Steel And Flame (Book 1) (3 page)

“Kell told me Colbey has had several harsh arguments
over procedure with him, many times before the other trainees, scout and
Guardian alike.”

Dellor growled, “It is not the place of any Guardian,
especially a
trainee
, to show disrespect toward his overseer!”

Farr responded, “I don’t know if it is disrespect so
much as Colbey’s belief that nothing is beyond his abilities.”  He turned to
Orlan.  “He’s as close to being a dissident as we can allow, but he is not
trying to be a dissident, if that makes sense to you.”

“It does.  Kell’s main concern was the respect the
youngest trainees have come to hold for Colbey.  It’s almost hero worship.  If
they pick up his views and attitudes, it will cause a lot of unnecessary
trouble for the Guardians.”

“Which is why we need to curb his ego,” agreed Farr. 
“He is far too skilled to dismiss.”

Dellor asked, “Do you think he will settle down?  Can
his arrogance be whittled away or will any efforts to do so only make matters
worse?”

Farr frowned in thought.  “We need to try, at least. 
Colbey is exceptionally talented.  He can perform all the Higher Skills we’ve
taught him so far with hardly any effort at all.  He’d be a tremendous asset to
the Guardians.  Especially now, when we are so low in force.”

Dellor grimaced at the mention of this.  “I see.  But
he must put a halter on that temper and soften his attitude.  Myself, I did not
care for that little display a moment ago!”

“He should calm down before resuming his duties.  The
implication that he was unfit to handle the problem was what angered him most,
I believe,” commented Orlan.  “His temper blinds him to the world.  If he can
learn patience, he’ll overcome his greatest obstacle—himself.”

Dellor asked, “Do you have a proposition to accomplish
that?  Headstrong youths are never easy to tame.  Tell me, what will dampen his
raging arrogance and hotheaded temper?”

“A major part of his problem is his belief in the
foolishness, ignorance and stupidity of anyone from outside the forest.  His
only exposure to them are the hunters and explorers who wander into our
territories.”

Farr snapped, “That’s the only exposure nearly
everyone in the village has ever had!”

“True,” replied Orlan.  “But I think exposure to life
outside can help broaden his views.  And with that broadening, he should become
more receptive to the nuances of procedural needs.”

Farr frowned.  “You want to send him out to the fringe
towns?  For what purpose?  Reconnaissance has already been completed for the
year.”

“I wouldn’t trust a report from so biased a source anyway,”
said Dellor.  “What do you have in mind, Orlan?”

“A harmless, but useful duty.  If he feels he is being
sent on a makeshift task to get him out of the way, his anger will only
deepen.  We have our reports on all known magical activities and mages anywhere
near the borderlands of the forest.  We haven’t done a serious survey of
non-magical forces for a dozen years.”

Farr started to reply, then stopped while he
considered.  Dellor needed no extra time to think about it.  “You want him to
form reports on threats represented by bandits and greedy land owners and
fractious neighbors?  Why?  We don’t need yearly reports on them.  They haven’t
posed a respectable threat in generations, despite their numbers!”

Replying thoughtfully, Farr asked, “Does he know that?”

Dellor looked incredulous.  Orlan answered, “No, I do
not think he does.  The histories the trainees learn are flooded with tales of
the early days and the trials our ancestors faced.  Most scout trainees begin
their patrols with visions of defending the village against the raging armies
of old, and the Guardian trainees are even worse!  You are the chief overseer,
Farr.  How many times have you overheard them arguing late into the night about
the battles fought against the Sordel’lei?”

Farr smiled slightly.  “Many times.  It seems to be
the primary pastime of the younger glory seekers.”

“In any event,” Orlan added with a significant look at
Dellor, “we shouldn’t overlook the threat posed by a force of warriors. 
Despite our defenses, events can still go astray.  Just because they haven’t
been a nuisance in generations does not mean they can’t be.  Remember Thomas’
favorite saying?  It is as good advice to us as to the youngsters: assumption
lies at the root of ninety percent of all mistakes.”

Orlan could see Farr had started to adopt his idea, so
focused his attention to Dellor.  The elder councilman still looked skeptical
and said, “That may be the case, but excursions into the lands beyond the
forest can incur unforeseen ramifications.”

“We wouldn’t send him alone.  Not at first.  Adel can
accompany him for the first town or two, to teach him how to blend in, how to
behave in the fringe towns.  Can you spare her?”

“If I rearrange the patrol lineups,” answered Farr. 
“We may have to advance a few trainees to supervised patrol work a little
sooner than is customary.”

Dellor acquiesced and announced, “Then, if the
majority of the council agrees, we will send young Colbey out to form his
reports.”

Orlan agreed.  “We can compare his breakdown of
non-magical forces against past reports to assess his accuracy.”  He turned to
Farr and pointed out, “Make sure he knows this.  It will encourage him to be
thorough, and hopefully teach him patience at the same time.  While he is
taking his time, he will, with luck, become sensitive and receptive to the
lives of those around him in the fringe towns.  It should take him all the
summer to finish the reports, and hopefully he will come to hold a bit more
respect for others.”

Farr nodded and stood.  “I need to find a free
Guardian to deal with Colbey’s rampaging trapper.  On a separate note, have we
decided how to deal with the dryad issue?  That’s what I wanted to ask before
Colbey distracted me.”

“No,” said Dellor.  “I am calling a full council
meeting tomorrow morning to finally put an end to the matter.  We’ll put this
proposal before the table at that time.”

“Good.  It should have been dealt with by now.  Until
tomorrow.”

Farr left the door open, granting Orlan his favorite
view of his home.  The village was almost entirely airborne, built within the
great Euvea branches.  Suspension walkways hung from tree to tree while other
routes along the branches connected trunks in a network of paths.  Low rails
lined the main byways to keep the children from tumbling to the waters far
below.  Spiraling steps wound around several of the massive trees, allowing
access to lower areas or leading further upward into the canopy.

The council chambers overlooked a forest pool situated
under the village; indeed, the village had been located there specifically
because of the pool.  An artesian well kept water constantly flowing from below
ground.  Water covered nearly two miles of the forest’s heart, though its
depths were mostly shallow enough to wade.  Moss grew on roots and rocks under
the surface which colored the water a healthy green.  Four feet deep in most
places, the depth plunged over the well, deeper than most could measure.  The
Euvea grew upward through the water so the forest seemed submerged.

Orlan gazed across the village.  Night lanterns along
the walkways glowed in firefly swarms, their reflections sparkling across the
water so the pool captured a field of false stars within its depths.  He hoped
young Colbey could someday become as calm as the waters below.

Caring for his mother, Lilly, during her illness left
Marik little time for anything else.  Since her failing health forced her to
stay home, Marik needed to provide for them both as best he could.  The income
from her work of dying cloth for Minta, one of Tattersfield’s few merchant
exporters, was lost to them.

The days slowly passed while their lives adjusted to
the new hardship.  When the first medicines they received from the herbman
quickly vanished, Lilly gave Marik a small pouch.  Within he found several
coins and a gold nugget larger than any he had ever heard of.

“Take it to Minta.  She’s the wealthiest exporter in
town and I’ve sold to her before.  She will give you coin for it.”

“Before?  Mother, what’s going on?  Where did you get
this?”

“Rail always left behind his earnings whenever he was
home, Marik.  The last time he was due back, this arrived instead.  The pouch
had four of these and a note from him telling me to use them as we needed.”

“Father sent these?  Why didn’t he come home and bring
them himself?  It’s been five years!”

“I don’t know, Marik.  I haven’t heard from him
since.  Go and sell the last one.  She won’t pay you the full value, because
she’s a merchant.  But you can still get a half-gold for it.”

She dissolved into a coughing spell.  Marik left quick
as he could, the nearly empty medicine pouches spurring him on.  Several
townsfolk glared at him when he dashed past.  He neither cared nor noticed. 
His mind still struggled to accept the pouch’s contents. 
Father, with this
kind of wealth?  How?  And why didn’t he bring it home himself?

Minta kept an office in the warehouse where her dyers
worked and her goods were stored.  During the day, as her laborers toiled, she
could always be found there.

Marik might have met with trouble trying to see her
under normal circumstances.  Fortunately, everyone at the warehouse recognized
him as Lilly’s son.  Minta emerged from the office to offer her sympathies
after the man who acted as a foreman to the dyers and a guard against theft
reported his presence.

She disliked him as much as the other townsfolk.  He
could tell this by her entire bearing, yet she quickly turned businesslike once
he produced the nugget.

“Ah, yes.  I’ve bought a few of these from Lilly
before.  That wandering man of hers left these behind, as I recall.  I’d like
to know where his wanderings brought him to, if this was what he found.”  She
arched an eyebrow in question at Marik.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“It seems she saved the largest one for last.  It’s as
large as my knuckle and, look, it seems almost pure!  No rock mixed in as far
as I can tell.  It’s damned large for a natural gold nugget.  I’d have to guess
it came from an unusually rich vein.  You’re sure you don’t know where your
father was working?”

Marik had no interested in its origins, only in how it
related to his father.  It was clear no one would be able to help him with
that, so he pressed Minta to trade it for hard coin.  In the end she proved
more generous than Lilly had predicted, though Marik knew he possessed no
undiscovered haggling skills.  Tattersfield might think little of the son but
the people his mother worked beside genuinely liked her.

With nearly three-quarters of a gold in silver coins,
he went straight to the herbman’s.  He needed to replenish, and he also meant
to ask about other possible treatments for Lilly.  The first batch of medicines
was gone and his mother appeared none the better for them.

Despite Minta’s generosity, expensive herbs and costly
potions devoured the minor fortune in less than a month.  This left Marik with
no recourse except to seek quick jobs from the townsfolk.  He wanted to forgo
his apprenticeship to give him time for jobs which earned coin, but Lilly
insisted he continue.  Her health failed steadily so he acquiesced, though he
skipped days without telling her when the promise of high pay arose.

Pate knew full well about Marik’s problems, and while
he held his tongue around his apprentice, the master crafter never lost a
chance to degrade Marik to anybody who would listen in the taverns.  He had
never made a secret that he disliked taking on a mercenary’s son.  Since Marik
began failing to show up regularly, and seemed disinterested when he did, he
became Pate’s favorite topic to rant about.

“What can you expect from the get of a cutthroat? 
He’s
never
wanted to do an honest day’s work in all the time I’ve had
him!  Begging for coppers now from whoever’ll listen.  Be thieving wherever he
can next I’ll wager, like his daddy!  You watch your possessions when you know
he’s about, that’s my advice.

“I’ve seen that chunk of gold he was flashing about,
too.  Minta showed it to me when she was commissioning her last safe box to
hide valuables like that during transport.  Big as my thumbnail it was!  I just
ask you where a sword-for-hire could have gotten something like that ‘nless he
stole it!  That’s if he ever got it himself in the first place!  What?  Huh! 
That’s what
she
says, but who knows, eh?  A woman who’d take up with
that kind of man in the first place, well, who knows what she gets up to while
he’s not around to keep her bed warm…”

Tattersfield had never trusted Marik to any degree. 
Now, Pate’s ramblings were making matters worse for him.  Pate held respect in
the town and the people listened to him on a variety of matters.  Marik knew
the woodworker to be the cause behind the increased wariness he experienced
from the people he met but he was at a loss for anything to do about it.

If he confronted Pate, it would turn nasty.  His
temper, which used to be less volatile than the woodcrafter’s, would get the
better of him.  The entire town would likely stand behind Pate, however unjust
it might be.  Marik gritted his teeth, deafened his ears, and spent entire days
wishing as he sweated under hard labor that Rail would finally return home so
all these bastards would be put in their place.

His mother’s condition worsened as the summer
progressed.  The herbman gave them various medicines, none of which made any
improvement.  Marik barely made enough to buy new stocks when the pouches
emptied.  In the dark candlemarks of the night he wondered if the coins were
being thrown away.  Such thoughts sickened him.  He met with the herbman
several times to receive different medicines.  All proved as ineffective as the
previous ones.

A few coppers could usually be earned helping caravans
unload their cargoes and helping tend their horses.  He took to asking if any
members were learned in medicines.  When he discovered one, he would explain
his mother’s situation.  Most were indifferent to his problems, but others were
willing to listen for a few moments.  The ones who gave him advice usually told
him to try the same medicines he had been using already.  Few ever offered new
suggestions.  Unfortunately, the new medicines they did recommend were hardly
cheap or easily found in the regions around Tattersfield.

Further inquiries among the caravans led him to obtain
small quantities of exotic cures.  Yet despite his best efforts, Lilly’s health
continued to falter.  His frustrations mounted as the long days drew on without
improvement.

Marik chose to work off his anger with old equipment
left behind by his father.  The blade remained in fairly good shape.  Not
wanting to carry heavy spare equipment around, Rail had left it at home.  He
had dutifully cared for the equipment during his time spent with his family in
Marik’s childhood.  Rail would indulge Marik’s need to seem useful to a man he
only saw a few times a year by letting him help clean a piece of mail or scrub
grime off road-worn leather.  Marik’s success at the detailed work needed by so
many various pieces of equipment had been limited.  Even so, the two enjoyed
the time spent together.

Eventually, following the natural course of boys
growing into young men, Marik asked his father to teach him how to use the
sword he always carried.  Rail had been willing but pointed out his son’s
inability to hold the heavy sword for more than a few moments.  He promised to
teach Marik when he grew bigger.

The lessons from his father were as scattered as
Rail’s infrequent visits home.  Marik had seared each into his mind.  They were
precious moments spent with his father so he would never allow the memories to
fade.  He relied on them now to keep him from flying into a furious rage.  With
the old sword that had seen better days, he worked up a different sweat in the
evenings behind the cottage.  It was almost as if he could feel the impotent
fury at his helplessness leaching from his soul with every sweaty drop
squeezing through his skin.

Tonight he had chosen to work on endurance rather than
practicing form or specific movements because he thought it would tire him the
most.  After raising the sword with both hands above his head, he slashed down
hard, forcing the blade to stop mere inches from striking the earth.  Once he
had held it there a moment, he raised the sword again to repeat the motion.  It
developed the muscles in his arms while giving his entire body a workout as
well, since he forced himself to stand arrow-straight throughout the exercise.

Imagining Allen’s head at the bottom of the sword arc
helped his practice immensely.  Pate’s son usually refrained from displaying
hostility openly toward Marik, instead leading his circle of friends to scorn
him.  The other boys enjoyed hurling insults in his direction when their paths
crossed.  Lately they had been throwing more substantial objects than words and
he now walked out of his way to avoid them.  Bruises across his body were
evidence of several small stones and a heavy old boot.

The sun had half disappeared behind the horizon.  Its
final warm light made the sweat dew sparkle where it dripped from his brow. 
Working off his frustrations helped but did not solve the greater problems
underlying them.  He could do nothing that would change the town’s views
concerning him.  Pate had never seriously trained him in wood crafting and
intended to leave the entire shop to his son.

Marik hardly cared; he had never seen a place for
himself there anyway.  The real problem lay in that he was unable to find any
place in the town he could see himself occupying in the future.

The solution to that seemed clear enough, though the
execution would be problematic.  If his place was not in this town, it lay
elsewhere.  Except his mother had fallen ill and he could never leave her.  He
could not have left even if she were well, but especially not when she needed
him so badly.  Also, the roads might be safe enough for caravans, yet traveling
alone would be hazardous, especially without a clear idea where he wanted to
go.

If only his father were home, then he would know his
path clearly.  He would leave with Rail and learn all the best practices of a
talented swordsman…

His mother’s voice drifted from the cottage.  He
replaced the blade in its worn sheath and pushed the frustrated thoughts from
his mind, entering the cottage to see how he could help her.

*        *        *        *        *

“Here he comes!”

“Then get down here.”

“He still alone?”

“Ya.  Don’t got a mule or nothin’.”

“Huh?  Hey, why’re you so hot about a lootless
wanderer?”

“Shut up, you.  He’s walking, but he’s loaded!  Get
his pack an’ we’re set for seasons!”

“Yeah?  Well then—”

“Both of you shut it!  Now you two get over there in
the trees.  We got this side.  Wait till he reaches that shadow there.”

“Fine.  Then we got to get a bottle.  I’m dry as
dust.”

“Go on.  He’s almost here.”

*        *        *        *        *

This,
thought Colbey,
is exactly what I hate about the outlands.

He did not give the four ruffians a last glance where
he left them crumpled in the road, each bleeding heavily, if not fatally.  If
they had sense enough to clean the dust from the gashes after they crawled
away, then the long recovery might bless them with enough wit to comprehend
their folly.  Colbey recognized one from the town he had left moments earlier
yet never considered going back to report to the local guards.  It was none of
his concern.

What
was
his concern was getting through this
cursed punishment so he could tell the council members exactly what he thought
of them.  Colbey knew why they had sent him out here, and it had nothing to do
with the supposed threat represented by military forces outside the forest. 
‘This is what happens when you talk back to us’, that was the message.  He
supposed ‘shape up or suffer’ might be another.

It surprised him how much he missed the Rovasii’s
depths.  He had experienced no joy at all during this exile and still wondered
at Adel’s enthusiasm when she had learned of an extra trip to these filthy
hovels this year.  Her buoyant attitude had served only to annoy Colbey further
the longer he’d been forced to endure it.  When she left him on his own after
the second town it had been a relief.