The Apprentice (7 page)

The
entire city, if it could be called that, was built as a fortress and protected
by the garrisons of soldiers who lived there. Baird said that it was by far the
most powerful and well defended area in all of Atlea. It lay between the
capitol and the border, acting as a shield that protected most of the country
in case of war. Baird, who had been there on several occasions, struggled to
impress upon Rowan what it was like. The entire city was surrounded by a
massive wall, and on the outside were rows upon rows of barracks. It would take
an army, he said, to take that city.

Now that
they were out of the Vale, the landscape seemed constant and unchanging: hills
to the left and the vast sea of amber to their right. The only noticeable
change throughout the day was the dark patch on the horizon, gradually growing
bigger.

As the
sun sank towards the horizon, Rowan became very glad that he had his cloak.
Outside the protection of the hills and trees, the wind made the air seem much
colder than it should be during the summer.

He
looked out at the shape of the mountains, which were now close enough to rise
above the horizon, and tried to judge their distance. They still appeared very
far away to Rowan, but Baird seemed in no hurry so he didn’t question it.

“We are
making good time,” Baird said after a long while. “If I remember correctly, we
will pass a town or two before reaching Attica. The city itself is just over a
day’s journey from the Bjorn Mountains. We will stop outside of the first
village we see and make camp and then continue on in the morning.”

“Why not
ask if anyone could spare a room for the night?”

“These
are small villages. I doubt that anyone will have the space to house two
guests, and there will be no inn where there are so few travelers.”

“It
would still not hurt to ask.”

“I do
not wish to impose myself on others, and I do not wish anyone to see us as
anything more than a pair of travelers. It is safer to remain distant and
unknown.”

Rowan
disagreed, but he did so silently. They travelled onward. It was not long until
they saw the lights coming from a small village sheltered some distance away
between the hills. Baird led Rowan up and over the hill to their left, saying
that they would be able to avoid the worst of the wind by using the hills as a
barrier. When they found a suitable spot that was relatively flat, Baird
dropped his pack and left, telling Rowan he would return shortly.

Rowan
cleared a space to sleep while he waited for Baird to return. A short while
later, Baird came back with several twigs and branches of wood, which he tossed
on the ground by his pack. He sat down and began examining the branches. He
selected two long, straight ones and set them aside.

“Where
did you get the wood?” Rowan asked curiously. He saw no good trees anywhere
nearby, though the rolling hills made it impossible to see for any great
distance.

“It does
not matter,” the knight told him. “Fetch me a couple of handfuls of dry grass
so we can make a fire.”

While
Rowan grabbed several fistfuls of grass and weeds, Baird dug a pit and began to
lay out the discarded branches. Once some grass was added, Baird quickly had a
small fire burning. Rowan was about to lay down when Baird threw one of the two
remaining sticks at him.

“There
will be no early sleep tonight,” Baird said. “I have decided that I will teach
you how to wield a sword. We will start with these.”

Rowan
stared at the stick in his hand and then looked up at Baird, who stood towering
over him.

“You
want me to fight you?” Rowan asked incredulously. There was no chance that he
could fight someone like Baird, a man not only bigger and stronger, but also
already very well trained.

“Yes.”

“But I
don’t know how to fight,” Rowan said, taking a step back.

“Too
bad. Now defend yourself!” Baird shouted, lunging forward and swinging his
makeshift sword at Rowan, who jumped backwards. Baird moved very quickly for a
man of his size, and his arm was a blur of motion as he struck. Rowan tried to
dodge it but was too slow and he cried out as the stick struck his chest,
knocking the wind out of him and sending him tumbling backwards.

“You
have a weapon, use it!” Baird shouted, waiting for Rowan to get up.

Baird
attacked again and this time Rowan managed to block the blow, leaving his arms
numb.

“Good,”
Baird said, “but don’t stop.”

The
knight pressed forward, assaulting Rowan with a constant barrage of hits. They
kept this up for almost an hour. Unfortunately for Rowan, Baird was the kind of
teacher who believed that the best way to learn was through experience.
Occasionally he would stop and show Rowan how to block a certain move or
execute a specific attack, but for the most part he used Rowan like a practice
dummy that he was trying to break.

By the
end of the lesson, Rowan was utterly exhausted and drenched with sweat. He
threw his stick to the ground. Even though Baird had gone easy on him, he was
covered with bruises and had not managed to hit Baird a single time. He was
tired and frustrated and all he wanted was some rest.

Chapter 7
                           
 

The next morning was a new kind of
hell for Rowan. His entire body ached and deep, violet bruises were beginning
to blossom. He silently cursed Baird and his sword training. It took Rowan
twice as long as it should have to wake and dress because he had to massage his
stiff muscles, all of which felt, if not looked, as though they had taken a
beating. The day before them was not going to be a pleasant one.

“It is
good that you are stretching,” Baird told Rowan. “Your muscles will protest
today and your body will hurt, but you did well and it will get easier in time.
Another day I will teach you the blade dance. It is a good way to stretch and
practice at the same time. It will help you.”

Rowan
ignored the man. He did not want to think about continuing what he would
consider to be a nightly beating. Instead he focused on preparing his body for
the day of travelling ahead them.

Once
ready, they immediately headed for the village. They had been camped barely a
mile away, the lights they saw at night having been deceptive. It was a short
walk, but Rowan was glad when they arrived. His legs were beginning to tire
from the days of walking and his body pained him everywhere, though he tried
his best to hide it. The village was of a good size, with over a dozen houses
and a farm or two in the nearby area. There were a few trade shops and even a
blacksmith. Corrinth had a blacksmith, a man who worked with metals, but his
shop had been small. To Baird, however, the village seemed to be nothing
special. Rowan noticed that he did not so much as spare the shops a glance.

The
people of the village gave them lingering looks, but none approached them or
seemed to mind their presence. Baird walked through the village as though he
had passed through many times and belonged. Rowan did not feel the same. He
followed as Baird led him towards the village square, seeing in this village
many resemblances to his home, though the land and the people were as different
as night and day.

The
village square was not quite filled, but there were a number of men and a few
women who were going about their business.

“Good
day,” Baird said, singling one man out and approaching him.

The
villager looked at Baird, taking in his size and the sword at his waist. The man
spared a quick glance for Rowan, but little more. “Goodday. S’there sumthin I
can help ye with?”

Rowan
struggled to understand a word the man had said, but Baird continued without
pause.

“The two
of us are passing through here on our way to Attica. We are hoping that it is
close.” Baird asked no question, but his statement asked for an answer.

“I
reckon Attica be somewhat close. S’pose it depends on how far close be, eh?”

“I was
hoping it would be little more than a day away?” Baird glanced towards the mountains
on the horizon as though trying to measure the distance.

The
village man chuckled. “Attica be a mite further’n a day away. T’aint far, but I
haven’t been ‘cept with a cart’n’wagon. You be several days from Attica,
fellows. Several days, with a village or two ‘tween here and there. I reckon
you could make the city in under three days.” He spared Rowan another glance
before he added, “Three days if you be quick of foot and dun be laggin.”

Rowan
wanted to protest but Baird spoke before him. “Thank you for your help. It is
much appreciated.” After learning a brief bit about the villages they would
pass on their way and where they might purchase some food, they left the
villager to his work. They found a kindly wife who sold them some food, which
they ate while they walked, leaving the unnamed village behind them.

The day
was much the same as the one before it had been. Hills surrounded them and
trees were scarce. The weather was warm and the hills kept much of the wind
from bothering them. Occasionally they met others on the road, but it was rare
with so few settlements around. When they did pass a stranger, Baird always
seemed to require a second glance. Rowan knew that he looked the image of a
farm boy, appearing as though he belonged in the village they had passed. But
Baird was a large man, standing at least a full hand and a half above most men.
His size and the sword at his waist drew attention. Rowan quickly discovered
that Baird was not a very social person. He had little to say and tended to avoid
strangers. What few people they passed on the road had no chance to converse
with them. While Rowan longed to question them and learn the news of the
outside world, Baird was not similarly inclined. He gave greetings, but offered
no friendly smiles, made no small talk, and did not stop.

“Be
wary. Be cautious,” Baird told him.

Rowan
guessed that Baird was avoiding strangers and other travelers because of what
had happened, because he had been attacked. The knight had still given no
explanation, and though Rowan was curious, he was too afraid to ask. So he made
little fuss when Baird avoided stopping to converse with travelers.

But it
was not only travelers that Baird avoided conversing with. Rowan found that
Baird had little to say while they walked. He answered any questions asked of
him but offered nothing freely.

A short
while after midday, they passed a second village much like the first. This time
Baird did not stop to talk, so Rowan received no rest. They walked throughout
the day, travelling at a good pace, though the mountains looked no closer to
Rowan.

That
evening, Baird had Rowan duel him using the cane-like sticks. Rowan did his
best, but he was exhausted long before Baird was ready to stop. By the end,
Rowan could feel new bruises and his body ached. By morning, he had more
bruises and a few welts, some on top of previously existing ones. Rising from
sleep was hard and painful, and his body seemed to resist and protest his every
movement.

True to
his word the day before, Baird showed Rowan an exercise which he called the
blade dance. It was a long series of poses that began from a simple position
and went through a series of motions that stretched and worked the body,
becoming increasingly difficult as it progressed. Rowan could not complete it, and
Baird would not let him skip a position and continue with the following one.
Instead, he forced Rowan to watch the whole series several times through until
he was confident that Rowan could repeat it in its entirety, once able. The
exercise took time and when they were done, Rowan was left sweating and the sun
had risen.

They set
out at a pace that seemed as though Baird wished to make up for the time lost
in teaching Rowan the blade dance. They travelled hard and fast, though Baird
allowed the pace to slow after a few hours. Rowan’s feet ached but he ignored
them. They passed another two villages, the second being much larger than
either of the previous ones. Rowan thought it was at least twice the size of
Corrinth. The day passed and quickly ended with the same nightly ritual, only
this time Baird had Rowan perform as much of the sword dance as he was able to
before and after their swordplay.

Their
third day of travel was disappointing and did not find them in Attica. On the
fourth day, however, they finally reached their destination.

*           *           *

It was almost midday when Attica
came into sight. Not long before they had passed through a town large enough
that Rowan had mistaken it for the city until Baird laughed and corrected him.
Rowan’s face had reddened with shame. It was, he thought, an easy mistake to
make. He continued to think so up until the city itself came into view. Once
Rowan could see Attica, even from a distance he could easily see how vastly
different it was from anything he expected.

From
miles away, Rowan could see just how large Attica was. It spread out across the
land, covering an area that could have held the entirety of Corrinth at least
five times over, perhaps more. It was entirely surrounded by a wall that stood
as tall as any tree, and outside of the wall were many people and stalls and a
few small buildings. As they approached, Rowan noticed that no structure or
stall stood within a stone’s throw of the wall.

“It is
to keep anyone from using such things to climb the wall. A wall keeps out the
unwanted, but it does not work if it is easy to scale,” Baird explained.

“Why is
there a wall at all?”

“We have
come a good distance east and are far in the North. The Vale is sheltered and
does not experience many troubles or see many outsiders, which is why you do
not know the dangers. Here we are close to the border of two nations. To the
east lies Lauratrea. To the north lies Terratreos, inhabited by the many
different clans and tribes. They are raiders and fighters, as savage and harsh
as the land they hold. There has not been raiding in a long time, but the
cities and villages of the North have lasting memories. Thus, the wall.”

Baird
led Rowan towards the city entrance where two watchmen waved them through the
gate. This city was unlike anything Rowan had seen before. The streets were
crowded with vendors and people, and beyond the hubbub of the market, Rowan
could see rows and rows of elaborate stone buildings. And all was framed by the
Bjorn Mountains in the distance, reaching upwards into the sky.

Baird
did not seem awed by the city, but Rowan struggled to take everything in at
once. There were so many different sights and sounds and smells, not all of
which were pleasant, and every one of them seemed to assault his senses. For a
moment he stood among the crowd, feeling entirely overwhelmed and lost. The
press of bodies was uncomfortable; people seemed to be moving in every possible
direction at once, leaving no room to walk. Luckily Baird moved towards the
side of the street and away from the main gate where there was a constant flow
of people, and Rowan was able to follow in his wake. As he moved, Rowan was
shoved from behind, causing him to stumble forward.

“Hey!
Watch where you’re going,” Rowan shouted, turning back as a small boy darted
past him. Rowan would have let the conflict end there, but Baird’s arm suddenly
shot out and he grabbed the boy, holding him fast by the neck of his shirt.

“Aiy!
Leggo’a me, I ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” the kid protested, struggling against
Baird’s grip. Baird yanked the boy backwards and held him tightly.

“We’ll
see about that,” Baird said. “Rowan, check your purse.”

“Why—,”
Rowan broke off as he found his wallet missing. He tried to take a swipe at the
boy but Baird stopped him.

“There’s
no need for violence,” Baird said. He then kneeled down to face his still
struggling captive. “Are you going to give back what you took?”

“I
did’un take ennithin’,” the boy insisted. Baird let go of the boy’s collar and
instead grabbed his ear, giving it a slight twist. “Ow! A’right, I’ll give ‘is
munni back.”

The boy
threw the purse at Rowan and Baird let go. As soon as he was freed, the boy
tried to leave, but Baird stopped him again.

“Leggo’a
me. I gave the munni back.”

“Yes,
you did,” Baird agreed, not releasing his hold on the boy’s arm. “What is your
name, boy?”

The boy
glared and remained silent, but Baird stared at him as though he had all the
time in the world. He idly squeezed the boy’s arm, reminding him that he was
not going to escape any time soon. The situation made Rowan grin.

“Name’s
Arry.”

“Well,
Arry, how would you like to earn some money,” Baird said, holding out a large
silver coin. Arry made a grab for it, but Baird was quicker and pulled his hand
away and the boy caught nothing but empty air.

“Not so
fast. You have to earn this. Now do you want to listen to what I have to say or
not?”

“Aye,”
Arry replied, retreating out of Baird’s reach and eyeing the coin greedily.

“I need
you to help us find a decent inn where we can stay the night. And I want to
know where I can buy a pair of horses.”

“They
keep horses in stables outside far side of town. But I dun’t know who the
beasties belong to or ennnithin. I dun bother mis’lf wid’em cos I can’t eat ‘em
an’ I can’t buy ‘em an’ I can’t use ‘em.”

“That is
fine. It is enough to know that there are horses kept there. There are always
men willing to sell their beasts for the right price. Right now, lodging is a
more important need.”

“Ya’ cin
stay at the Cloak & Dagger,” Arry said. “That’s run by Ma’ Primm. It’s a
right place and she won’t ask too many questions. I’ll take ya there,” Arry
said, darting off into the crowd. Baird and Rowan shared a glance before
following the boy towards the heart of the city.

*           *           *

The Cloak & Dagger was
certainly not the most extravagant of places. Rowan took one glance at the
place and cringed. The wide two-story building looked as though it should have
collapsed in on itself long ago. The building had a slight lean to it and there
were a number of cracks in its outer layer. What windows still remained were
dark and dirty, and the whole outside seemed to have collected several layers
of grime. It smelled of urine and vomit and other scents that attacked the
senses.

They had
passed many different buildings on their way here. Rowan had heard music coming
from some while others smelled of food and spices. A few had beautiful girls
standing outside, calling to them as they passed. Any of those would have been
a nice place to stay, but Baird had passed them all by without so much as a
backwards glance, choosing this place instead.