by Mike Morris
Bryan rubbed his stomach and belched. "Do you think they're going to feed us like this every night?"
"Lunch wasn't bad either," said Thomas. "I could get to like living here."
"I'm not sure I want to fight monsters though," said Erik. "I heard Nostros eat people."
"My dad said they’re twenty feet tall," said Bryan.
"The Nostros don't exist," said Jack. "It's just a story to keep us here."
"If they're not real, why bring us here? Why are all these people training to fight something that's made up?" said Eric.
"I don't know," said Jack.
"It's better than the home we came from," said Brendan, placing his hand on Jack's shoulder.
Jack shrugged it off. "No, it's not. At least there, we were free. I don't want to stay. I want to go home. I want to be home with you and Mum, not here. I want to be in Brixteth. Where we belong."
"Mum gave us away. She doesn't want us," said Brendan.
"That's not true. The Black Dog tricked her. She didn't have a choice."
"She sold us for two silvers. You saw that. We're better off here — warm beds, hot food, and clean clothes. You've even got your own boots."
"Well I don't want it!" Jack picked up his bowl and hurled it across the tabletop. It clattered into two other bowls on the table before knocking over a cup that spilled water everywhere.
The whole room fell silent as every eye turned towards Jack. The attention only fueled the fire within him.
"You're all idiots," he shouted before storming out of the dining room.
Jack found a bench in a courtyard behind the stables and, for the first time since arriving at Whitehaven, he was alone. He tucked his knees into his arms as he watched the shadows crawl across the cobbles as the last lingering remains of the day made its retreat.
"You're not easy to find when you put your mind to it," said Brendan. Jack jumped at his brother's voice.
"Leave me alone," Jack replied through clenched teeth.
"I'm your brother. I can't leave you."
"Why not? Dad left me. Mum left me. No one says you can't leave me too."
"Dad died. He didn't want to leave us and Mum... well, Mum's just not been good at coping since he died. But you and me, we'll always be together. I promise. No matter what happens, we'll stick together and we'll survive."
Jack turned to face his brother. "Promise?"
"Promise."
"Then let's not stay here. We can run away together. We can steal some food from the kitchens. We'll be away before anyone notices."
"Run where, little brother? Back homeThere’s nothing there for us."
"What about another city?"
"We're in the middle of nowhere. I wouldn't even know how to find another city. It would be a long walk."
"So what do you want us to do then? Stay here?"
"We could do worse. We’ve full stomachs and warm clothes. We should at least give it a chance, brother. Then, if we don't like it, we'll run together."
"Really?"
"I promise. Now, can we rejoin the others? It’s getting cold."
The two brothers rose to their feet. "I'm sorry. It's just... all this isn't what I wanted," said Jack. "I'm scared. I don't feel right in this place. It seems so unfair."
"That's life," replied his brother, cuffing Jack over the back of the head. "You should know that by now."
Brendan wrapped his arm around Jack's shoulder and the two boys walked back to the dormitory. No matter what, at least Jack would always have Brendan by his side.
10
702 PN
Every day followed a regimen.
From the minute they woke up to the moment they collapsed exhausted into their beds, the day was filled either with activities or lessons. The only respite came at meal times.
They rose with the sun, dressed and met Master Porter in the grounds. Tall and thin with wild black hair, he would take them on a run through Whitehaven and the surrounding grounds. They never seemed to go the same route, the same distance or the same speed. Master Porter dictated the pace and woe betide any that didn’t keep up. Stragglers were punished with more exercise instead of breakfast. Some days it would be a simple run around the monastery or across the dales outside its walls. Those were the easy days. On other occasions, the boys would encounter obstacles, climbing over walls, wading through rivers, clambering through bushes and crawling through tunnels. They were the runs where everyone finished wet, cold, covered in mud and with their fair share of bruises.
Jack loved this part of the day. For a boy fit from running away from the law, he found the going easy, and most mornings it was he and Brendan leading the pack. But, where as before Brendan had always been faster, he was now starting to beat his brother on occasion, which made him happy.
After exercising, they would head to the mess hall for breakfast where bread and bacon waited for them.
Master Craigs took the boys for morning prayers, after which he told them the history of the world from the Book of God. Master Craigs was a serious man with a serious limp. His right leg was as crooked as a tree limb but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle’s. He shot out questions in rapid succession. If too many were answered incorrectly, he would drag himself over to the boy in question and take a small tuft of hair between his fingers, twisting it until the right response was given. He expected the boys to learn quickly, and their heads were swimming by the end of each class. None of them were used to sitting still and listening to anyone for so long. Any lessons taught in Brixteth tended to be short and brutal. Jack wasn't sure what way was better. Certainly, some days he knew he'd rather take a kicking than sit through a session with Master Craigs.
After prayer came the daily chores. The boys were sent to work in the kitchens or the gardens, the stables or the armory, wherever they were needed. They helped the priests by scrubbing pots or cleaning shields, washing floors or digging gardens. The priests never spoke to the boys other than to give them their next task. It was boring work but Jack could get lost the monotony of the task so it was almost relaxing.
Lunch was a light meal. A piece of bread, a slice of meat, perhaps a potato or a cabbage. Eaten quickly and then onto Master Hicks.
Master Hicks taught the boys the wonders of words, how the shapes on a page could tell stories and pass on knowledge. He was missing his left ear but he didn’t miss a sound nor excuse any error. At the side of his right hand, he kept a small collection of pebbles. A stone pinging across the room to bounce off some lad's skull often interrupted classes. It certainly helped keep everyone's attention. Jack was not alone in his inability to read or write. In fact, there was not a single boy in the class who had those skills prior to arriving in Whitehaven. Master Hicks' lessons were hell for all of them. At first, what was being taught seemed impossible to learn and Jack's head hurt from trying to make sense of everything as much as it did from being hit constantly by pebbles. But slowly the squiggles started to mean something and Jack began to discover the power of books.
Even so, he hated Master Hicks' classes with a passion. That would never change.
Thankfully, then came Master Snow.
They first met Master Snow in a small courtyard, some one hundred yards in diameter. His face was heavily lined but he moved with the grace of a dancer, every movement precise, no more or no less than it needed to be. He was tall with a slight build that could change from one minute to the next, from being like a willow in the wind to becoming an iron rod.
"All of you stand against the wall." The boys formed an orderly line. The priest walked up and down, looking at each of them in turn, stepping close and daring them to move away.
The boys looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes as he wandered up and down. Finally he stopped in front of Thomas. "What is your name?"
"Thomas."
"Come with me." The boy followed him to the center of the yard. His face twitched with nerves. Thomas didn't like being the focus of attention.
&n
bsp; "This boy is a Nostros. He has staked this ground as his. Anyone coming into this area is his enemy to be killed or turned.
I want the rest of you simply to get to one side of the yard from the other without being stopped by the Nostros. Touch the wall at either end and you are safe for that turn. If he stops you, you must join forces against your friends until there is no one left 'alive'. The last boy standing will be the winner. Any questions?"
Thomas raised his hand. "How do I stop them?"
Master Snow walked to the left side of the yard, out of the way of the boys. "You're a big lad. Stop them any you want to. Just try not to break any bones.
"Begin!"
For a moment, everyone stood staring at each other. A smile fought its way across Thomas' face. With a roar, he charged into the group of boys facing him. People flew in every direction as they tried to avoid him. Someone knocked Jack and he stumbled to the ground but Brendan pulled him to his feet. They moved forward with the crowd, sprinting the hundred yards to safety. Jack slapped his hands against the rough stone before turning to see who else had made it.
In the center, Thomas stood with his right arm hooked around the head of a boy called Michael and his left was gripping Erik's collar. He released them with a grin and the boys brushed themselves down before standing by Thomas' side to await the others.
"Too slow, Erik," called out Jack.
Erik thumbed his chin at Jack. "You'll be next."
The remaining boys began to edge forward, testing to see which way the attackers would go. Jack saw Bryan feint to the far right, drawing Thomas and Eric's attention. Making the most of the opportunity, he pushed off against the wall. The rest followed in his wake. Michael ran to intercept but Jack leapt over him as the boy tried to grab his legs. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack glimpsed two other boys clattering into Michael before crashing against the hard ground.
Jack stretched his hand and reached the safety of the wall. He stood panting while others joined him. There were fewer of them this time. Of the original nineteen, just over half remained. Bryan was further down the line. Jack couldn't see his brother until he looked at the scrum still trying to sort itself out in the middle of the yard.
Brendan was in the tangle of bodies, looking very unhappy. Jack couldn't stop himself from laughing. Others, who were also safe, joined in with jeers and taunts at their less successful class mates.
"Enjoy it while you can, little brother," said Brendan as he pushed himself to his feet.
"You'll never get me," replied Jack but he wasn't nearly as confident as he sounded. Nine boys faced them now and the free space in the yard was limited. And with almost equal numbers in each group, there weren’t enough bodies to hide amongst. The other boys with Jack seemed to feel the same way. No one wanted to make the first move. As soon as someone shifted in any direction, a blocker would mirror the action.
"Come on!" called Master Snow. "We haven't got all day! Run!"
The command startled everyone into action. Jack and his group shot towards the others, screaming a charge as they did so. The boys came together in the middle. Jack shrugged off snatching hands. He swiveled to miss a leg stuck out to trip him and jumped over another wrestling pair of bodies but it wasn't enough.
"Gotcha!" said his brother as Brendan tackled him from behind. They hit the ground hard, knocking the air from Jack's lungs. He fought for a moment, pushing his brother off his shoulders but Brendan held on.
"Not laughing so much now are you?" said Brendan into his brother's ear. "Still think I can't catch you?"
"Get off me," said Jack. He wriggled and squirmed, trying to find a way out from under his brother.
"Say please," laughed Brendan.
"Get. Off. Me," shouted Jack and then the weight was gone from his back. He stood up, brushing the dirt off, feeling indignant. All around him, other boys were doing the same thing, laughing and joking as they did so. When Jack saw that no one else had made it past the 'Nostros', he too joined in the laughter.
Clapping brought their attention back to the class. Master Snow walked slowly back to the center of the yard and stood in front of them. "It took just three attacks for our Nostros to turn you all onto his side. Three! Anyone have an idea why it was so quick?"
"Thomas is bigger than most of us," called out a boy from the far left of the line. "He got two in the first run."
"There's not enough room to get around everyone," said another.
"Bigger. No room. Any other suggestions?" said Master Snow. His eyebrows rose as he looked along the line from face to face. "No?"
Jack put up his hand. "It was always going to be quick. The moment he got others into his side, he'd won."
Master Snow strode to Jack, peered closely at his face. "Exactly! What's your name?"
"Jack," he replied, feeling color break out on his cheeks.
"Once Thomas had turned others onto his side, it was inevitable that they’d win," said Master Snow loudly to the group. "Why? Because they were working as a group to win where as you were all acting as individuals, thinking only of yourselves. Remember, no matter how strong a person is, a group is stronger. We see this in the wild. A stag is more powerful than the wolf but wolves always hunts in a pack. And the pack always wins. The Nostros know this. They are demons but they are cunning, utterly ruthless and devastating warriors.
"Now who said there was no room to escape?"
"I did," said another boy putting up his hand.
"Your name?"
"Timothy."
"Well Timothy, how much room would be enough? A yard twice this size? A field? A city? A whole country?"
The boy's head dropped. "I don't know."
"Seven hundred and two years ago, the first Nostros were reported in the Northlands of the Middle Kingdoms. Some say there were fewer than seven hundred of them.
And yet the Northlands fell within a week. A country twice the size of Abios lasted less than seven days. Ilsgar, Gormania and Sealand were under their control within a month. The remaining Middle Kingdoms were conquered within six weeks from the first sighting of the Nostros.
"The whole of the Middle Kingdoms were not big enough to escape the Nostros once they landed on their soil."
The sun dropped behind a cloud. Jack shivered with the sudden change in temperature. He didn't know how large the Middle Kingdoms were or how big Abios was, but Arbour had more people than he could count. How could so many people be conquered? He watched Master Snow as he walked up and down the line of boys.
"There are two reasons why Abios did not fall with them.
First, Abios is an island and an ocean separates us from the Middle Kingdoms. It is God's barrier that protects us. The crossing by ship takes a day and a half and the Nostros can't risk any exposure to the sun. It is death to them. It is one of their few weaknesses. Secondly, Stephen, the First Knight, and his fellow priests swore that they wouldn’t let one Nostros on to our shores. And for seven hundred years, we have upheld that oath.
"Think about that while you eat your evening meal. Think about that while you sleep in your beds tonight." Master Snow looked each boy in the eye. "Think about the responsibility you will have, one day."
"Now be gone," he said with a wave of his hand and left them without a backward glance.
The boys stared at each other. "That was certainly more fun than Religious Studies," said Jack. "Do you think every class will be like that?"
11
702 PN
"Still got that knife, pretty?" said the Scrounger as he pushed a wheelbarrow full of rubble. Lin ignored him but she still ran her finger down the edge of the stone blade in her pocket to check. His limp was barely noticeable and, not for the first time, Lin wished she'd hurt him more than she had. Judging by the way he kept looking at her, she still had to be careful.
She took a deep breath and carried on filling up the water jugs. It was a warm night and everyone wanted more water to drink. Working the stone was thirsty work at the best of times bu
t the crew labored in one of the red castle's many courtyards and its high walls stopped any breeze from reaching them.
"Lin! Over here," called out Grais. She ran over as the man put down his pickaxe.
"Here you go," she said, handing him the jug. Grais gulped the cool water down. He emptied it in only a few mouthfuls. "I can get you some more if you want."
Grais was one of the nicer sweats in the crew. In the few weeks since she joined them, most of the sweats ignored her but a few, like Grais and Old Jahn, treated her well and looked after her.
"Ah, I've had enough for now. Go on. There'll be others needing some soon enough," replied Grais with a smile. He wiped the sweat from his face and picked up the pickaxe again. Grais was only a few years older than Lin but working the stone had made him strong.
The children were too young to do any real work on the stone, so Lin's job was to run water to anyone who needed it. By the end of each night, she fell exhausted into her bunk. She'd curl up into a ball in the far corner of the bed, clutching her knife. She always tried to stay awake until she was sure everyone else was asleep, especially the Scrounger, but most nights she'd be asleep before she knew it.
Returning to the water barrels, Lin refilled the jug and took a sip herself. There were fifty of them in the courtyard and, for once, no one was calling her. She sat down and leaned against the barrel. The only sounds were pickaxes chipping away at rock and the creaking of the winches as new slabs were maneuvered into place. Talking was kept to a minimum. The four guards saw to that. If they thought you weren't working hard enough, they'd give you a good lick of the whip or a prod from a spear. The other humans knew them as Grunts. Grunting orders to everyone. Grunting yes to whatever the Masters said. Everyone hated them almost as much as the Masters. They didn't care though; they hated the sweats just as much.