The Apprentice Read online

  There was not much that he could do for his clothing without soaking the garments, and he preferred bloody clothing to being cold and wet all night. He would wash them later. His tunic, however, had been shredded on the back and was too damaged for him to continue wearing. This he soaked and tore into strips to bind his wounds.

  “Doing that will lead to infection. Here, use these.” Jared tossed Rowan some clean rags and a roll of bandages. Rowan wrapped his back and his waist and he used one of the rags to soak and press against his swollen eye. He pulled his clothes back on and wrapped the cloak around him.

  “I need to go to the barracks. I need my blade, and I must tell my friends that I live and that I am leaving.”

  Jared turned from his workbench.

  “Are you a fool?”

  “No. But—”

  “Think through your actions. You would be a fool to return to the barracks. It is the first place you are expected to be found, and there will be guards there waiting for you.”

  “I could sneak past them. Or fight them. I am not afraid.”

  “There is fear and there is foolishness. I would have expected Baird’s apprentice to understand the difference. Going to the barracks for a piece of steel is beyond stupid. Your Tenro was a fine blade, but you will make do without it.”

  “What of my friends?” Rowan protested.

  “You must leave them. Telling them anything, even showing yourself to them, will only put them in danger. As of right now, you are a wanted fugitive.”

  It began to dawn on Rowan just what faced him.

  “Come with me,” Jared said, grabbing a scroll and the blade from his workbench and walking outside. Rowan was left with no choice but to follow him, so he grabbed the supplies that the apprentice had brought and walked out.

  Jared waited for him in the alley between his building and the next. Beside him stood a horse, already saddled and ready to ride. For a moment, Rowan thought that it was Chourl. The horse looked very much like Rowan’s own mount, but it wasn’t.

  “This horse is going to be yours now. The stable guard objected to my taking it, but that debate has been settled.” Rowan thought of the blood on smith’s blade when he returned. “I do not know the horse’s name, if it has one, but it is fit and will take you far enough.”

  Jared handed the reins to Rowan and gave him the scroll. It was an old map with some crude annotations added. The map was homemade, but it would serve well enough as a guide and a rough measure of distance.

  “Don’t tell me where you plan to go. It is safer if I do not know.”

  Jared turned to go but Rowan stopped him.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You have done a lot for me. You saved my life even though you did not need to, and I will never forget that.”

  “Just make sure that you don’t waste the life that was saved.” With that, the smith left and Rowan made his way out of the city.

  Chapter 48

  After leaving Estoria behind him, Rowan found himself alone and empty. He had known from the moment of his departure where he would go, but he also knew that it would only be a temporary escape.

  Baird had instructed him to leave the castle and make for Estion. His master had been convinced that if any member of the royal family survived, they would head there for safety. The princess and the king were dead, but Rowan wasn’t ready to face that reality. So he made his way northeast towards the trade city.

  It took him a long time to get there, but once he arrived he had no trouble entering the city. It was larger than Estoria and massive walls surrounded it. Rowan kept a low profile and allowed no one to see his face. He had little money, though Jared had provided him with a meager amount of coin, and so he found himself sleeping in the stable of a kindly man. Rowan still had to pay, but the price was low enough that he could afford it.

  For a week and a half he stayed in Estion, unsure of what to do or how he should proceed. He had no way of knowing where to look or where Baird would have had him go. He had not asked nor had he been told more than that he should go to Estion. And he could not reveal himself and let it be known that he lived.

  So Rowan waited.

  He waited for some sign of what he should do, of where he should go, of what direction his life should take. He waited because he clung to the hope that someone might come to him, or that he might find someone who could give him direction. But Baird was not coming and he was not going to find Eliza. She was beyond him. The royal family had fallen.

  For over a week, Rowan stayed in Estion, waiting and watching and listening. He did little else, having chosen to withdraw from the world rather than remain a part of it. Time went on for others, for those who had not experienced the Betrayal or did not know of it yet, but Rowan was still stuck in the past. He could not escape that night.

  Rumors began to spread. People began to talk about what had happened. Much of what was said was speculation, and while all stories had the same ending, there was little truth in any of them. It was a trader that Rowan first overheard spreading the tale, and he had discreetly listened to what the man said, that the royal family was dead, that the land was lost and the bloodline was ended. They had been betrayed, the man had said, by someone close to them: the knight who was the Royal Protector and the right hand of King Alden.

  After that, Rowan no longer felt inclined to listen to the lies that were spreading, to hear the reminder of his failure and the deaths of those he knew. When he first heard the news, he had hoped that the truth would be told. Instead he heard only lies and false tales. It was all that the city talked about, and no one questioned the accuracy of the gossip.

  At the close of the second week, Rowan finally heard mention of himself. A man dressed in leathers and bandying about an oversized sword mentioned a boy who was sought by Gannon.

  “There is a large bounty on the boy’s head and guards are being instructed to watch for him. It is warned that he is quite dangerous, but we’ll see how dangerous that traitor is when I face him.” The man had pulled out his blade and bandied it around like a fool, showing just how dangerous he was. “I will kill him dead.”

  “I hope that one of us finds him. I would welcome the chance to be in Gannon’s good grace. That is a fine place to be at the moment,” one of the man’s companions said.

  Rowan had allowed the man to go, choosing to pull the hood of his cloak up to cover his face and walk away. It was then that he decided to leave Estion. A part of him did not care if he was found; it welcomed confrontation so that he could deal with his failure. But the part of him that had been trained by Baird knew that he had a duty which required him to live.

  He gathered what little he had and left. His face was not yet known, so to all others he was just another traveler leaving the city of trade.

  * * *

  Rowan sat atop Jared’s horse, watching the city at his back grow smaller.

  What would he do now?

  The question filled his mind, a thought that he couldn't rid himself of. What was left for him now that Baird was gone and Eliza was dead? The image of them forced Rowan to shut his eyes. He had left his life in Corrinth behind him when he left on his journey with Baird. Even if he could return, he would likely be placing his father and his brother in danger. No, Rowan decided. It wasn't worth the risk to return to Corrinth.

  And yet this left him with no place to go. The king had been killed and with Baird dead, the treasonous act would likely be blamed on Rowan. Without his master's guidance and protection, Atlea was no longer safe for him. Gannon would have men searching for him, and Rowan could not hide forever, not even within the massive city of Estion. It was too close to the capitol and eventually he would be found. He had already ruled out the option of returning home to the North, and going south would force him near Estoria. Even if he made it past the capitol city, the southern edge of the country was guarded by Fort Brigg and its wall. And winter was coming. The southern lands would freeze, becoming inhospitable wastelands where even Baird
had struggled to survive.

  The thought of his master brought a dark feeling, and Rowan turned his thoughts back towards where his road would take him. He ruled out traveling west. He remembered his journey with Baird and he knew that the plains would offer no easy escape. They were a vast area with little in the ways of sustenance. On the plains Rowan would go wanting for water until he reached one of the two great lakes, and he doubted he could make it that far. This left Rowan with two options. He could head north past his home to the barren, primitive land of Terratreos or he could travel east to Lauratrea.

  Rowan chose the eastern route.

  The road to Terratreos was less dangerous, but the lands in the East were far more appealing. He thought of his master once again and felt the weight of Baird's absence. He could not even bring himself to think of the princess.

  There was little left for him now in Atlea.

  Epilogue

  Byron stood outside the throne room. Inside, Gannon was speaking with men he deemed important or influential enough to deserve his attention. Byron was waiting for him to finish. He had somehow fallen into the role of Gannon’s attendant, a useful position, but one that did not often earn praise.

  As he stood in waiting, Byron tried to distract himself and keep his mind busy. He was bored and he suspected that he would be standing in the same spot for some time. He could sit or move around or doze, but Gannon would know if he did so. Gannon always knew, and he never failed to punish such things.

  Even worse than the boredom, however, was Byron’s distaste for the castle. Even where he was, outside of the throne room, Byron still thought that he could faintly smell the blood that had been spilled. Looking around, he could see a dark spot just down the hall. It may have been just a shadow, but he knew better. Gannon was working the servants hard, but there were only so many of them and they could not clean everything. Every inch of the castle was being scrubbed and scrubbed again, yet there was still a lingering darkness. There were stains that proved difficult to remove entirely. Smells lingered. And an absence of people to occupy the large castle left it largely empty and quiet. The bodies had been taken away, but the eerie silence that their absence left behind was disconcerting. The servants whispered of ghosts, the spirits of the dead.

  Byron shivered from the cold and tried to think different thoughts. Gannon did not believe in spirits or such superstitions, and therefore neither did those who served him. Gannon was a strict man, and his rise to power meant that things would change. Byron didn’t mind, though. The king had been a man above him, a symbol or a figure that was seen from afar rather than a person. His death did not affect Byron. And the young princess, Eliza, she had been a brat. Her death did not bother him, nor did the fact that Gannon had ascended to power through betrayal.

  So long as Byron did well and did not screw up, he would be fine. Gannon punished disobedience and incompetence, but he had rewarded Byron for his loyalty. For betraying Rowan, Gannon had promoted Byron. For helping in the betrayal that brought Gannon into power, Gannon considered him worthy of his trust. But for allowing Rowan to escape—though it had not directly been Byron’s fault—Gannon had given Byron a scar.

  Byron wrinkled his nose again at the smell. He would need to have words with the master servants later. If they could not make the maids clean the hallways and leave them smelling unspoiled, then they were not doing their jobs well enough and would need to be reprimanded. Perhaps he would have words with a maid or two as well. He pressed the cloth of his cloak over his nose.

  “You are not the king! By what right do you have the authority to act in his stead?”

  The voices from the room behind him had grown in intensity. They were muffled through the thick doors, but Byron could hear some of what was being said.

  “You are correct. I am not King Alden, nor am I of the royal family. But in this dangerous time, a strong leader is required to fill the void that was left by our king.”

  “And you aim to do so! You wish to take power!”

  “Someone must rise and lead this country, be it temporarily or permanently, and I am in a position to do so. I did not bring you before me to argue about my right to authority. I brought you here to take action. Our great king has been murdered and this betrayal must not go unpunished.”

  Byron smiled as he heard sounds of assent at Gannon’s words. The lord commander was indeed a treacherous and sly man, and his plans were ambitious. He had a silver tongue and a way with words, a way of making others see his point of view and think it was their own.

  Byron tried to continue listening, but the voices had quieted and he could no longer hear them clearly from the hallway. He wondered absently at what the Gannon was aiming to achieve. He all but controlled the country. With the death of the king, the he held stewardship over the lands and he controlled the armies. But he did not seem satisfied, nor did he act as though he was completely secure in his power.

  Byron knew that Gannon must have plans which he did not speak of. However, while Byron could wonder at such things as he pleased, he knew better than to pry.

  The muffled sounds of argument in the room behind him faded. He wondered what was being said. He knew that one of the men inside the room was Darius, one of his former trainers. Byron had never cared much for Darius, but his feelings were not overly strong. Gannon, however, found the head trainer to be irritating and unresponsive to persuasion. The only reason Gannon tolerated Darius was because of the man’s influence and his status. If the head trainer became problematic, Gannon would find a way to dispose of him.

  The door behind Byron opened, slamming against the wall with a crack. The meeting was over and the audience was filing out. Darius strode past him, looking none too happy as he walked away on his own. Byron did not acknowledge his former trainer and Darius did not notice him.

  When the hall had cleared, Byron stepped into the throne room. He could tell immediately that Gannon was in an unpleasant mood, which meant that he would have to act cautiously. When Gannon was dark, he was swift to punish those who displeased him. Byron had to act as Gannon wished him to act, without order or direction. Sometimes that meant addressing Gannon directly and foregoing formalities so as not to waste time. Other times Gannon would erupt if he was addressed without his leave. Byron chose to stay silent until he was spoken to as that seemed the safer choice.

  Gannon did not acknowledge him immediately. He took a seat on the throne, something that he would not do in the company of the men who had just gone. Gannon had ascended to power, but the country had not realized it yet. There were certain protocols that still had to be observed, and taking the throne was one of them. It was not a seat for the lord commander, even if the king was dead and he ruled in all but title.

  When Gannon did acknowledge Byron, it was to call him to his side.

  “What news have you?”

  Gannon had sent men out into the city. Officially, their orders were to keep the peace and secure the city so that the people would sleep soundly. But they were actually a means for Gannon to secure the capitol city as his own. He had created a city watch and placed guards throughout Estoria to control the people and prevent trouble.

  The watch also had orders to search for any sign of Rowan, who had not been found among the dead. Word had been sent to other cities and to the garrisons along the borders to keep watch for Baird’s apprentice. Rowan was not overly powerful, but Gannon feared the possibility that he could hold enough sway over the people to cause trouble. Byron knew Rowan, though, so he did not share Gannon’s fear. If Rowan was found, he would be killed. He was nothing special.

  “There is nothing of interest—”

  “I will decide what is and is not important!” Gannon snapped. “You are to report any news to me.”

  Byron apologized, bowing his head so as not to meet Gannon’s eyes. He knew that the statement was not true. If Byron were to bother Gannon with every report he received with no regards to its significance, it would not end well. But wit
h each failure, he was learning what Gannon expected of him.

  “Continue.”

  “There have been several minor incidents with some of the smallfolk. All have been dealt with without trouble. The city remains under watch and the people seem to like the protection.” Gannon smiled as Byron spoke, seemingly satisfied with the course of events and the lack of trouble.

  “Estoria is yours, and soon the people will recognize that truth,” Byron continued. “You face no opposition and there is no one who could make a stronger claim.”

  Gannon’s expression soured and his eyes went dark.

  “What of the boy, Baird’s apprentice?”

  “There has been no word of Rowan. He is not in the city, of that we are sure. Your guards searched every house and every passageway or hiding place that they could find, all under the pretext of weeding out conspirators. He is not in Estoria, and if he ever returns, he will be killed.”

  “You are a fool if you think that,” Gannon spat. “The boy is useless and weak, but he is Baird’s apprentice. People may find in him something that they would stand behind and support. One cannot rule a country if its people will not subject themselves.”

  “But you are respected. You hold a high office, the highest there is. There are none stronger or greater than yourself.”

  “My greatness allowed me to come this far. But it will be fear and power that bring me obedience. There is more to be done if I wish to truly control this country—this land—without opposition.”

  Byron was somewhat confused. Gannon was largely overestimating Rowan. Even if he was Baird’s apprentice, he was no great leader of the people and he was gone besides.