by Clare Smith
“Leave him be, Tissian, it is not a protector’s place to chastise their master for their thoughtlessness. You must understand that he doesn’t yet feel the bond between you as strongly as you do. Apart from that, he is studying his first lessons of magic and I don’t think he would appreciate being disturbed. If I were you, I would return to the porch and rescue your weapons from the wet before Allowyn returns. He is very touchy about such things.”
Tissian looked at the doorway to his master’s room still unsure of what to do, but then nodded in agreement and went to see to his gear.
When Jonderill stepped out onto the porch the following morning, the sun was shining and the last of the puddles were slowly clearing from in front of the cottage. There was a steady patter of water as the last drips fell from the cottage’s thatched roof and in the distance, there was the familiar clash of swords. Only Dozo’s whistling was missing as he hadn’t yet returned from Alewinder. Jonderill sat and took a small handful of the mixed nuts and dried berries from the dish on the table between himself and Callabris and sat back with his eyes closed letting the morning sun warm him.
“Why didn’t you finish your run yesterday?” asked Callabris, breaking the silence between them.
“Because it was something you wanted me to do and I was doing it to please you and not because I wanted or needed to do it.”
“Then you have an answer to my question?”
Jonderill produced a large, steady ball of elemental fire and hung it in the air. “Apart from the very first time I made elemental fire as a boy, I’ve never produced it just for myself, it’s always been at the command of others, or when there has been an urgent need. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Callabris nodded. “It is indeed beautiful. How did you feel, Jonderill, the moment you used your magic because you wanted to without a command from others, or because you needed light urgently?”
“It was like sunrise after a dark night, full of light and warmth and colour.”
“Welcome to the world of magic.”
“Now will you teach me?”
Callabris thought about it for a moment, a frown of concentration on his face. “No, I don’t think so, not yet at least. You understand what basic magic is and you need time to explore it further.”
Jonderill scowled in irritation and the ball of light disappeared. He laughed and Callabris joined in. “I see what you mean; I definitely could do with a bit more practice.” He produced the ball of light once more. “What were the first things that you and your brother learnt to do?”
“Oh, I did fairly straightforward things like mending boot ties or heating water or protecting the grain store from long tailed squeakers, but Coberin spent his early years trying not to make things explode or burst into flames and that was much harder. I think it was his use of so much power in his early years caused by the nature of his gift which left him so vulnerable at the end.”
“Oh,” said Jonderill. “What happened to him?”
“He was slain.”
“I’m sorry. What happened to his protector?”
“We believe he was slain too but we never found his remains. What of your father, Jonderill? You never speak of him or your family.”
“I have no family. My father died when I was very small but I have no memories of him.” He thought for a moment whether he should continue or not. “That’s not really true. I had some hidden memories of him which Maladran once helped me to see but I lost them almost immediately after they were revealed. The only thing I know is that I was named after my father.”
“I see,” said Callabris sadly. “You know it could be that Maladran replaced the memory block for his own devices or perhaps there was something there he didn’t want you to remember.”
“I don’t think so. Maladran was evil in so many ways but I think it was others that had driven him to be so. Underneath I think he was a decent man who genuinely cared for me as a boy or, at least, I thought he did until he sold me to the Housecharge at the palace in Alewinder.”
“You have had a hard life Jonderill for such a young man.”
He thought about it. “No, not really, or at least not compared to most of Leersland’s kingswards. Many of them die as children at the hands of uncaring or vicious men, raped, starved or beaten to death as I would have been if it hadn’t been for Maladran. Branding children as kingsward is an evil practice and if I ever have the power to do so, I’ll stop it one day, but for the most part I have been lucky; I have known both caring and friendship, what more could a kingsward ask for.”
“Love?”
Jonderill shrugged. “Perhaps one day.”
“I’m sure your father loved you. If you would like me to I can do what Maladran did and remove your memory block so that you could know more of your father.”
Jonderill thought about it for a moment but shook his head. “I don’t think so but thanks for the offer. If Maladran thought it was something I should see then he would have left me with the memory.”
“As you wish, but if you change your mind you only have to ask.” He gave Jonderill a bright smile. “Come, this is not a day for sadness. The sun is shining and Dozo will be back soon with fresh supplies from Alewinder and with any luck, a note from Barrin for you. Now to work, you have a whole new world of magic to discover and new skills to practice and I need to spend some private time with my protector; it’s a long time since we have worked together as one.”
Jonderill frowned not quite understanding the meaning behind Callabris’s words but he put them to one side and stood. “Sansun’s bridle has a broken strap which I both want and need to fix. I think that will be a good place to start. If you see Tissian, will you tell him that I’ll not be running with him this afternoon, but that when he’s finished with Allowyn, my boots could do with a good clean and polish and my room needs tidying.”
He walked down the steps from the porch and across the clearing where Dozo had built a small shelter to hold the saddles and bridles for the horses. Callabris watched him go and then headed in the other direction towards the practice area with a slight frown on his face. He knew he should be jubilant that Jonderill had discovered the nature of his magic, but something was not quite right, although he couldn’t put his finger on what was bothering him.
When he reached the practice area he was greeted by an unfamiliar sight. Instead of the intense training which he expected or even the graceful forms of the protector’s devotions there was a tense stillness. Tissian knelt on the ground with his head bowed and his sides heaving. His swords lay unattended in the dirt as if they had been abandoned. Allowyn towered above him, his face red with anger, and whilst Callabris couldn’t hear what he was saying, it was not difficult to guess.
The protector took a step back from the cowering figure, pointed towards the woods and gave a sharp command. Tissian abased himself until his forehead touched the ground and then scuttled to collect his fallen weapons before running away in the direction Allowyn had pointed. Allowyn stood where he was for a few moments breathing deeply and then relaxed before he walked across to where Callabris waited for him.
He gave his master a brief bow.
“Problems?”
“The boy’s gone backwards. I’ve had junior armsmen who have fought better than that and held onto their swords. He actually let me disarm him!”
“Perhaps he’s just having a bad day? It does happen you know.”
“Protectors don’t have bad days.” Allowyn took a deep breath and let it slowly out. “No, it’s more than that. He let his swords fall into the dirt and instead of picking them up and fighting back he just stood there looking at them. He disgraced himself and he knew it, but the worst thing was that I don’t think he cared.”
“I think you are wrong there, he looked distraught to me.”
Allowyn gave a grunt of disagreement and followed his master to the two logs which had been rolled to the edge of the practice area to act as seats. They both sat in the morning suns
hine. “It’s as if the heart has suddenly gone out of him.” said Allowyn at last. “He’s like a child who has done his best and is expecting a treat but gets a beating instead.”
“That’s how I feel at the moment,” said Callabris quietly. Allowyn raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I finally managed to get Jonderill to understand the nature of his magic so I should be celebrating, but instead all I can feel is sadness. It’s as if Jonderill has found a drac but has lost a gellstart.”
“Perhaps he has,” said Allowyn carefully. It was Callabris’s turn to raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Jonderill has always said that he has no magic and yet others have seen it and felt it. He tore a branch from a tree to defend himself against Gellidan, and he threw a whole guard troop across the Soldiers Rest when they were on top of him. He’s also extraordinarily good at opening doors and breaking into places despite what he says. His is a violent and forceful magic and Tissian is as attracted to it as I am attracted to your subtle power. If Jonderill has discovered a new type of magic then perhaps the link between them has been weakened or even severed.”
Callabris looked concerned. “Does that mean if something happened to change the nature of my magic that you would no longer want to be my protector?”
“No, I don’t think so. We’ve been bonded for a very long time and our lives are too entwined for such a change to separate us now, but Jonderill and Tissian are different. They barely know each other and have had no time to work together to become the two parts of the same person.”
Callabris looked up and smiled, yet again surprised by the perceptiveness of his protector. “You’re right. We’ve been so intent on teaching them the moves and skills of their separate callings that we have neglected their need for each other. If you can spare Tissian for a while I think they would both benefit from being out from under our overbearing presence for a few days.”
“I can if you can,” laughed Allowyn “but only after Tissian has run the woodland path ten times in full armour for daring to drop his swords.”
“It’s settled then.”
*
Jonderill led the way along the eastern edge of the Great North Forest with a dark scowl on his face. Whilst the trip from Alewinder to the cottage could be made in a long day the forest was huge, and to patrol its perimeter would take four days at the very least. Beneath him he could feel Sansun’s bunched muscles as he pranced along the forest edge like an ill disciplined colt. He sidled diagonally across the track and lifted each leg higher than necessary, arching his neck and tugging on the reins. This had been the first time the horse had been in the open for days, and the first gallop they had shared had been wild and abandoned and foolhardy, with so many long-eared hopper’s holes close to the edge of the trees.
As Sansun tossed his head and pulled at the bit, Jonderill could almost hear his thoughts but continued to hold him in. His horse wanted to run free, to gallop across the springy turf with the wind in his mane and tail flying, but he wouldn’t let him go. He hadn’t wanted to come on this stupid patrol of the forest’s perimeter when he had only just discovered his magic, but Callabris had insisted. Annoyed at having to waste his time to please the old man he pulled the reins in tighter straightening Sansun’s gait with his legs and receiving a snort of disappointment in return.
Behind him Tissian sat silently on his own horse watching Sansun side step and pull on the reins. He too would have liked to gallop over the springy turf, not for the sheer joy of doing so, but to let the wind blow away the confusion of thoughts that had been twisting and turning in his mind for days. His world was falling apart around him and yet the need inside of him to fulfil his vow to the goddess was like a physical pain.
He had failed to protect Jonderill at the inn, leaving him to save himself, and now that his magic was changing, his master was rejecting him. To make things worse, he had disgraced himself in front of his mentor. He had let Allowyn disarm him and had dropped his weapons into the dirt without even caring. Allowyn hadn’t looked or spoken to him since, and Jonderill didn’t seem to notice or care. Two nights before he had tried telling him what had happened, but he had walked away and ignored him. Perhaps it would have been better if Gellidan had been the one to win the fight after all.
Jonderill looked over his shoulder and scowled in irritation as Tissian dropped further behind. It was bad enough having to patrol the forest perimeter looking for goddess knows what but he had to drag that sullen boy with him as well. Callabris had been right when he said that all a protector could think and talk about was weapons and fighting. Well, he’d had enough of that on the first night they were out together and had hoped that Tissian would have taken the hint when he started yawning.
When Tissian had started on the same subject again on the second night, talking about some fight that he’d lost against Allowyn, he had just walked away and left him to it. The boy was quick on the uptake though, and last night he hadn’t said a word, which was a blessed relief, but had just sat at the far side of the fire pretending to stitch his half finished armour.
Sansun gave a snort and pulled hard on the reins, shaking his head and tugging them through Jonderill’s fingers. Jonderill yanked them back and returned his attention to where he was. One piece of the forest looked much like another as far as he was concerned, but this bit did look a little more familiar than the rest. He stood in the stirrups to get a better view and in the distance caught sight of the narrow cart track that led from Alewinder to the forest edge. That meant they had another boring day to go until they finished their patrol of the perimeter.
Jonderill cursed to himself and then made a decision. Callabris had commanded him to make this patrol, but he didn’t want to or need to finish it. If he turned into the forest where the cart track ended and took the forest pathway which was hidden from those without magic he could be back at the cottage by sunset and that suited him just fine. He loosened the reins and dug his heels hard into Sansun’s sides. The horse gave a snort of surprise and then shot forward in a pounding, headlong gallop.
Tissian watched them go and increased his horse’s pace from a walk to a trot. It was pointless charging after Sansun, there wasn’t a horse in the six kingdoms which could beat his pace and, in any case, if Jonderill wanted to risk the horse breaking a leg in a hopper hole it was his own affair. As he topped a slight rise he could see the cart track in the distance and watched as Jonderill turned Sansun into the forest. He knew he should try and catch up as the pathway to the cottage was hidden, and by rights he shouldn’t know how to find the way. Fortunately Dozo had shown him the track and he had left some discreet markers which he could follow. It would take him a bit longer, and Jonderill would reach the cottage a good candle length before him but that didn’t really matter that much.
He sensed that something was wrong just moments before a flock of sky flyers broke noisily from the forest canopy calling out in alarm. His horse was galloping beneath him at break leg speed before he realised that he had given the command, and he tried desperately to think of all the things Allowyn had taught him about battle tactics against an unknown foe. Allowyn had made it sound simple, but all he could remember now was the need for speed and surprise.
Up ahead he could hear Sansun scream in rage and a sudden shriek of pain which was abruptly cut off. He reached the cart track and yanked his horse sharply left in a scatter of stones and dirt which nearly had the horse on its knees and entered the forest where the trees were still widely spaced.
Two of his throwing knives had left his hand before he had even taken in the situation. One had buried itself into the neck of a uniformed guard who had collapsed to the ground with his life blood pumping out onto the forest floor. The other had missed its target, just slicing through a soldier’s ear, bloody but not incapacitating. He rode his horse straight through the group of soldiers scattering most of them but trampling one underfoot and burying a third knife into the eye of another.
As he passed his mind registered that the men were
not mounted, which would give him an advantage, that’s if he could manoeuvre in the confined space. He dragged on the reins and brought his terrified horse to its hocks and then whipped the tip of a knife across its rump. The shock of the small, shallow cut propelled the horse to its feet and Tissian charged again.
This time the soldiers were ready for him and all but two scattered out of the way of his charging horse. One made a grab for the bridle but mistimed it and had his skull crushed by Tissian’s boot for his trouble, but the other buried his knife deep into the horse’s neck. The horse screamed in terror as it collapsed to its knees, flipping over with the soldier’s knife and his severed hand still attached to it. Tissian somersaulted through the air, hit the ground perfectly and rolled, coming to an abrupt halt as his body collided with a tree. He felt at least one rib crack but was on his feet instantly, his long serrated side knife buried in the stomach of an attacking soldier. The soldier screamed and staggered backwards giving Tissian enough room to draw his two swords and assess the situation.