By mid-afternoon, Kevon was exhausted. They had been going nonstop for the greater part of the day, and Kevon thought he’d surely prepared everything he could. All that remained was for him to return and organize his belongings at the inn so that he could leave first thing in the morning.
“Thank you for all your help today, Bertus,” Kevon said, handing him some skewered meat and vegetables he’d just bought after seeing the boy eyeing them. “What do you think would be a fair wage for what we’ve done today?”
“Take me with you,” Bertus said without hesitation.
“What?” Kevon asked. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Bertus countered. “I just want to leave. If I’m bothering you, just leave me at the next town you go through.”
“I don’t know…” Kevon began. “What about your parents? What will they..."
“Never knew them,” Bertus cut in. “I was sold to the owner of the Maiden when I was ten. He pays me, but between food and clothes, I still couldn’t afford to pay him back until yesterday. Your tips got me out of debt.”
“Oh. Well…” Kevon thought for a moment. “It’s not safe to travel with me, to go where I’m headed. I can’t let just anyone tag along.”
“It would be more dangerous for me to leave by myself, wouldn’t it?” Bertus asked. “One way or another, I’m leaving Eastport.”
Kevon looked at Bertus and saw the look that he had likely worn when trying to leave home after his father had died. Bertus would be in more danger if he got as far as Kevon had; there was no isolating valley to protect him. Kevon sighed. He dug through his money pouch and pressed three coins into Bertus’s hand. “You’d better hurry if you want to be ready tonight. We’re leaving early.”
Bertus opened his hand enough to see the color of the money, then clamped his fist tightly about it and shoved it quickly into a pocket. His eyes glazed over for a moment and Kevon could almost see the frantic planning that was crowding the boy’s head. “I’ll wake you up before dawn, and we can finish getting ready!” Bertus slipped into the crowd and was gone.
Kevon made his own way back to the Maiden easily enough. He found it amusing that when he was finally getting the feel of where things were here, he had to leave. He packed his things as snugly and securely in the new saddlebags as he could. He went downstairs and found someone to bring him a late supper, and after he finished, Kevon went back upstairs and double-checked everything he’d already packed.
Sore, tired, and mentally exhausted, he climbed into bed and drifted off, Marelle crowding his fitful dreams.
Chapter 20
Bertus pounded on Kevon’s door well before sunup.
Kevon grumbled a bit, but dragged himself to the door.
“Let’s go!” Bertus urged, a little too cheerfully for Kevon’s taste at this early hour.
Kevon scrunched his face and blinked the sleep from his eyes as Bertus waited, fidgeting. “All right,” Kevon said, finally. “First thing we need to do is go get my horse from the other…”
“Both of your horses are in the Maiden’s stable, saddled,” Bertus interrupted. “Mine is, too,” he added with a smile. “All the supplies have been delivered, and are stowed properly. Your new clothes are packed in one of my saddlebags for now, we can move them around later.”
Kevon scrunched and blinked again. “Did you sleep at all?” he asked Bertus.
“A little. It should be enough,” the youth replied.
“All right, then. I’ll get washed up and pack this down to the stable. Then I’m buying us breakfast.”
As Kevon readied himself for the day, he wondered where Marelle and Rhulcan were in their journey down the coastal route. He could not help but imagine how her sudden bid for more independence from her father would change her by the time they met next. If the last few days were any indication, Kevon had no idea what to expect.
Bertus returned and insisted on carrying some of Kevon’s belongings to the stable so that they would only need to make one trip. Kevon was unable to buy breakfast, since Bertus had rented his own room, and was already entitled to his morning meal.
They ate, chatting quietly about the road ahead. Kevon told Bertus about Carlo, Waine, and the general happenings during his Trial at the guild.
“Not worried about him trying something because you embarrassed him?” Bertus asked through a mouthful of bacon.
Kevon shook his head. “I get the feeling he wouldn’t waste his time on something like that.”
Bertus nodded and swallowed. “Sounds like a decent fellow. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Kevon pushed his plate away and slid his chair out a bit from the table. “I’m not sure how they’ll take the news that you’re coming with us. As Carlo said when Waine joined our little group, it’s my journey… but Waine is better prepared to handle the danger. Carlo might be a bit more concerned about you.”
“I won’t be any trouble,” Bertus assured Kevon.
Kevon smiled and eyed the light beginning to come in the front window of the inn. ‘We’d better get started. They’ll be waiting for us at the WestBridge soon.”
Bertus nodded absently, watching one of the kitchen maids cleaning tables off. As she moved to take the dishes from their table, Bertus dumped his money pouch into his open hand. A small handful of silver and copper was all that remained. He took the girl’s hand and poured the money into it.
The vacant stare that had occupied her face a moment before turned to a look of panic and confusion for a few breaths. As her trembling hand clenched around the coins, tears filled her eyes. She sat down the dishes she held in her other hand and stepped around the table to wrap an arm around Bertus, leaning over to kiss him on the top of his head. She dropped the towel that was draped over her arm in the center of the table and left through the kitchen door.
Kevon raised an eyebrow at Bertus.
“That was enough to pay off her debt,” he explained. “And a little extra.”
Kevon laughed and stood up to get ready to leave. He was sure that Bertus would not be any trouble to travel with. Seeing the boy’s selfless act made him worry even more about the danger Bertus was putting himself in by choosing to come along.
Kevon followed Bertus out of the inn, around the corner and down the side-street that lead to the stable used by patrons of the Maiden. His spirits continued to lift; excitement for the next leg of his journey was building. The spring in his young friend’s step and the cheery tune Bertus whistled was infectious.
Bertus called ahead loudly as they neared the stable, their horses were out front waiting as they arrived. Kevon’s mare was loaded with the packsaddle and the majority of the supplies. She was tethered to Bertus’s mare, which in turn carried a larger load than Kevon’s stallion.
Kevon inspected the arrangement for a moment before deciding that it was quite acceptable. He strapped his swords in place on the stallion’s saddle, like he had seen Carlo do on occasion, checked the fastenings, and mounted up.
Kevon and Bertus turned onto the main street heading toward WestBridge and foot traffic parted before them as their horses’ shod feet clacked against the cobbles. The stallion strained to push ahead faster, but Kevon reined him back.
As they reached the bridge a good half-an-hour early, Kevon spotted Carlo’s stallion tethered by another horse near the guard shack. Carlo and Waine stood idly chatting with the officer keeping watch as traffic entered and left the city. Waine waved to Kevon as soon as he spotted them. Carlo quirked an eyebrow at the stallion, his gaze drifted to the mare following Bertus.
Kevon dismounted and walked the last twenty yards to where the other Warriors were talking. Bertus, having had a little difficulty climbing into his saddle earlier, opted to remain seated.
Carlo peered around the side of Kevon’s stallion opposite Bertus. “Is this all of us?” he asked half-expectantly, grimacing.
Waine picked up on Carlo’s surprise at Bertus’s arrival. “Is it to
be ‘Sir Kevon’ then? Is this your squire?”
The post officer and two of his subordinates who were not busy inspecting cargo laughed loudly.
“He’s headed in the same direction,” Kevon answered. “Thought it might be safer if he traveled with us.”
Carlo nodded absently as he walked around to inspect Kevon’s horse. “Where did you get these?” he asked after a quick look at the stallion’s teeth and two of the hooves.
“Lubber’s Landing,” Bertus piped up. “I help out in the stables there when I have some free time.”
“So, you’ve already checked them over, several times, I’d imagine,” Carlo said, more than asked, and backed away, stopping his inspection.
Bertus nodded and smiled at the implied compliment.
“We’re ready to go whenever you are,” Carlo added, turning to address Kevon.
“All right, let’s go.” Kevon shortened the reins he’d been leading the stallion by, and scratched him behind the ear for a moment. He patted his mount reassuringly on the nose and climbed back into the saddle.
Carlo and Waine swung easily into their saddles and Waine called out goodbyes to several of the guardsmen scattered about.
As they crossed the bridge headed out of town, Kevon could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the anticipation of the new leg of his journey bubbling to the surface. Bertus resumed his cheerful whistling, and the horses seemed to pick up on the youth’s enthusiasm, heads held higher and ears pricked to listen more carefully.
A mile or so from Eastport, Carlo turned onto a smaller road that headed in a more southwesterly direction. The group maintained a lively, yet unhurried pace for the rest of the morning, and by the time the noon hour had come; they were in sight of the wooded hills that lay between Eastport and the capital, Navlia.
While they stretched their legs and ate a quick meal, each from their own provisions, Carlo estimated that they could be making camp near the forest by early evening.
Kevon helped Bertus back into his saddle and they resumed their journey.
They reached the edge of the forest as the sun stretched to touch the western horizon. Waine dismounted and pulled his unstrung bow and full quiver of arrows from behind his saddle. Handing his reins to Bertus, the Seeker laughed and ran into the trees.
Carlo dismounted and removed the saddle from his stallion. Kevon helped Bertus remove the gear from the remaining four horses and picket them all between two outlying trees. Bertus began fussing over the horses with an assortment of brushes, and Kevon led them one at a time to drink from a nearby stream.
Kevon left Bertus to finish caring for the mounts and returned to see what Carlo was doing. The Blademaster had a fire crackling cheerfully in a fire pit, and was inspecting his sword.
“Well, the horses are pretty well settled in,” Kevon reported. “Any sign of Waine?”
A triumphant shout rang out from just inside the tree line. Kevon heard a thump and a loud cracking noise directly behind him. A fat partridge lay at an odd angle, skewered by the splintered remains of a flight arrow. The feathered end of the shaft lay a few feet away on the other side of the rock that the arrow must have splintered on when it fell.
Waine leapt from the cover of the trees, holding up a length of rope with half-a-dozen more birds tied by the feet. The Seeker stalked back into camp with a wide grin. He flopped the bird-laden rope down on the rock by the last one he’d shot. “I killed ’em. Someone else gets to cook ’em,” he announced.
Kevon and Carlo looked at each other questioningly as Bertus moved to pick up the rope, and lifted the other bird by the arrow-shaft. Both made half-hearted efforts to help, but the boy shook his head. “Most likely I’m the best cook, anyhow,” he taunted, retreating to a corner of camp to begin preparing the birds for dinner.
Carlo watched for a while as the boy sat down and began plucking the birds. Nodding approval, he turned back to Kevon and Waine. “Get your swords.”
Waine unstrung his bow and exchanged it for his longsword. Kevon braced himself for the jolt of touching his new saber, and pulled it free from its scabbard. He turned to join the others, but Carlo called, instructing him to bring the other sword instead. Puzzled, Kevon replaced the saber and took up the fallen Warrior’s heavier sword.
By the time Kevon got over to them, Carlo was already showing Waine the proper balance for the slant-bladed stance that Kevon had used in his Trial. Kevon watched, following along with his own sword for a few minutes. Soon, Carlo decided Waine had a solid grasp of the stance, and ended that part of the lesson.
Carlo spaced his students out a few sword-lengths away from each other and went through basic sword swings. He had them do half a dozen of each, starting from different positions and slashing at different angles every six strokes. When Kevon didn’t perform a technique correctly, they did six more.
Within minutes, Kevon’s arm was aching and starting to go numb. Just before he was afraid he would drop the sword on his next set of swings, Carlo had them switch hands and practice a few more times this way. After just four variations, only one of which they had to repeat, Carlo had the younger Warriors switch to two-handed grips and showed them a few technique combinations that they repeated several times each. These proved to be awkward for Kevon. The sword that he was using would have been a fine two-handed weapon for someone with smaller hands. As it was, he had to grip the hilt just short of the crosspiece with his right hand, and his left fist was barely wrapped around the iron sphere on the end. His sweaty hands did not grip as well on the iron as they did on the leather wrapping, and he found himself having to constantly shift his grip and wipe his hands dry on his tunic.
Kevon was nearing his limits. Sweat poured off his brow into his eyes. His breath burned in his lungs, and his legs began to ache from the low crouching positions and steps he’d been taking while performing the two-handed techniques.
Carlo called a halt, and reminded Kevon to care for his blade.
Kevon searched through the saddlebags until he found the cloth, oil, and whetstone. He made a mental note to repack them in the saddlebags he kept on the stallion. He sat down on a large rock outcropping near the fire where Bertus was spitting plucked partridges. He noticed that Waine had checked his sword and was already tinkering with his arrows. Kevon sized up the blade and began scraping away at it with a whetstone.
Carlo, sitting nearby, made a distressed noise and sheathed his own blade to rest it against the rock he’d been sitting on. He rushed over to see what Kevon was doing. Carlo took the blade and looked it over; finding only one spot that even remotely needed sharpened out, and showed Kevon the proper way to go about it.
When he was finished, Kevon switched the larger blade out for the lighter saber, and found a few places that he dealt with fairly easily. Watching from his new seat next to Kevon, Carlo nodded his approval as Kevon re-sheathed the saber.
Wanting the practice, Kevon drew out his knife and looked it over.
“That’s quite the pigsticker,” Waine commented from across the fire, where he was now helping Bertus roast the birds.
“It looks very much like…”
“The sword. Yes,” Kevon said, interrupting Carlo. “That’s why I bought it. The shopkeeper said the Warrior that sold it to him came from the Southern Frontier.”
“So if we don’t find anything out in the Inner Cities, we’ll head for the Frontier?” Carlo asked.
“I might need to take care of that other thing in the west, first…” Kevon responded, wincing.
“Yes,” Carlo agreed. “And you might want to let these two in on it if you plan on having them around for any length of time.”
Waine and Bertus looked at Kevon and Carlo in turn.
“Well…” Kevon hesitated.
“C’mon, tell us!” Bertus urged.
“It’s just that…” Kevon started, “Knowing this could be dangerous for you, and speaking of it around others could endanger us all.”
“Not a whole lot that
I’m afraid of,” Waine answered. “Dragons, probably, but I’ve never seen any of those.”
Kevon looked at Bertus.
“I’ve just barely got my freedom…” Bertus said thoughtfully. “And you ask me if I want to spend it on a dangerous adventure with three Warriors I’ve only just met?”
Kevon sighed and nodded.
“Just try and stop me!” Bertus laughed. “I’m gonna be in storybooks!”
Kevon smiled, knowing how it would have felt to have been offered the same chance when he was Bertus’ age. “All right. Where should I start?” Kevon sheathed the knife and began talking. He told them of the encounter with the Warrior and the bear. He told them of the Wizard he had known and trusted. About Holten paying him to return a book to a Wizard friend. He mentioned his meeting Carlo, Rhulcan, and Marelle, and finally the misunderstanding that had revealed Holten’s true intentions. His story concluded as they were almost done eating.
“Well,” Waine said, tossing the gnawed bone he’d been working on into the fire and licking his lips. “You can add evil Magi to the list of things that make me nervous.”
“Me too,” Bertus agreed. “But, they’re evil, and they’re up to something.” He frowned. “Probably something big.” He peered at Kevon. “And… we might be the only ones that know about it at all?”
Kevon nodded.
“Well, we’ve got to stop them,” Bertus stated flatly. “We’ll ask around about your dead friend with the sword, then head on over and kill that Gurlin guy.”
The Warriors turned as one to look at Bertus.
He’s right, Kevon thought. I’d been considering it to keep myself safe, alive. But I need to do it because it needs to be done.
“By the gods!” Waine chuckled. “If this boy has the stones for the job, I’m with him.”
Carlo nodded, the hint of a smile touching his face.
The four finished eating, bantering between nervous silences. As the evening deepened, the Warriors worked out a watch rotation and settled in for the night.
Apprentice Swordceror Page 15