The Apprentice Page 10

  “You said they were healthy, yet this horse has a large sore on its side. The saddle seems to have covered it, but I am sure that was merely a mistake. You would not be foolish nor rude enough to try and sell me a sickly horse.”

  “Of course not.” Torman bowed and shot a glance at one of the stable boys. “Allow me to bring another.” The man left, dragging the stable boy by the ear.

  “Perhaps we should make do with the healthy horse,” Rowan said. “It seems to have no problems.”

  “I would not trust it. This man has the horses we need but he will not sell them easily, and not before he tries to sell us the horses that he means to get rid of. No. I am guessing that he is keeping his best steeds out back.”

  Baird was right. They left the front and found a number of different horses. Torman was bent over one stable boy while the other was returning the two horses to a pen separate from the others.

  Torman seemed to sense their presence. He straightened and turned towards them, the stable boy taking the opportunity to scamper out of reach.

  “The stables themselves are not meant for you. If you would please wait out front, I will return with your mounts.”

  “I think that it will be quicker if I pick our mounts. I have been told that I have an eye for horses.”

  Torman seemed ready to snap but could find no way to politely make Baird leave without losing his coin or appearing as though he meant to sell them bad horses, which it seemed clear that he did.

  “How much would it take for you to part with the stallion over there,” Baird inquired, pointing to a horse that appeared much like the first that Torman had shown them.

  “Goliath is not for sale,” Torman snapped quickly. “I thought you wished to skip the games. That horse is fit for the king himself.” Baird grinned at hearing that, though Torman mistook his grin for one of amusement and his expression soured.

  “I could offer you double what I am willing to pay for any other horse,” Baird said. He clearly wanted the stallion, and Rowan didn’t blame him. It looked like a magnificent animal. “It is a generous offer.”

  “I already told you, I am not going to sell Goliath. Next to his brother, he is the best horse that I own and I plan on siring a fine line of steeds with him.”

  Baird accepted the loss and turned to find different horses. After a moment of eyeing each animal, he pointed to the two that he wanted. One was a light brown horse of a size for Rowan and the other was a larger horse with a coat as dark as the darkest night, standing almost two hands taller than any other horse.

  “They won’t be cheap,” Torman said, “but if you are willing to pay the price then I think I might be able to part with them.”

  Baird set about haggling, but Torman seemed determined to make them pay twice what the horse was worth.

  “Chourl is a fine horse and deserves a good price. I would not take less than a full purse for him, perhaps a half purse if it was all gold. Shadow is worth even more.”

  Rowan knew that Torman was asking far more than the horses were worth and he was growing weary of the haggling and the waiting. “We can go elsewhere, Baird. I don’t see why we need to leave today.” Baird shot him a look of pure anger that told him to shut his mouth and Torman grew a greedy glint in his eyes.

  “Why did you not say that you were in a hurry to leave? I think that under such circumstances, my prices are more than fair.”

  “I will not be harassed by the likes of you.” The look that Baird gave Torman was hard enough to make any man back down. Torman seemed to know when he was pressing his luck against a dangerous man. He did not raise his prices, but neither did he lower them.

  “Shadow here is a fine horse with a fine coat. You can see that he is as dark as anything. With such looks, I could sell him to a lord or lady for several times what you are willing to offer.”

  Baird looked at the horse closely. It seemed that he could not protest Torman’s statement. Rowan couldn’t see why the color of a horse mattered, since it did not change the horse, but apparently it did matter. And so he spoke again, braving Baird’s wrath, to point out what he had seen earlier when looking at Shadow.

  “The horse is not completely dark.”

  Both heads turned to him and looked equally angry.

  “His feet,” Rowan said. “He has white feet that are covered with mud, and perhaps tar. His coat is dark everywhere but there.” He reached down and rubbed some of the mud off of the horse’s leg to prove his point.

  “I believe that under such circumstances, what I am offering is more than fair.”

  Torman reddened at Baird’s words but nodded in agreement, yelling at the two stable boys to saddle the horses. Baird handed over a purse of coins which Torman counted in full before hiding it beneath his cloak. The horses were led out and Baird took the reins.

  With their mounts bought and paid for, the two of them left the city behind them. Although Rowan hadn’t stayed there for very long, he felt sad that he and Baird had to move on. He had enjoyed his time in Attica and wished to stay longer. After a few nights of sleeping on the cold, hard ground, Rowan was going to miss having a room and a place to stay. But his journey with Baird offered the adventure he had always wanted. It was for this that he had left his home, and though he had enjoyed his stay in the city, he looked forward to the experiences yet to come.

  Chapter 9

  Chourl was indeed a fine horse, calm and strong, worth every bit of what was paid for him. Baird said as much once they had left the city behind them. But even with the mounts, the two of them made slow progress.

  This was largely due to Rowan’s inexperience in riding. Though inexperience was a generous term given that Rowan had no real experience at all.

  Baird cursed up a storm when he realized that Rowan had never ridden before.

  “How have you never ridden a horse? You are a farmer’s boy. Did your family not own one?”

  “She was an old horse. Good for pulling the cart but not meant for riding.” Rowan had tried to ride their horse, but when Brennon found out he had switched Rowan for foolishness. After, he had made Rowan pull the cart to show him why they needed the animal. His misery and humiliation was only made worse by the fact that when he was younger, Petar had been allowed to ride.

  They were forced to travel little faster than a light jog and Baird spent much of the remaining daylight teaching Rowan the basics of riding. The commands were not overly complicated and Rowan had little trouble staying on, but they were still forced to move at a slow pace, causing Baird to grumble.

  When they made camp that night, the city was still distantly visible on the horizon, a dimly glowing splotch contrasted against the darkness.

  Despite his inexperience, Rowan enjoyed riding Chourl. He found pleasure in letting the horse gallop quickly, though riding made him incredibly sore. As fun as the experience was, his legs were stiff and he ached between them from the bouncing. He was chafing in uncomfortable areas, but he had nothing for it.

  After their first day of riding, Rowan was dumbstruck that Baird still expected him to spar every night. He felt certain that Baird was drilling him even harder than he had before. Despite everything, though, Rowan almost managed to land two blows. By the end of their session, Rowan was once again covered in bruises while Baird was barely even out of breath. Rowan wondered how it was possible that he never showed any signs of weakness or exhaustion. He wondered how much it would take to actually defeat Baird.

  The next day was very much the same as the first. Their sparring session left Rowan incredibly stiff and sore, which made riding especially uncomfortable. His body complained throughout the day as he bounced around in Chourl’s saddle, painfully aware of every jolting movement.

  As they made their way across the deserted landscape, the elements began to make things miserable.

  The plains were almost perfectly flat and appeared uniform in all direction. The ground was covered with nothing but dry grass and sandy dirt that was difficult to sle
ep on. Even with the sun, it was difficult to determine what direction they were travelling in, for there were no landmarks or distinguishing features.

  The temperature fluctuated wildly from day to the night. It was deathly hot when the sun was up and freezing cold when it wasn't. Without any source of shade, the sun was always burning down on their backs. The heat forced them to stop constantly in order to allow the horses to rest.

  But the worst thing about the plains was the wind. It drove him mad. The same dry wind greeted him every morning, and it made life awful. No matter what he did, Rowan could not protect himself from it. The warm winds cracked his dry lips, causing them to bleed, and left his throat dry. Dust constantly blew into his eyes and everywhere else, despite his best efforts to keep his clothes sealed. What was worse, they were forced to camp out in the open so the wind was inescapable.

  By the end of the week, Rowan was utterly miserable. His body was sore from sleeping on the lumpy ground and riding Chourl, and Baird’s training sessions were brutal, leaving his body battered and bruised.

  It was morning and he was beginning to pack up everything that was left out, including his bedroll. As he was stowing the bed, he heard Baird begin to stir as he slowly woke up.

  The large man groaned loudly, stretching his arms and standing. While Rowan continued to put everything away, Baird saddled the horses and started a small fire using the dry grass and brush that was on hand. After a short meal, they began riding again.

  As usual, the saddle was painful at first as Rowan stretched out his muscles.

  “How much farther do we have to go?” Rowan asked. After a full week of travelling, he was quite tired of riding.

  “Even with the horses, we still have a fair distance left, especially at the pace we’re travelling at. But you have been learning how to ride very quickly,” Baird added. “I’m guessing that we’re at least a week and a half, maybe closer to two weeks away from Estion, which is only days away from the capitol.”

  They continued to converse as they went until Rowan realized that the wind had grown cold. Puzzled by the odd shift in temperature, he asked Baird about it.

  “I noticed it a while ago,” Baird responded. “The wind has been growing cooler and the air is not as dry anymore. Look out on the horizon. Can you see it?”

  Rowan stared ahead, searching for something out of place. He did not see anything and was about to ask, when he noticed a very small dark patch on the edge of the horizon.

  “I see it,” Rowan replied. “What is it?”

  His question was answered as a tiny flash appeared within the darkness and he realized that he was looking at an approaching storm. Rowan turned to look at Baird

  “What do we do?”

  “I don’t know. I’m hesitant to ride into a storm that looks like that, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do yet. We can’t outrun it and even if we could, it would mean returning all the way to Attica, and that would lose us a lot of time.”

  “Could we make it back in time?”

  “I doubt it. The best thing we can do is keep on riding and try to cover as much distance as possible. Once we get closer, I’ll be able to tell how bad the storm is going to be. Keep a look out for some sort of rocky outcrop that might help to provide shelter, because I’m guessing this storm is going to be big.”

  With this on their minds, the pair rode onwards. The day progressed and they watched as the storm front grew larger, covering more of the horizon. The air continued to grow colder and the sun began periodically hiding behind the clouds.

  By the end of that day, the wind had picked up significantly, chilling Rowan to the bone. He shivered and pulled Brennon’s cloak tighter around his body. The cold was enough to force even Baird to pull an extra layer on in order to stay warm.

  “How bad will this get?” Rowan asked when they had stopped to camp for the night. The warmth that he had felt only minutes earlier when they had been sparring was gone and he was shivering, which caused his teeth to chatter when he spoke.

  “It will get a lot worse than this,” Baird said evasively. “Just be ready for the storm, because we should run into it tomorrow.”

  Rowan decided to ignore the fact that Baird hadn’t answered his question and simply let the conversation end as he pulled his cloak inside of his bedroll for extra warmth.

  * * *

  Baird’s predictions turned out to be accurate. The next morning, Rowan awoke to a dark sky. A fine mist hung in the air, dampening everything. He looked back in the direction of Attica and could see where the cloud covering ended and the sun still shined.

  The fire that had been left burning throughout the night was dead and a deep cold permeated the air. Rowan lingered in his bed for a short while, enjoying the warmth and comfort that it offered him.

  Baird and Rowan quickly packed everything up and began riding. As Baird had put it, there was no reason to linger in the cold and wait for the storm, and Rowan had agreed. Riding made the wind worse no matter how much he bundled up, but it gave him something to focus on other than his discomfort.

  The clouds above them became darker as they rode. Shortly after midday, the weather began to change for the worse. At first there was just a heavy mist, but within an hour the mist had become a steady rain that slowly soaked into Rowan’s clothes.

  By nightfall, the wind had drastically picked up, whipping the rain around and throwing it in sheets at the weary pair. Baird had ridden harder, forcing Rowan to struggle in order to keep up, and they hadn’t stopped until very late, when Baird felt that it was too dark to continue.

  To Rowan’s dismay, Baird still expected him to spar. “The elements are as much your enemy as me or anyone else you may fight, and you will need to learn to battle them,” Baird had said. “Even an unskilled opponent is dangerous when you fight like this, because the elements will work against you more than they will work against someone less skilled.”

  After that, Baird had demonstrated Rowan’s handicap by striking him in the stomach while Rowan was blinded by the rain. Rowan had tried to strike back but he was unable to find Baird and struck air.

  They continued to fight, engaging in quick bouts as they whipped their sticks around, following a pattern of attacking, blocking, and countering. Rowan found it incredibly hard to fight with in the dark, constantly assaulted by the rain and the wind, but Baird’s words earlier, that the elements would handicap a more skilled fighter, proved true as Rowan managed to strike him. It was only once, more accidental luck than skill, but Rowan was willing to accept it.

  They kept the session short because neither felt up to an extended period of sparring in the rain, and they skipped the sword dance altogether. Somehow, Baird managed to light a small fire when they finished, using their cloaks to cover the flame and protect it as much as possible from the rain and the wind. Without a steady source of fuel, the fire quickly burned itself out and left only embers.

  While Rowan used the embers to gather warmth and dry himself off as much as possible, Baird set up the tent and bedrolls. When Baird was finished, Rowan quickly took the damp cloaks and went to the tent in an attempt to escape the rain.

  That night was terrible. Even burrowing deep within his bedroll and covering himself with an extra blanket, Rowan was still cold and he couldn’t escape the feeling of dampness.

  The next day was even worse. They were woken by the deep boom of thunder and found that the wind was howling. What had been a steady drizzle the day before was now a torrential downpour. Rowan wanted to stay put inside the tent, where they were able to remain somewhat dry, but Baird insisted that they continue riding.

  They packed everything up inside of the tent so that it wouldn’t get soaked, and then quickly moved on, leading the horses on foot. Rowan could tell that Chourl wasn’t enjoying the rain and he felt sorry for the horse.

  “When we get to Estoria, I’ll make sure to give you a lot of treats,” Rowan murmured to his mount.

  Rowan followed as Baird led
the way. The rain was getting intense and it was becoming difficult to see. They made slow progress guiding the horses along through the storm. Every time they heard the distant boom of thunder, Baird and Rowan had to calm them and Rowan would worriedly scan the sky.

  At first he would only see distant flashes immediately preceding the thunder, but as the lightning began to strike closer and more often, Rowan started to worry. When a bolt struck a lone tree several hundred yards away, igniting a small fire that flickered in the rain, that was when Rowan decided that they needed to stop.

  He called out to Baird, straining to make his voice heard over the storm.

  “We need to stop!”

  The wind stole his words and Rowan could barely hear himself as he spoke. The big man looked backwards, but it seemed as though he hadn’t heard Rowan. Baird stopped leading the black horse and waited for Rowan to catch up with him.

  “We need to stop,” Rowan repeated, shouting as loud as he could to be heard over the wind.

  Baird nodded. “We have to find a place that will offer us some sort of protection. That lightning is more dangerous if we are out in the open. I remember seeing a rocky outcrop yesterday that should be able to provide some sort of shelter. If we can make it there then we should be safe from the lightning.”

  Rowan didn’t have a better idea so he shouted his agreement.

  “Follow me,” Baird said. “The place I saw shouldn’t be very much farther ahead.”

  Baird moved forward and Rowan fell in line behind him. It took longer than either of them thought it would to find the spot Baird sought. The storm provided almost no visibility and the distance was greater than Baird had originally thought.

  They stumbled upon the outcrop through sheer luck and immediately sought out the area most protected from the wind and the rain, a spot between two large boulders.

  Thunder boomed loudly in the sky and both men had to struggle to keep their horses under control. Baird’s black horse almost ran away but Baird tugged at the reins and kept the beast from leaving. Rowan whispered quietly to Chourl, trying to calm the horse down. He looked into Chourl’s eyes and told him not to run away before letting go of the reins and hurrying to help Baird.