The Apprentice Page 40

  Yet now he did not know what to do. In a practice bout or a dueling match, the battle would be over and he could walk away. This was different. He had won, but he did not want to kill this man. Not even after the man had fought to kill him. Behind him, Rowan heard a muffled grunt and the sound of a body falling to the ground. Baird’s battle had ended.

  Rowan lowered his blade and was beginning to turn towards his master when the man who lay at his feet stirred. Acting on instinct alone, Rowan brought his sword forward defensively and felt it meet resistance as it bit into the guard. The guard dropped the knife he now held, a small blade with which he had sought to end Rowan’s life.

  Rowan stared at the man in front of him, the weight of the body pulling against his sword as it fell back to the ground. The blade slipped from Rowan’s grip.

  “We must hurry,” Baird said from behind him. His master was halfway up the steps before he realized that Rowan had not moved. “Come, Rowan. We haven’t the time for this. You must be strong.”

  Silently, Rowan followed his master, pulling his weapon free of the body. He hurried up the steps and into the castle, driven by a sense of urgency, but he could not seem to escape the feeling of death, the weight of a dead man’s body on his blade. He could still feel that weight, he thought. The guard’s lifeblood still stained the sword, weighing it down, and weighing Rowan down with it.

  “We must hurry. Our presence will not go unnoticed for long. The bodies we left will be found any moment and I do not plan to be nearby when the alarm is raised.”

  Rowan followed his master through several corridors, taking turn after turn as though they were trying to go in circles. Rowan guessed that his master was taking the lesser known paths throughout the castle, trying to avoid any routes that were likely to be guarded.

  Baird slowed only when they stopped to ascend a stairway that would take them to the second story. The stairwells were the most likely places to be guarded, though this was only a servants’ stair. Baird left Rowan at the bottom so that they would not be taken unawares and caught between two groups. Baird signaled him to follow when he found no guards and they resumed their hurried pace.

  Rowan found the halls of the castle much different at night. It was silent, more so than would be usual even for such a late hour. The quiet was unnerving and it took him several minutes to realize that it was the absence of any servants that made everything seem so quiet. There ought to have been at least a few people awake and tending to various tasks and chores despite the late hour. With no one present, the castle was truly vulnerable.

  “There are no servants,” Rowan said. He had kept an eye out for anyone that they could warn or who might be searching for them.

  “I noticed that as well. I do not know what it means, but it cannot bode well.” Baird increased his pace so that Rowan was nearly sprinting to keep up with him.

  Suddenly, they heard shouts coming from the direction of the castle entrance. A short, shrill whistle sounded. Once. Twice. The third blast was cut short abruptly, returning the halls to a dead silence.

  Baird stopped to listen and held up a hand for silence before Rowan could speak. Rowan stood silent for a full minute before he heard what Baird was listening for. The shouting and the distant sound of steel on steel were easy to recognize, though hard to hear.

  At once the castle seemed to erupt and there were cries and other sounds coming from different directions. Some sounded close to where they stood.

  Baird’s eyes snapped open and he seemed an entirely different person. His face was hard and he gripped his blade tightly at his side, knuckles white.

  “Rowan, I fear that we may be too late. This will be far too dangerous if I must worry for your safety.”

  “I can take care of—”

  “Silence!” Baird roared, his shout startling Rowan. “I cannot concentrate if my apprentice is following me and I will not have your death on my hands. You agreed that you would obey me in whatever I asked. I am not asking this of you. I am ordering you to find someplace safe and stay there. If possible, escape the castle and try to alert the trainers. They may be able to help.”

  “Why are you telling me this? I will not abandon you.” Rowan tried to protest but his master spoke over him, voice hard and tone urgent.

  “If all else fails, head for Estion and wait there. If the capitol should fall while the royal family lives, they will be found in Estion.”

  Rowan tried to speak but his master had turned his back and was already hurrying away. Rowan sprinted after him. Baird rounded a corner and Rowan lost sight of him for a moment. He turned and suddenly there was shouting. He ran into his master from behind. Without so much as a backwards glance, Baird grabbed Rowan and hurled him aside through an open doorway.

  The last thing that Rowan heard before he struck his head was his master’s shout. He yelled only a single word.

  Stay.

  Chapter 46

  Rowan blinked and suddenly everything changed and his head ached. He stared forward and wondered why Baird no longer stood in the same spot, why the sounds of fighting had diminished.

  He stood up and found his head swimming. He felt woozy and the edges of his vision tunneled and made the floor seem to sway. He reached out a hand and blindly felt for something to steady himself with before he fell down again. It took a few moments for the wooziness to lessen and the tunnel vision to leave him. His head still swam but he could walk a straight line without falling over.

  When he reached the doorway, he stood still and listened, trying to discern how far away the sounds of fighting were. The echoing of the halls made judging distance difficult and he gave up trying. It hurt his head and as far as he could tell, there was no one in the immediate vicinity.

  Leaving the room, he found that the castle walls and floor had a sickening coat of red. What looked to be blood stained the stone and the carpet and the wood. Several bodies lay spread out on the floor. The sight was nauseating and the smell was even worse.

  Rowan made his way past, clutching the short-sword that Baird had given him. He did not know what he should do on his own, but he refused to sit idly by while the capitol was thrown into chaos and Gannon sought to kill the royal family.

  Thoughts of Princess Eliza came unbidden to his mind, her innocent smile and her golden curls, and he knew he must find her. He hoped that she might find a knife to defend herself. She had not built up the muscle to wield a true sword, but he had taught her enough to be dangerous.

  Rowan turned left out of the room. He did not know where he should go, and without Baird, he was much more cautious.

  He wandered the halls, checking rooms as he went, searching for anyone left alive and trying to avoid being caught. He made every effort to hurry, but what had once been a grand and welcoming castle had turned into a place of danger. His heart pounded at every turn, hoping that no one was waiting for him around the corner. He clutched the hilt of Baird’s short-sword as though his grip was the only thing keeping danger at bay. The sword helped, but he had no illusions about what would happen if he were discovered alone.

  The cries and sounds of fighting were distant, carrying through the halls and bringing unwanted images into his mind.

  The first rooms that Rowan checked were empty, though all were in disarray. He found several bodies, but none that he recognized. He stopped in one room where some lord and lady had been slain while they were still abed. Rowan pulled the blanket over the bodies to cover them and keep them decent.

  He could hear sounds throughout the halls as he proceeded, but he never came across anyone. It was as though the castle was empty. So when he suddenly heard the sound of footfalls coming towards him, he faltered.

  The sound grew closer and Rowan looked for a place to hide. In the direction that he had been heading there were no doors. The hall continued on for a ways before it turned, too far for him to reach, and there was little decoration or furniture he could use for cover.

  The footfalls grew closer sti
ll. Rowan turned around, panicked and frantically looking for a way to escape. Behind him, nearly one hundred paces away, was a door. It had been locked when he tried it earlier, but it was his only option.

  He ran stumbling towards the door. The footsteps seemed to be almost upon him and he hoped that the nearness of the sound was just the hallway playing tricks on him. He reached the door and tried to force the handle, but it would not budge. With fear and adrenaline driving him, Rowan took a step back and then threw himself against it. It held, but the way it creaked gave him hope. He took an extra step back and threw himself at the door again. There was a crack and he fell forward as the old door swung open. Hurriedly, he scrambled inside the room and pressed his back against the wall.

  “Did you hear something?”

  The approaching footsteps slowed and came to a halt. Rowan guessed the men were still at the end of the hall, but he could not be certain.

  “I’ve heard a lot of things. I still hear things. Be more specific.”

  There was grumbling before a man answered. “I thought I heard a crash, like something fell over.”

  Rowan pressed himself against the wall. The door hung open and though he was hidden from the sight of those in the hallway, if anyone were to stick their head in the room they would find themselves staring him right in the face. Rowan looked around but the room was bare and he feared that his movement might be noticed. Cautiously, He loosened Baird’s short-sword in its sheath, hoping that he would not need it.

  “Look around you, everything has fallen over or been thrown and broken. Don’t be getting jumpy.”

  “I could have sworn—”

  “I don’t care! Others have been through here already and had their fun. We should keep moving and find our own.”

  There was a brief silence and then Rowan heard the soldiers coming down the hallway, towards his room. Without thinking, he moved to the other side of the entrance so that he was hidden behind the hanging door. The footsteps came closer and began to pass him, but one paused. Through the crack between the door and the frame, a shadow moved. He gripped the hilt of his blade even tighter, ready to pull it free.

  A head poked into the room, followed by an armored body. The soldier glanced from side to side, his gaze falling just short of Rowan, who pressed himself against the wall as though he were standing on a mountain ledge. He willed himself to be smaller, for the shadows to hide him.

  “There is no one there, save perhaps a corpse or two. We should move on.”

  After a long moment, the soldier standing in the room turned to leave. As he did, Rowan stood in full sight of him, hidden only by darkness. The man had only to turn his head to the right and look closely.

  “C’mon. Stop trying to find things where there are none.”

  The soldier stepped through the door and the men continued on their way. Rowan could see that they had been a group of five. Had he been noticed, had the soldier looked more closely, he would have faced death.

  Rowan released his grip on the blade and allowed himself to breathe again. It was with great courage that he managed to leave his hiding place. Fear held him, but he knew he could not wait and hide. Once all sound of the soldiers had faded, he left and followed them down the hall. But where he had heard them turn right, he turned left.

  His search continued. Down several hallways, taking turn after turn and checking rooms as he went. Within minutes he ran across a pair of soldiers. He stumbled upon them by accident, not hearing them when he turned a corner. The two men seemed even more surprised than he, which likely saved him. Rowan reacted quickly and struck one man down before either could draw their blades. The second soldier took him longer to deal with, as he wore armor and had drawn his sword. Rowan took two cuts, neither life threatening, before he ended the man. Two more. Gods, what have I come to?

  After that, he made an even greater effort to move with caution. He made note of hiding places as he moved. When he heard any sound, he would hide himself. He knew that his luck would not last long, and his body pained him greatly. He could not continue to defend himself without taking further injury and he had no way of knowing who was friend and who was foe. Caution would be his ally.

  Facing the pair of soldiers, however, gave Rowan a sense of urgency. Eliza was somewhere within the castle. If the Gods were good, Baird would have already found her and King Alden and they would be safe. But Rowan would not leave Eliza’s fate in any hands but his own or his master’s, and since he could not know what had become of Baird, he would find the princess himself.

  He headed towards the section of the palace reserved for the royal family. He knew where it was but had never been there. As he went, he found the halls that had been so clean and lavishly decorated now lay in ruin, the carpets and tapestries stained with the blood of loyal men, wooden doors and furniture cut and splintered, and the air filled with the stench of death.

  The royal suites were easily found, but difficult to navigate. He crept through the corridors, trying to keep quiet as he searched. When he ran into more soldiers, he slew his third and his fourth men. It was easier this time. They were clean kills and he knew to not hesitate. Afterwards, he stumbled aside into a room and retched before he continued his search.

  Eventually he found himself outside of the king’s royal study. Though Rowan knew Eliza was unlikely to be found in the study, he had to check anyways. King Alden was said to be fond of studying books and manuscripts late into the evening. He might still be hidden inside.

  He opened the door a crack, just enough to see through, and peered inside. The room was dark and he could not see a thing. He backed out and grabbed a fallen torch that still had some life before returning.

  The room had two large windows built into the far wall, but thick drapes covered them and kept out any light. In the darkness, the torch threw shadows across the walls, shadows that moved and made Rowan wary. He kept seeing movement in the corner of his vision as the flame burned and the shadows danced.

  By the light of the torch, he could see that the study had remained largely untouched. The room was long but not deep. Stacks of books lay piled on desks alongside quills and inkwells. Candles sat unlit, waiting to be used. By their size, he could tell that they often saw use.

  The many shelves by the wall looked to offer ideal hiding places, and Rowan hoped that he might find his princess hidden there, tucked safely away among the stacks.

  As he moved through the room, Rowan heard a sound coming from the back corner. He paused, wary, but the sound was not of clanking mail. It was a coughing, wheezing, gurgling noise that came forth from the darkness, a sound that set his hair on end and made him sick thinking about it.

  The sound echoed through the room again, this time louder and accompanied by a gasp seemingly of pain.

  Rowan cautiously stepped forward and held out his torch to light the space between two book stacks. He found the body of an elderly woman sprawled on the floor. The woman still lived, though judging from the pool of her life’s blood spilled on the floor, Rowan knew that she was likely to die soon.

  When he flipped the woman over to prop her up against the wall, Rowan recognized her as Eliza’s old caretaker. Gizelle, he recalled.

  “Are you conscious?” The only response he received was a groan. He found the wound, a hole in the chest where she had been stabbed. Blood was not flowing freely, but she had lost a lot already.

  He tried to use some of the fabric of the woman’s clothing to bind it. This caused her to groan louder, worrying Rowan that the sound might alert more soldiers. But the pain also brought her into a more lucid state, and after a moment she quieted herself. Rowan tried to finish his binding, but she pushed him away.

  “No. Too painful.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “Guards,” Gizelle managed to choke out. She coughed, sending her body into a violent fit as the movement pained her wound. A trickle of blood escaped.

  “Guards…killing everyone. Betrayers and traitors
. Must escape…tell someone.” The pain of speaking was clear upon her face, and her words came out as no more than a whisper. Rowan wondered if she was completely lucid, but he had no time to worry over that.

  “What of the royal family?” He asked with dread. Her expression was answer enough, but he needed to hear the words. He waited but she would not speak, she would only stare past him, her gaze fixed intently on some point in space behind him. Rowan turned, thinking that someone might have snuck up on him, but there was nothing.

  “What of the royal family? What of Princess Eliza!” Rowan cried, nearly to the point of yelling. He received no answer, just the same dead stare. The elderly woman was gone.

  Rowan dropped her body and let his shoulders sag with the weight of loss. Deep down inside of him, he knew the answer to his question, but he had to be sure. He could not give up hope.

  He left Gizelle’s body behind and resumed his search with a frenzied fervor. He no longer cared whether or not he ran into guards. If anyone opposed him, he would cut them down. He would not be stopped.

  He found his way to the royal chambers, where he could hear people. Outside of the king’s chamber a battle was raging, or so Rowan thought at first.

  He saw a group of soldiers crowding the hallway. Opposing them was Baird, his armor stained red and a mad look on his face. He was bleeding from many wounds, and a gash had opened the left side of his face, making one eye useless.

  There were cries of “kill him” and “take him down” but every man who stepped forward was cut down. The hall was narrow, forcing the soldiers together so that they could not all attack at once. Despite Baird’s skill and his tenacity, however, Rowan could see that his master would soon fall. With a cry, he charged forward.

  He cut down two men before he was even noticed. He took a wound while he killed a third man. He hacked and he cut and he fought his way through the men, taking out all of his anger and all of his hatred. His vision was red.