The Apprentice (10 page)

Baird walked
up to the door and knocked loudly several times.

“Let me
do the talking. Horses do not come cheap and I mean to spend as little of the
king’s coin as possible. I have little left anyways.”

After
several moments, an aged man opened the door.

“What do
you want?”

“My name
is Baird. I came by here yesterday looking for horses. You told me you had a
pair mounts that seemed reasonable.”

“Aye. I
remember you. Who’s the boy?”

“He is
my nephew. I am taking him south.” Baird spoke quickly, the lie coming from him
sounding completely natural. The old man eyed them for a moment but his
curiosity seemed satisfied.

“My name
is Guldoy,” he offered in introduction. Rowan hesitated before offering his own
name in return, remembering Baird’s instruction. But it seemed rude to remain
silent and he figured that his name would do no harm.

“Follow
me, I’ll show you the stables.” The old man stepped outside and slowly made his
way to the back of the building where the stables were located. “I’ll be back
with the pair of horses.”

Guldoy
walked out of sight, leaving Rowan and Baird alone. The pair of them spent
several minutes in silence waiting for the Guldoy to return. When the elder man
came back, he was leading two horses. Baird made a noise of disapproval when he
saw them.

One was
a large black horse that might have borne Baird’s weight, and the weight of his
packs, had it been a few years younger. The second horse was much smaller and
seemed quite young to Rowan. Looking at the pair of them, he thought they might
actually make better time if they walked and saved their money.

“Unfortunately,
I have a bit of bad news for the two of ye’,” Guldoy said, leading the two
horses towards Rowan and Baird. “A local lordling came by and made me a wealthy
offer on the mounts you had your eye on.”

“Mounts
that were spoken for,” Baird said.

“It
pained me to do so, but I was compelled to sell him the horse. It would have
been very bad for me to refuse. You understand, of course. I am but a lowly
man. However, you seemed very adamant that you leave today so I am offering you
my next best horses in replacement.”

“This is
not what we had agreed upon,” Baird said darkly. “I want two strong, healthy
steeds that are able to take us to the capitol as fast as possible. These—” he
indicated the two horses “—are not worth the price I agreed to pay.”

“I would
offer you a discount, of course. Stranger is a good, strong horse and Strider
is much more than he looks. He is young but he will grow to be tall and fast.
Comes from good stock, that one.”

Baird did
not seem convinced. “Your Stranger has seen too many years to be worth the
coin. And as for the younger, I care little for their stock at the moment. It
may be a fine horse, but it is not what I need. I wish to leave with a mount
that can carry me and my nephew without breaking its back. It could grow to be
swifter than the wind itself, but it does me no good on my journey here and
now. How much did the lord offer you for the steed? Perhaps I can make up the
difference.” Baird spoke as if he had money in his purse to match that of any
lord. Rowan knew it was not true, but Baird spoke in such a way that he was
almost ready to believe.

“It do
not matter how much you offer me,” Guldoy said. “The horse has already been
taken.”

“Damn.
Crossing the plains quickly is going to require a horse that can travel swiftly
while carrying a sizeable load. If you don’t object, I would very much like to
examine the rest of your horses to see if there is one that is more
acceptable.”

“If you
absolutely refuse to accept Stranger and Strider, then I shall show you what
other horses I have. But you will find none better.” Guldoy turned and led them
and the two horses back to the stables.

Guldoy
had not been lying when he said that Stranger and Strider were the best horses
that he could sell them. He had few others, and most of them were still young.
Guldoy left Baird and Rowan behind, leading the two horses to a pen. Baird took
one glance at the penned horses and quickly turned away. “None of these horses
will do.” He spoke with Guldoy for a moment before returning.

“Come,
we will have to find our mounts elsewhere.”

“We
could have bought the elder horse. It was not so bad.”

“It was
going blind. It would have been a poor buy and I would not have trusted the
beast to carry me all the way to Estoria. I do not mean to ride at a slow pace,
else I would save my coin and walk.”

They
sought out a second stable where there were fine horses but high prices. Baird
argued and haggled as best he could but the man who owned the horses would not
sell them for anything less than several hundred gold, enough to fill three
very large purses. The third place that Baird had learned of turned out to be
the Guldoy’s stable under a different name. By the time they arrived at the
fourth stable, the sun was several hours above the horizon and Baird wore an
irritable expression.

The
owner came to greet them with a smile but seemed to sense that he should not
bother with small-talk.

“I
assume that you come looking for horses, and here you will find them. I, Torman,
have good horses that will ride as hard and fast as the wind.”

“I very
much doubt that you have such a horse. But show me what you do have and we will
decide on a price.” Baird’s voice was hard. Rowan could see that Torman was
angered by Baird’s words, but Baird stood a head and half taller than him and
the man had taken note of the blade Baird wore. He bit back a response and left
with a bow.

When
Torman returned, he was leading a horse that appeared fit for the greatest of
lords, perhaps even the king himself. It was large and well muscled and looked
ready to run to the capitol without stopping.

“It is a
fine horse,” Baird said, sounding even more annoyed than before. “Now take it
back.”

“You
asked to see my best. If you would prefer a lesser mount….”

“I would
prefer to skip such petty games. I will not buy such a horse. If you wish to
gain my coin, bring me two mounts that will not cost a lord’s inheritance.”

“Of
course.” The man bowed, but Rowan caught a grin on his face. Torman led the
horse around to the back and soon came back with a pair of stable boys each
leading a horse that looked fit and good to Rowan. Baird seemed interested as
well and stepped forward to examine them.

“These
two will get you where you need to go. They are strong, fit, well bred, fast,
and healthy. They respond well to commands and they will run for many leagues
without tiring. If I might be so bold as to ask, where is it you are travelling
to? It would be easier to find a suitable horse knowing how far it will need to
go.”

“We are
going south.”

“Estion
or Estoria?”

“Perhaps.”
Baird said no more. Rowan did not know why Baird insisted on hiding their
destination or why he had called Rowan his nephew, but he would ask later when
they had left the city behind them.

“You
said they were healthy, yet this horse has a large sore on its side. The saddle
seems to have covered it, but I am sure that was merely a mistake. You would
not be foolish nor rude enough to try and sell me a sickly horse.”

“Of
course not.” Torman bowed and shot a glance at one of the stable boys. “Allow
me to bring another.” The man left, dragging the stable boy by the ear.

“Perhaps
we should make do with the healthy horse,” Rowan said. “It seems to have no
problems.”

“I would
not trust it. This man has the horses we need but he will not sell them easily,
and not before he tries to sell us the horses that he means to get rid of. No.
I am guessing that he is keeping his best steeds out back.”

Baird
was right. They left the front and found a number of different horses. Torman
was bent over one stable boy while the other was returning the two horses to a
pen separate from the others.

Torman
seemed to sense their presence. He straightened and turned towards them, the
stable boy taking the opportunity to scamper out of reach.

“The
stables themselves are not meant for you. If you would please wait out front, I
will return with your mounts.”

“I think
that it will be quicker if I pick our mounts. I have been told that I have an
eye for horses.”

Torman
seemed ready to snap but could find no way to politely make Baird leave without
losing his coin or appearing as though he meant to sell them bad horses, which
it seemed clear that he did.

“How
much would it take for you to part with the stallion over there,” Baird
inquired, pointing to a horse that appeared much like the first that Torman had
shown them.

“Goliath
is not for sale,” Torman snapped quickly. “I thought you wished to skip the
games. That horse is fit for the king himself.” Baird grinned at hearing that,
though Torman mistook his grin for one of amusement and his expression soured.

“I could
offer you double what I am willing to pay for any other horse,” Baird said. He
clearly wanted the stallion, and Rowan didn’t blame him. It looked like a
magnificent animal. “It is a generous offer.”

“I
already told you, I am not going to sell Goliath. Next to his brother, he is
the best horse that I own and I plan on siring a fine line of steeds with him.”

Baird
accepted the loss and turned to find different horses. After a moment of eyeing
each animal, he pointed to the two that he wanted. One was a light brown horse
of a size for Rowan and the other was a larger horse with a coat as dark as the
darkest night, standing almost two hands taller than any other horse.

“They
won’t be cheap,” Torman said, “but if you are willing to pay the price then I
think I might be able to part with them.”

Baird
set about haggling, but Torman seemed determined to make them pay twice what
the horse was worth.

“Chourl
is a fine horse and deserves a good price. I would not take less than a full
purse for him, perhaps a half purse if it was all gold. Shadow is worth even
more.”

Rowan
knew that Torman was asking far more than the horses were worth and he was
growing weary of the haggling and the waiting. “We can go elsewhere, Baird. I
don’t see why we need to leave today.” Baird shot him a look of pure anger that
told him to shut his mouth and Torman grew a greedy glint in his eyes.

“Why did
you not say that you were in a hurry to leave? I think that under such circumstances,
my prices are more than fair.”

“I will
not be harassed by the likes of you.” The look that Baird gave Torman was hard
enough to make any man back down. Torman seemed to know when he was pressing
his luck against a dangerous man. He did not raise his prices, but neither did
he lower them.

“Shadow
here is a fine horse with a fine coat. You can see that he is as dark as
anything. With such looks, I could sell him to a lord or lady for several times
what you are willing to offer.”

Baird
looked at the horse closely. It seemed that he could not protest Torman’s
statement. Rowan couldn’t see why the color of a horse mattered, since it did
not change the horse, but apparently it
did
matter. And so he spoke
again, braving Baird’s wrath, to point out what he had seen earlier when
looking at Shadow.

“The
horse is not completely dark.”

Both
heads turned to him and looked equally angry.

“His
feet,” Rowan said. “He has white feet that are covered with mud, and perhaps
tar. His coat is dark everywhere but there.” He reached down and rubbed some of
the mud off of the horse’s leg to prove his point.

“I
believe that under such circumstances, what I am offering is more than fair.”

Torman
reddened at Baird’s words but nodded in agreement, yelling at the two stable boys
to saddle the horses. Baird handed over a purse of coins which Torman counted
in full before hiding it beneath his cloak. The horses were led out and Baird
took the reins.

With
their mounts bought and paid for, the two of them left the city behind them.
Although Rowan hadn’t stayed there for very long, he felt sad that he and Baird
had to move on. He had enjoyed his time in Attica and wished to stay longer.
After a few nights of sleeping on the cold, hard ground, Rowan was going to
miss having a room and a place to stay. But his journey with Baird offered the
adventure he had always wanted. It was for this that he had left his home, and
though he had enjoyed his stay in the city, he looked forward to the
experiences yet to come.

Chapter 9
                           
 

Chourl was indeed a fine horse,
calm and strong, worth every bit of what was paid for him. Baird said as much
once they had left the city behind them. But even with the mounts, the two of
them made slow progress.

This was
largely due to
Rowan’s
inexperience in riding. Though inexperience was a generous term given that
Rowan had no real experience at all.

Baird
cursed up a storm when he realized that Rowan had never ridden before.

“How
have you never ridden a horse? You are a farmer’s boy. Did your family not own
one?”

“She was
an old horse. Good for pulling the cart but not meant for riding.” Rowan had
tried to ride their horse, but when Brennon found out he had switched Rowan for
foolishness. After, he had made Rowan pull the cart to show him why they needed
the animal. His misery and humiliation was only made worse by the fact that
when he was younger, Petar had been allowed to ride.

They
were forced to travel little faster than a light jog and Baird spent much of
the remaining daylight teaching Rowan the basics of riding. The commands were
not overly complicated and Rowan had little trouble staying on, but they were
still forced to move at a slow pace, causing Baird to grumble.

When
they made camp that night, the city was still distantly visible on the horizon,
a dimly glowing splotch contrasted against the darkness.

Despite
his inexperience, Rowan enjoyed riding Chourl. He found pleasure in letting the
horse gallop quickly, though riding made him incredibly sore. As fun as the
experience was, his legs were stiff and he ached between them from the
bouncing. He was chafing in uncomfortable areas, but he had nothing for it.

After
their first day of riding, Rowan was dumbstruck that Baird still expected him
to spar every night. He felt certain that Baird was drilling him even harder than
he had before. Despite everything, though, Rowan almost managed to land two
blows. By the end of their session, Rowan was once again covered in bruises
while Baird was barely even out of breath. Rowan wondered how it was possible
that he never showed any signs of weakness or exhaustion. He wondered how much
it would take to actually defeat Baird.

The next
day was very much the same as the first. Their sparring session left Rowan
incredibly stiff and sore, which made riding especially uncomfortable. His body
complained throughout the day as he bounced around in Chourl’s saddle,
painfully aware of every jolting movement.

As they
made their way across the deserted landscape, the elements began to make things
miserable.

The
plains were almost perfectly flat and appeared uniform in all direction. The
ground was covered with nothing but dry grass and sandy dirt that was difficult
to sleep on. Even with the sun, it was difficult to determine what direction
they were travelling in, for there were no landmarks or distinguishing
features.

The
temperature fluctuated wildly from day to the night. It was deathly hot when
the sun was up and freezing cold when it wasn't. Without any source of shade,
the sun was always burning down on their backs. The heat forced them to stop
constantly in order to allow the horses to rest.

But the
worst thing about the plains was the wind. It drove him mad. The same dry wind
greeted him every morning, and it made life awful. No matter what he did, Rowan
could not protect himself from it. The warm winds cracked his dry lips, causing
them to bleed, and left his throat dry. Dust constantly blew into his eyes and
everywhere else, despite his best efforts to keep his clothes sealed. What was
worse, they were forced to camp out in the open so the wind was inescapable.

By the
end of the week, Rowan was utterly miserable. His body was sore from sleeping
on the lumpy ground and riding Chourl, and Baird’s training sessions were
brutal, leaving his body battered and bruised.

It was
morning and he was beginning to pack up everything that was left out, including
his bedroll. As he was stowing the bed, he heard Baird begin to stir as he
slowly woke up.

The
large man groaned loudly, stretching his arms and standing. While Rowan
continued to put everything away, Baird saddled the horses and started a small
fire using the dry grass and brush that was on hand. After a short meal, they
began riding again.

As
usual, the saddle was painful at first as Rowan stretched out his muscles.

“How
much farther do we have to go?” Rowan asked. After a full week of travelling,
he was quite tired of riding.

“Even
with the horses, we still have a fair distance left, especially at the pace
we’re travelling at. But you have been learning how to ride very quickly,”
Baird added. “I’m guessing that we’re at least a week and a half, maybe closer
to two weeks away from Estion, which is only days away from the capitol.”

They
continued to converse as they went until Rowan realized that the wind had grown
cold. Puzzled by the odd shift in temperature, he asked Baird about it.

“I
noticed it a while ago,” Baird responded. “The wind has been growing cooler and
the air is not as dry anymore. Look out on the horizon. Can you see it?”

Rowan
stared ahead, searching for something out of place. He did not see anything and
was about to ask, when he noticed a very small dark patch on the edge of the
horizon.

“I see
it,” Rowan replied. “What is it?”

His
question was answered as a tiny flash appeared within the darkness and he
realized that he was looking at an approaching storm. Rowan turned to look at
Baird

“What do
we do?”

“I don’t
know. I’m hesitant to ride into a storm that looks like that, but I don’t think
there’s anything we can do yet. We can’t outrun it and even if we could, it
would mean returning all the way to Attica, and that would lose us a lot of
time.”

“Could
we make it back in time?”

“I doubt
it. The best thing we can do is keep on riding and try to cover as much
distance as possible. Once we get closer, I’ll be able to tell how bad the
storm is going to be. Keep a look out for some sort of rocky outcrop that might
help to provide shelter, because I’m guessing this storm is going to be big.”

With
this on their minds, the pair rode onwards. The day progressed and they watched
as the storm front grew larger, covering more of the horizon. The air continued
to grow colder and the sun began periodically hiding behind the clouds.

By the
end of that day, the wind had picked up significantly, chilling Rowan to the
bone. He shivered and pulled Brennon’s cloak tighter around his body. The cold
was enough to force even Baird to pull an extra layer on in order to stay warm.

“How bad
will this get?” Rowan asked when they had stopped to camp for the night. The
warmth that he had felt only minutes earlier when they had been sparring was
gone and he was shivering, which caused his teeth to chatter when he spoke.

“It will
get a lot worse than this,” Baird said evasively. “Just be ready for the storm,
because we should run into it tomorrow.”

Rowan
decided to ignore the fact that Baird hadn’t answered his question and simply
let the conversation end as he pulled his cloak inside of his bedroll for extra
warmth.

*           *           *

Baird’s
predictions turned out to be accurate. The next morning, Rowan awoke to a dark
sky. A fine mist hung in the air, dampening everything. He looked back in the
direction of Attica and could see where the cloud covering ended and the sun
still shined.

The fire
that had been left burning throughout the night was dead and a deep cold
permeated the air. Rowan lingered in his bed for a short while, enjoying the
warmth and comfort that it offered him.

Baird
and Rowan quickly packed everything up and began riding. As Baird had put it,
there was no reason to linger in the cold and wait for the storm, and Rowan had
agreed. Riding made the wind worse no matter how much he bundled up, but it
gave him something to focus on other than his discomfort.

The
clouds above them became darker as they rode. Shortly after midday, the weather
began to change for the worse. At first there was just a heavy mist, but within
an hour the mist had become a steady rain that slowly soaked into Rowan’s
clothes.

By
nightfall, the wind had drastically picked up, whipping the rain around and
throwing it in sheets at the weary pair. Baird had ridden harder, forcing Rowan
to struggle in order to keep up, and they hadn’t stopped until very late, when
Baird felt that it was too dark to continue.

To
Rowan’s dismay, Baird still expected him to spar. “The elements are as much
your enemy as me or anyone else you may fight, and you will need to learn to
battle them,” Baird had said. “Even an unskilled opponent is dangerous when you
fight like this, because the elements will work against you more than they will
work against someone less skilled.”

After
that, Baird had demonstrated Rowan’s handicap by striking him in the stomach
while Rowan was blinded by the rain. Rowan had tried to strike back but he was
unable to find Baird and struck air.

They
continued to fight, engaging in quick bouts as they whipped their sticks
around, following a pattern of attacking, blocking, and countering. Rowan found
it incredibly hard to fight with in the dark, constantly assaulted by the rain
and the wind, but Baird’s words earlier, that the elements would handicap a
more skilled fighter, proved true as Rowan managed to strike him. It was only
once, more accidental luck than skill, but Rowan was willing to accept it.

They
kept the session short because neither felt up to an extended period of
sparring in the rain, and they skipped the sword dance altogether. Somehow,
Baird managed to light a small fire when they finished, using their cloaks to
cover the flame and protect it as much as possible from the rain and the wind.
Without a steady source of fuel, the fire quickly burned itself out and left
only embers.

While
Rowan used the embers to gather warmth and dry himself off as much as possible,
Baird set up the tent and bedrolls. When Baird was finished, Rowan quickly took
the damp cloaks and went to the tent in an attempt to escape the rain.

That
night was terrible. Even burrowing deep within his bedroll and covering himself
with an extra blanket, Rowan was still cold and he couldn’t escape the feeling
of dampness.

The next
day was even worse. They were woken by the deep boom of thunder and found that
the wind was howling. What had been a steady drizzle the day before was now a
torrential downpour. Rowan wanted to stay put inside the tent, where they were
able to remain somewhat dry, but Baird insisted that they continue riding.

They
packed everything up inside of the tent so that it wouldn’t get soaked, and
then quickly moved on, leading the horses on foot. Rowan could tell that Chourl
wasn’t enjoying the rain and he felt sorry for the horse.

“When we
get to Estoria, I’ll make sure to give you a lot of treats,” Rowan murmured to
his mount.

Rowan
followed as Baird led the way. The rain was getting intense and it was becoming
difficult to see. They made slow progress guiding the horses along through the
storm. Every time they heard the distant boom of thunder, Baird and Rowan had
to calm them and Rowan would worriedly scan the sky.

At first
he would only see distant flashes immediately preceding the thunder, but as the
lightning began to strike closer and more often, Rowan started to worry. When a
bolt struck a lone tree several hundred yards away, igniting a small fire that
flickered in the rain, that was when Rowan decided that they needed to stop.

He
called out to Baird, straining to make his voice heard over the storm.

“We need
to stop!”

The wind
stole his words and Rowan could barely hear himself as he spoke. The big man
looked backwards, but it seemed as though he hadn’t heard Rowan. Baird stopped
leading the black horse and waited for Rowan to catch up with him.

“We need
to stop,” Rowan repeated, shouting as loud as he could to be heard over the
wind.

Baird
nodded. “We have to find a place that will offer us some sort of protection.
That lightning is more dangerous if we are out in the open. I remember seeing a
rocky outcrop yesterday that should be able to provide some sort of shelter. If
we can make it there then we should be safe from the lightning.”

Rowan
didn’t have a better idea so he shouted his agreement.

“Follow
me,” Baird said. “The place I saw shouldn’t be very much farther ahead.”

Baird
moved forward and Rowan fell in line behind him. It took longer than either of
them thought it would to find the spot Baird sought. The storm provided almost
no visibility and the distance was greater than Baird had originally thought.

They
stumbled upon the outcrop through sheer luck and immediately sought out the
area most protected from the wind and the rain, a spot between two large
boulders.