The Apprentice (2 page)

Upon
hearing his name, the large man pushed himself up and out of his seat to greet
whoever had come to see him. When Horus caught sight of Rowan’s father and the
two boys, a smile broke out across his face and he returned the greeting.

“Halloo.
I haven’t seen you around town for a while, Brennon. Are these your sons?”

“Yes.
This is Petar, my firstborn, and this is Rowan, my second.”

“Hello,”
Rowan said, echoing Petar’s greeting. He gave a slight bow to Horus in order to
customarily show his respect for the elder man.

“It’s
good to meet Brennon’s sons.” Horus said, emphasizing the plural. “I didn’t
know that you had
two
boys. Is there anything else you’re keeping from
me?”

“Nothing
of importance,” Brennon said. “But Horus, there is a reason I came. Has there
been any word of traders? I have extra crops from the late harvest and I am
looking to sell.”

“Ah yes!
I s’pose it is not quite the end of the season yet, and there is still time for
traders to visit. But I would not wait on them. I do not think it likely that
they will come. A traveler visited recently and when we asked, he made no
mention of trading caravans or other travelers.”

“I
expected as much,” Brennon said. “But I wanted to be sure. Some outside trading
would have been nice, and I am sure the village would welcome news of the
country at large.”

“Of
course, of course,” the large man agreed. “It has been so long since we have
had any real news at all that we would welcome the chance to hear what has been
happening outside of our isolated section of the country.”

“Since
there won’t be any traders coming to town, can you tell me who would be looking
to trade?” Rowan’s father asked.

“Yes,
yes…Of course,” Horus said. “Myself, for one. Let me think for a moment…I know
Ol’ Hester and summa her family was paying a decent price for ‘taters and
greens. And it might be that there are a few others who would welcome some
extra crops. What do you have?”

Brennon
listed off some of what they had harvested. Horus scratched his head and gazed
off into the distance as he thought. The big man began listing off some crops
and prices, to which Rowan’s father listened intently, nodding every so often
as he took in the information.

Rowan
tried to listen but he was soon bored and began to tune the large man out. His
brother was able to pay attention, but Petar had a more vested interest in the
topic. When they were finished, Brennon gave Horus a coin and thanked him for
his help.

“So what
do we do now?” Rowan asked.

“I still
have business in town. I need to go and find some tools and things that need to
be bought, which might take a while. Why don’t the two of you go off and occupy
yourselves. Petar, I know you wanted to purchase some things and Rowan, you
have been begging for an opportunity to leave the farm, so use this as a
reprieve.”

Rowan
nodded in agreement, though he had not failed to notice his father’s remark.

“We will
meet back at the cart when the sun begins to fall.”

Chapter 2
                           
 

Their day in the village went well
enough. After they left Brennon, Rowan and Petar walked around and enjoyed
themselves, but Petar quickly abandoned Rowan to go off in search of his girl.
Rowan could not begrudge his brother, though. Alone, he spent the day wandering
aimlessly through the streets.

The day
eventually came to an end and they all left the village, loading several new
tools and other items into the cart. Their return took much longer than it had
that morning, and Rowan spent much of the journey teasing his brother. Their
father chastised them for being foolish, but there was no true annoyance in his
tone.

Once
back, Rowan and Petar unloaded the cart while their father checked on the
animals. When all was done, they supped together and ended their day.

The next
morning brought with it a cold wind and a feud.

Rowan
awoke and had breakfast with his brother and father after his morning chores.
Everything was fine until an offhand comment from his father.

“Yesterday
was a nice reprieve, but we should not get used to such luxuries.” He looked
pointedly at Rowan. “I will need the both of you to help me run this farm, and
to one day keep running it when I grow too old.”

“What
are you saying, Father?” Rowan asked.

“I am
saying that this trip ought to have gotten all this nonsense of travelling and
leaving this farm behind. We have taken a day off, a much needed day I grant
you, but you will be remaining here with your brother and myself.”

Rowan
couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What do
you mean? Do you think that going into the village is the same as travelling
out and being on my own?”

“Rowan,
you allow yourself to enjoy notions of fantasy and grandeur. You wish to be
elsewhere, to live a different life. That is understandable, but you are needed
here. Your yearning will pass.”

After
that, Rowan had gone outside. He thought of his chores, but he was not in the
mood to do farm work. He just couldn’t.

*           *           *

It was not until late evening, when
the sun was close to the horizon, that Rowan arrived back within sight of home.
His father would not be happy with him. He had been gone for a long time and
his absence meant that less work had been accomplished during the day.

The
evening air was uncommonly cool and damp, and the winds were beginning to howl
as Rowan trudged towards the house. As he approached, someone shouted at him.

“Hey,
Rowan, where were you this time?”

Rowan
looked up just in time to see Petar running towards him. His brother barreled
into him and they both fell to the ground. They rolled over several times as
they wrestled, coming to a stop with Petar pinning Rowan down.

Petar
laughed as Rowan struggled to free himself. Eventually, Rowan managed to throw
his brother off and get up. The two of them were covered with dirt and grass.

“So,
where were you? I was worried that I’d have to go out and find you if you
didn’t come back soon.” Petar looked at Rowan, trying to elicit a response.

“I
needed to be alone for a while.” Rowan tried to hide the pain and sadness in
his voice. It was only there for a moment before he controlled it, but Petar
had caught it. They knew each other too well.

“You
both needed a chance to calm down. I did my best to do most of your chores, but
the tools still need to be cleaned and put away.”

“Alright.”
Rowan moved towards the back of the house where the tool shed was.

“You’re
going to owe me for this,” Petar called after him. “I didn’t tell Brennon that
I covered most of your work.”

Rowan
silently thanked his brother. He heard the front door open and then slam shut
as Petar went back inside, leaving him alone again.

The
farming tools and everything else that had been used were piled up outside the
storage shed. Rowan opened the shed, pulled out a rag and then fetched a pail
of water so he could begin washing the bladed instruments.

Rowan
did his work by candlelight, and was glad when he finished. The moon were
hidden behind a black cloud that left the night cold and shrouded in darkness.
A fine mist hung in the air, blown about by the wind as it began to get stronger.

Rowan
hurried inside with his candle, using his hand to protect the flickering flame.
Inside, he found Petar and Brennon eating at the table. A fire was burning in
the hearth, spreading warmth throughout the room. They both looked up when he
entered.

“I put
the tools away,” Rowan said simply. The door slammed shut behind him.

“And the
rest of the chores?”

Rowan
shot a glance at Petar. “They’re finished.”

“Good.”

Rowan
waited for his father to say something more, but it seemed that nothing else
was going to be said. Brennon had returned to his meal, and Rowan felt that he
had been given silent permission to join them. Setting the candle down on the
table, Rowan took a plate and served himself a cut of meat with some bread and
an apple.

Dinner
was an awkward scene for Rowan. Not a word was spoken about their earlier
argument. He did not want to be the one to bring it up, because he didn’t know
what to say. So it hung in the air, a problem to be ignored.

He
finished eating quickly, grabbed the candle and went to his room, where he
closed himself off from the others. Rowan used his flame to light several
larger candles spread throughout the room. Once he felt there was enough light,
Rowan placed the flame on his desk and pulled a blanket around himself. Cold
permeated through the walls, and outside the weather was beginning to turn bad.
The wind was now howling and rain fell much harder than it had earlier. He
pulled his legs close to his body for warmth.

In a
little under a year, he could leave this place and go somewhere else. He loved
his father and his brother, and he would miss them deeply, but he had to leave.
Life in the Vale was suffocating him.

He had
pondered how to go about leaving, for it would require a sum of money that he
did not have. He had yet to figure that out. He also had no idea where he would
go. But living within the valley, he felt confined.

Knock!

The
knocking came from the front of the house. It shook Rowan from his thoughts.
Who
could be all the way out here at this time?
It was almost an hour’s walk to
the nearest house and the town was even farther. No one would travel that
distance in weather like this.

Rowan
opened his door to see Brennon speaking with someone that he had never seen
before.

The
stranger was tall and well built. His black hair was like that of a raven’s and
hung tied back in a ponytail. He carried a traveling pack on his back and at
his hip was a long, ornate sheath encasing the blade of a sword. The sheath had
the word
Sidia
inscribed vertically in ornate golden runes. Rowan looked
from the blade back to the man. His posture was relaxed and yet his gaze seemed
to travel around, alert, taking in every detail of his surroundings.

Brennon
finished conversing and then came over to Rowan.

“The man
claims that he is in need of shelter from the storm, and bandages for some
wounds that he has taken.” Brennon glanced back towards the man now standing
just inside the doorway, his gaze focused on the sword. “He has given the name
Baird, and he is willing to compensate us for our trouble. I told him that he
may stay in your room, so I need you to set a place for him to sleep.”

Rowan
nodded. He was not happy about sharing his room with a stranger, but the man
was willing to pay. They could use the money to buy tools and supplies, rather
than having to trade for them.

The
conversation over, his father turned away to stoke the fire so that the man
could warm himself and dry his cloak, which looked to be soaked through. Rowan
left to gather some straw for a mattress and blankets to use as sheets. There
was not much, and what they did have was not of the best quality, but it would
serve well enough. The stranger’s cloak hung by the fire when he returned but
the stranger was nowhere to be seen. Rowan went to his room intending to make
up the man’s bed, and when he opened the door he found the man inside and
reading one of his books.

“What
are you doing?” Rowan dropped what he was carrying and grabbed the book. It was
a tattered hand-bound thing, one where he had scribbled in notes and thoughts
throughout the margins. “You should ask before taking things that don’t belong
to you.”

He
returned the book to its proper place before going back to pick up the bandages
and extra bedding. He set the blankets on top of the make-shift straw mattress
and walked over to his own bed.

“You
write well for one of your age. I am curious, who taught you?” The man's gaze
focused intently on Rowan.

“No one
taught me. I learned on my own.”

“That is
quite an accomplishment. I required several years of hard tutelage before I was
able to read and write such things.” The stranger gathered the bandages that
Rowan had brought. He rolled up his shirt, where he had dirty bandages wrapped
around his waist. He worked quickly to unwrap the soiled bandages and cover a deep
gash in his side with the new, clean ones. Rowan wondered at the wound, which
seemed too straight and deep for any branch or animal to have caused, but he
raised no question.

“I
cannot read all of it, only some. Besides, it does me little good,” Rowan said,
gazing absently at the runes on the man’s sheath. The stranger followed his
gaze.

“That is
Sidia
. I received it as a gift from my friend on the day I rose to
knighthood, a man who is something of an artist at making blades. He lives in
the capitol.”

“Where
is that?” Rowan asked. He had never been outside the valley. The farthest he
had gone was just past the town.

“You do
not know of Estoria? Have you never travelled?”

“No.
This is my home and there has never been any reason to go farther than
Corrinth. Traders come and they tell stories of the lands beyond the Vale,
though.”

“But you
wish to be able to leave?” the stranger inquired.

There
was a moment of silence before Rowan answered.

“Yes.”

Why was
he speaking of such things with a stranger? He had only just met this man, and
yet he had already told him of his deepest desire. Rowan felt good saying it,
though. He could not talk with his father, and Petar planned on following in
their father’s stead. His brother had a life planned here in Corrinth. He listened
when Rowan needed to talk, and even sympathized, but he did not understand.

Rowan
lay back and closed his eyes, resolving that he would leave his home when he
woke the next day. As the knight was leaving, Rowan would follow and travel
with him.

Outside,
the wind howled and a light shower was falling. He listened to the sound of the
rain. The storm had come.