The Apprentice Read online

  “Not to be rude, but do you plan on staying with us for another night?” Brennon asked.

  The stranger was in mid-bite, so he took a moment to chew and swallow before he answered.

  “I very much appreciate your hospitality, but I am in a hurry. I have a long road to travel and I wish to return as soon as possible. I plan to be gone by midday.”

  Rowan’s pulse quickened. He felt a sudden sense of urgency that he had not felt before. How would he find the time to convince, or at least inform, his father? He would need to act quickly. He wondered if it might not simply be better to leave without telling his family. He could try to follow the knight until they were away from his home and the knight had no choice but to allow him to come along.

  “Might I suggest that you stay for another night? Or you might stay in town, if you would prefer. It is not so far away,” Brennon said. “I fear that the storm has not truly passed, and that the worst has yet to come. It could be quite perilous to travel the mountains of Corrinth in such bad weather.”

  “It is lightly showering, but the weather is not so bad outside. The storm seems to have come and gone, and I plan to follow it. If I make haste, both the roads and the weather will be clear.”

  “I have lived in these mountains since birth, as have my father and my grandsire. This land is in my blood, as it is in my sons’ blood, and I am telling you that this storm is not over. It has abated for the while, but it will return with a vengeance and you will regret your departure.”

  The knight considered Brennon’s advice in silence while he ate. Petar left the house to do what chores he could while the weather was manageable. Rowan should have followed, but instead he lingered in the hopes that he might be able to speak with the knight. He cleaned the dirty plates, trying to appear busy.

  “Get to your work, Rowan. When the weather sours, then it will be time to do housework. Until then, go and do what work you can. Prepare the land and the animals for the storm and help your brother.” Rowan couldn’t think of any way to argue, so despite his desire to stay inside, he left his father and the knight to go find his brother.

  Before leaving, Rowan fetched his cloak. It was an ancient, threadbare thing that had more patches and tears than he cared to count. The cloth was faded and every edge was weathered, worn and frayed. Still, it kept the damp away and offered some small amount of warmth.

  Rowan found Petar tending to the animals. His brother had always been better with them. If their father was right and the storm was not over, the animals would need extra feed and they would need to be sheltered.

  “What needs to be done?”

  Petar looked up from what he was doing. As he often did, he took a moment before answering. It was an old habit. Petar preferred to take his time when forming his words so that he did not stutter or misspeak as he had when younger.

  “You can help me gather feed for the animals. They’ll need extra in case the storm returns.”

  “Have you fed any of them yet?”

  “No. I gathered eggs from the chickens, though. You should go and feed them. If you help me with the rest of the chores, we might be done within the hour.”

  Rowan left to do as Petar suggested. Every moment he wasted outside on chores was time that could be spent trying to convince the knight to take him away. He wanted to hurry so that he might return before the knight left.

  He found the chickens in a state of agitation. They were clucking and running around wildly. When he spread the feed, many of them flocked to it as though they had been starved, but a number of the fowl took no interest, which was unusual. But Rowan could not force them to eat; he could only leave them with an excessive amount of feed and let them eat at their own pace.

  When done, he returned to help Petar with the chores that remained. They worked together in silence for a short while, finishing the daily chores and preparing for the storm. Rowan worked quickly with the goal of returning so he could speak with the knight.

  “Are you planning to leave us?” Petar’s question broke the silence. For a moment, Rowan thought that he had imagined his elder brother’s question, but Petar had stopped working and was staring at him intently. Rowan was at a loss for words.

  “How did you—”

  “Know that you were planning on leaving?” Petar finished Rowan’s question. “I saw the way you were looking for the stranger this morning. The look on your face when you thought he had left. You have wanted to leave Corrinth for a long time, and to you this stranger must seem to be the escape that you have always wished for.”

  Rowan did not know how to respond. That he had not denied his brother’s words already confirmed the truth. But for all of the times he had said that he wished to leave, now that he had the chance to do so he felt shame for wishing to leave his brother and his father behind.

  “So I am right. You truly do intend to leave us.” Petar looked sad. “I had hoped that your wish to travel and see the world would never amount to anything. Not out of a desire to keep you from living your life, but rather as a hope that you could learn to be content with this land as I am, to love this land as Father does.”

  Rowan took a moment and gathered his thoughts, deciding what to say.

  “You are not wrong.”

  “Of course I am not wrong. We are brothers, Rowan. I know you and I know your desires. I may not fully understand it, and I may not agree with you, but I accept your wish to leave. This is not your place.”

  Rowan knew the truth of what his brother said. He felt it every day.

  “Am I truly so easy to understand? Does Father know my intentions as well?”

  “I don’t think so,” Petar said. “Father knows of your wish to leave, but I think that deep inside he denies the truth of it. He refuses to accept that you do not intend to stay.”

  “Of course not. He does not understand me,” Rowan said. “What would he know about the way that I feel?”

  “You should not be so hasty to judge. He has always lived here and felt at home amongst these hills. It is hard for him to understand that you view this place as a cage. And I imagine that even if he understood, it would be hard for him to accept that you would choose to leave us.”

  Rowan turned from his brother and pulled up the hood of his old cloak, letting it hide the pain on his face. The way his brother spoke made him feel terrible, as though he was betraying his family.

  “I think our work is done. There is little more that we can do.” Petar turned and walked back towards the house, leaving Rowan to follow at his own pace.

  Rowan stood alone for a moment, his resolve to leave beginning to waver. He wanted to see the world so badly, to find his place within it. He knew that Corrinth was not where he belonged, but perhaps it could be if he gave it time. He did not hate it so much, and he saw no way of making his father understand his feelings. But even with such thoughts and feelings, Rowan found it hard to imagine himself staying.

  Petar was nearly back to the house, so Rowan did not bother hurrying to catch up. He walked slowly, following in the footsteps of his elder brother. When he reached the house, he found Petar and his father standing in the main room with their guest. Brennon was speaking with the knight and Petar was standing off to the side.

  “I would urge to stay another night. It will not be safe to leave now. These hills are treacherous in poor weather.”

  “I thank you for your advice, but I must depart.”

  Rowan went over to where Petar stood leaning against a wall as he observed.

  “The knight is leaving,” Petar said. “Your chance to leave with him is slipping away.”

  Rowan did not respond. He could see it for himself, it was what he had dreaded. His chance was slipping away from him.

  “You should speak up. Take your chance now while you have it.”

  “I can’t. Not in front of Father.”

  Petar made a sound of disapproval but he said nothing more.

  “My decision to leave is final. I will not change
my mind.”

  “If you will not hear me, then take your leave. Go, and hopefully your journey will be safe.” Brennon turned from the knight, seeing that his cause was lost. Rowan’s father was a stubborn man, but he knew when to give up.

  There was a heavy thud as the knight tossed a small purse of coins on the table. The sound told Rowan that they were being paid very well for offering little more than a bed and some food.

  “I thank you for your hospitality and your advice.”

  The knight turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  The knight stopped at the door and turned at the sound of Petar’s voice, as did Rowan. He wondered if his brother was going to try and speak for him, but that would be out of character.

  “If you intend to leave despite our father’s advice, perhaps you would be willing to let us guide you part of the way.” Petar glanced at the purse the knight had left behind. “We know the land much better than you, and we can show you the quickest and safest path to travel.”

  “I would welcome the help, if you are offering it. But I do not wish to impose or cause you trouble.”

  “There is little that we can do with the storm coming. If Petar wishes to show you the kindness of leading you away from here, then he is welcome to do so,” Brennon said.

  A glance from Petar told Rowan exactly what his brother meant by speaking up.

  “I would be willing to lead the knight.”

  All eyes turned to Rowan.

  “I know the land just as well and this will give me something to do. I do not mind the weather. Perhaps I will gain a tale or two from the knight, hear of the outside world.”

  Petar shrugged, as if to say that he did not mind Rowan taking his place.

  “If you wish to go, then go. But when you return, I do not wish to hear any more of the lands beyond Corrinth.”

  Rowan nodded. When he returned, if he returned, his father would hear little more from him about the outside world. Rowan would convince the knight to stay and take him along when he left. That was his plan. This was his final chance. When he returned, it would only be to bid his home and his family farewell.

  “Let us leave,” Rowan said.

  * * *

  Rowan led the way through the forest. As much as he wished to speak, he could not seem to find the words. This was in no small part because of the knight. Ever since they had left, the man had not spoken so much as a single word to Rowan. He barely acknowledged Rowan at all, focused instead on the nature surrounding them. They walked in silence, Rowan leading and the knight following.

  Rowan pushed aside a branch that blocked his path, holding it out of the way for the knight. The ground was muddy beneath their feet and even though they were sheltered under the trees, the rainwater still dripped down and made them wet. The storm had returned.

  “Are you certain that you wish to continue? This storm is only going to get worse.”

  “There are places that I must be and things that I must do. I cannot linger.”

  Rowan hesitated, the words still stuck in his throat. He knew the consequences of speaking his wish, and he knew that once the words were spoken he could not take them back.

  “If you will not stay, may I come with you?”

  The knight stopped, but did not turn to face Rowan.

  “What do you mean by this? You wish to travel with me, to leave your home and live the life that I live? You are naive, boy.”

  “I am not a boy, and I will leave.”

  “Allow me to make things clearer,” the knight said, turning to face Rowan. “I am leaving, and you are not coming with me. I will not take you.”

  Rowan recoiled as though physically struck. He tried to speak but the knight turned and began to walk away.

  “I think it would be best if I continued alone from this point. I thank you for the guidance and the hospitality you and your family showed to me. Farewell.”

  Rowan watched as the distance between them grew. The falling drops of rainwater that made it through the trees had wet his face, and now they blurred his vision. He wiped his eyes but it did not seem to help. He had to leave. He was not meant to live out his life in Corrinth; he knew that he was meant for more. To be told no was not something he could accept.

  “I will follow you anyways. I will leave this place, I swear it. You may tell me no, but you cannot stop me!”

  The knight may have heard his shout or it may have been lost on the winds. Thunder boomed overhead. The knight did not look back and he quickly vanished from sight, leaving Rowan alone in the woods.

  Rowan stood still and silent for a short while, numb to the world. His gut was tied in knots and he did not know what to do. He wanted so desperately to follow the knight, to continue onwards and ignore the consequences. It was what he had claimed he would do. But when he tried to move forward, he instead found himself turning around. He fought it, struggled against resigning himself to defeat, cursed himself for his weakness as he began to walk back towards the house and the life that waited for him there. He walked through the trees and the cold, but he could not help but look over his shoulder as he walked away. The knight was gone. Rowan did not expect anything different.

  He had not gone far before a sound caught his attention. There was a rustling in the brush nearby, something going past him. Rowan wondered what animal would be out with a storm coming and why it was not afraid of him. He paused for a moment and wondered if he should follow, but decided against it. He made it a short distance further before he heard another sound that made him turn. It was a sound that did not belong in the forest: the sound of steel.

  Rowan stared back into the distance and listened. The wind blew and he could hear the boom of thunder echoing. He wondered if perhaps he imagined the sound, but then he heard it again. A faint clanging.

  He turned and began to walk towards the sound, in the direction that the knight had gone, curious about the noise. He heard the sound again and began to jog faster, hoping that nothing was wrong.

  The branches whipped about and struck him as he ran. The gathering storm had grown loud and he lost track of where he was going. He came to the clearing without even realizing it.

  The knight stood in the middle of the small clearing with his sword drawn and another man Rowan did not recognize stood facing him. Neither man moved, just stood staring at each other, eyes locked and bodies tensed. Rowan gazed at them from outside of the clearing, unwilling to go any further. As he watched, the unknown man lunged forward with a small blade in hand. There was a movement that Rowan could not follow and when the knight stepped away, he pulled his blade free and the man fell to the ground.

  Confusion and fear shot through him. He could not tear his gaze from the body that lay before the knight. Blood pooled at his feet, the fallen man’s life slowly leaving his body. The dead man’s stare was disturbing; Rowan felt as though the eyes were staring directly at him.

  He took a step back and tripped, the noise alerting the knight. The large man’s head turned and he fixed his gaze on Rowan.

  Before Rowan could rise, the knight cleared the distance between them and stood over him, his blade angled so that Rowan could not stand.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard—”

  “You were not to follow me! I told you to leave me be.”

  “But I…” Rowan stammered, struggling to find the words. He had heard the sound of steel and had known something was wrong. Fear dulled his mind and he found it difficult to think straight, to speak. “I was going to follow you. I told you, I am leaving.” He did not know why he said what he did, but somehow the lie felt right. It gave him purpose.

  The knight stared down at Rowan, and he struggled to meet the man’s gaze.

  “This was not supposed to happen,” the knight eventually said, moving his sword and stepping away so Rowan was free to rise, which he gladly did. He felt better once he was on his feet, but he did not dare to move. “I should never have sought shelter; I shou
ld have been more careful not to involve outsiders.”

  The storm was beginning to rage around them. The trees creaked and groaned as they strained against their roots, swaying in the wind. There was a flash of light, followed by the harsh crack of lightening echoing through the valley. Rain fell and the trees did not offer the protection they had earlier.

  The storm was coming and soon it would be dangerous to remain outside. Rowan knew that he should leave, head back to his home and take shelter. A glance from the knight told Rowan that the other man knew the same, but the man’s face was set and it was clear that he was not turning back.

  “You should leave. Go back to your home where you belong,” the knight said. “You have no cause to place yourself in danger, and I will not protect you.”

  Rowan met the man’s gaze and shook his head. “I have come this far. I turned back once, I will not do it again. I told you that I would follow you and leave this place, and now I swear it.”

  The knight turned and walked away as though he had not heard a word Rowan had said. Rowan glanced at the body, wondering if this knight was truly someone he should follow. He had just murdered a man, though it had seemed to be in his own defense. But Rowan had no time to think and his mind was set. He started after the knight.

  Chapter 4

  Though he had been truly committed to leaving, Rowan was glad that he had not been forced to do so. The fates had seen it fit to return him home, and they had forced the knight to return with him.

  Rowan sat alone on his bed. He could hear the knight speaking with his father in the other room, but he was not listening to their conversation.

  Outside, the wind howled and shrieked, hurling sheets of rain at the house. It had been necessary to tie the door shut in order to keep it safely closed against the fierce storm. Every gust caused the walls to shudder. Rowan worried that they would splinter and break, but the house proved sturdy and kept the elements at bay. It was cold and damp inside, but Rowan knew that it was far worse outside. He thought about the body of the stranger the knight had killed, wondering what the storm had done to it. Could the wind be strong enough to carry a body? Rowan knew that the corpse would be gone by the end of the storm—if not taken by the wind, then buried by mud or carried away by flood water.