The Apprentice
Authors: Alexander C. Hoffman
A KNIGHT’S JOURNEY
The Apprentice
A KNIGHT’S JOURNEY
Book
1: The
Apprentice
Alexander Christian Hoffman
Copyright © 2014 Alexander C. Hoffman
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 1503184242
ISBN-13: 978-1503184244
DEDICATIONS
To Carissa, who was my reader, editor, critic,
publicist, agent, and more. You pushed me to finish when even I was ready to
give up. Without you, this story would never have ended.
To my mother and father, brother and sisters, and all
of my family and friends who always supported me.
And to all of the writers who inspired me to create a
world of my very own. I always have and always will enjoy reading above all
else. However, without your fantastic stories, I would have finished my work
much sooner.
CONTENTS
This story has been my
greatest and most daunting project, and I could never have finished without the
help of many amazing people. I would like to thank my editor, Mia Darien, who
saw this novel in a much rougher form and helped me make it better. I would
also like to thank Alicia Froelicher, who created the cover art for this book.
And of course, I would like to thank my friends and family and everyone else
who helped me out. I am grateful to all of you.
Writing this novel was a great
undertaking, and it has grown beyond what I ever could have conceived when I
first put my pen to paper. I have revised and rewritten this book so many times
that it is difficult to remember that it all began as little more than an
unfinished short story that I wrote at some point in high school. In fact, it
wasn’t until I finished the first draft of the novel many years later that I
stopped referring to it as the Knight Short Story, because by that point it
could no longer be called short.
When I first wrote this as a short story, I told
the tale of a boy (Rowan did not even have his name yet) living on a farm and
wishing that he could leave his home to find adventure. Baird arrived and
offered to take the young boy with him when he left. That was it—end of story.
There was obviously more to be told, but at that
point in time I was satisfied with an open ending. Rowan would leave with Baird
and have the kind of adventures that all fantasy heroes do. I knew that he
would travel to the capitol and learn to become a knight, but those were merely
vague ideas. I left the story as it was, a mere nine pages, and worked on other
projects. I would like to say that the story always sat in the back of my mind,
begging to be finished. But that isn’t how it happened. There were lots of
unfinished stories that I had, some partially written out and others nothing
more than ideas waiting to be used. This story was just one of many that I set
aside with the hopes of revisiting.
But one day, I finished drafting my first novel.
When I set it aside, I found that I was in need of a new project. Something
big. Something fun. I was studying creative writing at CSULB by this point, and
having just finished one novel, I was eager to start another. And so the story
of Rowan began again.
I spent a long time writing and developing the
world of Eos. Creating my world was both daunting and exciting. There was so
much freedom, and I worked from the ground up to create a rich world that is
full of strange and interesting lands. I will admit that I struggled greatly
with the decision of whether or not to include magic, one of the defining
elements of fantasy. I certainly considered the idea, but I decided that I
wanted the magic in this series to be in the lands and the creatures. That is
not to say that magic does not exist, only that it is not present. There is
still so much of the world that is left to see, but the story is not over yet,
and I promise that the coming books will show you more.
Chapter 1
Rowan’s morning began as many had
before. He awoke early, well before the break of daylight, and dressed himself
warmly against the cold. He started his morning chores: gathering eggs, giving
the animals feed, and walking the lands that he had helped his father and his
brother to farm for almost seventeen winters.
The air
was thick with moisture. Looking up at the dark sky, Rowan could tell that a
storm was brewing. A cold wind blew, rustling his brown hair and causing the
trees to bow and bend. His father had been expecting this storm for some time,
telling both Rowan and Petar that it would arrive within the week. They would
need to work quickly so nothing would be lost to nature. The trees that
surrounded them would keep the worst of any storm away, but the open land on
which they planted was less sheltered.
Rowan
shivered and hurried back to the house where it would be warmer. Petar stood by
the hearth warming himself, his hands pressed close to the small flames. Their
father Brennon, meanwhile, was preparing breakfast.
“Do we
have any eggs today?”
“Four,”
Rowan replied, holding out his hands to show off the eggs. The number always
varied, and with autumn fast approaching they were getting fewer and fewer each
day.
“That is
good. We will eat well this morning.”
Rowan
joined his brother by the fire and set about cooking the gathered eggs in a
small pan. The three of them broke their fast together in silence, each one
occupied with their own thoughts. It had been a long time since any other had
joined their table, so theirs was a silence of familiarity. It was comfortable.
For his
part, Rowan ate while wishing he was elsewhere, somewhere beyond the confines
of his home. They lived a distance from the village of Corrinth, and that had
been the boundary of his world for all of his years. But he wanted more, to go
further than he had before and see the outside world.
His one
escape was in his books. He had a few texts and scrolls, most of them old and
passed down through the family. In each of them were hand drawn illustrations,
pictures of a world that he had never known and things that he had never seen,
and likely never would. He had spent countless hours learning to understand the
symbols and markings within the books. He could not read them very fast and he
did not always understand all of the words, but he could understand what the
pages were saying and what the pictures showed him.
“We will
have to work hard today,” Brennon said, breaking the silence. “I plan on going
to the village tomorrow, so we must do two days worth of work today.”
Rowan
and Petar groaned. If their father was gone on the morrow, they would have a
day to be free and relax as they pleased. But it also meant that the day facing
them had just become that much harder.
“Why are
you heading into town?” Rowan asked. It was not often that their father left,
and with a storm looming it did not seem to be a good time to travel.
“Summer
is coming to an end and autumn is almost upon us, which means that people will
be looking to trade before the final harvests are done. It also means that we
will be seeing fewer traders because the cold months are coming and will make
travelling difficult and unpleasant. In the Vale we do not see the heavy snows
of the South, for that is where the winter truly reigns when it comes. But in
the span of a few months, when autumn has come, the land will frost and give us
a hint of the winter soon to follow. There will be no trade or travel then, so
I mean to check for word of traders now.”
“Corrinth
does not often see travelers,” Petar said. “Do you really expect to see any?”
“No. The
last trading caravan we saw was almost a year gone by and the summer season is
coming to an end, but one should never make assumptions. Besides, it will be
good to see what people are looking to trade for and it will provide me with an
opportunity to find some tools and perhaps some oil and furs.”
“That
will be nice,” said Rowan.
“While
you are out, will you try to find a new knife and some spices?” Petar asked.
“Our food knife is beginning to rust and we could use something to make our
food taste better.”
“The
food is fine,” their father said, though the look on his face betrayed him. “If
you want these things then you may look for them yourself. The both of you will
be coming with me in case I need any help.”
“Why
would you need
us
?” Rowan asked. He couldn’t imagine his
father buying anything that would require three people to carry. In fact, he
couldn’t think of anything his father would do in town that would require the
help of both him and Petar.
“I
probably won’t,” Brennon admitted. “But I would welcome some company and it is
better to err on the side of caution when necessary. There is a storm brewing.
If it happens to come in tomorrow, I will need both of you to assist me.”
Rowan
groaned, knowing there
was
no
way out of this. Any
plans he had for resting tomorrow were ruined.
“Must I
come along with you? Shouldn’t one of us stay to tend to the house?” Rowan pleaded,
hoping that the answer might be favorable. But it wasn’t.
“It’ll
be good for you to get out of the house and come with me. Consider it an
opportunity to learn about trading. Besides, you are always complaining about
how you want to leave and see new places. Perhaps this will help to rid you of
those notions.”
Rowan
sighed and kept his silence, accepting the inevitable. His father was a
stubborn man, and he did not want another argument. They had been having many
arguments of late, most of them focused on Rowan’s wish to leave Corrinth and
the Vale behind him. Brennon thought that Rowan’s desire to travel could be
satiated by the occasional trip into the village. He did not understand.
“We’ll
be leaving early in the morning, well before the rising of the sun,” Brennon
said, leaving the table to wash his empty plate. “I expect you both to be up
and ready before that. That includes feeding the animals and completing the
morning chores.”
* * *
The morning air was cold and laden
with mists, making it difficult for Rowan to see very far ahead as his father
guided the cart along the path. It was early and his eyes were heavy with
sleep; he struggled to remain fully awake and alert.
His
sleep the previous night had been fitful. His dreams were troubled and confused,
leaving him tossing and turning. More than once he awoke covered in sweat and
breathing heavily. The dreams which troubled him were vague and quickly
forgotten upon waking. Trying to remember them was like clutching at wisps of
smoke. The memories were hazy and elusive, fading away quickly and leaving
barely a trace. Only images and feelings remained with him.
By the
early morning hours, Rowan had accepted that sleep would not take him. After
rising and clothing himself, he had set about his morning chores, finishing
them quickly so he would not have to remain out in the cold. Once done, he
returned to his room, lit a candle wick, and pulled out one of his books. He
flipped through the pages, absently glancing at them while his mind wandered.
He stared at the pictures of lands unseen and thought of his dreams. In his
dreams, he had not been stuck in Corrinth; he had felt a sense of freedom and
adventure.
Before
long, his father and brother rose too. Brennon prepared food for the three of
them to eat as they travelled as Petar left to do his own chores. After, Rowan
had helped his brother prepare the cart and hitch their single old horse to it
before they all left.
Now,
Rowan watched the road ahead, observing the scenery as they rode along. His
father wanted him to keep watch for any obstructions blocking the road that
might be hidden by the thick blanket of fog. They had already encountered
several obstacles: a fallen tree, a small landslide covering the path, a large
animal stubbornly camped in the middle of the road. But Rowan still saw the job
as a largely pointless one.
The fog
was indeed thick and it obscured their vision, but he knew that his father was
not relying on him. This, combined with Brennon’s silence, made it hard for
Rowan to concentrate enough to remain fully awake. He was tired and bored and
unlike his brother, he was not overly excited about going into the village. It
was a nice break from the monotony of their daily life on the farm, but the
village offered him no true escape. It was just another small place. Rowan knew
that if he were to live there, he would quickly grow as restless as he was back
home.
His
brother Petar was not of the same mind. He sympathized with Rowan, but in his
heart, the farm and the village were his place. Petar had always been at home
in Corrinth, and he wanted for nothing that he could not find there or at the
farm.
After a
while, the sun began to rise and the mists began to dissipate, providing an
unimpeded view of the path before them. It wasn’t long before the oppressive
growth of the forest began to thin and Rowan found himself looking down on the
village far below as the road descended into the valley.
Corrinth
lay nestled deep within the Vale, a great series of valleys large and small,
all nestled among the mountains of the North. The hills sloped up on either
side of the village, gently at first, almost flat, but gradually becoming
steeper. Far to his right the valley curved away as it wound through the hills.
Somewhere far off in the distance the valley opened up and the mountains that
formed it gave way to an expanse of rolling hills. That was where the Vale
ended.
Rowan
had heard it told that the land beyond grew flat and lacked trees, with only
tall grass and mountains far in the distance, but he would not believe such
tales until he could see the proof with his own eyes. He knew of flatlands, but
he could not imagine any stretch of land where there were no trees at all.
From up
high, he could see where the growth of the trees had been thinned and eventually
gave way to the sprawling settlement. Corrinth was a sizeable community, and he
recognized many of the shabby buildings that were spread out below. To the left
of the town, at the edge of the valley, he gazed upon the vast waterfall which
fed the river running through town. A section of it was fed by a stream near
the farm.
“It is a
beautiful view,” Brennon said. “It is a shame that we missed the sun breaking
over the valley. I have always loved seeing the sun rise.”
His
father steered the horse around the bend as they began down the winding path
into town. Very few people travelled this path, even fewer travelled it this
far. Their farm was quite isolated and the path was more of an old game trail
than an actual road.
As the
cart turned and proceeded forward, the tree line slowly rose and obscured his
view.
“Keep a
sharp eye out for any obstructions or places where the path might give way.”
The boys
nodded. This was a dangerous area for their cart. They were going downhill and
had to make sure that it didn’t roll out of control or run into a weak section
of the path.
After a
while, Rowan’s father hopped out of the cart in order to lead the horse by
hand. Rowan and Petar joined him. Soon the slope began to even out and the path
widened back into a road as Rowan, Petar, and Brennon reached the bottom of the
valley. Before long they had left the forest and entered the village. Rowan and
Petar tied up the horse and unhitched the cart, hauling it somewhere safe
nearby.
Buildings
made of wood and dirt surrounded them as Brennon led the way through the
village. Rowan had been here on occasion, but Brennon did so more often and he
knew where he was heading. Petar knew the village as well; better, perhaps,
than his father did. Rowan knew that Petar was sweet on a girl and visited the
village more often than he let on, which was another reason he was excited to
have come along. The three of them walked together, Brennon leading the way,
Petar glancing around and looking for a familiar face, and Rowan following along
behind.
There
weren’t many people out yet because it was still early, but as they neared the
village square they began to see people and hear the sounds of life.
“We’re
going to talk to one of the men that I trade with often,” Brennon said. “I want
the two of you to be a part of this conversation so that you will understand
how things work. One day you’ll be doing this for yourself.” Brennon looked
pointedly at both of them. He was fond of finding ways to give them practical
experience. He had made certain that from a young age they both had learned
several crafts for the sake of knowledge and experience.
Rowan’s
response was not as enthusiastic as Petar’s, but Brennon made no comment.
“Good,”
Brennon said. “And once we’re done here, you can go off on your own while I
trade around and find some things that we need.”
Hearing
this made Rowan perk up a bit. He could go and find something to occupy his
time. Perhaps he could find something to do with Petar.
“Horus!”
Brennon called as they approached a stall with a large man sitting in front of
it. Rowan could only assume that this was Horus, the man his father was looking
for.
