The Outcast, page 11
part #2 of A Knight's Journey Series
Many of the boys look up to you, Erik. Even the older ones.
With Byron gone, the atmosphere in the barracks had changed for the better. Erik had always been aware that he was…popular was the wrong word—well-liked, perhaps. He knew every other trainee, if not by name then by face, and they all seemed to know him. He’d never paid attention before now.
Rowan had once told him that there were three factions within the barracks: those who followed Byron, those who followed Erik, and those few who remained neutral. Erik had dismissed his friend’s words because Rowan had been new to the barracks. Byron had a group of boys who bullied others and Erik often stood against them, but he hadn’t had a following. At least that was how he had seen it. But looking back, he had a better idea of what Rowan had meant.
He was well-known and well-liked, and many of the other boys let him be the one to take action. And he had. He still did. Even Andrew was passive, preferring to manage himself rather than look after others. If Rowan were still here, things would be different. Rowan had been a natural leader that even Erik had come to admire and look up to. He would have followed Rowan without question. But his friend was gone and that left only Erik.
He nodded as he passed another group of boys, these ones younger than most. They were new enough that they would not have participated in any of the training sessions that he and Rowan had organized.
Darius was right. It would be good to start those training sessions again. The boys his own age needed something to keep them busy and the younger boys would benefit from the training and experience.
The barracks were completely empty when he entered. It was time for supper and all of the boys had likely gone to eat. His friends were probably wondering why he hadn’t come to join them, but they knew that he had gone to speak with Darius. His absence would be noticed, but not unexpected.
Erik looked about to ensure that no one else was present. Seeing no one, he pulled out the bundle from under his bed. It was where he had kept Tenro, but he could no longer keep it here. It wouldn’t be safe.
Where do I put it?
He struggled to think of a place. Where would it be safe? Where would it not be found—a place where others wouldn’t or couldn’t go? It came to him immediately.
The forest.
Trainees were not supposed to go there without supervision. It was meant for hunting. And now that the snows had come, no one would go there willingly. It would be cold and wet, entirely unpleasant.
With everyone else at dinner, it was the ideal time to move Tenro. He hefted the sword and moved to leave. He opened the door to the barracks and walked out into the cold.
“Where are you going?”
Erik froze at the sound of Andrew’s voice. What was he doing here? Andrew should have been at dinner with the others.
He turned to meet his friend, doing his best to hold Tenro behind him.
“Ho, Andrew,” Erik replied in greeting. “Isn’t it time for dinner?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Andrew glanced at the hand Erik held behind his back. Feeling sure that he’d done a poor job hiding the sword, Erik shifted uncomfortably. The sword was long, but Erik had kept it wrapped, attempting to disguise its size and shape. It could very well be a training weapon.
“You didn’t answer my question, Erik. Where are you going?”
“I need to speak with Trainer Emid,” Erik said quickly. It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth. “Darius has named me a provisional trainer. I will be shadowing him tomorrow to learn my new duties.”
“I thought you went to speak with him about your concerns, not to be promoted,” Andrew joked.
“You aren’t surprised?”
“No. Darius needs additional help. I’m only surprised that it took him this long to act. I’m sorry that I cannot join you as a trainer.”
Erik hesitated before asking, but he had to confirm what Darius had told him.
“Darius said you are being graduated—that you will be sent away. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I won’t be told until I arrive, though I know that it will be somewhere near the border. Probably Oscilliath. That’s where most of the others have been sent.”
“Do you know when?”
Andrew shook his head. “No. I only know that it will be soon. Before the month is out.” He looked off into the distance, out past the training fields. “I am worried by this, Erik.”
“As you should be.”
“No. You do not understand,” Andrew said. “I’ve been paying very close attention to all of those who have been graduated and sent away. Did you know that all of them have been sent to the border? Every last one of them.”
Erik nodded hesitantly, unsure where Andrew was going with this. It was true that most of the boys were being sent north and east.
“I have been wondering why so many are being graduated, and why they are all sent to the same place. What reason is there for so many troops to gather at the border? There have even been rumors that many more soldiers are being transferred there. Such a large presence has never before been necessary. There is only one purpose for such preparations.” Andrew began to trail off, as though he had forgotten that he was talking with Erik. He gave a start when Erik spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Andrew hesitated before answering the question. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “It is hard for me to say good-bye. Especially when it is not yet time to leave. Knowing won’t change anything except to make the inevitable parting more painful. Best to leave it until later.”
“I thought we were closer than that.”
“We are. But I’m not the only one with secrets.” Again, Andrew glanced at the bundle that Erik held behind him. He said nothing.
“I have to go,” Erik said. “I will speak with you later. I want to discuss continuing the training sessions that Rowan started.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow at that. He looked interested but Erik turned and hurried off before his friend had a chance to speak. The conversation had already gone on for too long. He would have to miss dinner if he wished to hide the sword and speak with Trainer Emid.
Erik headed in the direction of the trainers’ quarters. Then, when Andrew was out of sight, he turned and ran to the forest. The snow revealed his tracks, but there was little he could do about it. He’d just have to work quickly.
“Why’d you have to leave me your sword, Rowan?” Erik cursed. It was cold and wet and he was very hungry. Forsaking a warm meal among friends to be out here soaking his clothes in the snow made him question his decision. I should have just left the sword where it was. No one would have found it beneath my mattress. Starting tomorrow, I will have some measure of authority as a trainer, so privacy will no longer be an issue. I could turn back now. There might still be time for supper.
Erik continued to complain aloud to himself, but he did not turn back. He knew that this was the best course of action, even if it left him miserable and wet. His clothes would dry and his temper would even. It was more important that this sword remain safe and secret.
He didn’t know exactly why he had to do this. It just felt right. This was an important secret, and he needed to keep it that way until the time was right. He would find a time to speak with Darius once he knew more. Once he was prepared for the answers he would find.
Erik stumbled through the dense trees, slowly making his way deeper into the forest. It was beginning to grow dark and that meant that his time was growing short. He made his way to a small clearing he’d spotted, deciding that it was as good a place as any. Using his hands, he dug a shallow space and placed the sword where it would remain dry, covered it with brush and fallen leaves, and then spread some snow over the pile to make it look natural.
Satisfied that it wouldn’t be found, Erik turned away and retraced his steps through the snow, being careful to remember his way so that he could later return. Now all that was left was to find Trainer Emid. The rest of his problems could be dealt with tomorrow.
Chapter 9: Rowan
The streets of Oscilliath were a cold place after dark, Rowan reflected as he walked. It was now early morning, just after first light. The vendors were out but the markets were not yet busy. It was the ideal time to purchase supplies.
Unwilling to waste his money on sleep, Rowan had spent the previous night on the streets. It was not the first time he had done so since he had left the capital behind, and it was unlikely to be the last. But previous experience did nothing to make the ground softer or the night warmer.
Maude and Ganda had asked him to share their accommodations of course, and he had refused. “I already have a room, bought and paid for.” Rowan had argued, unwilling to accept their hospitality. He was as much a danger to them as they were to him. But he deserved the danger. They did not. So he took his leave after speaking with them about the crossing. The conversation had been informative, though not in the way that Rowan had hoped. There had been little talk of supplies beyond a great need for water. The most important piece of advice that he had been given was to travel with a group. And he was going to ignore that.
Still, he had learned some useful information. Ganda had described their own journey in detail, mentioning landmarks and waypoints for trade and supplies. Maude told him how long the journey would last. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
“It is good that we were joined again,” Maude had said as Rowan was leaving. “I am always happy to offer my help.” She took him by the shoulder and held him, her tone changing. “I feel an emptiness in you. A darkness that consumes you. Do not throw your life away. Do not make the crossing alone. If you should wish to travel, do so with us.”
Maude’s genuine sincerity weighed on Rowan, and he thanked her with a lie.
The markets had still been open when Rowan left the Sandstone Palace, but the gates had been closed for the night making it impossible to depart until the sun rose. Though Rowan had wished to leave as soon as possible, it was for the best that he had to wait. He did not want to run into Dagget or the other mercenaries again.
So he had found an alley in which to hide, and fought off sleep. He knew what dreams awaited him, and he could not afford to cry out in his sleep.
Now the night was fading and the city was stirring. Soon the gates would open, and Rowan planned to be ready when they did.
Given the early hour, Rowan was able to quickly purchase his supplies. The streets were not yet crowded and the vendors not yet busy. He supplied himself as best he could, finding water skins and food that would keep for a long time. Knowing that his money would be of little use in Lauratrea, he spent it all. Every last coin. It felt wasteful, but he knew it was necessary.
Rowan was examining a map when he was distracted by a nearby vendor. He was not one to be distracted by the shouts of a merchant, but this one wasn’t speaking to him. The man was gossiping with another vendor about a raid by the city guard on an inn.
“It was the Morning Star. Guards raided it last night. Searched every room and questioned the patrons for near on an hour. Didn’t find what they wanted though, ‘cause they left afterwards without arresting anyone. Didn’t even say what they were on about.”
“For true?”
“Ask anyone. It was quite the scene.”
The men continued talking but Rowan did not need to hear any more. He returned the map and hurried away. If there was a raid on the Morning Star inn, it must have been because of him. Someone had recognized him. Or perhaps Baird’s aliases were known. It made no difference. What it meant was that Rowan had to leave. Immediately.
He was closest to the northern gate, so he headed in that direction. In his haste, he turned a corner and bumped into someone.
“My apologies.” Rowan said hurriedly, already moving to leave. Then he saw who he had run into.
Fat Ben.
The man stared at Rowan in disbelief. Time seemed to slow as both realized their situation. Then the moment was over.
“You!” He cried out.
Rowan reacted a fraction of a second faster, dodging as Fat Ben grabbed at him. He hopped back a step and immediately turned on heel and began to run. Behind him Fat Ben cried out and began to pursue.
With the streets empty, Rowan could not lose himself in the crowds. Instead, he sprinted as quickly as he could. He turned left and then right, cutting through alleys and running blindly until he had lost his way. And still he ran, knowing that he could not be caught. When he finally risked a glance behind him, Fat Ben was nowhere in sight. He must have fallen behind or been lost in pursuit.
Rowan stepped off of the street and took a moment to catch his breath. He was breathing heavily from the exertion of running, and the weight of his pack, newly filled with supplies, had not helped. His lower back ached where the pack had slapped against him as he ran. He rubbed the tender area and made a mental note to tighten the lower straps of his pack.
He glanced around again to make sure that Fat Ben was not around. Rowan saw no sign of the man, nor of any of the other mercenaries. After losing Rowan in the chase, Fat Ben had likely gone to inform Dagget of Rowan’s presence within the city. Soon Dagget would have his men searching for Rowan. They would likely be watching the city exits, which meant that Rowan needed to be on his way.
Leaving by the north gate was no longer an option. That was where he had run into Fat Ben, and that was where he would be most likely to find one or more of the mercenaries waiting for him.
He took a moment to examine his surroundings and figure out where in the city he was. Luckily, his blind escape had led him towards the western edge of the city. It was the most convenient gate to leave by, but it was also likely the most heavily manned. It was by that entrance that foreigners entered the city.
Rowan shoved aside thoughts of facing city guards and made his way west. The sun was now risen and the streets were becoming lively. Rowan welcomed the press of people. They helped to conceal him as he made his way to the edge of the city. He watched the gate for any sign of Dagget or the other mercenaries, but he saw none. Even still, Rowan was filled with fear as he walked past the guards. His face was known, and news of the raid meant that it was likely known that he was in the city.
But he made his way past the guards without incident. Now that he was on foot, he had to keep a quick pace in order to put some distance between himself and the city. It was disheartening to know that he would be unable to flee anyone that pursued him on horseback. They would have to track him, of course, but in the direction he was headed the land would soon be flat and without vegetation. There would be nowhere to hide.
* * *
Crossing the border proved to be much easier than Rowan had thought. There was no checkpoint between the borders. In fact, there was very little at all to indicate that he had left his home country behind him. There was only a gradual shifting of the landscape as the hills began to flatten out and the grass became caked earth. And the realization that he had at some point made the crossing.
Rowan had expected to feel some profound sense of loss as he left. Instead he felt nothing. After all the things that he had already lost, this paled in comparison.
Goodbye, Father. Brother. Perhaps we will meet in the next life.
Two days after he decided that Atlea was behind him, the kingsroad gave way to a beaten path. A day later, Rowan lost the path.
Chapter 10: Rowan
An empty wasteland. That was what Lauratrea was.
Rowan had heard what the great desert was like. Baird had told him idle tales of the scorched borderlands. Maude and Ganda had warned him what the crossing would be like. But Rowan had been unable to comprehend their meaning until now. He was a fool.
His mouth dried out with the heat and it sometimes hurt to breathe. Sand got in his eyes and his clothes.
Before him lay miles and miles of scorched earth. Behind him, the view was more of the same, with the only the occasional plant. Only the sun and the stars served as any sort of guide, and it was by them that he made his way. They only helped him determine direction, however. They could not tell him where he was.
The air went from cold to warm to unbearably hot. Instead of worrying about snow, Rowan now worried about water. He was starting to run low and had no way to get more. He tried to stay calm but feeling thirsty and lost were beginning to overwhelm him.
“I should have died with Baird,” Rowan said to no one, cursing his situation. He wondered what Baird would say if he could see Rowan now. He imagined his master shaking his head in disappointment and turning his back on his failed apprentice.
The thought pained him and he urged himself onwards, moving ever deeper into the desert.
That night, he didn’t even bother to make camp. He simply lay out his bedroll and performed his nightly ritual. He worked his way through the sword dance with ease, first with his dominant hand and then again with his left. The forms had become smooth and he was noticeably improved with his left hand. Clearing his mind, however, had been difficult. Too many dark thoughts plagued him, and his guilt made concentration difficult.
When done, Rowan began his shadow dance. He focused on the dark thoughts that troubled him, giving them form as he imagined an opponent. Baird.
A shadowy ghost in the form of his master stood facing him, sword in hand. Used to this by now, Rowan moved forward and swung. He almost always made the first move. It was a slight advantage that he took against an opponent who always won. But this time was different.
Rowan fully expected his blow to miss. For Baird to block or dodge. But his master made no move to protect himself. He looked at Rowan with cold eyes and suddenly, his shape shifted and changed, becoming smaller and feminine.
There was a muted thud as Rowan dropped his weapon. He stared in horror at the ghost of Eliza in front of him, her form wispy like smoke where his blade had passed through her. Tears burned his cheeks as he struggled to find the right words. To apologize. To make her disappear. To explain. He didn’t know what he needed to convey, but it didn’t matter because his words failed him anyway.
