Wolf Soldier, page 7
part #1 of Lightraider Academy Series
Connor said nothing about their conversation to the others when he returned. Such a revelation was best left to a wiser voice than his.
Master Jairun returned not long after noon, carrying what looked to be a second staff, wrapped in goat cloth.
Lee jumped to his feet. “You’re back early. Are we going on, then?”
“Not just yet, child. Right now, I should like to observe your sword work in the light of day. The nightly fog toys with an old man’s vision.”
Without question, the potentials and Connor lined up for drills.
“No, no. You’ve drilled enough. Sparring. I want to see your sparring.” Master Jairun nodded to Connor. “You and Tiran first. Square off.”
Connor narrowed his eyes at the old man. Was this the time for playing at battle with wooden swords? Shouldn’t they make haste for the academy fortress while their path remained safe?
“Before you begin, though . . .” Master Jairun pulled a string to release the goat cloth from the second staff—a crook with a black ram’s horn for the head and a shaft of ebony, wrapped in a spiral of steel from the spiked foot to the horn’s tip. Such a crook was meant for greater foes than sheep. He placed it in Connor’s hand. “I found this on the upper terrace. I thought our party’s only shepherd should give it a try.”
Tiran lowered his waster. “Am I to fight a long stick with a short one? In the Dragon Lands, am I to meet pyranium steel with wood? This is hardly fair.”
“You make an excellent point, my boy.” From beneath his cloak, Master Jairun drew the blade Tiran had brought with him.
Connor waited for a laugh. It never came.
The headmaster’s expression remained grave—impatient. “Go on, Mister Yar, take it. We haven’t got all day.”
Hesitant after being called on his bluff, Tiran traded wood for steel. He gave Connor a shrug, a question in his eyes.
Connor nodded, consenting to the battle and thinking he must be a fool to do so.
Tehpa seemed to agree. “Avner, do you really think it wise to—”
“Fight!” The old man’s staff sliced the air between the boys.
Tiran spun to the left, a move he’d never opened with before. He reached out with a slash at the crook as if intending to chop it in half. Connor answered with a two-handed block. The sword sparked off the steel band, and the two separated, blinking at each other.
With his long arms, Master Jairun nudged them together. “You can’t live forever. Not in these frail forms. Fight, I said!”
Tiran lunged. Connor circled out of the way, eyes flaring. That sword could have run him through. And Tiran didn’t stop there. Connor dodged a downward slash and blocked a strike at his midsection. The distraction of the resulting sparks gave him room for a swat at Tiran’s ribs. The boy staggered sideways with a surprised grunt.
Teegan let out cheer.
Her twin shot her a glare.
The blow to Tiran’s side was the best Connor had ever landed, and the shock of it nearly cost him his advantage.
“Don’t just stand there gawking, Mister Enarian. Attack!”
He pressed in, striking with both ends of the crook. The agility and footwork he’d gained in his sword training merged with the surety of wielding a farm tool he’d carried since the day he could walk.
He backed Tiran to the fire, then feigned retreat, waiting for an inevitable slash. The moment came. Tiran swung wide—a desperate, overreaching attack—and Connor bounced the blade away with the ram’s horn. Before Tiran could recover his balance, Connor slipped the spike between his feet and tripped him.
Tiran fell to the ground, sword clattering beside him. The match was over.
Connor’s eyes shifted to Tehpa, who stood at the fire circle with his mouth slightly open. A moment later, he came to himself and walked off. “A fluke. A trick. Nothing more.”
Teegan, at least, offered congratulations. “Well done. I’m always happy to see Tiran put in his place.”
The half-smile this brought to Connor’s lips quickly fell away. One day, he’d have to fight Tiran again, and Tiran would be ready. He offered the crook to Master Jairun, holding it across his open palms. “It’s a work of art. A treasure. But why show it to me now?”
Master Jairun pushed the weapon back at him. “I am not merely showing this to you, Connor. The crook is yours to keep. You’ll need it for what I must ask of you next.”
20
“But you must come.” Lee stood between the potentials gathered at the fire circle and the old merchant bay where Tehpa had Connor laying out gear for the journey home. “I saw your skill, Connor. We all saw it.”
Connor glanced at the crook leaning against the fountain clock. He’d laid it there for good. “A fluke. As Tehpa said, I tripped Tiran with a stick. That’s all.”
After the match, Master Jairun had confessed to the group his reason for delaying the journey. “But the other guardians and I could watch the road north for a month and still miss a band of enemies. The Assembly’s inaction across two generations left Keledev exposed. With too few defenders on the barrier slopes, there are too many gaps to cover—too many places for the shadows to hide. We ride north tonight and guard ourselves as best we may.”
“Leave him.” Tiran tugged Lee toward the mules. “We have work to do. Connor has made his choice.”
Tehpa hoisted his saddlebags over a shoulder. “That he has. Ride north with this old zealot if you wish, but we will make haste for Ravencrest and hope these creatures he fears haven’t gathered behind us on the road south.” He paused on the way to his horse, shoulder to shoulder with Master Jairun, staring him down. “From there, I’ll send word to the Assembly of your actions. I thank you for your healing and your counsel, but I’ll not condone this folly any longer, nor let you take my son. I beg you, Avner. Return these other young folk to their families. If you send them into battle, whether here or on the far side of the barrier, their blood will be on your head.” He walked on and flopped the bags across his mare’s back. “And on your head alone.”
Without acknowledging him, the headmaster beckoned his pupils to their horses. “Mount up. Pack mules at the rear. It’s not a pretty thought, but Amos and Berta serve as a decent rear shield.”
Despite Master Jairun’s orders, Teegan let the mules pass, lagging behind as the column rode through the gate. She gazed at Connor in a silent request for him to follow.
He looked down, shifting his feet on the pavers. When he looked up again, she’d gone.
“Every one of them will die,” Tehpa said as he and Connor turned their horses south and urged them up the slope of the chasm bridge. “Not tonight. I place little stock in Avner’s worries. A single pack of goblins in Keledev is an aberration, not an invading army. But your new friends will die soon enough and long before their time. The path northward leads to a fool’s death, fighting a fool’s battle in a wasteland of terrors.”
His words dropped into the mists, and Connor tried his best to let them fall as he always had. But the storm of umbrage and guilt built inside until he could no longer contain it. He halted his mare at the bridge’s end and raised his voice. “You mean the same fool’s battle that took Patehpa?”
Tehpa slowed, but he did not reply.
Connor would not be ignored. “Patehpa was no fool. And neither is Master Jairun. The Order was right. The Rescuer wanted them to fight against the tide. Don’t you see what’s happened? The Keledan hid in their caves, letting evil fester at the gate. And as we speak, that evil now crosses the threshold. The first talons of the dragons clawed at Mehma in our very kitchen. They tore into your flesh. How deep must they cut before we fight back?”
Tehpa’s mare clopped on at a steady plod. “You are brash and young, and you do not know as much as you imagine. Do you truly think the dragons’ hordes won’t strike you witless with fear? Come, boy. We’re going home.”
“Stop!”
The shout echoed down the tunnel, finally drawing Tehpa’s gaze. He turned his mare, red-faced, with an explosive rebuke visible on his lips.
Connor gave him no chance to speak it. “I am afraid!” He pointed behind him at the road beyond the courtyard. “And so are they. I saw it in their faces. Those potentials are afraid of the dark creatures, as they should be. But more than monsters, I’m afraid of my own smallness. For so long, I’ve suffered from the cowardly delusion that one shepherd—one man—cannot hope to stand against the darkness, because that’s what you taught me.”
Connor took a breath, letting his words boil. He wiped away a tear. But in the moment he confessed his cowardice, a weight had dropped from his spirit. He sat straighter in the saddle. “Now I see this is your fear, not mine, forged in Faelin’s loss and draped about us both like a chain. Well, Tehpa, I am chained no longer.”
He wheeled the mare and spurred her across the bridge, reaching a full gallop by the other side. The crook lay ahead, leaning against the fountain, ebony and steel gleaming in the waning sun. Connor snatched it up and barreled through the gate.
21
The speed of Connor’s charge could not last, not on such a long and treacherous road. The trail beyond the upper pasture led north across the steep side of Anvil Ridge. And by the first watch of evening, his mare had slowed to a walk, scraping Connor’s left leg against the rock wall to avoid the sheer drop on the other side.
Night fell, and when the fog rolled in, Connor thanked the Maker for the wall against his leg—his only guide. The cold and dark enveloped him, holding him so long that he wondered if he’d ever escape. Not until a dim gray light appeared ahead, did he realize that at some point he’d entered another of the region’s strange, aboveground tunnels. He emerged at a switchback trail leading both up and down a sheer rock wall. Connor went up.
“Teegan! Lee?” At each bend, he called for the others. “Tiran? Dag!”
The trail narrowed, and Connor dismounted to lead his mare through the corners. In the stillness, he heard scuffing and scratching, but the rocky terrain toyed with his hearing. The noise could have come from anywhere, even his own boots. “Teegan?”
A hand clapped over his mouth and yanked him into a crevice. “Hush, Mister Enarian. Do you wish to warn the whole mountain of our coming?” The hand came away.
“Master Jairun?”
“You bring me gladness, my boy. Lee, Teegan, and Dag as well, I imagine.” Master Jairun squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll take you to them. But no more shouting, please.”
Connor noticed he said nothing about Tiran.
The mare nuzzled the gap, trying to join them. Connor patted her nose. “What about my horse?”
“Leave her.” Master Jairun faded into the black, forcing Connor to follow his voice. “I sent our mounts and mules up the switchbacks to the broad green that stretches to the gates. They know the way well enough, and your mare will follow their scent. Meanwhile, we shall take a safer, more protected path.”
“The gates. So, we’re close to the academy?”
“Close? My boy, you’ve been on the academy grounds for more than a league.”
Starlight reached Connor’s eyes, and the rush and pound of falling water came with it. Spray touched his cheeks—cool, but not cold like the Mer Nimbar mists. In fact, the air seemed warmer than down below. Master Jairun halted at the tunnel’s end, where a trio of wooden cranks secured the three strands of a steep rope bridge to the rocks. It crossed the water to another tunnel mouth much higher than theirs.
Master Jairun thrust his staff toward the white foam crashing through the canyon below. “These are the Gathering’s upper reaches. The spray wets the ropes, making them slack. They must be tightened for every crossing.” He gave each crank a couple of turns, and the cords creaked in protest. “Bound to snap one day. Up you go, then.”
The central rope swayed with each step. Halfway up, Connor felt the jiggle of Master Jairun’s long stride behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you think that’s wise—both of us on the rope at the same time?”
“Excellent point, my boy. Too late now, though. Best keep going.”
A face appeared as the two reached the top. Lee clapped Connor’s arm so hard the bridge shivered. “You came!”
“Easy, Mister Lee,” Master Jairun said from behind Connor. “It’ll do him no good to knock him into the river for his efforts. Nor me.”
The scribe pulled Connor off the rope and into an embrace. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”
Tiran leaned against a rock formation not far away. “Yet you’ve been whining that he did exactly that ever since we left.” They were all there, the whole company, gathered in a high grotto with a toothy gap open to the north. Dag and Teegan sat on a bench-like formation. The miner gave him a nod. Teegan offered an almost imperceptible smile.
Master Jairun swept the spray from his cloak. “Do not mock a blessing, Mister Yar. The Rescuer sent us another sword. Be grateful.”
Tiran nodded at Connor’s crook. “A stick, you mean.”
His taunt stirred Teegan from her perch. “You have a short memory, Brehna.” She brushed past him and took Connor’s arm, guiding him toward the natural window. “Come look. You’ll want to see this.”
Silver starlight shone down on a vast hollow where two great arms of the mountains joined, and there, on the steep wall of the barrier, stood the former home of Lightraider Academy.
The fortress of Ras Telesar was a study in stone and water, a rising labyrinth of ramparts and towers stacked around a chapel perched on a high outcropping. Hot streams, giving off steam, fell from the chapel’s windows—nine by Connor’s count—each picking its own path down through the maze. The water poured over ledges and tumbled down staircases, until it gathered out of sight behind the lowest wall.
Connor guessed these same waters filled the great black pool outside the gates. From there, a small river flowed down a grassy glade to become the cataracts they’d crossed on the rope bridge.
“See the many threads of my tapestry,” Teegan whispered, still holding Connor’s arm. “Marvel at their unity as I weave them together.”
“A verse from the Sacred Scrolls?”
“Poetry.” Her cheeks reddened, and she glanced down at her hands. “My poetry.”
Master Jairun joined them at the opening. “Any sign of trouble while I was away, retrieving Mister Enarian?”
“None,” Tiran said. “All’s quiet.”
A slow clip clop echoed across the hollow as if to counter his assertion. A horse’s head came into view at the top of the steps leading up from the switchbacks to the green, swaying with the effort of mounting the last few. Connor’s mare. She sniffed the mountain breeze, snorted, then wandered across the grass to join the other horses and the mules at the river for a drink. Connor smiled. “She followed their scent, just as you said. I was nervous leaving her behind. I’m glad she’s safe with her friends now.”
“Safe.” Tiran let out a harsh laugh. “Don’t you get it? Master Jairun sent them out there as bait.”
22
“Is that true?” Teegan walked ahead of the rest as they followed Master Jairun deeper into the cave. “Is that why you sent the horses up the switchbacks without us?”
“We needed to travel on foot, and I needed to know if any creatures lay in wait at the edges of the green.”
“So it is true. The horses are bait.”
“Yes, child.”
“That’s so cruel.”
Master Jairun lit a candle to illuminate their passage—no longer a cave, but a narrow hall of fine masonry. His expression showed no anger when he turned to face the girl. “I understand the loss you suffered below Ravencrest, more than you can know. Sending good animals out into the open where they might be set upon by evil creatures is a hard thing for me as much as you—perhaps more. But horses and mules I can spare. Servants willing to answer the Rescuer’s call, I cannot. You are far too few.” He turned and continued up the passage.
After that, no one spoke for quite some time. The passage steepened, flattened, then steepened again, narrowing enough to force them into single file. Until then, Connor had walked beside Teegan, intending to comfort her, but he couldn’t seem to come up with the right words. And when the passage narrowed, Tiran wedged himself between them in the line, robbing him of the chance.
“We’ve walked far since the grotto,” Lee said, breaking the silence. “We’ve traveled the length and breadth of the green and then some. By now, we must be inside the western wall.”
“Very good, Mister Lee.” Master Jairun lightly tapped the stones with the knot of his staff. “The original passage ran through the outer ramparts between the towers on the first and second levels. The Order joined the low end to the grotto generations ago.”
“What use had the lightraiders for hidden passages?” Tiran rose on tiptoe to look over Teegan’s shoulder, blocking Connor’s view. “There were no enemies in Keledev during their time. Or was it built for keeping secrets from the Assembly?”
The old man cleared his throat, showing more than a hint of annoyance. “The original intent of this passage is lost to history, Mister Yar. It predates the lightraiders by a thousand years. The Elder Folk built this fortress, not the Order.”
“Ras Telesar.” Lee lowered his voice in reverence. “The Hill of the Fountain—sister to Ras Pyras, the Hill of the Flame in the far north.”
The guardian slowed his pace and held his candle close to the wall, as if looking for something. “The sudden rising of the barrier carried Ras Telesar up to its present perch on this mountainside. But in the elder days, its four ringlets crowned the tallest hill in the south, and the Fountain Chapel Nevethav served as the central jewel.” His flame guttered. A moment later it went out altogether. “Ah. Here we are.”
