The two guards looked up in surprise. The elder started to rise but the younger just pulled a sour face.
"What is it lad?" It was the grizzled veteran who spoke.
"There was a scream, and I saw someone on the wall." Even to himself, Luan sounded panicked.
"Ridiculous!" The younger guard, whom Luan was accompanying, turned back to his drink.
"There was! I heard it!"
"You heard the wind, and you've let yourself get spooked, nothing more."
Luan turned to the other guard. "You've got to believe me." The older man looked unsure for a moment, then nodded.
"Come on, better check it out." He began to collect his spear and shield. The younger man looked annoyed.
"Sit down Sarth! He's just a stupid kid!"
"Yeah well, maybe he's not the only one!" Luan could tell that the older man was getting impatient. "Especially if something happens and you were sat here in the warmth instead of being at your post. Fancy explaining that to the Captean? Cos I don't!" He stomped into the night, throwing the words "Come on kid," over his shoulder as he left. Luan followed, leaving behind the sound of the other guard swearing as he gathered his weapons.
Luan ran a couple of steps to catch up, thinking that he was better off with Sarth. A question occurred to him.
"Why is the other guard so cross?"
"Young Wex? Scared probably." Sarth glanced back at Luan before continuing, "Worried he's for it if something's gone on and he wasn't out there."
Luan thought for a second "I wouldn't say anything."
"Is that right?" Sarth's tone was sceptical. "Not sure he'd do the same for you." He stopped and looked about. "Whereabouts did you think you saw something?"
"A bit further along, about halfway to the next tower."
They continued walking, not waiting for still complaining Wex. They stopped at the half way point and Luan was once again aware of the dark and the cold. The wall walk and the raised platform were empty. Wex caught up with them, carrying a torch which guttered in the wind.
"See!" he exclaimed triumphantly, "absolutely no one here"
Sarth gave him a long look of contempt.
"Does that not worry you at all?" he asked witheringly. Luan suddenly realised what the old man meant.
"Where's the guard?" he asked. Wex looked along the walkway in both directions, there was no one in sight.
"But..there should be..."
"Exactly," Sarth replied
Luan looked down towards the base of the wall and at that moment a glimpse of moon momentarily lit the scene.
"What's that?" he said. Sarth looked down and swore angrily.
"Here, give me that!" and he snatched the torch from Wex and let it fall. Luan would always remember that image of the torch, strangely slow as it fell away from him, a circle of light appearing on the ground then shrinking around the small, huddled body below.
"TELL ME AGAIN WHAT happened?"
Luan standing straight, hands clasped behind his back, began his story again. The Captean listened intently, his single eye searching the boy's face only interrupting when Luan reached the point where he saw the figure on the wall.
"Are you sure you saw someone?"
"Yes," replied Luan, "at least I was sure then." The Captean frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Luan began, feeling increasingly unsure of himself, "at the time I just saw a figure. I mean I didn't question it, I just thought: 'There's someone there', but now, well it was very dark and ...." His voice trailed off.
"Well?" the Captean prompted.
"...I was scared," Luan finished. The Captean frowned again and then stood and walked to stand looking out of the window, his back to Luan. He paused for a long moment.
"His name was Erran, thirteen years old, a novice like you on his first guard duty. Maybe he just slipped and fell and this was a tragic accident. Or perhaps someone else was on the wall and he was pushed. That would be an act of unspeakable evil!"
He turned and fixed Luan with a piercing stare.
"To kill in battle Luan, that is our job, we are trained for it and it is usually kill or be killed. But to kill in cold blood, to deliberately decide to take another's life, that is a terrible crime." The Captean turned and gazed out of the window once more but Luan thought he was seeing something other than the view across the practice fields. Then the man turned and went to his desk and the way in which he lowered himself into his chair was that of a much older man.
"Maybe you were right to be scared," he said. "Think about this; if that poor lad was murdered then the person who did it could still be here."
"You mean one of us?" Luan hadn't even considered it.
"It would be very hard for anyone else to be on that wall," the Captean replied. "Not impossible but very unlikely, and usually the most obvious answer is the right one."
Luan was shocked. "Surely you don't mean one of the Klaideem?"
"I hope not, but I would rather assume the worst and be proved wrong than the other way round! Have you told anyone else about this?"
"Just the two guards, Sarth and Wex." Luan thought about it. "And all I said was 'someone on the wall', I don't think they took me seriously."
"They didn't mention it in their report." The Captean glanced up at Luan. "That's good, because if there is a murderer and they find out that you witnessed the deed, then you may well be the next target!"
"What?" Luan felt again the wave of fear he had fought down the night before. "What should I do?"
"Do nothing. Tell nobody! This will be recorded as a tragic accident and that may well be the end of it. But keep your eyes and ears open and your wits about you. If you see or hear anything then report it only to me, understood?"
"Do you really think that one of us could have..." Luan let his question die away. He knew the answer, it was just that he didn't want to face it. The Captean clearly recognised the boy's discomfort and smiled reassuringly.
"Did you think that the Klaideem were so much better than their fellow men? We try, Luan, and that is the main thing, but there are all types of men here. I'd like to think that most are good men who try to hold to their vows and serve faithfully, as I sure you will. Now, go and get some rest. I'll make sure you are excused training until midday, you've had a difficult night."
It was just starting to get light as Luan walked back to the barracks. The wind and rain of the night before had been replaced by a sullen dampness that hung in the air. A pair of rooks ghosted across the practice fields, their calls strangely disembodied in the half light. Luan shivered and not just with cold. When he arrived at the Guildhouse he had felt safe, the perils of his journey behind him. Now he walked with a nagging touch of fear at his back and danger lurked in the mist.
WHEN LUAN AWOKE HE was alone in the barracks, the lines of beds neatly made. He was struck by the thought that in another barracks room there was a bed that would remain empty until next year’s novices arrived. "Where will I be in a year’s time?" he thought and then despite or perhaps because of his efforts to block it "Will I still be alive then?" Luan felt a sudden need for company. He washed quickly and went to find his friends.
He found them in the refectory and feeling hungry himself he collected a plate of bread and cheese before squeezing in between Brenn and Fin. He was not surprised that all the talk was of the accident the night before.
"Fin says that you were there!" said Brenn. "He says that you saw what happened!"
"Not quite!" Protested Fin "just that you were closer than me"
"Fin also says that it must have been an accident!" continued Brenn in a slightly accusing tone, "and that you were messing about and it could have been you!"
"Now hold on ..." Luan started.
"Fin can talk for himself!" interrupted Fin.
"Fin says he can talk for himself!" Brenn started to smirk.
"...what happened was..."
"You're an idiot!" said Fin to Brenn.
"...it
wasn't long after..."
"Fin says you're an idiot!" Brenn giggled.
"Do you two want to know or NOT!" Luan almost shouted the last word. Fin and Brenn stopped abruptly.
"Sorry," said Brenn quietly, "we were just messing about."
"Go on," said Fin, "we're listening."
Luan told them all about it, the cold and the dark, the scream, his attempt to convince the guards, even the fact that Wex thought him a time waster. He told it all except for that shadowy figure on the wall, which now, in the daylight, seemed even more unreal.
THAT AFTERNOON THEY studied the history of the Kingdom, a subject that bored most of the boys but fascinated Luan. Their teacher, Master Derthwyn, was a young man with a very unassuming manner and the first thought that Luan has was 'he doesn't look much like a warrior'. However he had to admit that when he looked round him very few of the boys did either and so decided to give this unlikely teacher a chance. Luan was glad he did. As soon as the man started talking all traces of hesitation dropped away and Luan was spellbound, transported to times long ago and the earliest days of the Kingdom. Some of the story he knew from the tales that Mack had told or from his time with Conn in the House of Collection, how Amhar the Strong had united the tribes of the western coast before sailing to make war against the Shibaan and he was delighted when the young master picked up the story.
"We know little of the land of the Shibaan," he began, "and the little we do know is five hundred years old. Since the time of Amhar not a single person has returned who has tried to make the journey. The precise location of the land is unknown, just that it is several days’ sail through treacherous seas." He turned and pointed at an old manuscript hung on the wall of the classroom. "The only documents we have are copies such as these. This is claimed to be a copy of the original records made by Amhar himself, yet we cannot be sure that anything that is written here is true. How can we know that a copy is accurate if we know nothing of the original?" Derthwyn paused and looked across the room. "I don't expect any of you to understand this, but if someone could track down the original document it would be a treasure worth more than a hoard of gold." It was clear from the general lack of enthusiasm that the teacher had a fairly accurate assessment of his class. Drustan actually snorted with stifled laughter, while his sidekick the Weasel made a big show of stretching and yawning while looking for approval of his cronies. He quickly stopped, caught in Derthwyn's cold stare.
"I should tell you boy," the young man spoke deceptively quietly, "that it is not uncommon for people to underestimate me. They rarely do it twice." As he spoke he walked softly up the aisle to the desk where the Weasel sat. He stopped by the chair where the now very worried boy sat. "I may struggle to teach you History, but if necessary I will definitely teach you manners. Do I make myself clear?" The Weasel, acutely aware that the teacher was now standing behind him, gulped, tried to speak and then just nodded frantically.
"Good!" Derthwyn’s smile was devoid of humour as he walked back to the front of the class.
"So," he continued. "We know little of the land of the Shibaan and even less of what happened when Amhar landed there with his men. What we do know is that he brought back two mighty gifts, given it is said by the Lords of the Shi. How he won these gifts is lost in legend. Our scrolls tell of three 'tests' but the translation is unclear and the words could just as easily refer to three battles or even three discussions or debates. However he gained them, those two gifts enabled him to win a kingdom, and the first of those gifts was this!"
Bang! Derthwyn slammed a dull lump of jagged metal the size of his fist onto the table top.
"I expect you know what this is?" He asked. One of the boys at the back of the room put his hand up.
"Iron sir?"
"Well done," replied the teacher, "iron it is. Relatively common in the Kingdom these days, although many of the poorer people use bronze, as do the tribes around our borders, but at that time it had never been seen here before. In the land of the Shibaan, Amhar saw iron weapons for the first time and they must have made a huge impression." Derthwyn walked to a small chest on the low bench behind him and opened the lid.
"You see, bronze can make a beautiful weapon." He lifted a sword from the chest and held it up for them to see. It was about a forearms length long, with a double edged, leaf shaped blade. The small banded grip was separated from the blade by two short guards and finished at a circular pommel. "But there is a problem." In one fluid motion Derthwyn suddenly raised the sword above his head and slammed it down on the lump of iron. The resounding crack that made most of the boys jump was followed a moment later by a dry clang as the top two thirds of the blade hit the desk. In the teachers hand was the remaining stump, the brightness of the bronze suddenly revealed where the blade had broken clean through.
"Iron breaks bronze." Derthwyn announced simply.
Four – The Boar
The Passing step is one of the most useful for adjusting your fighting distance. An important aspect of this, is not only physical distance, but also the angle of attack, and where the weight is centred in the body.
IN THE DEPTHS OF WINTER there was one place that was top of the list, the place where every boy wanted to spend their spare time, and that was the bath house. This was not because of any sense of the importance of cleanliness; most of the boys saw that as something that was alright in principle but not to be taken too seriously in practice, a bit like their history lessons. Instead the bath house had one major advantage over the majority of buildings in an old castle built of stone, it was warm. The building itself was a warren of interconnecting rooms, built partly below ground. Some of the rooms were large like the main changing rooms and the huge plunge pool, others were smaller with pools ranging from ice cold to scalding hot. There was even a room full of hot steam, a particular favourite of the veteran warriors suffering from old wounds, old age or frequently both.
It had been a hard training session, drill with shield and spear on ground iron hard with frost. Under the watchful eye of a veteran Sargent of the Clanbrae they had learned the basics of infantry fighting. He was a grey bearded, one armed barrel of a man called Salech, who happily went by the name of 'Boar' and whose choice of language turned even Fin pale. The Cadre had marched, sprinted, and then marched again carrying the spears and heavy shields. They had learned to form a shield wall, each boy banging the rim of his shield against the front of that to his left, spears held at the shoulder to form a bristling impenetrable wall. At least that is how it should have worked, the cadre's first attempts were pathetic, a rippling line of gaps appearing and disappearing. Eventually after much shoving and swearing from the Sargent they had a solid wall. Then the hard part began, the boys of the cadre took turns to form a shield wall of three and the Boar would try to break it. At first he didn't have to try very hard, each group of boys was sent flying as he slammed his shield into theirs. Then Drustan took his place on the field. Flanked by the Weasel on one side and the Ghost on the other, he made a show of digging his heels into the ground, leaning forward so that his bulk was positioned right behind his shield. The muscles on his arms bulged as he gripped his spear and he shouted and cursed his cronies until he got them locked in tight next to him.
"Come on old man!" he shouted. "Time for you to get knocked on your arse!"
"You've got to admit, he's got guts," commented Fin.
"He's an idiot!" replied Luan.
"At least he's a brave idiot," Brenn added.
"Aho!" shouted the Boar. "A lad after my own heart! I almost feel sorry for you." A grin appeared under his long moustache and his eyes twinkled. "Almost!" and with a roar he charged full tilt at the three boys. The crash of the impact was so loud that people on the next field turned to look and raucous caws came from the trees that fringed the practice fields as rooks took flight. Drustan was pushed back almost two paces, feet sliding along the ground but he managed to stay upright. With another shout the Boar spun to his right and as he did the Ghost turne
d with him. It was a fatal error. Quick as a flash the grey-bearded veteran backhanded his shield and the pale boy, no longer protected by Drustan took the full blow. With a cry he staggered backwards, knocking into Drustan and pushing him off balance before slipping to the floor. Now all was chaos as Drustan turned desperately trying to get to grips with the old man, leaving the Weasel exposed. With his back to his enemy the boy had little chance and he hit the floor, felled by trip and a shove. Drustan almost bellowed with anger as he tried to close with his tormentor and he stabbed viciously with his spear.
"Now-now lad," taunted the Boar, "let's not get nasty." Drustan was seeing red by now and he stabbed wildly again. This time the Boar deflected the blow downwards with his shield and as the point of the spear hit the ground he stamped down hard on the shaft. Already over reaching, Drustan was pulled forward off balance, started to fall and as he went down the Boar neatly clipped the boy on the head with the rim of his shield. Drustan hit the floor like a falling tree and stayed there.
"Awesome!" Breathed Brenn.
Luan smiled. "Is it the skill of the Boar or the fall of the Ox that you enjoyed most?"
"Both!" The smaller boy grinned back.
"Don't get too happy!" retorted Fin, "we're up next. Come on!" Brenn's grin disappeared abruptly.
"Oh," he said, and then, "wait! I've just thought of something!"
"What's that?" asked Luan as he stood and hefted his shield,
"I've suddenly decided on a change of career. I want to be a cook!
"What are you blatherin' about?" asked Fin, momentarily taking his eyes off the satisfying sight of the Weasel and the Ghost dragging Drustan off the field by his heels.
"I mean it!" Brenn was talking quickly now and his eyes flicked about between his two friends. "You two do the soldiering stuff, you’re much better suited for it, big lads like you, I'll go and peel some vegetables, they're closer to my size."
Luan and Fin exchanged a glance, nodded to each other and then without a word they reached down, took an arm each and dragged the still babbling boy to his feet.
The Guild of Warriors Page 3