The Outcast, page 14
part #2 of A Knight's Journey Series
Rowan nodded. He could understand Maude's reasoning, even if he didn't agree. She appeared somewhat relieved.
"Four days," he murmured to himself. The thought was frightening. It made him hesitate to ask his next question. "How bad was it?"
The question hung in the air for a moment. Rowan waited on the answer.
"You were...very unwell," Maude told him. Again, there was a tinge of anger in her voice, and it made Rowan aware of how much of a burden he must have been. Must still be. Perhaps she was angry at having to rescue him and spend valuable resources to make him well. It was a long journey with few stops for supplies. Now they had an unexpected person with whom they would need to share their supplies.
"It was very lucky that we found you," Maude continued. "Had we not, you would have died. As it was, you were already at death's door. You were passed out from sunsickness and were awfully burned. We did our best to nurse you, give you water and keep you cool, but you had a terrible fever. Nelliel and I did our best to feed you, but you kept nothing down. For four days, you did not wake, and I feared the worst."
"I am truly grateful to you both. And to your daughter," Rowan acknowledged Nelliel. "Without you, I would be not be here. I would be dead. I apologize for the difficulties that I have caused you. I cannot repay you, but I will do my best to try."
"You are a foolish boy!" Maude cried suddenly. Emotion flooded her voice. "I warned you not to travel the desert road alone. I offered to take you with us. But you are foolish boy, and you went off to meet your death despite my warnings."
I could not stay in the city, Rowan thought. Nor could I accept your offer to take me with you. I am dangerous. Even now, beyond the border, I am still endangering you and yours. Rowan said nothing though. Maude would not have listened to such words anyways.
"Yohr hært ust not leiv olny fa u." Nelliel's words, though spoken softly, pierced the conversation. She flushed when all three faces turned towards her. For a moment she met Rowan's gaze, her large eyes reflecting the light of the fire. Then she looked away and ran off without a word.
Rowan was not the only one surprised by her reaction. Several of those still idling nearby had turned at her words, and Maude and Ganda seemed taken aback. Her words had held meaning, but Rowan was the only one who could not understand them.
"What did she say?"
"It is a phrase from our country," Maude said quickly. "It is appropriate, though not for her."
"I will go and speak with her," Ganda said calmly. He grunted as he stood, then stooped to collect his things before walking away.
"What did her words mean?" Rowan asked.
A laugh of derision came from the other fire, from a youth. "Reh owrds lliw mena thoning ot u, estrangr. Hwat e waset!"
Even though he could not understand the words, Rowan knew when he was being insulted. He glared. The boy was near enough to his height, but he did not look strong. If words came to blows, Rowan thought that he could come out on top.
"Hwat is raung, estrang? U oolk egnry. Cohnfoosd. Od u ont no ur ples?"
Rowan tensed. His annoyance was going to get the better of him. Then Maude gripped his shoulder tightly. "Do not respond to the boy's words." Her grip tightened painfully for a moment, causing Rowan to wince. Perhaps his body was weaker than he thought. He nodded in acknowledgement.
"Hwat did esh–"
"Kaiete!" The boy started to speak again, but was cut off by another voice. This one came from the man sitting next to him. Rowan guessed that the man was the boy's father. The man stared the boy down before speaking again. "U lliw erlan tu old ur tung, E’lin. Nao leiv e bi. Su lliw speik larte."
The man's voice resonated with authority. He spoke like a noble, like someone who knew that his words would carry weight. Would be obeyed. And they were. The boy rose and left, leaving his plate and utensils behind. One of the other three sitting at the fire rose stiffly and bowed before following the boy.
Rowan expected the man to say something to Maude. To apologize for his son or make an excuse of some sort. But instead, the man addressed one of the others sitting close to him. He spoke a few words in a neutral tone and the other man responded with emphatic enthusiasm. It was only after this exchange that the man turned to Rowan and Maude.
His eyes narrowed, and his gaze was condescending. To him, they were only an afterthought. A bothersome courtesy.
"Du not duell no sith," Maude said. The man gave the barest of nods and then left, followed by a guard. He did not bow as he left.
"Hwael, Al'Rhun es shinif'd fo teh niat," the remaining man said, not seeming to address anyone in particular. He rose loudly and vainly patted at the silks he wore, batting away the dust and collected food crumbs. Satisfied that he was clean, the man bowed deeper than Rowan would have thought possible with such girth and then departed. This left only Rowan and Maude.
"You need not concern yourself with the others," Maude said to him. "The... boy—" She struggled for a moment before settling on the word. "—should not concern you. And neither should Nelliel. You needn't pay her any mind."
There was silence between them.
"You are angry with me," Rowan finally said. He had meant it to be a question, but the statement was not in doubt. He had heard the emotion in her voice earlier. There was little that he could offer in payment, but Maude had shown him much kindness.
"Yes."
Her answer pierced him. He had no right to expect anything from her, but he had hoped. Not for any tangible thing. Rowan would see to himself. But she was his only connection in this country. He feared what would become of him if he were left alone. He turned away towards the darkness.
"I understand."
"I do not think that you do. I am angry, but it is your decisions which anger me. Your recklessness. I warned you and you chose not to listen. I know that you had reason to leave, but had you spoken honestly with me when we last met then I could have helped you."
"I could not take that risk."
"You do not trust me?"
"I did not wish to put you in danger."
"I have faced danger before. I would have given you help, had you asked. Instead, you threw your life away."
"Yet here I am," Rowan muttered.
"I am angry with you," Maude said, "because I care for you. There is a darkness inside of you, and it is clear that you have lost your way."
I have lost more than that.
"You will travel with us." Rowan tried to object, but Maude spoke over him. "I will not allow you to travel alone. You are still in need of care, and I do not trust you to care for your own well-being."
"I will see to myself."
"No. Yohr hært ust not leiv olny fa u." She hesitated, then continued. "Nelliel will continue to see to you. It will keep her busy. And when you are better, you will help Ganda as needed."
Rowan would normally have argued, but the look in Maude's eyes told him that it would be useless. This was made worse by a sudden wave of nausea that came over him. He nodded silently, fighting to keep his meal down.
"Where is my blade?" he asked, once he trusted his stomach.
"It is with Ganda."
Rowan nodded again. "I will take it back from him." He leaned forward, intending to rise, but found that his body was not up to the task.
"It is safe," Maude replied, steadying Rowan to keep him from falling. He welcomed her support. "You may have it soon. Tomorrow. Now it is time for you to retire."
As she walked Rowan back to his former resting place, all he could think about were the plates and utensils that had been left behind. He had not cleaned his dish, nor had he returned it. He tried to turn back, but Maude steered him towards the cart. He didn't have the energy to fight.
"Sleep now, young one. Allow your body to recover."
Rowan mumbled something unintelligible as he lay his head down. Even he didn't know what he had meant to say. It was very hard to concentrate.
"I will have Nel bring you water once I’ve spoken with her." Maude said something else, but Rowan was no longer listening. He’d been taken by sleep.
Chapter 13: Erik
“What you need to understand, Erik, is that the most important and difficult part of being a trainer is not actually training the boys, but keeping them in line,” Trainer Emid said to Erik. “The younger boys,” he nodded to the boys who had paired off to work together at his command, many of whom were idling or in conversation rather than working, “need a firm hand. They will take orders without much protest, but they do not work for long. No attention span.”
Erik nodded.
“I can see that.”
Emid grinned at him and then cried out, his voice booming across the fields.
“You should be working, not talking! The next boy I see talking and not training will run laps until they drop.”
The boys hurried to find something to do. Those who were lazy did their best to look like they were occupied. Emid watched them move but said nothing.
Erik remembered a time when he had been younger and the shouts of trainers had frightened him into obedience. Now that he was older, he saw those days very differently. More time had been spent having fun and socializing than training. But the trainers had frightened all of them and when they shouted, everyone jumped to obey their commands. It had been instilled in them until they obeyed their trainers without hesitation.
“See how they jump to obey when I raise my voice? They respect a firm tone with some authority. The threat of further work will motivate them.”
“I see. Will that work with me?” Erik asked. “Will they see me as an authority figure?”
“If you act and speak with authority, they will listen to you. Darius will announce your new rank and position this evening, and that will give you some legitimacy, but you will have to earn your authority. I would not worry yourself about it. You are already well-respected among the other trainees.”
“Darius told me the same.”
“That’s because it is true.”
Erik nodded but did not speak.
“The older boys,” Emid continued, “require a different approach. They are independent and the threat of extra work is less effective. I have found that it is easier to punish them as a group for the actions of individuals, as they know how to keep each other in line. Normally they are easier to work with, but you may find it more difficult to give them orders since they are closer to your age.”
“I thought I wouldn’t be overseeing the older boys.”
“You shouldn’t have to, but there are no guarantees. They will be the ones to give you trouble.”
“So you think that I will need to deal with them?”
Emid grunted and Erik couldn’t tell whether it was an affirmative or not.
“Trainer Darius made a suggestion and my friend, Andrew, told me the same.”
“What did they say?”
Erik watched as a few of the boys waiting for their turn with a bow turned to wrestling. They didn’t appear to be fighting in earnest, though. They looked to be sparring with each other. Trainer Emid frowned as he saw them, disapproval clear on his face.
“They suggested that I resume the training sessions that came about when I worked together with Rowan.”
“The fencing matches?” Emid asked. “The boys already train in swordsmanship. Why focus more on that particular skill?”
“It gives them something to do, and it is familiar. The routine is already established, so I have very little to do and organize.”
“If you plan to do that, then I will not say anything against it. It is not the course of action that I would take.” He paused. “Torrhen will be against you in this. He is the blade-master, and he will resent you training the boys in his art.”
It was Erik’s turn to grunt. He hadn’t thought about Trainer Torrhen, but he did not want to say that. The boys were not the only ones that he needed to prove himself to. His fellow trainers needed to respect him if they were to work with him and treat him as something close to an equal. He would need to speak with Trainer Torrhen.
This is so much more work than I ever thought it would be.
“Come. We should work with the boys. You need experience giving orders, and I want to see how much you know.” Trainer Emid motioned him forward towards the boys. “I’ll watch, you take the lead. I will step in if it is necessary.”
Erik sighed but did not protest.
The next two hours were spent working with Emid’s group of young boys.
* * *
Erik walked through the woods. He had to admit that the freedom afforded to him by his new position was very useful. He no longer needed to keep to the regular curfew and he could go places that trainees were not allowed—like the forbidden forest. He liked that he didn’t have to explain himself when he left.
These thoughts—coupled with the going to check on Tenro—made him think of Rowan. His friend had often gone away without explanation, to visit the forest or wander alone. At the time, he had condemned his friend’s actions. Now he was doing the same.
“I should have changed my boots,” Erik said aloud. The wool shearling was growing damp and his feet were so cold they were beginning to ache. He had long since lost the feeling in his toes.
He did his best to retrace his previous path through the woods. At night, the forest had seemed much different— everything had been dark, larger, and more oppressive. Now walking in daylight, it didn’t take long to reach the secret clearing.
“There it is.”
Erik identified the spot where he had hidden the sword. Snow now covered the area, but the lump of brush and wood that he had gathered stood out.
He swept aside the snow and began digging through the pile of debris. He set aside the sticks and tossed the brush and leaves away.
“No!”
Erik could see earth beneath the pile, but not the sword.
No! No…no…no, no, NO! Where is it!?
Erik began sweeping more widely, heedless now of the wet snow. He thrust his arms into the snow up to his elbows and dug. His motions were frantic. He widened the area he had dug out as he expanded his search. It quickly became clear that the sword was not present. It had been moved. Someone had been here and they had found the sword.
“Who was it?” Erik asked himself. There was no way of knowing, but he could speculate. There were certain people with whom this knowledge would prove dangerous.
Erik stood, suddenly aware of the destruction that he had caused in his search. A wide swath of ground had been left bare, cleared of all snow and brush. His arms were painfully cold and his hands dark with mud. The sleeves of his tunic were soaked through and the knees of his trousers were dirtied—he would need to change once he got back.
The sword could still be here. It might only have been moved.
Erik knew that it was unlikely, but he had to be sure. He looked about the clearing, seeking out any other place where the sword could have been hidden. He checked several places but found nothing. It could be anywhere—buried, covered by snow, in a hollow tree. And that was only if it was still here, which was unlikely.
Someone had taken Tenro, and they must have known that it was being kept hidden. Now my only proof that something may have happened to Rowan is gone…and someone else knows. Erik cursed aloud, gripped by frustration.
He continued searching but found nothing. In his frustration, he threw a rock across the clearing. Hitting a tree, it rebounded with a dull thud, knocking loose some snow. And underneath…
Erik crossed the distance in a few strides and began brushing away the snow and leaves. Underneath it all, he found a small hollow in the tree. And nestled in that hollow was Tenro… and another sword. A wooden practice sword.
He exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. Tenro was still here. It was safe.
But how safe?
He had hidden it where he thought no one could find it. And yet someone had. And they had moved it. He was lucky they hadn’t taken it far, but he couldn’t chance this happening again. It was bad enough that someone else knew about the sword. He’d heard news from the other trainers that Gannon had his armies searching for a man with this very sword.
For now, he would take it back with him and hide it in his room. But it was dangerous to keep it with him, and he couldn’t keep it here anymore. The sword had to go.
With nothing more left to do here and the air growing colder, Erik turned to leave. No longer consumed with his search, he was beginning to feel the cold and the wet. His toes were no longer the only part of his body that pained him.
The trek back to the barracks was longer and more difficult than the journey out. He was weighed down by anxiety and fear. He had moved Tenro to the forest to keep it hidden and safe, but it had been found. And he had no idea who had found it.
Chapter 14: Rowan
Night fell quickly in the desert. Behind him, Rowan could hear the sounds of others conversing as they ate. The firelightcast flickering shadows that danced across the ground. Rowan watched them move. They appeared as phantoms to him, and the thought made him shudder.
It had been three days since Rowan awoke. Since then, he had kept to himself. He offered his help where he could, but there was little he could do. While traveling during the day, he remained alone within the wagon. In the evening, he helped with the cooking and cleaning as needed and then retreated to eat alone. Maude and Ganda did their best to speak with him and make him feel comfortable, but that wasn't what Rowan wanted. He did not deserve that.
His only peace came from the sword dance. Once his blade had been returned to him, Rowan resumed his nightly training. It was difficult at first. His body was weak and his shoulder was still healing. But pain meant nothing during the dance. It was only then that he felt anything other than an oppressive sense of guilt and sadness.
For the most part, the others left him alone. The lord Iasu Ael and his son Seto kept their distance. When either deigned to acknowledge him, it was with cold contempt. Their two guards showed interest in Rowan's sword practice, but did not speak to him. The trader named Al'Rhun was a bother and often tried to speak with Rowan, while the woman he did not know kept entirely to herself. More so even than Rowan.
