The Apprentice Page 39

  “I thought all the dogs were locked in the kennel?”

  “Just shut up and keep moving. I don’t want to be outside all night listening to you whining like a maiden. It is cold and wet and I heard nothing.”

  As the man spoke, Rowan heard another sound. This time, none of the guards caught it, not even the nervous one. He stared out into the hazy darkness, trying to find something that could give him hope. Someone who was watching or following him, perhaps. But he saw nothing.

  The guards marched on, dragging Rowan with them. They were nearing one of the oldest buildings, one that had been abandoned and left in disuse and disrepair. Rowan knew he had to act then or not at all. If he were to escape and raise an alarm, it would have to be while he was still outside. Once the guards had him locked in the building, they would tie him up and make sure he could not escape.

  As he was being shoved towards the threshold of the building, Rowan pretended to stumble. He allowed himself to fall forward, knowing what was to come. He heard the two guards behind him curse and move to grab him and maintain their hold. As soon as he sensed them shift their weight, he pushed backwards with all of his strength. He caught one almost directly in the jaw and his shoulder caught the other man in his chest. The grip holding him slackened and the man whose jaw Rowan struck let go of him entirely.

  The three of them fell to the ground amid a chorus of curses and Rowan was able to twist free.

  He stumbled upright and immediately bolted, running away from his captors before the others could grab him. He could hear footsteps behind him, urging him faster. Blindly he ran through fog and darkness, his hands bound behind him and the gag making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t scream, not even if he had the breath to give him voice, and he could not turn his head very far without choking himself.

  It was lucky that he had managed to run any distance at all. But burdened as he was, his escape was not long lived. Before he was even out of breath, he tripped over something and tumbled to the ground. He struggled to get up, to get away, but his bindings slowed him and before he could find his feet, he heard someone approaching. A kick sent him tumbling.

  “I dun care what Gannon says no more. I’m gunna cut you so you can’t cause any more trouble.”

  The gag muffled Rowan’s cries as he was dragged farther away from the other guards. He tried to struggle, feeling suddenly very helpless. The man leaned in real close, so he could whisper his next threat to Rowan.

  “I’m goin’ ta cut you. And you are going to scream. But you won’t die. Theron fears Gannon, and so he will keep you alive. But you will never, ever be a whole man again.”

  Rowan felt the point of a blade. It pressed down and sliced his thigh. His leg burned white hot. I will not show fear. I will not shame myself. And I will not give this bastard the satisfaction he craves. Rowan repeated this to himself, trying to focus inwards as he was too fearful of what was about to happen. He kicked and tried to struggle. It did no good. Theron was strong and heavy, a man fully grown. He kicked Rowan in the ribs, rolling him onto his stomach and kneeling on top of him.

  I will not fear this man. I am stronger than him. I will not scream. Then Rowan felt the blade upon his skin, carving a mark across his back. And a second. And another, and another, and another.

  Rowan screamed. He screamed and he screamed again and if not for his gag he would have wakened the whole castle.

  Suddenly the touch of steel fell away and something hot and wet was dripping onto Rowan’s body. He opened his eye.

  Above him stood the man named Theron, his sword raised and something long and dripping protruding from his chest. Theron’s expression was masked by the darkness and Rowan’s vision was obscured by tears. The lifeblood of the man who stood over him dripped off the blade that slew him and onto Rowan.

  The blade was withdrawn and with nothing holding him up, Theron’s body fell to the ground and revealed the figure standing behind him.

  Chapter 45

  “Are you alright, Rowan?” Baird’s voice was the most comforting sound that Rowan could have asked for. He felt himself pulled to his feet and his bindings were cut loose.

  “There are others,” Rowan coughed. “Nearby.”

  “I dealt with them. I could not risk them surprising me while rescuing you. They would have raised an alarm. Now come, there is work to be done and I cannot see a way to send you away safely.”

  “It was Gannon,” Rowan blurted. “He’s a traitor. He means—”

  “He means to usurp the throne,” Baird finished. “I have had my suspicions. I have watched that man carefully for a long time, since before our time together.”

  “But if you knew, how could he have been allowed to command?” Rowan tried to keep pace with his master as they walked, but moving was painful for him. His leg was bleeding and his left eye was beginning to swell where he had been struck earlier.

  “I was suspicious of Gannon, but the men who follow him are fiercely loyal and he has much influence. He commands a good deal of wealth and with the right people behind him, many have considered him a strong commander and well worthy of the rank. King Alden has always heeded my counsel, but he was loath to dismiss one of his greatest generals without good reason and solid proof. The king is an old friend, but has been acting a stubborn fool.”

  A feeling of dread came over Rowan. He had always seen his master as a powerful, almost invincible force. He was the great knight of Estoria, the king’s own right hand. None were supposed to command such power and influence as him. When Rowan had been in trouble back in Attica, Baird’s presence had been enough to put an end to the conflict that threatened. It unnerved him that Baird had been unable to prevent this crisis, that he might not have the power to deal with it.

  “Take this.” Baird offered Rowan his short-sword. Rowan took the blade, feeling a good deal more confident with a sword in hand. He would have preferred Tenro, but he had foolishly left it back at the barracks and there was nothing to do about that now. “I do not want you fighting and risking your life, but I cannot leave you without a weapon to defend yourself. You are to do as I say and protect yourself. Do not act unless you see a moment where you can safely engage an opponent. If the opportunity arises, then act and do not hesitate. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you?” Baird halted and turned to face his apprentice. “It is no easy thing to take a life. But you must remember, these men will not hesitate. They must be stopped and the royal guard must be warned. The events of tonight will end in bloodshed, and it is our job to ensure that the blood which is shed is not that of the royal family. We must protect King Alden, and we must protect the princess.”

  Rowan nodded. He knew that she must remain safe. If it was Baird’s duty to protect the king, then it would fall to him to protect Princess Eliza. And in that task, he would not allow himself to fail.

  Together they moved quickly and quietly towards the castle. Twice they encountered guards, but Baird took them unawares and cut the men down before they could scream. His master acted quickly enough that Rowan himself had no time to act, and so his hesitation to kill went unnoticed. They left the bodies where they came upon them, opting for haste rather than stealth.

  Through the mists and the darkness, Rowan and Baird were guided by the castle lights shining down on them from high above. Only the rooms above the first floor were lit, and not very many of them at that. The light provided was dim at best.

  Rowan struggled to see, he struggled to walk, and he struggled to keep pace with his master. But he pressed on, knowing that he must. He and Baird had a responsibility to act. They could not trust the royal guard to discover the impending treachery on their own. And so he pushed onwards, finding a reserve of strength and an iron will that he had not known was within him.

  Neither of them made a sound. The night was silent and the noises could carry far and reach the ears of those who were listening cautiously, the many that Gannon had posted. The silence was so oppressiv
e that it caught Rowan unawares when his master spoke.

  “We are nearing the castle. There is no turning back at this point. Once we are inside, you are to obey any command that I give to you, no matter what it may be. If I tell you to run, I want you to be gone. If I tell you to hide, you will do so. This is no game. I must know that you will heed my commands.”

  Rowan hesitated, then nodded. He disliked the idea of being told to run and hide like a child. He knew how to wield a blade. He could help. But any other response would prompt Baird to leave him outside on his own or send him away. The only chance he would have to help required him to keep his mouth shut and be submissive.

  Baird stared at Rowan long and hard before he finally looked back towards the castle. “Just remember, you will obey any command that I give you. On this night, you are a knight and must prove yourself worthy. Do not be stupid, do not act foolishly, and do not seek valor, honor, or glory, for you will find none. Our goal is to find the royal family and to stop this coup. Failing that, we must save those that we can.”

  “We won’t fail,” Rowan said, his voice surprisingly calm given how nervous he was. “We won’t fail. I won’t fail.” He repeated it to himself under his breath, a sort of mantra that made the reality of their situation somewhat more bearable. If Baird could hear him, he did not show it.

  “If for some reason we are separated, I want you to make your way safely out of the castle and head for the barracks. I will meet you there before daybreak. While you wait, you must spread word of what is transpiring so that those loyal to the royal family may rally for support.”

  That was all that Baird said, but Rowan could hear the words that went unspoken. If they were separated and had not met by daybreak, then they would have failed. It was the grim possibility that neither of them was willing to accept, though each for different reasons.

  “How do you plan on getting inside of the castle? Are we going to sneak in?” Rowan asked. He had been wondering what his master’s plan was. Knowing the knight, he had likely assessed the situation and knew the best course of action.

  But the look that Baird gave Rowan did not inspire confidence. It worried him. It was the foolhardy look that Baird often had when he was toying with Rowan or when he was going to show off.

  “We are going to go in through the main entrance.”

  Rowan thought that he must have misheard his master. But a second glance at Baird’s expression reaffirmed what he thought he had heard.

  “Why would we go in through the front entrance? It is bound to be guarded and watched by Gannon’s men. There are many other ways into the castle which are unwatched, unguarded, and would allow us to go unseen.”

  “Of course there are other options. I know this castle better than most. But I have reasons for my course of action. Stealth can get us far, but I do not know who is trustworthy and who is not, so I do not know who is watching. There are eyes everywhere throughout this castle and at some point we will be spotted. Gannon’s men will try to get rid of us, and they will do so quickly and quietly. If that happens, we will fail and Gannon’s coup is all but assured. Remember that we remain the only two who are aware of the impending coup.

  “So what is needed now is something loud that will attract attention and cause an alarm to be raised. Our entrance will alert the castle guard, or what remains of it. It will also distract Gannon and his soldiers and force them to focus on us. Gannon is relying on the element of surprise to aide him. Causing a disturbance will take that from him.”

  “Baird,” Rowan started, tugging at his master’s clothing. “Won’t our entrance—your presence—could that force Gannon’s hand? What if that makes him act?”

  “It will force him to begin, but it will also alert the guard. It is a risk, to be sure, but we must take such risks. We cannot hesitate and we cannot look back. Not now.”

  Baird was right. They had moved close enough to the main entrance to see that it was guarded. There were five men, two standing to either side of the entrance and three more at the foot of the steps.

  “I thought there would be more than this. Gannon must be focused on holding the wall rather than protecting the castle. A more difficult barrier to guard, but useful if held.”

  Baird suddenly rose out of his crouch. He now stood visible to any one of the guards who cared to look for him, though the mists and the darkness hid him well.

  No heads turned their way and no alarms were raised. Not yet.

  “Are you ready?”

  Rowan’s knees felt weak, his stomach was in knots, and his body was battered and bruised. Distractedly, he wondered if he looked as terrible as he felt. But when Baird looked to him, he nodded. He would not balk, no matter what happened. He would follow his master.

  Rowan took his place next to Baird and waited. Baird loosened the sword in his sheath and moved forward, his pace unhurried, as though he intended to enter the castle like any other night and he expected no trouble.

  Baird was fifty paces from the stairs before the guards noticed him. They did not give a shout or raise an alarm, but Rowan could see recognition in the eyes of the three men at the foot of the great stone steps.

  They knew who Baird was and were surprised to see him. There was uncertainty in their gazes, and fear, but even Rowan could sense that these men would not falter.

  “Halt! Who approaches? Let yourself be known.” This came from one of the men guarding the doors at the top of the steps. He stood squinting through the fog, trying to identify the two approaching shapes. With the mists as thick as they were, the torchlight would offer little aid to the man’s vision.

  Baird kept his course, neither halting nor identifying himself, though he was clearly known to the two lower guards. Rowan followed. He figured that he was the one they were trying to identify. It was likely that the guards were not warned about him; they would not know of his capture and escape.

  Anonymity might aid him. Not knowing who he was, the guards were likely to act with caution and consider him a threat. Though Rowan’s appearance was probably not so intimidating as that of his master, for he stood a head and a half shorter, perhaps more, and he was wounded.

  “Halt!” the guard atop the stairs said, louder this time. Baird did not obey. He kept walking forward as though he had nothing to fear. Rowan wished that he could smother his own fear. He tried to dampen his emotions by emptying his mind, but it did little for him.

  “I will not warn you again. Identify yourself.”

  There was a brief moment in which Rowan could feel the tension of the situation rising, ready to burst. And then it happened. In an instant, the scene before them turned violent.

  “Stop where you are!” the man atop the stairs said, his voice loud, near to shouting. “Stop—”

  The man tried to shout but his words were cut off as the soldier beside him stepped forward and cut his throat from behind.

  “Shut up before you wake the whole castle, you old fool.”

  In a flash, Baird had lunged forward so that the lower soldiers were within his reach. Blade in hand, he killed one of the guards in a single stroke and cut another before the man could draw his sword. The remaining guard had time to draw his blade and suddenly the sounds of steel rang out through the night as Baird fought.

  All of this before Rowan even moved.

  He stood rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the dying man at the top of the stairs. The man lay draped over the steps, struggling to draw air as his lifeblood drained away. Rowan flashed back to when he had seen Baird kill a man, the memory coming to him unbidden. It was worse this time. The dying man thrashed about, and it seemed to Rowan that in his final moments he was trying to scream or raise some sort of alarm. Then the man’s comrade kicked him away, the blow sending him tumbling down the stairs. When the downed man came to a halt, he was no longer moving and Rowan could tell that he was dead.

  He was killed by his own man. A fellow soldier, Rowan thought. Perhaps he was a king’s man, and that was why he
tried to shout, to raise an alarm. Or was he killed simply because he was too loud?

  The guard that Baird had wounded was back on his feet and Baird now faced two men in place of one. Baird was far more skilled and his size and strength gave him an advantage, but he was no longer pressing the attack as he had before. The element of surprise was gone and he fought two against one.

  Rowan saw the guard from atop the stairs approaching Baird’s rear and acted without thinking. He pulled the short-sword from its sheath and moved forward to attack. He was not like Baird, however, and he found using a true blade, one with a cutting edge, a very hard thing to do.

  He attacked as he had been trained, but he acted slower than he normally would, fear and indecision holding back his limbs as though he waded through water. Because of this, Rowan failed to slay his opponent instantly. Instead, the guard was able to raise his own weapon and parry the blow, though Rowan’s strike bit him in the leg, drawing blood.

  Facing an opponent with a blade in hand, Rowan allowed his instincts to take over. His muscles moved in a familiar rhythm, whipping the blade left and right, parrying, blocking, attacking. He pushed the guard backwards, hacking at the man and trying to knock him over.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see that Baird had felled another of the guards and was overwhelming his remaining opponent.

  Rowan fought hard, but he could not land a blow. His opponent was gaining the upper hand. Rowan could feel fear blossom in his chest. He was fighting with a real blade and a mistake now would mean more than welts and broken bones. And he fought unarmored. Where his opponent was protected by leather and mail, Rowan had naught but a torn and bloodied tunic.

  One misstep would be the end of him. One false move. One stroke of the blade.

  A two-handed blow forced him to step backwards and left his arms numb, but he recovered quickly, unwilling to allow his opponent to gain the upper hand. He fought back and was able to overwhelm the man, forcing him towards the steps where he tripped and fell backwards, striking his head on the stone and losing his grip on his sword. Rowan stood victorious.