The White Robe (The Sword and the Spell)

by Clare Smith

  “If you can manage it a little bit of light would be helpful.” said Jonderill’s rescuer from the darkness.

  Jonderill moved his hand away from the wound in his side and produced a weak ball of elemental fire that waved unsteadily at the end of his blood covered fingers. Opposite him, with a sword held in either hand stood the young man who had given him his cloak when he had first arrived at the Enclave.

  “They’ve gone and I don’t think they will be back.” He sheathed his swords in the crossed scabbards on his back and stepped forward to drape Jonderill’s arm over his shoulder supporting his uninjured side. “Let’s get you up to your room and then I’ll go and get you some help.”

  Taking most of Jonderill’s weight he helped Jonderill up the stairs and into his unlit room sitting him in the room’s only chair. He looked around the small chamber but couldn’t find what he was looking for. “Where’s your lamp?” Jonderill pointed in the direction of the slop bucket and his rescuer glanced inside at the crumpled robe and broken lamp. “Oh. You stay here then and don’t move. Dozo was in the inn when I left and he’s bound to have his kit with him.”

  Tissian left and Jonderill closed his eyes and let his elemental fire fade away. The wounds in his side and shoulder were still bleeding and he was starting to feel light headed. Now that the shock of the attack had passed and the adrenaline was fading, he was feeling cold and was starting to shake. He needed something to keep himself warm, but didn’t want to get blood on his blankets so he pulled the slop bucket towards him, shook out the broken glass from the robe and wrapped it around his shoulders. The thing didn’t even smell of lamp oil let alone burnt fibers or soot. It was surprisingly warm though so he closed his eyes for a moment and drifted into sleep.

  He jumped slightly when the key rattled in the lock and Dozo came into the room clutching a small bag followed by the young protector carrying one of the inn’s oil lamps and a bottle of grain spirit. Together they helped Jonderill remove his shirt and Tissian waited anxiously whilst Dozo cleaned the wounds with the grain spirit. Ignoring Jonderill’s protests at the sting of the strong spirit, he smothered the cleaned wounds with a white paste, which smelled of herbs, and bound them with clean linen from his bag. When he’d finished they helped Jonderill onto his bed and Dozo left, promising to return to change the dressings in the morning. Tissian poured the rest of the grain spirit into two pots and handed one to Jonderill. He shook out the robe and laid it over the clothes chest and removed his two swords before sitting in the chair.

  “Thank you,” said Jonderill sipping at his drink and feeling the grain spirit warm him through. “That’s the second time you’ve come to my rescue.”

  “Think nothing of it, it’s what I do, I’m a protector.”

  Jonderill smiled. “How did you know I needed protecting?”

  Tissian looked a bit sheepish and stared into his pot of grain spirit. “I heard Gellidan and the others talking about what the Master of Magic had called you this afternoon, so I thought you might be feeling a bit low and in need of some company. I came around earlier but there was no answer so I hung around for a bit.” He looked up and gave Jonderill a quick smile. “I’ve been doing penance all day with Allowyn and his armsmen and had persuaded Dozo and some of the others to meet me here for an ale or two. We were sitting around the corner from you and I’d asked the pot boy to let me know when you left the inn so I could follow you out and talk to you.”

  “I’m really glad you did.”

  “You’d have been okay. I don’t think Dowin and his bunch wanted to kill you, just rough you up a bit. Give yourself a few more days to get the hang of how your magic works and then they’ll be too afraid to touch you.”

  “I’m not going to be here in a few more days, I am leaving in the morning.”

  “You can’t do that! What about your magic?”

  “I don’t have any magic. You heard what the Master of Magic said and it’s true, I don’t even have enough elemental fire to light a candle and I could stare at a wine berry until I was a grey beard and it still wouldn’t roll across a table. No, I‘m leaving tomorrow and going south. I’ve always planned to see the Great Southern Ocean and now seems as good a time as any.”

  “You can’t!” Jonderill shook his head in denial. “I mean that you can’t go without learning to hold a sword properly and to protect yourself. If those three could best you tonight how long do you think you would last on the road?” Jonderill continued shaking his head. “Look, I’ve got penance again tomorrow, another day of practice and devotions with Allowyn. Why don’t you come along and talk to him? If nothing else he can give you some tips on staying alive.”

  Jonderill sighed in resignation. “Okay but just one candle length and then I’m gone.

  “Good.” Tissian swallowed the last of his grain spirit and moved to the door. “I’ll be here at first bell.” He gave Jonderill a boyish smile and left.

  *

  When the first bell of the day rang across the Enclave and the pale rays of the sun were just appearing above the steep sides of the valley, Jonderill was packed and ready to leave. All but one of the fine linen shirts that he had been given were folded neatly on his bed along with the tunics, breeches and cloaks which had also been given to him. The innkeeper’s old sword and a small pile of coins lay next to them. It was too early in the day to say goodbye to the innkeeper but he would send a message later, before he left the Enclave for good. He hoped that the coin would be enough to cover the cost of his board and food for the moon cycle he’d been there.

  The only thing he was taking with him which was not his own was the shirt he was wearing. He wouldn’t have taken this one but his own shirt now had three holes in it and several blood stains. It badly needed washing and mending. It was rolled up inside his grey robe along with his few other possessions. Plantagenet’s old iron blade and his finely crafted sword lay on the table next to his bundle as he waited for Tissian to arrive.

  In the city the second bell had almost finished pealing before he heard Tissian’s hurried footsteps on the stairs. He opened the door before Tissian knocked and was going to ask him where he had been, but he looked slightly crumpled and bedraggled and a little bit desperate. His hair was damp and had been roughly finger combed and his clothes, which were the same as he had worn the previous night, looked like he had slept in them. Despite that his eyes still sparkled and he gave Jonderill a big grin.

  “Good morning, Lord. I see that you’re ready, which is a very good thing as I’m running a bit late and Allowyn will have me doing double devotions if I don’t arrive on time and keep him waiting.” He picked up Jonderill’s bundle and the iron blade and passed him the sword. Jonderill took it and clipped the scabbard to his belt, wincing as the weight of the weapon pulled at the wound in his side.

  “How are the wounds this morning?” Tissian asked as he quickly led the way out of the room and down the stairs two at a time. “Dozo said he would come by the practice ground later and said you shouldn’t do anything strenuous until he’s had a chance to look you over and change the dressings.”

  Without waiting for an answer he hurried onwards leading Jonderill through small side streets where there were less people about. It was a part of the Enclave which Jonderill hadn’t seen before with straight rows of small dwellings, each with its own brightly painted front door and two windows. Some of the windows were open and the smell of hot bread and frying rashers made Jonderill wish they could stop to eat. They hurried across the city away from the temple and the House of Learning and Jonderill felt his spirits rise the further they moved away from their looming presence.

  “I hope you don’t mind, Lord, but I took the liberty of having your horse prepared; Allowyn has chosen a place for my penance today which is some way out of the city and it would be too far to walk.” He turned down another side street which opened into a small square at the centre of which stood an armsman holding the reins of Sansun and two other horses. Sansun neighed a greeti
ng and Jonderill stroked his nose and whispered a greeting back. He took his bundle of possessions from Tissian and tied them behind his saddle, pushing the iron blade carefully through the centre of the rolled blanket before mounting and quickly following Tissian through a small gate in the city wall.

  Once outside the city the three riders broke into a steady trot on the hard packed roadway that led from the Enclave along the valley floor and the armsman dropped behind to act as a rear guard. When the sun finally climbed above the sides of the valley and warmed the morning air they slowed to a walk and Tissian handed Jonderill a small bundle containing fresh bread and hard, spicy sausage.

  “I’m sorry it’s not better fare, Lord, but it was all that the inn keeper’s boy could find for me this morning.”

  Jonderill frowned at him. “Please don’t call me lord. As the Master of Magic so rightly pointed out, I am definitely not a lord, my name is Jonderill”

  “I’m sorry L…” He laughed and shook his head. “Jonderill. I will do my best to remember but it is difficult for a protector to call a white robe by their name. It’s part of our training to show respect and to honour those who have the gift of magic. It’s why I was walking penance on the day when we first met; I failed to bow low enough to Master Tressing.”

  “Well, as I don’t have any magic you’re safe from doing any penance because of me.” Jonderill raised himself slightly in the stirrups and pointed to where smoke rose a short way in the distance. “Is that Allowyn’s camp?”

  Tissian nodded but didn’t say anything. Instead he tried to smooth down his crumpled clothing and finger combed his hair again, finally checking that all his weapons were in place. Jonderill smiled to himself at the young man’s obvious nervousness. “What is this penance you have to do?”

  “Three days of practice and devotions with a master for speaking out of turn, but I’m lucky, Allowyn agreed to be my penance master. Yesterday was blade work but I think today’s penance will be much harder and I’m not as fresh as I was.”

  “Would it help if I had a word with Allowyn? Saving my life last night must be worth something.”

  “Oh no! It’s a great honour to train with someone like Allowyn. It’s just that he’s so strict about being on time and appearances and doing the goddess the utmost honour in your devotions.”

  Jonderill laughed. “Yes, I’ve seen him honouring the goddess in his devotions; it made me exhausted just to watch!” They both laughed as they turned into the large field where Allowyn had made his camp.

  As they brought their horses to a halt, Allowyn left the armsmen he’d been talking to and walked to where they were. From the dampness of his hair and the slightly laboured breathing it was clear that he had already completed his morning devotions. He smiled at Jonderill but looked sternly at Tissian who hurriedly slipped from his saddle and went to one knee bowing his head.

  “You’re late and improperly dressed. Before you start today’s work you will run ten circuits of this field in full armour.” Tissian bowed lower before scuttling away. “Jonderill, this is an unexpected surprise. I thought you were at the House of Learning. Come and have some breakfast and herb tea, it’s freshly made.”

  Jonderill dismounted giving Sansun’s reins to the armsman who had ridden with them from the city and followed Allowyn to the small fire. Another armsman handed him a bowl of hot oats and a pot of herb tea which he gratefully took and joined Allowyn at a log to one side of the fire. The oats were hot and soft with bits of crunchy apple chopped into it and despite having already eaten he cleaned out the bowl. When he looked up, Tissian in full armour and carrying a halberd in one hand and a bolt bow in the other was starting on his second circuit of the field.

  “Don’t be too hard on Tissian, he saved my life last night and it’s my fault he’s late this morning.”

  “I know. I also know that he slept at the foot of the inn’s stairs last night just in case there was any further trouble.” Jonderill looked at him in surprise. “Dozo came by early this morning and told me what had happened.”

  “In that case can’t you be a little easier on him?”

  “No. One day, if the goddess wishes it, the boy will be a protector and his master’s life will depend on his skill and stamina. When that day comes they will both be grateful for the discipline and pain he’ll face today. And now, my friend, what are you doing here instead of at the House of Learning?”

  “I’m leaving. In fact I would already be gone if it wasn’t for Tissian persuading me that I should talk to you first.”

  Allowyn frowned in concern. “Why are you leaving so soon, Jonderill? You have only been in the Enclave for a moon cycle. It seems to me that one turning of the moon is a very short time to learn to be a magician.”

  “I think if I had been here for the passing of three summers I still wouldn’t learn to be a magician, it just isn’t in me.”

  “My master thought it was and the goddess herself has called for you. Do you think they are both wrong?”

  Jonderill shook his head in confusion. “They must be. If I had what it takes to be a magician I’d be able to do more than produce the occasional bit of elemental fire.”

  Allowyn didn’t answer but watched in silence as Tissian completed his fifth circuit of the field, stumbling slightly as his halberd dipped and caught in the grass.

  “Did you see Tissian fight last night?” Jonderill nodded. “Do you think that Tissian would have been able to fight like that by just practicing for a moon cycle?”

  “No, but that’s different. Tissian wants to be a protector; he looks and acts the part.”

  “And you don’t?” Jonderill stared into his empty pot and then watched as Tissian completed his final circuit. “To be the best you have to want it very much and not give in when things are tough.” He beckoned Tissian over to join them. Sweat ran down his face and his breath came in short gasps. “Tissian, I have no patience to work with boys who put no effort into their training. You may return to the Enclave.”

  No master!” said Tissian in shock. “Please don’t dismiss me, I’ll try harder.”

  “Then do the ten circuits again and at speed this time, not a slovenly jog.” The boy bowed briefly and ran off to do the circuits again. “That’s what wanting something means, doing things again and again until you get them right and not taking the easy way out.”

  He stood and watched a small group of armsmen ride into camp and waved one of them over. “I must return to my duties so I will leave you in Dozo’s hands but think about what I have said, Jonderill and decide what it is you really want to be. When you have reached your decision we will talk again.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Words of the Goddess

  Jonderill sat in the common room of the Armsmaster Inn and stared thoughtfully into his half empty pot. As usual the inn was busy although not as busy as the previous night and the pot boy had been able to find him a small table by the back wall where he wouldn’t be disturbed. The remains of his evening meal sat on the table, picked over but barely eaten and next to it stood the two ale pots he had already emptied. He frowned as he once again turned Allowyn’s words over in his mind. What did he want to be and was he prepared to work hard to be it.

  The problem was that he didn’t know the answer to the first half of the question, and the more he thought about it, the further away the right decision slipped. Even his decision to stay another day at the Enclave felt wrong; it was as if something was calling to him to leave, but at the same time, something was holding him there. He’d returned to the inn from Allowyn’s camp with a small escort of guards after Dozo had redressed his wounds and had instructed him not to practice with a sword or exercise for at least two more days.

  It had been his intention to stay at the practice field longer but Allowyn and Tissian had left to do their devotions in private so there hadn’t been much point in staying. Apart from that he’d left his room at the inn with all the appearance of it being ab
andoned and he needed to get back there before the innkeeper let it to someone else. The thought of having to spend a night in the rooms given to him by the High Master was not a pleasant one.

  When he reached the inn he’d been relieved to find that nobody had been into his room and the pile of clothes and coins lay untouched on his bed where he’d left them. The task of putting things back where they belonged had taken only moments and then he’d sat and stared at the two objects on his bed for a long time hoping that one of them would call to him but neither did. The grey robe looked as it always did; smooth and clean despite his efforts to burn it. The blood from his wounds of the previous night were nowhere in sight, and having been rolled up and tied behind his saddle for half a day seemed to have had no effect on it at all. His sword too looked like it always did; long, bright and sharp although it had felt heavy and cumbersome when he’d laid it on the bed. He put that down to the ache in his shoulder and side from the wounds he’d taken.