The Apprentice Page 29

  Rowan found himself the center of much attention as well. He had become one of the favorites to win the swordsmanship competition, and many people congratulated him and wished him luck in tomorrow’s competition. He would thank them for their well-wishes and perhaps talk with them for a moment or two. The attention was flattering, but Rowan grew weary of talking with strangers. He would have talked with Erik, but his friend had been quiet and distant. So Rowan eventually found himself sitting by himself at the edge of the festivities.

  “How are you, Rowan?”

  The soft voice came from behind him.

  “Princess. I didn’t think that I would be graced with your presence tonight.” Rowan turned to face Eliza and found that the princess was not alone. Baird was with her.

  “You may address me by name,” Eliza said, taking an empty seat directly across from him. Rowan nodded dumbly. His attention was held by his master.

  Baird looked different. He seemed tired and he no longer had the same powerful presence. His usual energy was gone, and now he simply looked worn and, if it was possible, weary.

  “Master—,” Rowan faltered. “I was not expecting to see you either, though your presence is welcome.”

  “I suppose it has been quite a while since I last had the opportunity to visit you,” Baird mused. The big man positioned himself at the head of the table between Rowan and Eliza, but did not take a seat. “I've been kept very busy, and I am sure that the Revel has kept you occupied as well. It would seem that you have been busy practicing your blade-work, and given your performance today, I would say that your practice has paid off.”

  “You were watching?”

  “Of course. You did very well today and I can tell that you will do well tomorrow.”

  “Baird speaks for himself,” Eliza said. “I was busy watching Erik compete. He’s my favorite for the competition tomorrow.”

  Rowan laughed. For a princess, Eliza was a free spirit and she had no trouble speaking her mind. Rowan pitied the woman who was Eliza’s caretaker, for she was a stubborn girl.

  “I would not be upset if I lost to Erik. We spar together often and I have been bested by him on several occasions. He is growing to be a good swordsman and a better friend.”

  “I wish I was allowed to learn such things.” Eliza pouted. “I am a princess and yet I am forbidden from doing anything interesting or fun. Father is such a bore.”

  “Eliza, you have plenty of interesting areas of study, yet you choose to ignore them,” Baird said. “Swordsmanship is a demanding practice that requires time, effort, strength, and dedication. The path of the sword is not meant for young princesses. It would break many customs for you to do such things. They are not attractive in a lady.”

  “You are even worse.” Eliza said, rounding on Baird. “You could convince father to let me learn the male arts, but you choose not to. And what is worse, you have been making my days even more dull and boring with your constant supervision and your protective measures.”

  “All of which are necessary.”

  Eliza’s expression soured. “I think I will take my leave now.” The princess stood and stormed off before Baird or Rowan could speak another word. As Eliza walked away, two trainers rose from nearby tables and moved to follow her.

  “I think you have upset her.”

  “Yes, I have. I will surely pay for this later, but it is not my duty to make her happy. My duty is to protect her, something that she makes very difficult sometimes.”

  “Come. Let us go for a walk,” Baird said after a pause, rising from his seat. Rowan followed as his master led the way through the crowds and away from the festivities and the company of others. The two wandered together in silence for a short while, making their way further and further from the revelry. Rowan couldn’t tell where his master was leading him.

  It was Baird who finally broke the silence.

  “Rowan,” Baird began, “I want to apologize for not being around as often as I ought to be. I know that it must seem as though I simply abandoned you once we came here to Estoria. In a sense, I did. I left you to be trained with the other boys and as of late, I have not been visiting you to train or to spar.” Baird paused for a moment. “It was not my intention to abandon you. I agreed to take you on as an apprentice, taking you away from your family and your home. I do not take that lightly, yet…there are things happening, changes in motion and threats that are looming, impending, which demand my attention.”

  Baird sighed and Rowan could tell that he was sincerely sorry for his absence. Rowan wanted to assure his master that it was okay, but he could not lie. He understood his master’s actions, but he was still upset that Baird had left him on his own. It was what he had feared from the moment that Baird agreed to take him along when he left Corrinth. Rowan felt abandoned, as though the connection between him and his master had begun to fade. But his time in the barracks with the other boys had allowed him to grow. He had made new connections with the other boys, boys whom he had grown close to. He had found a place among them, even though it was not one that could be a substitute for his place at Baird’s side as his apprentice.

  “There have been many things keeping me occupied these past weeks,” his master continued. “To be honest, there have been more pressing issues of late than the preparations for the Revel.”

  This caught Rowan’s attention. Baird hinted at many things, but Rowan had given up trying to force answers from him long ago. He wondered if the things that had been keeping his master busy were related to what he had been doing in the far North.

  “The tournament has kept everyone busy,” Baird continued, “but there are other things that trouble me. Whispers of a growing threat have reached my ears, a threat that I cannot ignore. It worries me.”

  “Does it have to do with your work in the far North?”

  “Yes. I went to Terratreos to forge alliances, but I discovered a traitor.”

  Rowan stopped walking, forcing Baird to halt as well. They had made their way across the fields and had begun to walk among the grove of trees at the far edge of the forest. By this time, they were far from the festivities and the sounds of merriment and jubilation had quieted, the noise dulled by the forest around them.

  A traitor. Baird’s words brought to mind the conversation that Rowan had heard the previous evening. Gannon’s conversation.

  Do I tell Baird and admit to sneaking? Rowan hesitated. He decided to proceed cautiously.

  “Why do you tell me such things? Why now? I have asked you for answers before and you have never given them,” Rowan asked. Something must have changed to cause Baird to talk. While he welcomed answers, this change worried Rowan. He had never before seen his master upset or unsettled.

  “It is complicated,” Baird responded. His master seated himself on a stump. “I want you to know that I am not abandoning you with the trainers. You are my apprentice and you deserve to know why I must remain absent. But more importantly, I fear that I do not have many people that I can trust with such secrets. I have spoken to the king about my fears, but I do not believe that he has truly heard me. Alden is not a man of caution and he does not see the evil that can reside within the hearts of some men. He tries to find peace without understanding that there are those who do not want it.”

  Rowan did not know what to say. This was the first time that Baird had spoken to him of his duties. He felt trusted and honored to receive such information.

  “How can I help you?”

  Baird smiled. “I do not doubt your abilities, Rowan. You are proving your worth as a blade in this tournament. You have a sharp, cunning mind and you are perseverant to a fault. It was the reason that eventually I agreed to take you with me. But I cannot involve you in this matter.”

  “But—”

  “I will not reconsider,” Baird said, silencing Rowan’s protestations. “This matter is sensitive and I must tread carefully. I will speak no more of it, and I trust you not to make me regret this discussion.”


  “I will keep my silence.”

  “And you will ask no questions,” Baird said. “I trust you completely, Rowan, but this matter must remain secret. There are men who have eyes and ears everywhere, watching and listening. You must not pry into this affair.”

  “I understand,” Rowan said truthfully. He would not speak of this to anyone. Not even to Erik.

  “Good. Now let us continue our walk. I believe it is time we head back. Our presence may be missed.”

  Silence.

  “Let us now speak of lighter things,” Baird said as they walked across the deserted fields. “Did I ever tell you what it was that made you stand out and why I was willing to accept you as an apprentice?”

  “No. At least, not in so many words,” Rowan said unsurely. He had often wondered why Baird had offered to take him away and mentor him to become a knight. He had all but forced the man to allow him to accompany him when leaving Corrinth. Then he had begun teaching Rowan and suddenly they were master and apprentice.

  “I trust that by now you know my reputation as the solitary knight.” Rowan nodded. He had heard the tales of how many boys had sought to apprentice themselves to Baird. His master had turned away all who came to him, and yet somehow Rowan had been chosen without even having to ask.

  “I have always been of a solitary nature.” Baird said. “I was not raised as a lordling, so I had to earn my honor. I have worked very hard to become the man that I am today. I was fortunate enough to gain the friendship of King Alden, back before he inherited the throne. When he did, he gave me the honor of serving as the head of the king’s guard.

  “Once I had been recognized, many sought to make me their master or have me take on their boys as apprentices. Back then I refused outright because only the lords were able to approach me and they were all pompous, arrogant fools. Their boys were no better. The ones who were experienced were cocky and arrogant. The ones who were unskilled tended to be…” Baird paused as he searched for the right words. “Gluttonous or craven. Most had never worked a day in their lives and they never would. I remember one lord who brought his boy to me in armor that was custom made. The boy was so well rounded that no thrust would have ever been able to land. There was not a surface on him that was flat; any blow would have been deflected by his belly.”

  Rowan’s master smiled at the memory. “Eventually, the king’s council began to pressure me to take on an apprentice. Even Alden thought I should do so. He told me that as a great knight and as the head of the king’s guard, I should groom someone who could grow to fill the void that I will one day leave.”

  “You are still the head of the king’s guard?” Rowan interrupted.

  “Yes. I have official command over the castle guard, though it is a small force and there are no other knights. My position as the head of the king’s guard was one of the reasons that I was allowed to continue without an apprentice. I have a high status and there are many who find my power intimidating.

  “In truth, however, it was never my intention to remain without an apprentice. But the circumstances were always wrong and I am very particular. There were many boys who could have served well enough, had I been forced to choose someone. But all of them lacked something.

  “You were different from all the others. Where they wanted my tutelage so that they could become great swordsman, earning honors and titles, you simply wanted to learn and experience the life that the world has to offer. That which made you different made you attractive. Anyone can be taught how to wield a blade. There are many masters who can do that, and many of them are better teachers than I am. But in you I found someone who wanted more, someone who was not focused on status or rank. You displayed a desire to learn for the sake of learning. You wanted to see the world and you left your home to do so.”

  “You and I remember our meeting very differently.”

  “There was another reason that I took you on as an apprentice,” Baird said. “You were one of the few people in all of the country who had never heard of me, and I cannot even begin to describe how annoying it would have been to have an apprentice who was always bowing and trying to please me. With you I get free labor and a practice dummy without all of the hassle.”

  Rowan took a somewhat playful swing at Baird but his master caught his fist and twisted it behind Rowan’s back. Rowan resisted for a moment before yielding. Baird proclaimed his strength and power, but released Rowan. He said it would not be good to have his apprentice lose tomorrow’s competition because of him.

  Baird led Rowan back to the festivities and Rowan felt better than he had in a while.

  “Thank you, master,” Rowan said.

  “You are welcome to thank me, but I would have thought that my speech would put an end to such foolish formalities.” Baird laughed and Rowan grinned.

  Chapter 29

  By the third day, the Revel was in full swing. Everyone had become familiar with the routine of gathering and getting organized for the day’s events. The morning ceremonies passed quickly and efficiently, though afterwards Rowan did not remember very much of it. Like most, he was distracted by the heat.

  The new day had brought with it a wave of heat that made everyone uncomfortable, save those who sat on or around the raised platforms by the king, which were shaded from the sun. The rest of the crowd suffered the sun’s blaze, and the press of bodies only made things worse. The rank odor of sweat hung thick in the air.

  Rowan tugged at his tunic, trying to allow his body to breathe. He was already covered with beads of sweat and his tunic was beginning to dampen. He wondered if the heat was a sign. Brennon had often told him that the hottest days of summer came just before the season ended. Like a candle, burning brightest before going out. It had never made sense to Rowan, who thought that the days ought to get progressively colder as the season changed, but his father had known much about the way the land and his predictions rarely failed to be accurate. Perhaps the heat was a sign that autumn was coming.

  Rowan wondered absently what the winter would be like here in the South. He knew that the southern winters were always colder than those in the North, where the climate was warmer and more stable. Corrinth was among the mountains, so it was something of an exception. It saw some snowfall in the winter months, but it never lasted long and never fell hard. Only in the very high parts of the mountains was there any real snow, but such places were not habitable. However, Rowan had heard stories about the cold southern winters that turned the landscape into a sea of ice and powder.

  A trainer’s call caught Rowan’s attention. The swordsmanship competition was beginning and the trainer was calling to the boys. A full score remained in the competition, some familiar and some not. Rowan stood by Erik as he listened to the trainer.

  “Listen up.” The trainer had to shout to make himself heard above the noise. “Today’s competition will be different than yesterday. We want to simplify things and make this run quickly.”

  The trainer ran the boys through how the event would go. They would not be fighting each participant, as they had the day before. Instead, they would draw lots to determine their first opponent and a bracket would be created. A loss would remove a competitor from the competition and a win would keep a person in and move them on to the next duel. Rowan quickly calculated that it would mean five victories in order to win. Thinking of it that way made it seem easy, but that logic was deceptive. He knew that this would not be an easy tournament.

  Once the trainer had finished, the boys were lined up to pick their lots. After waiting his turn, Rowan reached into the pouch and drew his. He flipped the small polished stone over and saw it had the eighth numeral etched into the surface. This meant that his first duel would be against one of the boys who followed Byron. Rowan was confident that he could beat the boy.

  Looking at the bracket board, Rowan noted that he had been placed in the same bracket as Erik. This meant that only one of them could make it to the finals. Rowan frowned, discomforted by the thought of duelin
g his injured friend.

  The remaining lots were drawn, placing both Byron and Andrew in the other bracket. Rowan would not have to worry about them until the final match, and only one of them could progress that far. Rowan knew that without himself or Erik in the other bracket, the only competition that could challenge Andrew would be Byron and there was little doubt in his mind that Andrew would win his way to the finals. Though they had never practiced together, Rowan had seen Andrew’s determination and the skill with which he wielded a blade. He knew that Andrew was the type of person who would never give up; he had a fierce desire to prove himself and the Revel was meant for just such a purpose.

  Once the boys had all drawn their lots and the bracket had been created, the duels began. A cheer went up when the first boys were brought forward. Rowan recognized one of them, a boy who had trained with the group that had grown out of the sparring sessions between himself and Erik. He gave a wordless cheer for the boy along with the rest of the crowd and watched as the two combatants began trading blows.

  Rowan and the rest of the boys waiting for their matches stood or took seats around the edge of the ring. They had been told to keep their padded armor on, but most had removed or loosened sections because of the heat. Rowan himself had taken off his gloves, helm, and metal cuirass. Everything else had been loosened to allow some air. He was still hot, but it gave him some small relief as he could feel the breeze blowing against his body.

  Rowan listened to the clang of metal on metal as the two boys fought. They didn’t last very long. The heat took its toll on the fighters and eventually the match was ended when one of them became sluggish and sloppy and failed to block a hard blow to the head. The boy was thrown off his feet and hit the ground, his body gone limp. A count was made as the boy lay there. The crowd cheered. There were shouts of encouragement and hisses of disapproval. People clapped and shouted and whistled and watched, they all watched. When the count finished, ending the match, the fallen boy was helped to his feet and carried off the field.