The Apprentice Read online

  The voice drew closer and suddenly the blows ceased. Rowan heard voices and he listened as the newcomer shouted again.

  “What is going on here?”

  Rowan recognized the voice as belonging to Erik. And sure enough, when he regained his senses and looked up past the boys that stood over him, he saw Erik’s recognizable blond curls.

  “Stay out of this, Erik,” Byron said. Rowan couldn’t see the larger boy, but he could hear anger in his voice.

  “No. You’ve gone too far this time, Byron. You need to stop this.”

  “I need to stop this?” The bully let out a barking laugh. “I don’t think so.”

  “Byron, I’m warning you, you’re getting out of hand and you need to stop.”

  Erik’s statement was met with silence. All of the other boys, including Rowan, waited with apprehension to see how things were going to play out. For several long moments, Erik and Byron stared each other down to see who would give in first, Erik’s gaze filled with confident power and Byron’s stare laced with malice and hatred.

  Rowan could feel the tension between the boys building, and he was worried the two would come to blows. He was grateful for Erik’s help, but even the two of them wouldn’t be able to win such a fight.

  “Fine,” Byron said unexpectedly. “I’ll leave the schrub be for today; he’s not worth it anyway. Besides, I wouldn’t want to give you an excuse to not participate in the Revel.”

  When Erik didn’t respond, Byron turned and walked away. He paused as he passed by Rowan.

  “We’ll continue this another time, lolfar. And next time there won’t be anyone to save you.” Byron spat at Rowan’s feet and left, followed by the others.

  Rowan glared at the boy as he walked away, seething with anger.

  “I’ll look forward to it, Byron. Maybe next time you’ll have the guts to do it alone,” Rowan muttered to himself.

  “It would probably be a bad idea to bait him like that.”

  Rowan jumped at the sound of Erik’s voice. The boy now stood next to him.

  “Here, let me help,” Erik said, offering an arm to help him up. Rowan cautiously took it and stood.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Erik continued. “I’m not saying that you wouldn’t be able to beat Byron if it came down to a fight. Byron’s a bastard and he needs to be kept in check. But calling out a foe and his companions like you just did is foolish, especially when you’re outnumbered.”

  “I know. I just hate having to deal with him,” Rowan said.

  “That’s understandable. Byron can be an annoying thorn in your side.” There was a short pause before Erik continued. “I’m sorry I did nothing sooner.”

  To Rowan, it seemed as though Erik had extended a cautious offer of friendship. He didn’t know what to say. Erik’s apology hung in an awkward silence between them for several moments.

  “Thanks for helping me,” Rowan finally said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  For the first time since being placed in the barracks, Rowan felt as though he was beginning to make a connection.

  The two slowly began to walk back to the barracks, together.

  “You are always practicing your blade-work, right?” Erik asked tentatively. Rowan nodded and Erik continued. “I rarely ever see you practicing anything other than swordsmanship or archery, and I was wondering if you would be willing to try sparring with me. Darius has been telling me that I need to work on new skills.”

  Rowan recognized the offer for what it was: a tentative attempt by Erik to establish a connection with Rowan and bring him out of his isolation, which, admittedly, had become somewhat self-imposed of late. Recognizing and understanding what Erik was doing for him gave Rowan a new sense of respect for the boy. He made a mental note to remember this exchange.

  “Sure. Baird doesn’t come around too often anymore, so I don’t really get to do a lot of sparring. It would be nice to have partner, someone who would work with me.”

  “Great!” Erik said, slapping him on the back. “We can work together tomorrow after the morning exercises.”

  With that, Erik put an end to the conversation as he jogged off towards the barracks without giving Rowan time to respond. Rowan could have made an effort to jog back with Erik and potentially keep the conversation going, but he felt tired and didn’t want to bother the only person that he seemed to be on speaking terms with. He wasn’t that desperate for attention. At least not from the other trainees. There was someone else whose attention he sought.

  Tired and bruised, Rowan made his way back to the barracks alone and threw himself onto his bed, pausing only to remove the necessary articles of clothing.

  Chapter 22

  Rowan felt somewhat better the next day. He hadn’t noticed before, but the ever-present sense of isolation had been weighing him down, especially with Baird’s absence.

  It seemed to Rowan as though their connection had been on hold since arriving in the capital. It was understandable. He recognized that Baird had many things to do and training was accomplished much more efficiently under the supervision of others. But he missed the closeness that the two of them had shared during their journey. He wondered what was occupying Baird’s time.

  It was quite early in the morning, as evidenced by the number of boys still lying asleep throughout the barracks, so Rowan allowed himself to rest his eyes for a short while before waking up. He had been dreaming of home and wished to return.

  His eyes shut but the dream was gone, leaving him with only a lingering sense of longing.

  Once he felt fully awake and ready to face the day ahead of him, he cast off the sheets. The chill air caused him to shiver, so he quickly began what had become a morning routine.

  He started with cleaning and clothing himself. Rowan was lucky that he did not have to shave on a daily basis. He probably didn’t need to shave at all since he never seemed to get more than a heavy stubble, but it looked awkward and he didn’t mind the hassle of the occasional trim. He followed this by quickly rinsing his hair and face. The cold water stung as he dipped his head beneath the surface, cursing quietly as it woke him up. By this time, most of the other boys were rising as well, so the need for quiet wasn’t necessary.

  After checking on his few possessions, Rowan followed the other boys to the dining hall where they were served breakfast each morning. He grabbed a tray, absently brushing his damp hair to keep it out of his eyes. It had grown shaggy after a month without being cut, yet it was still too short to tie back into a ponytail, causing it to constantly fall into his face.

  The food, Rowan noted as he sat down at an empty table, did not appear very appealing this morning. As he slowly began to pick at his meal, Rowan thought about the night before. Specifically, he thought about his arranged meeting with Erik later in the day. He wondered what Erik was planning. He looked around to see if he could spot the older boy, but Erik was nowhere to be seen. Rowan figured he must not have risen for breakfast yet.

  Focused on his food and the thoughts that pre-occupied him, Rowan didn’t notice the sound of heavy footsteps approaching him from behind. Someone cuffed him on the back of the head and a tray was slammed down on the table in front of him, splattering him with bits of food. Byron stood over him, sneering.

  “You look like you have some nasty bruises there, Rowan. Do they hurt?” Byron grinned and some of his friends laughed. “You should try to be more careful around here. Black and blue don’t suit you.”

  Although he knew he should not rise to Byron’s taunt, Rowan couldn’t help but respond. “You don’t look so good yourself, but at least I’ll heal and get better. You are stuck with your ugly mug.”

  Byron’s grin disappeared. Rowan could see the anger boiling inside him, ready to burst, but instead Byron frowned and glanced over Rowan’s shoulder, his demeanor quickly changing. Something behind Rowan had caught his attention and he sneered again.

  Wondering what it was, Rowan turned around and saw Erik striding towards them. Th
e older boy set his tray down besides Rowan’s but he remained standing.

  “This doesn’t concern you, Erik.”

  “I think that it does.”

  Byron shifted his gaze between Rowan and Erik. “So you’ve decided to make friends with him?” Byron sneered. “I never would have expected you to sink so low, Erik.”

  “I would say the same about you Byron, but I know you better than that.”

  Erik smiled and Byron scowled. Rowan had to give Erik credit, the boy handled Byron exceedingly well.

  “Why do you choose to sully yourself by associating with trash like him? I’ve never been able to understand you, Erik,” Byron said. “Everything that you do just seems to irk me.”

  Erik was about to say something when the sound of a door crashing open grabbed everyone’s attention.

  “What is going on here?” Darius snapped, quickly striding across the room with his eyes fixated them. Rowan noticed as the trainer approached that a number of faces were turned in their direction. Apparently his confrontation with Byron had drawn a lot of attention.

  Darius’s gaze swept over the small group and seemed to take the scene in instantly. “What’s going on here?” he repeated. His gaze fell upon Byron.

  “Nothing,” Byron said, his voice even and controlled. “We were simply having a friendly conversation that was just coming to an end.”

  “Byron’s right, sir,” Erik added quickly.

  Rowan could easily tell that Darius wasn’t fooled by Byron or Erik. The trainer could obviously tell that something was amiss.

  “And what do you have to say, Rowan?” Darius asked, focusing his gaze on Rowan and his fresh bruises.

  “We were having a conversation,” Rowan said cautiously. “But it was becoming unpleasant and boring, so Byron was about to leave and be on his way.”

  Darius’s eyes narrowed. It was obvious that the three of them were lying, but it did not seem as though the trainer would take any action at the moment.

  “If that is all, then the three of you are free to return to your morning meal. But if any one of you steps out of line,” Darius cautioned, eyeing each of them in turn, “then I will make sure that you regret it. And I will know if you have done something wrong.” He gave each one of them a harsh stare before sending Byron on his way and turning to leave. Trainers ate in a different mess hall in order to maintain a distance between themselves and the boys, but it was common for several of them to frequent the boys’ mess to keep an eye on them. As Darius was walking away, Rowan thought he spotted the trainer glancing at him over his shoulder. But then Darius was out the door and gone, leaving Rowan sitting alone with Erik.

  “Well, that was a great way to begin the morning,” Erik said, sitting down on the opposite side of the table and pulling his tray in front of him.

  “I suppose,” Rowan said. He didn’t really know how to respond. “I could have handled that myself, you know.”

  Erik stopped eating and looked at Rowan from across the table. “Perhaps,” he said with a shrug.

  “I didn’t need your help,” Rowan insisted. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m grateful for what you did and I’m glad that you aided me, but I could have handled Byron.” Rowan was happy that he seemed to have found a friend in Erik, but his pride was hurt. He didn’t want anyone to think that he needed help because he was too weak to help himself.

  “You think you could have handled Byron? No, you couldn’t have,” Erik said, repeating Rowan’s statement. “This would have simply been a repeat of last night.”

  Anger coursed through Rowan, but Erik didn’t allow him the chance to speak.

  “You are very skilled, Rowan. Most of the other boys have been trained since birth, whereas you only begun receiving training recently. And yet you have excelled, and in some areas you are more proficient than anyone else. You were chosen by Baird to be his apprentice because he saw potential in you. In an even fight, you are most certainly a match for Byron, as skilled as he is. That is why I want to train with you.

  “What you fail to recognize, however, is the way that things work around here. Byron has a number of people following him. You have been isolated and alone. You see a feud between Byron and yourself, but you don’t seem to remember that the odds are never in your favor. You won’t have a fair fight against Byron.” Erik paused for a moment. “The exception to this, of course, is the Revel, which is held publicly and judged impartially.”

  The thought hadn’t occurred to Rowan; the idea that the Revel offered him a chance to beat Byron in a public arena, where he would have a fair match. There would be a backlash by Byron afterwards, of course, but Rowan could deal with that when it happened. At the moment, the offer of a fair match against Byron was very tempting. He told Erik as much.

  “I agree,” Erik said. “I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t going to use the Revel to settle a few grudges. That is one of the greatest motivators about the competition. The chance to beat all others. Although there are some other compelling reasons.” Erik blushed as he said this, but he obstinately refused to say anything more. So Rowan chose to shift the conversation.

  “Why did you agree with Byron when you lied to Darius?” Rowan asked. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

  Erik glanced across the room at Byron, who caught him looking and glared back. Rowan feared that Byron might try to start another quarrel, but he just scowled and looked away.

  “I don’t like Byron,” Erik stated, “but Darius can be meddlesome and that seemed to be the quickest and most efficient way to keep things from escalating. What else could I have said? Arguing with Byron wouldn’t have done any good. Besides, I think it annoyed him that I agreed.”

  “I guess so,” Rowan said. His breakfast had grown cold, so he pushed his plate to the side. He fiddled with his utensils for a moment before addressing Erik about the previous night.

  “Yesterday evening, you mentioned that you wanted to work together,” Rowan said, phrasing the statement as if it were a question.

  “Yes. I was meaning to remind you about that this morning, but you had left the barracks before I woke up and when I arrived, I got distracted by Byron,” Erik said, still eating his own breakfast. “We have our normal training routines after breakfast, but after that, I was hoping that you would be willing to work together. I need to work on my skills with a blade, especially with the Revel coming up. What do you think?”

  “It sounds like a good arrangement. I haven’t ever sparred with anyone other than Baird, and recently I’ve only been sparring with training posts. I could really use the challenge.”

  “Great,” Erik exclaimed. With that out of the way, Erik returned his attention to his breakfast as Rowan waited for Darius or one of the trainers to call them to attention and begin the morning exercises.

  Chapter 23

  Breakfast ended quickly and Rowan immediately threw himself into the morning training. Darius and several other trainers had them run for a long time before breaking the boys up in order to work briefly on individual skills. Rowan was made to practice with a bow. Then it was back to physical exercise in order to strengthen the body. It might have simply been because of the approaching Revel, but Rowan had the distinct impression that Darius was working everyone considerably harder today than he normally would have.

  By the time the sun was high in the sky and midday had arrived, Rowan was exhausted. He had done more exercises than he could count and he was fairly certain that the distance he had run would have taken him all the way to the nearest city. With the Revel coming up, the trainers were allowing the boys the freedom to work on their own, creating their own training regimens to suit their needs and particular skills. To this end the trainers even made available equipment that was normally restricted. However, they strongly encouraged the boys not to hyper-focus on a single skill or event. As Darius said, “If you’re already good at something, then you don’t need to focus on it. The more skilled you are, the more training and practice is req
uired to improve.” His point was that they had a limited amount of time and it would be wasteful to neglect their other skills. Rowan knew this to be true, but he felt that it wasn’t going to hurt him to continue practicing with a blade. Besides, he was doubtful that he would greatly improve many other skills.

  After the trainees had been released to work as they saw fit, Rowan was joined by Erik.

  “Ho, Rowan! Are you ready?” Erik asked, grinning.

  “How about we wait and rest for a moment,” Rowan said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

  “There is no rest for the weary. Not with the Revel this close.” Erik pulled Rowan to his feet and began herding him towards the arms master.

  “Why is everyone so obsessed with this competition?”

  “You really don’t care about the Revel, do you?” Erik asked, to which Rowan silently shrugged.

  “I suppose it would be less important to you, since you didn’t grow up in the capitol watching the competitions each year. They are all about skill and strength and proving that you are better than any other. It offers glory.” Erik’s voice was filled with reverence and he had a far-off look in his eyes. Rowan could tell the boy was picturing victory and the excitement of past games. Something about the way that Erik spoke made Rowan picture his own victory. Despite what he claimed, Rowan couldn’t help but be drawn to the idea of testing himself against others and proving his worth. He felt a desire to prove that he was worthy of the attention that Baird gave him.

  Perhaps having someone to compete with will motive me, Rowan thought as they approached the arms master.

  “Wooden blades or dulled blades?” the man asked.

  Erik looked to Rowan for an answer. Rowan paused for moment to consider the question.

  “What is used in the official matches during the Revel?”

  “Dulled practice swords,” Erik responded quickly. “It’s more dangerous but it simulates actual battle and serves as a better test of skill.”

  Rowan weighed the two options before choosing wooden blades. He took the ones that were offered to him by the arms master and began walking away with Erik following.