The Apprentice Page 41

  It was not until Baird grabbed his arm that he realized there was no one left to fight. Rowan could not even remember the last enemy that he had been dueling.

  “Stop, Rowan. It’s over.”

  Baird’s voice was strong yet hollow. He no longer seemed driven.

  “We must leave. I have failed in my duty. King Alden is dead and Gannon is taking the castle.” Baird tried to lead Rowan back the way he had come, but Rowan would not budge. He had come too far; he would not give up now. Dodging past his master and darting down the hallway, Rowan went to the royal chambers.

  He found a bloody scene. The doors had been broken in. One hung askew, still attached to the wall by a single bent hinge, while the other lay on the floor. Many bodies littered the ground, a number of them soldiers who must have been loyal. But not all the bodies belonged to soldiers. There were several highborn men and women, and servants as well.

  But Rowan’s gaze was not for the carnage. He could only stare across the room at a sight that he could not believe.

  The head had been removed, but even still, the king was easy to recognize. Beside him lay the body of a young girl, facedown and lying as though she had been caught fleeing.

  At the sight of the fallen, Rowan lost all hope. Baird was right, they had failed.

  He stared at her lifeless body, the golden curls and the slim figure were blurred through tears. He could not even bring himself to look at her face. He could not bear that pain.

  “It would have been better had you not seen this. I wanted to spare you this,” Baird said from behind him. “You should have listened to me and gone.”

  “What good would it have done? No one would have been able to come quick enough to provide any aid.”

  The scene before him was too much to look at. He turned back to the hall and was suddenly being pulled away by Baird. Rowan did not resist as Baird led him. They ran away from the unspeakable.

  “I should not have involved you in this. I should have kept you protected.”

  Rowan disagreed. He did not want to be sheltered or protected. Being in the center of this violence was bad, but here he had the ability to help, to act as needed rather than remain unaware of the danger until it was too late, as he would have had he never left the barracks. He wanted to act. He needed to act. All that he could think of was that he needed revenge. Not justice, but revenge.

  “Gannon must die.”

  Rowan’s words hung in the air for a moment.

  “I do not disagree with you. If you were not here, I would have already gone to exact justice. But you are here and that has left me conflicted.”

  “What has you conflicted? We could finish Gannon together. We cannot allow him to get away with this.”

  “Rowan, I have already told you that I do not disagree with you. But you must understand that you speak through a desire for revenge rather than a desire for justice. You are my apprentice, and you are bound by the same standards that I am. We are keepers of the peace and defenders of justice. We cannot act on emotion for a personal vendetta.”

  Rowan wanted to interrupt, to argue with Baird, but his master was not finished.

  “More importantly, as much as I wish to seek out Gannon at this moment, I cannot do that. We must see the larger picture. Our chance to stop Gannon’s coup has passed, but the country has not yet been taken, and there is still a chance to prevent that from happening. If we can escape now, we can mount a resistance and stop this before it leaves the capitol. Gannon must not come to power.”

  “You would have us run instead of standing to fight?”

  “I would have us do what is right and necessary for the good of our country. King Alden fought to make Estoria greater and more prosperous, and I will see that Gannon does not ruin his legacy. My allegiance was to the king, but our duty is to the realm.”

  The two of them had made their way back out into the cold night. The fog was not so thick as before and they could see the glow of torches scattered across the grounds. Many guards were about and they could hear the sounds of shouting coming from beyond the castle walls. Baird glanced in the direction of the commotion.

  “People will have gathered. They will be coming to see what has happened. Gannon cannot have kept the city from noticing that something is amiss. If we can leave the grounds, then we will be able to use the crowd to cover our escape.”

  “And what of the guards?”

  “We will do what we must. They will try to stop us, but we need only make it beyond the wall. My hope is that their attention is turned outwards, focused on the crowds and not the castle grounds. They will need to be focused on keeping the mob out.”

  Rowan walked with Baird in the direction of the gate. Even from a distance he could see that the gate was closed and many guards manned the wall. As they grew closer, he could make out the cries of the guards as they shouted at the mob beyond the wall.

  “Leave the castle grounds and return to your dwellings!” There were many answering cries and shouts: “I refuse to leave.” “What has happened?” One voice cried out for the gate to be opened and others quickly took up that cry. Rocks and other objects bounced off the walls, striking several of the guards.

  Baird halted. “This is about to become violent and it will not end well. Come,” he said, “we should leave by another exit. We will not be able to make it through this gate.”

  The cries behind them grew as they retraced their steps, the crowd growing more and more unruly. He heard a command shouted from one of the guards, and suddenly the shouts of anger turned to cries of fear and screams of pain. He turned his head to see archers firing from the wall.

  “Do not dally, Rowan. We cannot hope to help them now, and we must leave if we are to survive this night.”

  He kept moving, but he glanced back at the wall where people were dying. How could so much death be happening? How could everything fall apart like this? But no matter how much he wanted to, he could not escape from this terrible dream.

  They went a good distance from the main gate and then turned and walked along the wall, looking for an unguarded gate. They found Baird’s intended exit near the stables, but that was heavily guarded as well.

  Baird cursed under his breath at their lack of luck. “I was hoping we could take the horses and leave with them. It would have helped to gain some distance, even if the loss was noticed.”

  It suddenly occurred to Rowan that he knew a way out.

  “I know a way out of the castle grounds,” Rowan said. “Follow me.”

  Rowan explained to Baird. “I found a small crawlspace in the ground that goes under the wall. It is small and well hidden, so there should not be guards there.”

  He took the lead, making his way to the spot where he had come in. They ran into a guard as they travelled, but Baird pulled out a dagger and dispatched the man before he could make a sound.

  It took Rowan a while to find the crawlspace in the foggy darkness. He had only used the spot a few times, so he was not overly familiar with its location. In the dark everything blended together. Several times he got on hands and knees to examine a spot of brush, only to find nothing but solid ground beneath and behind it. Baird said nothing as he worked, but Rowan could sense his urgency. Eventually he pulled away a bush and found the hole in the ground.

  “See, here it is.” Rowan pulled the bush back and hacked away some of the brush so that there would be easier access.

  Baird stared at the hole in the ground. “I will not be able to fit through there. Rowan, I want you to go on ahead of me and I will follow you some other way.”

  “I cannot leave you behind. We will look for another way out together.”

  “This is no time for you to argue with me. It would be foolish to stay together. I am a knight and I can handle myself. I promise you that I will not be far behind, and you will be more useful if you are safe outside the wall and able to help me from there.”

  Rowan stubbornly refused to leave his master behind, but Baird was fo
rceful. He reminded Rowan of his promise to obey him. “There is a hidden way out, meant for the royal family. I would avoid using it so as not to betray its existence, but with the royal family dead, I find that our needs force me to make use of it. Once you are beyond the wall, I want you to make your way west and meet me near the west gate.”

  Someone shouted nearby. The two turned and saw lights coming towards them.

  “We do not have time to argue. You must go now.”

  Rowan reluctantly got on his hands and knees and crawled through the tunnel and under the castle wall. Dirt fell on him in clumps and he heard a thud behind him as he crawled.

  Once beyond the wall, Rowan suddenly felt alone and vulnerable. He could hear people in the streets only a short distance away, but they were not a part of his world and he paid them no mind. They could do nothing for him.

  Rowan heard more shouting from beyond the wall and then a shout from up above. He pressed himself against the wall and melted back into the shadows, trying to hide, but he had not been seen. The guards on the wall had seen a different figure in the night. Rowan felt a moment of relief until he realized who it was that the soldiers must have spotted.

  He hurried back to the crawlspace, the sound of shouting and the clangor of steel driving him faster. He had to get to the other side of the wall. He had to help Baird.

  He scrambled into the hole and instantly met resistance. His head met solid earth. The tunnel had collapsed and fallen earth blocked the passageway, preventing Rowan from reentering the castle grounds to save his master. Baird must have done something to seal the crawlspace to keep him out and to keep others from following him.

  “NO!” Rowan pounded at the wall of earth, striking it and stabbing at it with the blade. He tried to dig but it was useless. The hole was sealed solid and was too long besides. It would take him much too long to reopen it.

  He crawled backwards out of the hole and ran towards the west gate. He could still hear the sound of steel and the guards’ shouts, giving him hope that his master was still alive.

  He ran as quickly as he could, not stopping until he was at the gate itself, not caring if he was seen by the guards. The portcullis was down, preventing him from entering, but he could see into the castle grounds.

  Baird was not far away, standing his ground against four men. He fought hard, but two of the guards had pikes. Every time Baird would turn to face an attacker, one of the two pikemen would seize the opening and stab at Baird.

  The knight fought as Rowan had never seen him fight before. Baird swung his blade with inhuman strength and speed. He blocked attacks that should have killed. Every time he dodged, he escaped death by a hairsbreadth. He was holding the men at bay, but only just. Each attack left a wound, and fast as he was, Baird could not defend attacks from all sides at once. Yet it did not stop him from trying. With a roar, he cut down one of the swordsmen, shearing through both armor and flesh. But it cost him a cut on the thigh.

  He cut down a second man, but he was wounded again. He was not faring well. The battle was clearly exhausting him. When he next attacked, the remaining pikeman took his back. Baird turned and was able to block many of the pike thrusts in time, but he was not unscathed and he was favoring his right side very obviously.

  It wasn’t until Baird spun completely around to dodge an attack that it became clear why he was favoring his right side. Baird’s other arm had been cut at the elbow and hung useless at his side, blood flowing freely from the wound. It was the kind of wound that would either take a man’s life or leave him forever handicapped.

  Rowan looked on in horror. Baird could not be hurt. Baird was strong and infallible, he was a greater power.

  But Rowan’s eyes showed him otherwise. He beat at the gate, trying to hack his way through the metal with his blade and screaming in frustration as he failed. He needed his master; his master needed him. Rowan cursed and screamed and each time that Baird took a wound, he tried that much harder to destroy the gate blocking his entrance.

  His master fell. He stood and was beaten down again. He rose.

  Three of the four men fighting him had been slain, but more had taken their place. There were shouts in the distance. Rowan heard Gannon’s voice. “Kill him. Bring him down!”

  There were footsteps above and suddenly Baird was pierced by an arrow. Two more followed. Baird staggered and in the moment before he fell, Rowan saw his master looking to the gate, staring at him with eyes that were beginning to glaze.

  Gannon’s voice filled Rowan with rage. “The boy! Where is the boy, the apprentice? He must be taken.” By then Rowan could hear and see guards approaching the spot where he stood, rooted in place beyond the wall, waiting for them. He readied himself, waiting, wanting nothing more than for the gate in front of him to open and let him in.

  Let them come, Rowan thought to himself.

  But someone else reached him first.

  Chapter 47

  A hand grabbed Rowan from behind and yanked him back into the darkness.

  Rowan struggled, seeking to free himself. He tried to swing his blade around behind him, but whoever held him caught his arm and twisted so that Rowan dropped the blade.

  “Stop struggling and be quiet.”

  Rowan recognized the voice of Jared the blacksmith. Once he relaxed and stopped resisting, the blacksmith released his grip.

  “We must leave now.” Jared’s voice was full of urgency. Behind them, Rowan could hear shouting and the sound of the gate being opened.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  Rowan felt something pulling at him and he realized that it was Jared. The blacksmith held Baird’s short-sword in one hand and was pulling Rowan along behind him with the other. Rowan did not struggle.

  He eventually found himself being led into Jared’s workshop, though he did not remember much of how he got there. He was finding it hard to concentrate on anything at all. Their escape was a hazy memory filled with running and shouting and hiding.

  Jared led him to a workbench and sat him down.

  “Brynden! Tucker!” At Jared’s call, two boys came. They stared wide eyed at Rowan but said nothing.

  “Stay here with him. If anyone comes calling, you have not seen anyone and I am busy and not to be disturbed.” Both boys nodded. “Good. I will be back shortly. Tucker, while I am gone, I need you to sharpen this blade.” Jared handed Baird’s short-sword to the younger of the two boys and hurried out the door, grabbing a different blade from a rack as he left.

  The younger boy took Baird’s short-sword over to a work bench, pulled out a whetstone, and set about sharpening the blade which Rowan had ruined. The older boy did not say a word, nor did he approach Rowan. Instead, he moved towards the front entrance and kept watch on the street.

  Every so often, Rowan would catch one of the boys looking at him, but they would never hold his gaze, almost as though they were afraid of him. He didn’t mind. His mind was shutting down and he could feel himself losing touch with reality. It felt as though he was in a haze, as though he was dreaming and he had only to open his eyes and awaken and he would find himself in his bed back at the barracks.

  Jared did not return for some time. When he did come back, he was sweating and out of breath, as though he had run a long distance. Rowan noted that the blade in Jared’s hand was wet with blood, but he said nothing.

  “You must leave the city, tonight,” the smith said. “There are guards in the streets and the people are in a panic. No one knows what has happened.”

  No question was asked, yet Jared stared at Rowan waiting for an answer. Rowan had none. He had nothing to say because somehow, in some way, he knew that speaking it aloud would make it real. He wouldn’t be able to escape the reality of what had happened any longer.

  When no answer came from Rowan, Jared turned to his two apprentices.

  “I want both of you out. Tucker, go and gather some supplies—food, water, a cloak—and bring them to me. Brynden, if any of the other boys are out to
night, go find them and bring them back here. This is not a night for them to be out fooling around.”

  Once they were alone, the smith returned his attention to Rowan.

  “I need you to tell me what has happened. The guards are looking for you and there are whispers of a coup, of betrayal. What has happened? Where is Baird?”

  Rowan’s silence told more than he ever could have said in words.

  “Does the royal family live?”

  Tears blurred his eyes now. He could picture the bodies—her body—and he choked. He had failed, and his failure had been great. He turned away from the smith, unable to face his shame.

  “How could this have happened? What will we do now?” Jared voiced his questions aloud, questions that Rowan was thinking as well. There was no easy answer, if there was one at all.

  “I cannot keep you here. You are being sought by the guards, and you are not safe. It will be best if you leave now—tonight—while the city is still in chaos and all eyes are focused elsewhere.”

  “I will leave. I will go and…” Rowan didn’t know what would come after his departure, but he could see now that he had to go. He had to leave Estoria behind him, to turn his back and never have to face it again.

  Jared paid Rowan little mind. Tucker had returned with supplies and a cloak, which the boy set on the ground before leaving. Jared picked up the cloak and tossed it to Rowan.

  “Here, put this one on. That one is far too tattered and bloody.”

  It wasn’t until Jared mentioned it that Rowan became aware of his appearance. His clothing was ragged. The blood from his wounds had begun to dry and caked his clothes and skin alike.

  “May I take a moment to wash?”

  Jared waved him towards a pot in the corner of the room.

  Rowan found the pot full of water. He stripped as much as he could while keeping decent and soaked himself. The water was icy cold and dirtied, but he continued washing despite the chill. He wiped his wounds and scraped the dried blood—much of which was not his own—off his skin with his fingernails. His back was the worst. He was unable to reach the wounds to clean them, and it pained him when he tried to use a rag to wipe away the dirt and the blood. He did his best and then left it alone.