The Apprentice

  A KNIGHT’S JOURNEY

  The Apprentice

  A KNIGHT’S JOURNEY

  Book 1: The Apprentice

  Alexander Christian Hoffman

  Copyright © 2014 Alexander C. Hoffman

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 1503184242

  ISBN-13: 978-1503184244

  DEDICATIONS

  To Carissa, who was my reader, editor, critic, publicist, agent, and more. You pushed me to finish when even I was ready to give up. Without you, this story would never have ended.

  To my mother and father, brother and sisters, and all of my family and friends who always supported me.

  And to all of the writers who inspired me to create a world of my very own. I always have and always will enjoy reading above all else. However, without your fantastic stories, I would have finished my work much sooner.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This story has been my greatest and most daunting project, and I could never have finished without the help of many amazing people. I would like to thank my editor, Mia Darien, who saw this novel in a much rougher form and helped me make it better. I would also like to thank Alicia Froelicher, who created the cover art for this book. And of course, I would like to thank my friends and family and everyone else who helped me out. I am grateful to all of you.

  INTRODUCTION

  Writing this novel was a great undertaking, and it has grown beyond what I ever could have conceived when I first put my pen to paper. I have revised and rewritten this book so many times that it is difficult to remember that it all began as little more than an unfinished short story that I wrote at some point in high school. In fact, it wasn’t until I finished the first draft of the novel many years later that I stopped referring to it as the Knight Short Story, because by that point it could no longer be called short.

  When I first wrote this as a short story, I told the tale of a boy (Rowan did not even have his name yet) living on a farm and wishing that he could leave his home to find adventure. Baird arrived and offered to take the young boy with him when he left. That was it—end of story.

  There was obviously more to be told, but at that point in time I was satisfied with an open ending. Rowan would leave with Baird and have the kind of adventures that all fantasy heroes do. I knew that he would travel to the capitol and learn to become a knight, but those were merely vague ideas. I left the story as it was, a mere nine pages, and worked on other projects. I would like to say that the story always sat in the back of my mind, begging to be finished. But that isn’t how it happened. There were lots of unfinished stories that I had, some partially written out and others nothing more than ideas waiting to be used. This story was just one of many that I set aside with the hopes of revisiting.

  But one day, I finished drafting my first novel. When I set it aside, I found that I was in need of a new project. Something big. Something fun. I was studying creative writing at CSULB by this point, and having just finished one novel, I was eager to start another. And so the story of Rowan began again.

  I spent a long time writing and developing the world of Eos. Creating my world was both daunting and exciting. There was so much freedom, and I worked from the ground up to create a rich world that is full of strange and interesting lands. I will admit that I struggled greatly with the decision of whether or not to include magic, one of the defining elements of fantasy. I certainly considered the idea, but I decided that I wanted the magic in this series to be in the lands and the creatures. That is not to say that magic does not exist, only that it is not present. There is still so much of the world that is left to see, but the story is not over yet, and I promise that the coming books will show you more.

  Chapter 1

  Rowan’s morning began as many had before. He awoke early, well before the break of daylight, and dressed himself warmly against the cold. He started his morning chores: gathering eggs, giving the animals feed, and walking the lands that he had helped his father and his brother to farm for almost seventeen winters.

  The air was thick with moisture. Looking up at the dark sky, Rowan could tell that a storm was brewing. A cold wind blew, rustling his brown hair and causing the trees to bow and bend. His father had been expecting this storm for some time, telling both Rowan and Petar that it would arrive within the week. They would need to work quickly so nothing would be lost to nature. The trees that surrounded them would keep the worst of any storm away, but the open land on which they planted was less sheltered.

  Rowan shivered and hurried back to the house where it would be warmer. Petar stood by the hearth warming himself, his hands pressed close to the small flames. Their father Brennon, meanwhile, was preparing breakfast.

  “Do we have any eggs today?”

  “Four,” Rowan replied, holding out his hands to show off the eggs. The number always varied, and with autumn fast approaching they were getting fewer and fewer each day.

  “That is good. We will eat well this morning.”

  Rowan joined his brother by the fire and set about cooking the gathered eggs in a small pan. The three of them broke their fast together in silence, each one occupied with their own thoughts. It had been a long time since any other had joined their table, so theirs was a silence of familiarity. It was comfortable.

  For his part, Rowan ate while wishing he was elsewhere, somewhere beyond the confines of his home. They lived a distance from the village of Corrinth, and that had been the boundary of his world for all of his years. But he wanted more, to go further than he had before and see the outside world.

  His one escape was in his books. He had a few texts and scrolls, most of them old and passed down through the family. In each of them were hand drawn illustrations, pictures of a world that he had never known and things that he had never seen, and likely never would. He had spent countless hours learning to understand the symbols and markings within the books. He could not read them very fast and he did not always understand all of the words, but he could understand what the pages were saying and what the pictures showed him.

  “We will have to work hard today,” Brennon said, breaking the silence. “I plan on going to the village tomorrow, so we must do two days worth of work today.”

  Rowan and Petar groaned. If their father was gone on the morrow, they would have a day to be free and relax as they pleased. But it also meant that the day facin
g them had just become that much harder.

  “Why are you heading into town?” Rowan asked. It was not often that their father left, and with a storm looming it did not seem to be a good time to travel.

  “Summer is coming to an end and autumn is almost upon us, which means that people will be looking to trade before the final harvests are done. It also means that we will be seeing fewer traders because the cold months are coming and will make travelling difficult and unpleasant. In the Vale we do not see the heavy snows of the South, for that is where the winter truly reigns when it comes. But in the span of a few months, when autumn has come, the land will frost and give us a hint of the winter soon to follow. There will be no trade or travel then, so I mean to check for word of traders now.”

  “Corrinth does not often see travelers,” Petar said. “Do you really expect to see any?”

  “No. The last trading caravan we saw was almost a year gone by and the summer season is coming to an end, but one should never make assumptions. Besides, it will be good to see what people are looking to trade for and it will provide me with an opportunity to find some tools and perhaps some oil and furs.”

  “That will be nice,” said Rowan.

  “While you are out, will you try to find a new knife and some spices?” Petar asked. “Our food knife is beginning to rust and we could use something to make our food taste better.”

  “The food is fine,” their father said, though the look on his face betrayed him. “If you want these things then you may look for them yourself. The both of you will be coming with me in case I need any help.”

  “Why would you need us?” Rowan asked. He couldn’t imagine his father buying anything that would require three people to carry. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything his father would do in town that would require the help of both him and Petar.

  “I probably won’t,” Brennon admitted. “But I would welcome some company and it is better to err on the side of caution when necessary. There is a storm brewing. If it happens to come in tomorrow, I will need both of you to assist me.”

  Rowan groaned, knowing there was no way out of this. Any plans he had for resting tomorrow were ruined.

  “Must I come along with you? Shouldn’t one of us stay to tend to the house?” Rowan pleaded, hoping that the answer might be favorable. But it wasn’t.

  “It’ll be good for you to get out of the house and come with me. Consider it an opportunity to learn about trading. Besides, you are always complaining about how you want to leave and see new places. Perhaps this will help to rid you of those notions.”

  Rowan sighed and kept his silence, accepting the inevitable. His father was a stubborn man, and he did not want another argument. They had been having many arguments of late, most of them focused on Rowan’s wish to leave Corrinth and the Vale behind him. Brennon thought that Rowan’s desire to travel could be satiated by the occasional trip into the village. He did not understand.

  “We’ll be leaving early in the morning, well before the rising of the sun,” Brennon said, leaving the table to wash his empty plate. “I expect you both to be up and ready before that. That includes feeding the animals and completing the morning chores.”

  * * *

  The morning air was cold and laden with mists, making it difficult for Rowan to see very far ahead as his father guided the cart along the path. It was early and his eyes were heavy with sleep; he struggled to remain fully awake and alert.

  His sleep the previous night had been fitful. His dreams were troubled and confused, leaving him tossing and turning. More than once he awoke covered in sweat and breathing heavily. The dreams which troubled him were vague and quickly forgotten upon waking. Trying to remember them was like clutching at wisps of smoke. The memories were hazy and elusive, fading away quickly and leaving barely a trace. Only images and feelings remained with him.

  By the early morning hours, Rowan had accepted that sleep would not take him. After rising and clothing himself, he had set about his morning chores, finishing them quickly so he would not have to remain out in the cold. Once done, he returned to his room, lit a candle wick, and pulled out one of his books. He flipped through the pages, absently glancing at them while his mind wandered. He stared at the pictures of lands unseen and thought of his dreams. In his dreams, he had not been stuck in Corrinth; he had felt a sense of freedom and adventure.

  Before long, his father and brother rose too. Brennon prepared food for the three of them to eat as they travelled as Petar left to do his own chores. After, Rowan had helped his brother prepare the cart and hitch their single old horse to it before they all left.

  Now, Rowan watched the road ahead, observing the scenery as they rode along. His father wanted him to keep watch for any obstructions blocking the road that might be hidden by the thick blanket of fog. They had already encountered several obstacles: a fallen tree, a small landslide covering the path, a large animal stubbornly camped in the middle of the road. But Rowan still saw the job as a largely pointless one.

  The fog was indeed thick and it obscured their vision, but he knew that his father was not relying on him. This, combined with Brennon’s silence, made it hard for Rowan to concentrate enough to remain fully awake. He was tired and bored and unlike his brother, he was not overly excited about going into the village. It was a nice break from the monotony of their daily life on the farm, but the village offered him no true escape. It was just another small place. Rowan knew that if he were to live there, he would quickly grow as restless as he was back home.

  His brother Petar was not of the same mind. He sympathized with Rowan, but in his heart, the farm and the village were his place. Petar had always been at home in Corrinth, and he wanted for nothing that he could not find there or at the farm.

  After a while, the sun began to rise and the mists began to dissipate, providing an unimpeded view of the path before them. It wasn’t long before the oppressive growth of the forest began to thin and Rowan found himself looking down on the village far below as the road descended into the valley.

  Corrinth lay nestled deep within the Vale, a great series of valleys large and small, all nestled among the mountains of the North. The hills sloped up on either side of the village, gently at first, almost flat, but gradually becoming steeper. Far to his right the valley curved away as it wound through the hills. Somewhere far off in the distance the valley opened up and the mountains that formed it gave way to an expanse of rolling hills. That was where the Vale ended.

  Rowan had heard it told that the land beyond grew flat and lacked trees, with only tall grass and mountains far in the distance, but he would not believe such tales until he could see the proof with his own eyes. He knew of flatlands, but he could not imagine any stretch of land where there were no trees at all.

  From up high, he could see where the growth of the trees had been thinned and eventually gave way to the sprawling settlement. Corrinth was a sizeable community, and he recognized many of the shabby buildings that were spread out below. To the left of the town, at the edge of the valley, he gazed upon the vast waterfall which fed the river running through town. A section of it was fed by a stream near the farm.

  “It is a beautiful view,” Brennon said. “It is a shame that we missed the sun breaking over the valley. I have always loved seeing the sun rise.”

  His father steered the horse around the bend as they began down the winding path into town. Very few people travelled this path, even fewer travelled it this far. Their farm was quite isolated and the path was more of an old game trail than an actual road.

  As the cart turned and proceeded forward, the tree line slowly rose and obscured his view.

  “Keep a sharp eye out for any obstructions or places where the path might give way.”

  The boys nodded. This was a dangerous area for their cart. They were going downhill and had to make sure that it didn’t roll out of control or run into a weak section of the path.

  After a while, Rowan’s father hopped out of th
e cart in order to lead the horse by hand. Rowan and Petar joined him. Soon the slope began to even out and the path widened back into a road as Rowan, Petar, and Brennon reached the bottom of the valley. Before long they had left the forest and entered the village. Rowan and Petar tied up the horse and unhitched the cart, hauling it somewhere safe nearby.

  Buildings made of wood and dirt surrounded them as Brennon led the way through the village. Rowan had been here on occasion, but Brennon did so more often and he knew where he was heading. Petar knew the village as well; better, perhaps, than his father did. Rowan knew that Petar was sweet on a girl and visited the village more often than he let on, which was another reason he was excited to have come along. The three of them walked together, Brennon leading the way, Petar glancing around and looking for a familiar face, and Rowan following along behind.

  There weren’t many people out yet because it was still early, but as they neared the village square they began to see people and hear the sounds of life.

  “We’re going to talk to one of the men that I trade with often,” Brennon said. “I want the two of you to be a part of this conversation so that you will understand how things work. One day you’ll be doing this for yourself.” Brennon looked pointedly at both of them. He was fond of finding ways to give them practical experience. He had made certain that from a young age they both had learned several crafts for the sake of knowledge and experience.

  Rowan’s response was not as enthusiastic as Petar’s, but Brennon made no comment.

  “Good,” Brennon said. “And once we’re done here, you can go off on your own while I trade around and find some things that we need.”

  Hearing this made Rowan perk up a bit. He could go and find something to occupy his time. Perhaps he could find something to do with Petar.

  “Horus!” Brennon called as they approached a stall with a large man sitting in front of it. Rowan could only assume that this was Horus, the man his father was looking for.