Before the spring equinox. Of course, the Abbot would have read my father’s letter. Which meant he might have surmised the truth about why my father had sent me here. I had no choice. I nodded. “Thank you, sire. I will do my best to concentrate on my studies.”
“I am sure that you will, Torvald,” the Abbot said with a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “If I may, let me give you just a tiny bit of advice to help sharpen your mind: stay away from the Nefrette girl. She seems to bring out the worst in you, and I wouldn’t want either of your studies here to be threatened.”
I nodded, but did not say anything – but I didn’t have to, as the Abbot moved a hand and the door opened of its own accord, leaving me to flee back into the night, and to my dormitory room, my head spinning with everything that had happened today.
I have until the spring equinox to save my father, in one way or another.
Part III
Their Loyalties
Chapter 20
Protector
It was the very next morning, and I stood with Dorf on the cold battlements of the monastery. “Is that him?” said Dorf to me. It was cold atop the walls of the monastery, and below us we could see the stone and scree of the mountain, dotted with yellow-tipped gorse, and still dusted with frost. Spring was on its way, but it was coming too soon for my liking. We were watching the small figure wearing black, on the back of a pony making his slow way down the path, his saddle bags heavy and laden with supplies.
“It’s not Healer Garret, if that is what you mean,” I said a little irritably. I had especially put my name forward to be on wall lookout duty this morning so I could see the healing powders and supplies leave the monastery for myself. To see if the Abbot would keep his word, I thought bleakly.
“Easy there, Torvald, you don’t have to be quite so mean,” Dorf said at my side. He looked ridiculous in the small metal hat that all of us wall lookouts were wearing. Ridiculous but honest, I thought. He didn’t have to volunteer to join me up here, and had only done so after I had told him last night of my father being gravely ill and that the Abbot Ansall had decided to send healing remedies back to my home in the Eastern Marches.
I didn’t mention anything about it being a part of a complex ransom though, as Dorf would only get upset, and probably not understand.
“I know, I’m sorry, Dorf, I’m just worried for my father,” I said shame-facedly. “Please, accept my apologies.”
“Already forgotten,” Dorf said in a brighter tone. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure that your father will be okay, Neill. Everyone knows that the Draconis Order has some of the best healers in the world.”
And some of the best spies, it seems. I nodded. “Anyway, how much longer have we got up here?” I asked, looking at the low angle of the sun.
“Oh, until breakfast I think?” Dorf made a patting motion on his rounded belly. Like his warm and gentle homeland, the Lesser were known to be comfortably padded. “Not long now.”
Good, I thought. “I’ll just do another circuit then, and by the time I’m done we should be ready for the next watch, right?” I said.
“Oh. Shall I stay here then?” Dorf looked down at the gate underneath him, and the walls all around him. It seemed an awfully big space for just him to be watching.
“Well, we can’t leave the front gate undefended, can we?” I joked, knowing that it wasn’t the case anyway. There was another monk by the gate below and we were just up here as extra eyes. Not that anyone came up to the Draconis Order very often. It seemed that the place had supplies delivered every few weeks from the ramshackle village at the foot of the mountain, and the odd returning monk or messenger from all over – but they were always only solitary travelers, and nothing to worry about. I trudged along the northern fortifications that arced back towards the wilds of the mountain, and the ridgeway behind, keeping my eyes peeled– but not for intruders. What I was looking for was Char.
The problem was, that Dorf and I were only supposed to guard the front sections of the high stone wall that ringed the entire monastery, and the watch duty was split between teams of monks and students. I walked to the adjacent section of the ramparts overlooking the wilder pars of the ridge, wondering if I could catch a sight of either Char or Paxala.
I saw nothing. If Char was studying magic with the Abbot every evening, how could she manage to get out early enough to feed Paxala this morning? The message of the Abbot was still ringing in my ears. Char was to study every evening, and I had to be a good student if I wanted my father to live.
I reached the end of my section, and the nearest Draconis Order monk waved a hand at me to say that he had this part covered. I nodded, waved a greeting and turned, just as something bright and dazzling caught my eye and was gone.
I blinked and there it was again. A sudden flash of light, seeming to come not from down in the heavy gorse thickets near the wall.
It could be anything. A patch of sunlight catching a puddle, or perhaps some strange insect.
Flash. The light struck my eyes once again, and I blinked. I rubbed the glare from them and peered down to where it was, and saw nothing other than the overgrown wasteland behind the Kitchen Gardens. Where Char had been sneaking out from? Is she stuck out there, on the other side of the wall? I checked the sun, I might have just enough time to take a look before breakfast, if I were quick. I had to make sure that Paxala was being fed now – Char had made me promise, and that meant that I had an oath to keep. And not only that, I reminded myself, but I had no intention of obeying the Abbot’s whims and wishes that I stay away from Char. I was oath-sworn to her and the dragon now, and I could not trust the Abbot who might at any moment order his spies and so-called ‘healers’ to poison my father anyway. I had to let Char know what was happening, and that any healer or Scribe trained here at the monastery was a danger to her father and to those that she loved. I hurried back to the front gate, just as the breakfast bell chimed. Dorf already looked anxious.
“Breakfast?” he said. It seemed important to him to make sure that he had three square meals a day.
“Let’s go. Don’t worry, I’ll take these helmets back,” I offered, hurrying to the storerooms and, beyond that, to the Kitchen Gardens. This time I kept one of the helmets on me just in case Monk Olan Draconis or Quartermaster Greer found me. I could use the excuse that I was returning it. It seemed crazy to be so eager to break the rules again, the very night after the Abbot had reprimanded me, but with the medicines safely en route, I felt certain that I could still work to find out what I could for my father. I would just have to be better at hiding how I did it. All I cared about was unearthing the secrets of the Order for my father, and my friends.
I hesitated at the door to the gardens, taking a deep breath, and heard mumbled voices.
“I know, but this is the best that I can do…” I was disappointed it wasn’t Char, but instead sounded like Nan Barrow, the House Mistress and cook who ran the kitchens and the gardens. But who was she whispering to?
“She needs more. The girl has been lucky that the dragon is young, and by a lake too – but a Crimson Red of her size cannot live on leftovers and scraps. They are larger than the Blues! If the girl wants the Crimson Red to grow to her full size then she cannot be malnourished early on. The dragon hasn’t even been taught how to hunt properly yet! If the girl doesn’t come soon…” said a man’s voice, one that sounded very much like Jodreth.
“Something bad is happening with the girl. And the Torvald boy,” I heard Nan Barrow say, and I almost stepped out from my hiding place to announce myself, but I was too intrigued to hear what they had to say for themselves.
“I think we can trust the Torvald boy. He has a good heart.”
Silence from the cook. “But is a good heart enough?” Nan said wearily.
“We had better hope so, for the dragon’s sake,” Jodreth said. “Anyway, enough of this dark talk, I will not waste my time with you - come here, my love.”
I felt suddenly ashamed, a
s I heard the rustle of feet on the paths as the pair must have embraced. I took my ear from the door and stepped back, leaving the lovers to their secrets.
So Jodreth and Nan Barrow are lovers? I thought, the idea feeling oddly pleasing and right, were it not for the dark tidings that they gave each other. Nan was also supplying Char with the food for Paxala. So, that meant Jodreth must know about both Paxala and Char – but Char had never mentioned him. How was it that Jodreth Draconis, a fully ordained monk, knew about the student’s hidden dragon but hadn’t gone to the Abbot with this knowledge?
They said that they could trust us, for the dragon’s sake. They knew something about what was going on, and I had to tell Char.
I saw Char at breakfast, looking owlish and tired, as if she hadn’t had any sleep. I didn’t blame her as I had barely slept at all myself, worrying about my father all night. Breakfast at the Dragon Monastery consisted of the kitchen stay setting a long table with fruit and porridges and warmed breads, mountain water, cheeses, and leaving us to help ourselves. It was usually the most raucous of the meal times, with most of the shouting, bullying, and laughing that went along with it.
But not this morning. It was quiet at the tables as the students filed in line with their bowls, one after another to pick a selection from the feasting table.
“One apple, you greedy pig, Lesser!” snapped the Quartermaster, as my heart plummeted. Greer was here, and was now supervising our breakfasts, overseeing how much anyone took and directing them back to their seats in silence. But really, I had a feeling he was there for a different reason—to make sure Char and I stayed apart.
“Really, Fenn?” the Quartermaster said when he saw just how little porridge the stick-thin girl had taken, instead dolloping two extra ladles onto her plate. I knew that Sigrid was worried, it seems, about being a better fighter, and was always complaining about whether she was fit enough. To be honest, I thought that it was right that she have a square breakfast, but the way that the Quartermaster drew everyone’s attention to her anxieties only made her burst into tears as she went back to her seat.
When it was my turn, the Quartermaster plonked into my bowl just one ladle of porridge and a rather small, wrinkled winter apple, and grinned. “Protectors are made of stern stuff, Master Torvald.” He oozed pleasure at these small cruelties, but I ignored him. It would be enough for me.
Just as I suspected the Quartermaster or the Abbot intended, there was no time to talk to Char during breakfast at all. I tried to catch her eye as I washed up my bowl in the hot water at the end of the hall, but she ignored me, biting her lip as she did so.
Nan and Jodreth are right. This is bad, I thought, as we were then thrown into a grueling day of lessons. Char needs to know about the Abbot’s network of spies, and she needs to know that I have her back--that I will not let either her or Paxala down.
I tried, I really did try hard to learn. I was aware of the monks watching us, assessing us throughout the day, calling out suggestions or rebukes and I tried to show them that I gave my all to every task. I didn’t want to give them any reason to mark me down or to put my father in danger.
“Duck, Dorf, duck!” I hissed at him, as I faced off against my dormitory opponent. We were doing our mandatory Protector lessons that every student had to do, just as we had to all do a mandatory amount of scribing and meditation. The difference came when you were chosen for a particular task--as I had been chosen to be a Protector, and Dorf a Scribe. Then you were assigned to extra lessons. So I went to additional, specialized Protecting lessons, while Dorf did extra Scribing. I was using my mandatory lesson to try and sharpen up Dorf’s combat skills.
Thunk-thwack! We traded blows, and Dorf looked scared of the wooden baton that he was holding.
“It’s okay, Dorf,” I reassured him. “Just think of it as playing.”
We sparred and I won again and again, but at least now Dorf was no longer so upset when I beat him. It was better than having the sneering Terrence as his opponent. By the end of the lesson he had even managed to learn a couple new blocking maneuvers, which I hoped would help him against the others.
“Thanks, Torvald,” Dorf wheezed, holding his side as the dragon pipes rang for a change in lesson. He was to go off and do extra scribing, while I was to stay here and practice with some real weapons along with the other Protectors.
“Just help me out with the history scrolls,” I told him, hoping that the nearest Draconis Monk had seen all of the good effort that I had put in. I had a few minutes to duck my head underwater and freshen up before the real lesson began, and I made my way to the buckets of water and towel racks held under the wooden galleries for especially that purpose, where a shadow detached itself from the shadows. The water troughs were busy with students – it was easy to get lost in the hubbub.
“Char?” I said. She looked troubled as she caught the edge of my sleeve.
“Our friend,” she hissed, and I nodded, loudly splashing the water with my hands to try and mask what she was saying. “My schedule starts straight after dinner. I can’t…”
“I’ll go,” I said quickly, wanting to tell her what I had overheard in the Kitchen Gardens, but knowing that there wasn’t any time.
“See, Nan,” she mouthed silently and I nodded, as water suddenly splashed all over us.
“And what are these two lovebirds talking about?” It was Terrence, along with his cronies, laughing.
“Do you realize how terrible you are at fighting?” Char said.
“Do you want to prove that, wild-child?” Terrence growled.
Char was already braiding up her hair. “I’ve got to go scribe, I’m afraid, Terrence, not that I would want to spend any longer in your presence than I really have to anyway,” she said haughtily.
“I’ll take you up on that offer.” There was a loud thump as Lila appeared from the storerooms, hefting her leather armor and buckler shield. She was also in our advanced Protector class. I saw Terrence snarl and grinned. He’d be lucky if he got out of there without being injured.
It was our first day training with edged weapons, and it appeared to be only Lila and me who had any great experience with using them. I had been training with weapons against or with my brothers ever since I could hold them. I wasn’t as good as my brothers were, but I was much better than the rich nobles’ children who had also made it to advanced Protector. I offered to be the first to demonstrate with Lila, who grinned savagely at me as she crouched, her shield buckler in one arm, and the sword in the other.
Needless to say, she beat me, thoroughly and completely. Where I had some knowledge of using edged weapons and even a little skill – Lila was very good with them. But I took comfort in the fact that we had also managed to not kill each other or break the skin, which I thought must count as a success.
“If you can’t pull your blows, then don’t practice. Only aim for the protected bits on your opponent for now!” shouted the Draconis Monk who was training us, a strong, blocky looking man with a bald head and a brown beard. I hadn’t met him before, but he appeared to be not quite so sexist or bigoted as some of the others. His arms and face bore the mark of scars that ran up and down them like white rivers, and he said that his name was Feodor Draconis.
“Hmm. Good work, Neill, Lila.” Feodor gave us a nod, which was more encouragement than I had heard anyone receive.
By the end of the lesson we had two students with light cuts that needed binding, but weren’t serious, and many, many scrapes and bruises. Feodor gathered us all together as the afternoon bell went off, and wouldn’t let us go until he had lectured us.
“Tomorrow we go back to wooden weapons, as you already have two injuries, and tomorrow you’ll have more if some of you don’t learn how to respect your weapons, and your opponents,” Feodor said.
“Why should we respect our opponents?” Lila asked.
“Because one day you’re going to come up against someone stronger, faster, tougher, and a whole lot cleverer than you, Lil
a – no matter how good you are.” Feodor raised his scarred arm back to the ridgeline above us. “And just over there is a crater full of them, you hear me? You may think that this is all about protecting yourself from the odd desperate bandit out on the road, but it’s also to protect them, and to protect you from them,” he said in a loud, booming voice.
“Is that how you got your injuries? From a dragon?” Lila asked again, ever impetuous.
Feodor grinned, raising his arm high into the air so that we could all get a good look at the rivers of white scar tissue that crisscrossed it, all the way up past his shoulder, neck, and up onto the back of his head. “Yeah. This was from a dragon. I bled like a pig, and most everyone wanted to put me out of my misery, but I was too dumb to die.”
“Why?” Lila asked again. “Why did the dragon attack you?”
At this, the monk Feodor lowered his arm slowly, and started to glower. It was like a chill had suddenly crossed over the courtyard. “Enough questions, Lila. Let’s just say that I was stupid, and I got in the way of a dragon and its prey. Which is a good reason for you all to apply yourself to your training, otherwise you’ll end up with some pretty new scars of your own.” His mood had soured and darkened in an instant as he dismissed us, turning to stomp off to the washhouse.
“But I thought that the monks feed them all by hand. What do they hunt?” Lila snorted to herself, trying to act tough after being the object of the monk’s wrath.
But what on earth do the crater dragons hunt? I echoed myself. Another mystery. It seemed like my life was quickly becoming full of them lately, as I went to get washed and changed myself, ready for the rest of the afternoons boring scribing lessons.
Dragon God (The First Dragon Rider Book 1) Page 17