletto in downwards, and jiggled at it relentlessly.
Sara moved onto her second wheel.
Roland was gaining rapidly.
Lachlan raised his hammer to deliver what surely must be his final blow.
In one final, desperate effort, Caspan pushed hard on his stiletto and twisted to the right. There was a loud click that caught everybody’s attention, causing Lachlan to stare in disbelief at Caspan, his hammer poised above his head. The lock turned! Then, with a savage snarl, Lachlan carried through with another blow, sending his lock flying off.
Caspan ripped the padlock from his wooden chest just as Roland came sliding in on his knees to one of the chests and inserted his key and Sara completed the final turn on her combination wheel.
In perfect synchronisation, all four recruits flung open their chests and grabbed the copper coins from inside. They looked across at one another and their eyes locked.
Time froze.
Sara swallowed. Lachlan licked a bead of sweat from his top lip. Roland grinned and winked.
Just as Kilt reached the final chest, the others took off, sprinting across the training yard to the awaiting Master. Clearly tired from hammering open his lock, it wasn’t long before Lachlan started to fall behind, his breaths in ragged gasps. Unable to match Caspan’s speed, Sara also lagged behind. But not so with Roland. Despite having run a great distance to collect a key, he was keeping pace with Caspan, breathing heavily, his cheeks puffing like bellows.
‘You … can always … give up,’ he muttered, glancing askance at Caspan.
‘Not on your life!’ With only fifty yards remaining to Master Scott, Caspan ripped off his cloak and surged forward.
Roland groaned and tried his best to keep up, but the run to the tower finally took its toll on him. Seeing the black-haired boy fall back, Caspan streaked ahead, his heart pounding with excitement.
‘Slow down! You’ll smash into the weapons racks if you’re not careful,’ Scott warned as Caspan bolted up to him and handed him his coin. Only a few seconds later Roland reached them. Hands planted on hips as they sucked in air, the boys watched as the remaining recruits raced over to join them. Sara came third, followed by Lachlan and a very disgruntled Kilt.
Scott gave them a few minutes to collect their breath before telling the group to sit down. He nodded in admiration. ‘Well done. I didn’t think you’d do that so quickly.’
Roland waved his praise aside. ‘It was nothing, sir. I do this sort of thing every morning after breakfast.’
The Master grinned. ‘Oh, really? Well, even if that was only a test, it’s handy knowing that, one way or another, you’re skilled at breaking into chests. We often come across them in tombs, and don’t have much time to find what’s inside.’
‘Why’s that?’ Sara asked.
Scott shrugged. ‘Could be a number of reasons. We might have activated a trap and only have a minute before the entire tomb collapses. Or we might have Caledonish clansmen or brigands coming in after us.’
Sara groaned. ‘Aren’t we the lucky ones?’
Scott smiled encouragingly. ‘You most certainly are. There’s never a dull moment around here. But there’ll be ample time later to tell you tales of the adventures we’ve had. For now, let’s choose your magical guardians.’ He reached into his satchel and removed the five figurines, which were protected in small leather pouches. He pulled aside their drawstrings, produced the metal statues on their silver chains, and placed them on the ground in front of the recruits. They leaned forward, staring at the soul keys in wonder.
Kilt pointed at the one on the far left and pouted her bottom lip. ‘I so want that one.’
‘We’ve already determined the order of how you’ll pick.’ Scott regarded Caspan and gestured at the figurines with an open palm. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’
Caspan rubbed his hands and shuffled forward to take a closer look at the metal statues. He inspected each of them several times, unsure of which one to pick. In the end, he chose the Warden he believed would best protect him and make travelling over long distances a breeze. Holding it eagerly, he moved back into line and waited for his friends to select theirs.
Once they had all chosen, Scott led the recruits to the middle of the training yard and organised them into a straight line. ‘Your Wardens served kings that died a long time ago,’ he announced, pacing back and forth before them. ‘They have been waiting for centuries to be summoned from the astral plane to serve new masters. It’s time we wake them.’ The recruits licked their lips excitedly as Scott knelt on one knee and held his soul key in his outstretched, cupped hands. ‘Do just as I’m doing. The Wardens are noble creatures. They will only serve a new master who bows before them. And listen very carefully. The Warden will whisper into your mind its secret name. Only those who know its true name will be able to summon it. Never repeat to anyone that name, not even your closest friend.’
Kilt scratched her head in confusion. ‘Then how do we call our Wardens if we’re not allowed to reveal their names?’
‘Their summoning names will remain secret,’ Scott explained. ‘You will only ever whisper that name to your soul key when you want to summon your guardian from the astral plane. But you will also christen your Warden with a common name – a name by which they will be known to the rest of the world. So, when you’re ready, bow before your Wardens.’
They all did as instructed. Caspan didn’t have to wait long before a voice whispered a strange name into his thoughts. He committed it to memory and glanced along the line. Slowly, one by one, the recruits rose and stared expectantly at the Master.
‘Now, as I’ve shown you before, raise your statue to your lips and whisper its secret name.’ Scott pointed at Kilt. ‘We’ll start with you and make our way down to Caspan. Once your Warden has been summoned, you’ll need to name it. Say the name out nice and clear so that your Warden can hear. If it approves, it will nod.’
The recruits looked eagerly at one another then summoned their magical guardians. Kilt’s snow panther was a graceful creature. She was almost as tall as a horse, with white fur and eyes that glistened like ice. Kilt named her Whisper, and the Warden showed her approval by nuzzling up against her. Caspan wondered if, like himself, the other recruits had taken pity on Kilt for coming last in the test and deliberately hadn’t chosen the guardian she’d wanted. Needless to say, Roland hadn’t been able to resist picking up the snow panther’s soul key several times and looking back tauntingly at Kilt, before finally deciding on a different Warden.
The others stared in awe at Lachlan’s griffin, which had the body of an enormous lion and the head and wings of an eagle. His vicious curved hunting beak was over a foot long, and he had alert auburn eyes flecked with patches of black. He spread his wings and flapped them a few times, sending gusts of wind that buffeted everyone’s cloaks. After a moment of deliberation, Lachlan named him Talon, and the griffin held his head high with pride.
Sara’s Warden was a graceful pegasus. She was sooty-grey in colour with jet-black eyes and patches of white fur on her front legs. These patches stretched from her hoofs to halfway up her shins, which made the pegasus look as though she was wearing white socks. Her mane was also white, but with a tuft of black hair that flopped between her ears, forcing h
er to shake her head to the side in order to see. She neighed and stamped a hoof on the ground when Sara named her Cloud Dancer.
Next in line was Roland. He gave a triumphant cheer when he summoned his manticore – an enormous fawn-coloured lion, with feathered wings and a scorpion stinger at the end of his tail. He had a black patch of fur that ran across the bridge of his nose and stretched from the corners of his eyes down the sides of his face, giving the appearance of a mask. Roland named him Bandit.
Finally, it was Caspan’s turn. He could barely control his excitement when he summoned his Warden. There was a collective gasp as everyone stared in awe at his drake, which looked just like Master Scott’s, only a little smaller, and with eyes that glowed like rubies. His scales were light blue, fading to grey on his belly and the underside of his long neck and leathery wings. Caspan named him Frostbite, and the drake bowed his head in approval.
Caspan reached out tentatively, wondering how the drake would react when he patted him. Frostbite’s scales were smooth and cold to the touch. They reminded Caspan of a finely crafted suit of armour, as hard as steel. They were softer on the underside of his neck and chest, like hardened leather. To Caspan’s relief, the great magical beast nuzzled his cheek up against him.
Scott cleared his throat, drawing the recruits’ attention. ‘You may spend the remainder of the lesson getting to know your new companions. Try to teach them some simple commands, such as how to follow, retrieve and wait. Remember, they’ve been in hibernation for several centuries, so it’s normal for them to be a little rusty in following commands.’
Roland looked at the Master hopefully. ‘Can we ride them?’
Scott shook his head. ‘Not just yet. It’s best we wait until after a couple of lessons.’ He gestured with a sweep of his hand at the Wardens. ‘Get them used to the sound of your voice. Their previous masters were Dray, so they’ll need to familiarise themselves with a completely new set of commands.’
The recruits spent the remainder of the lesson getting to know their new companions. The Wardens were distracted at first, sniffing the air and their masters, and stomping and rolling on the grass. Caspan made no effort to teach Frostbite any commands, but patted him gently on the neck and spoke quietly to him, about who he was and where he had come from. He didn’t know how much of this the drake understood, but Frostbite stared at him with his large red eyes, as if taking it all in.
Roland was more ambitious, and managed to teach Bandit how to roll over and beg, much to the girls’ delight. When it was time to finish, the group dismissed their companions by raising their soul keys to their lips and whispering their secret names.
Sara stroked the figurine hanging from her neck on its silver chain. ‘When can we next summon them, sir?’
‘Not until our next lesson.’
Roland’s shoulders slumped and he mumbled under his breath to Caspan, ‘That’s a bit anticlimactic. I was planning on a midnight flight.’
‘To where?’ Caspan whispered.
Roland grinned. ‘Maybe up to The Scar to have a look at the Roon.’
Their discussion came out a little louder than intended, and Master Scott cocked an eyebrow at Roland. ‘Were you now?’
‘I was only joking, sir,’ he said, raising a hand in apology.
‘I hope so. Remember what I told you: Wardens are not toys. They are incredibly powerful creatures and must be treated with respect. It’s been a long time since they were last called upon to serve a master. Until told otherwise, you will summon them only under direct supervision.’ Scott eyed Roland coolly. ‘Is that clear?’
Roland nodded earnestly. ‘You can count on me, sir.’
‘And don’t be too eager to travel up to The Scar,’ the Master warned. ‘It mightn’t be long before the Roon conquer these lands and you’ll wish the day had never come that you set eyes on them.’ Scott regarded him a moment longer before returning his attention to the group. ‘You must be hungry. Best you head back for some lunch.’
Chatting excitedly, the recruits hurried off to the Great Hall.
The apprentices met in the Eagle’s Eyrie the following day for their first lesson on Dray relics. The top of the tower was circular in shape, with an enclosed balcony that led to the room’s sole window, in which only a little light filtered through. The chamber was lit with candles, which were located on bookshelves that surrounded the entire room and were crammed with musty old tomes, scrolls and parchments. Between these were tables and cupboards full of pottery and jewellery. There was even a weapons rack of strange-looking swords in the balcony. The group had been led up to the room by Gramidge, who had promptly left to attend to an important matter – no doubt concerning a fleck of dust that had been spotted in one of the corridors.
‘We should do some exploring before the Master arrives,’ Roland suggested, rubbing his hands as he tiptoed over towards one of the bookshelves.
‘Don’t even think about it!’ Sara warned him. Roland stopped dead in his tracks, surprised by the authority in her voice. ‘You can’t go poking around in here. Some of these objects might be magical Dray relics. There’s no telling what damage you could do.’
Roland’s eyes glistened mischievously. ‘My point exactly.’ He motioned for Caspan to join him. ‘Come on. We mightn’t have long.’
Caspan shook his head. ‘You’re on your own here, Roland.’
‘Touch anything and you’ll have me to answer to!’ Lachlan warned Roland. ‘The last thing we want is for you to get us all into trouble. Now sit down with the rest of us and behave yourself.’
Roland gave him a dour look as he seated himself at one of the tables in the centre of the room. ‘Trust me to be stuck with a bunch of fun sponges.’
Lachlan’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘Watch it!’
‘It has nothing to do with that,’ Sara said, glancing at Roland as she neatly arranged the pile of blank parchments to the side of her table. ‘We need to set a good example, particularly since we’re new here.’
Roland slouched in his chair and stretched out his legs. ‘Yeah, well, make sure you get that pile straight. You don’t want the Masters thinking you can’t keep a tidy desk.’
Lachlan drew breath to comment when they heard footsteps coming up the tower. The recruits sat up straight and stared expectantly at the door, wondering which Master would take the lesson.
Caspan was hoping it would be Master Scott. He’d thoroughly enjoyed yesterday’s session and really liked the Master’s teaching style. Scott allowed for a little fun, but kept a close eye on Roland, making sure he didn’t get away with too much. Caspan also appreciated how the Master encouraged open discussion and didn’t just dictate information and instructions.
In contrast, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to his first lesson with Master Morgan, and didn’t think any of his fellow initiates were, either. The Master had pulled Roland up yesterday evening for running in the corridors and fighting imaginary Roon with a mop handle. It had been their first encounter with the Master since they’d met him in the Assembly Hall when they’d arrived at the House of Whispers. Morgan had berated the boy and made him do three laps around the manor house as punishment. Even Lachlan, who respected firm discipline, thought that the Master’s reaction was unjust, given that Roland hadn’t been misbehaving but was merely having fun outside of class. There was no telling how gruelling Master Morgan’s lessons would be, but Caspan imagined they’d be a grim affair.
So he was surprised when the door opened and in stepped the elderly man whose coin-pouch he had stolen back in Floran. Caspan cleared his throat in discomfort and slid low in his seat. The last time they’d met, Caspan had driven the heel of his foot down hard on the man’s toes. It was just his luck that he would turn out to be one of the Brotherhood Masters.
The man crossed the room and sat on the edge of an oak table in the balcony. His long grey hair was tied back and a pair of spectacles was perched on his hawk-like nose. He regarded the group, his gaze pausing on Cas
pan for a moment, before he gave everyone a warm smile.
‘Welcome to the Eagle’s Eyrie. I’m Oswald, the oldest and most handsome member of the Brotherhood.’ The initiates stared at one another, unsure of how to react. Oswald scratched his head in thought. ‘Gramidge might argue otherwise, but I reckon his sideburns spoil his looks. What do you think?’
The recruits shared another awkward glance before Roland grinned and said, ‘With age comes wisdom, sir. And if you are indeed the oldest member of the order – which, I must say, I find hard to believe, because you don’t look any older than thirty – you must know what you’re talking about.’
Oswald chuckled and slapped his thigh. ‘Oh, I like you, by thunder. Roland, is it, judging from what I’ve heard from the Masters?’ The black-haired boy nodded, and Oswald rolled his shoulders, settling more comfortably into the black cloak he wore, which seemed far too large for his slender frame. ‘Well, I’m glad to meet you. In fact, I’m glad to meet all of you. I’m sure we’re going to become close friends.’ He held up a finger in conjecture. ‘I should point out that I’m not a Brotherhood Master. I happen to know a lot about the Dray, though, and so usually give lessons on Ancient Tongue and relics.’
Roland looked surprised. ‘So you’re just a regular member, like us?’
‘I wouldn’t say that. You’re still recruits and won’t become official members of the order until you pass your training.’ Oswald tilted his head high with pride. ‘Only then will you become like me.’ His gaze lingered on Caspan again and a wry smile crossed his lips. ‘We meet again. Hopefully you’ll spare my toes this time. Funny things, toes. They sit at the end of your feet, not really doing much. Try walking, though, after somebody stamps on them.’