The Apprentice (46 page)

His
master fell. He stood and was beaten down again. He rose.

Three of
the four men fighting him had been slain, but more had taken their place. There
were shouts in the distance. Rowan heard Gannon’s voice. “Kill him. Bring him
down!”

There
were footsteps above and suddenly Baird was pierced by an arrow. Two more
followed. Baird staggered and in the moment before he fell, Rowan saw his
master looking to the gate, staring at him with eyes that were beginning to
glaze.

Gannon’s
voice filled Rowan with rage. “The boy! Where is the boy, the apprentice? He
must be taken.” By then Rowan could hear and see guards approaching the spot
where he stood, rooted in place beyond the wall, waiting for them. He readied
himself, waiting, wanting nothing more than for the gate in front of him to
open and let him in.

Let
them come
, Rowan
thought to himself.

But
someone else reached him first.

Chapter 47
                     
 

A hand grabbed Rowan from behind
and yanked him back into the darkness.

Rowan
struggled, seeking to free himself. He tried to swing his blade around behind
him, but whoever held him caught his arm and twisted so that Rowan dropped the
blade.

“Stop
struggling and be quiet.”

Rowan
recognized the voice of Jared the blacksmith. Once he relaxed and stopped
resisting, the blacksmith released his grip.

“We must
leave now.” Jared’s voice was full of urgency. Behind them, Rowan could hear
shouting and the sound of the gate being opened.

“I don’t
want to go.”

Rowan
felt something pulling at him and he realized that it was Jared. The blacksmith
held Baird’s short-sword in one hand and was pulling Rowan along behind him
with the other. Rowan did not struggle.

He
eventually found himself being led into Jared’s workshop, though he did not
remember much of how he got there. He was finding it hard to concentrate on
anything at all. Their escape was a hazy memory filled with running and
shouting and hiding.

Jared
led him to a workbench and sat him down.

“Brynden!
Tucker!” At Jared’s call, two boys came. They stared wide eyed at Rowan but
said nothing.

“Stay
here with him. If anyone comes calling, you have not seen anyone and I am busy
and not to be disturbed.” Both boys nodded. “Good. I will be back shortly.
Tucker, while I am gone, I need you to sharpen this blade.” Jared handed
Baird’s short-sword to the younger of the two boys and hurried out the door,
grabbing a different blade from a rack as he left.

The
younger boy took Baird’s short-sword over to a work bench, pulled out a
whetstone, and set about sharpening the blade which Rowan had ruined. The older
boy did not say a word, nor did he approach Rowan. Instead, he moved towards
the front entrance and kept watch on the street.

Every so
often, Rowan would catch one of the boys looking at him, but they would never
hold his gaze, almost as though they were afraid of him. He didn’t mind. His
mind was shutting down and he could feel himself losing touch with reality. It
felt as though he was in a haze, as though he was dreaming and he had only to
open his eyes and awaken and he would find himself in his bed back at the
barracks.

Jared
did not return for some time. When he did come back, he was sweating and out of
breath, as though he had run a long distance. Rowan noted that the blade in
Jared’s hand was wet with blood, but he said nothing.

“You
must leave the city, tonight,” the smith said. “There are guards in the streets
and the people are in a panic. No one knows what has happened.”

No question
was asked, yet Jared stared at Rowan waiting for an answer. Rowan had none. He
had nothing to say because somehow, in some way, he knew that speaking it aloud
would make it real. He wouldn’t be able to escape the reality of what had
happened any longer.

When no
answer came from Rowan, Jared turned to his two apprentices.

“I want
both of you out. Tucker, go and gather some supplies—food, water, a cloak—and
bring them to me. Brynden, if any of the other boys are out tonight, go find
them and bring them back here. This is not a night for them to be out fooling
around.”

Once
they were alone, the smith returned his attention to Rowan.

“I need
you to tell me what has happened. The guards are looking for you and there are
whispers of a coup, of betrayal. What has happened? Where is Baird?”

Rowan’s
silence told more than he ever could have said in words.

“Does
the royal family live?”

Tears
blurred his eyes now. He could picture the bodies—her body—and he choked. He
had failed, and his failure had been great. He turned away from the smith,
unable to face his shame.

“How
could this have happened? What will we do now?” Jared voiced his questions
aloud, questions that Rowan was thinking as well. There was no easy answer, if
there was one at all.

“I
cannot keep you here. You are being sought by the guards, and you are not safe.
It will be best if you leave now—tonight—while the city is still in chaos and
all eyes are focused elsewhere.”

“I will
leave. I will go and…” Rowan didn’t know what would come after his departure,
but he could see now that he had to go. He had to leave Estoria behind him, to
turn his back and never have to face it again.

Jared
paid Rowan little mind. Tucker had returned with supplies and a cloak, which
the boy set on the ground before leaving. Jared picked up the cloak and tossed
it to Rowan.

“Here,
put this one on. That one is far too tattered and bloody.”

It
wasn’t until Jared mentioned it that Rowan became aware of his appearance. His
clothing was ragged. The blood from his wounds had begun to dry and caked his
clothes and skin alike.

“May I
take a moment to wash?”

Jared
waved him towards a pot in the corner of the room.

Rowan
found the pot full of water. He stripped as much as he could while keeping
decent and soaked himself. The water was icy cold and dirtied, but he continued
washing despite the chill. He wiped his wounds and scraped the dried blood—much
of which was not his own—off his skin with his fingernails. His back was the
worst. He was unable to reach the wounds to clean them, and it pained him when
he tried to use a rag to wipe away the dirt and the blood. He did his best and
then left it alone.

There
was not much that he could do for his clothing without soaking the garments,
and he preferred bloody clothing to being cold and wet all night. He would wash
them later. His tunic, however, had been shredded on the back and was too
damaged for him to continue wearing. This he soaked and tore into strips to
bind his wounds.

“Doing
that will lead to infection. Here, use these.” Jared tossed Rowan some clean
rags and a roll of bandages. Rowan wrapped his back and his waist and he used
one of the rags to soak and press against his swollen eye. He pulled his
clothes back on and wrapped the cloak around him.

“I need
to go to the barracks. I need my blade, and I must tell my friends that I live
and that I am leaving.”

Jared
turned from his workbench.

“Are you
a fool?”

“No.
But—”

“Think
through your actions. You would be a fool to return to the barracks. It is the
first place you are expected to be found, and there will be guards there
waiting for you.”

“I could
sneak past them. Or fight them. I am not afraid.”

“There
is fear and there is foolishness. I would have expected Baird’s apprentice to
understand the difference. Going to the barracks for a piece of steel is beyond
stupid. Your Tenro was a fine blade, but you will make do without it.”

“What of
my friends?” Rowan protested.

“You
must leave them. Telling them anything, even showing yourself to them, will
only put them in danger. As of right now, you are a wanted fugitive.”

It began
to dawn on Rowan just what faced him.

“Come
with me,” Jared said, grabbing a scroll and the blade from his workbench and
walking outside. Rowan was left with no choice but to follow him, so he grabbed
the supplies that the apprentice had brought and walked out.

Jared
waited for him in the alley between his building and the next. Beside him stood
a horse, already saddled and ready to ride. For a moment, Rowan thought that it
was Chourl. The horse looked very much like Rowan’s own mount, but it wasn’t.

“This
horse is going to be yours now. The stable guard objected to my taking it, but
that debate has been settled.” Rowan thought of the blood on smith’s blade when
he returned. “I do not know the horse’s name, if it has one, but it is fit and
will take you far enough.”

Jared
handed the reins to Rowan and gave him the scroll. It was an old map with some
crude annotations added. The map was homemade, but it would serve well enough
as a guide and a rough measure of distance.

“Don’t
tell me where you plan to go. It is safer if I do not know.”

Jared
turned to go but Rowan stopped him.

“Thank
you,” he said. “You have done a lot for me. You saved my life even though you
did not need to, and I will never forget that.”

“Just
make sure that you don’t waste the life that was saved.” With that, the smith
left and Rowan made his way out of the city.

Chapter 48
                     
 

After leaving Estoria behind him,
Rowan found himself alone and empty. He had known from the moment of his
departure where he would go, but he also knew that it would only be a temporary
escape.

Baird
had instructed him to leave the castle and make for Estion. His master had been
convinced that if any member of the royal family survived, they would head
there for safety. The princess and the king were dead, but Rowan wasn’t ready
to face that reality. So he made his way northeast towards the trade city.

It took
him a long time to get there, but once he arrived he had no trouble entering
the city. It was larger than Estoria and massive walls surrounded it. Rowan
kept a low profile and allowed no one to see his face. He had little money,
though Jared had provided him with a meager amount of coin, and so he found
himself sleeping in the stable of a kindly man. Rowan still had to pay, but the
price was low enough that he could afford it.

For a
week and a half he stayed in Estion, unsure of what to do or how he should
proceed. He had no way of knowing where to look or where Baird would have had
him go. He had not asked nor had he been told more than that he should go to
Estion. And he could not reveal himself and let it be known that he lived.

So Rowan
waited.

He
waited for some sign of what he should do, of where he should go, of what
direction his life should take. He waited because he clung to the hope that
someone might come to him, or that he might find someone who could give him
direction. But Baird was not coming and he was not going to find Eliza. She was
beyond him. The royal family had fallen.

For over
a week, Rowan stayed in Estion, waiting and watching and listening. He did
little else, having chosen to withdraw from the world rather than remain a part
of it. Time went on for others, for those who had not experienced the Betrayal
or did not know of it yet, but Rowan was still stuck in the past. He could not
escape that night.

Rumors
began to spread. People began to talk about what had happened. Much of what was
said was speculation, and while all stories had the same ending, there was
little truth in any of them. It was a trader that Rowan first overheard
spreading the tale, and he had discreetly listened to what the man said, that
the royal family was dead, that the land was lost and the bloodline was ended.
They had been betrayed, the man had said, by someone close to them: the knight
who was the Royal Protector and the right hand of King Alden.

After
that, Rowan no longer felt inclined to listen to the lies that were spreading,
to hear the reminder of his failure and the deaths of those he knew. When he
first heard the news, he had hoped that the truth would be told. Instead he
heard only lies and false tales. It was all that the city talked about, and no
one questioned the accuracy of the gossip.

At the
close of the second week, Rowan finally heard mention of himself. A man dressed
in leathers and bandying about an oversized sword mentioned a boy who was
sought by Gannon.

“There
is a large bounty on the boy’s head and guards are being instructed to watch
for him. It is warned that he is quite dangerous, but we’ll see how dangerous
that traitor is when I face him.” The man had pulled out his blade and bandied
it around like a fool, showing just how dangerous he was. “I will kill him
dead.”

“I hope
that one of us finds him. I would welcome the chance to be in Gannon’s good
grace. That is a fine place to be at the moment,” one of the man’s companions
said.

Rowan
had allowed the man to go, choosing to pull the hood of his cloak up to cover
his face and walk away. It was then that he decided to leave Estion. A part of
him did not care if he was found; it welcomed confrontation so that he could
deal with his failure. But the part of him that had been trained by Baird knew
that he had a duty which required him to live.

He
gathered what little he had and left. His face was not yet known, so to all
others he was just another traveler leaving the city of trade.

*           *           *

Rowan sat atop Jared’s horse,
watching the city at his back grow smaller.

What
would he do now?

The
question filled his mind, a thought that he couldn't rid himself of. What was
left for him now that Baird was gone and Eliza was dead? The image of them
forced Rowan to shut his eyes. He had left his life in Corrinth behind him when
he left on his journey with Baird. Even if he could return, he would likely be
placing his father and his brother in danger.
No
, Rowan decided. It
wasn't worth the risk to return to Corrinth.

And yet
this left him with no place to go. The king had been killed and with Baird
dead, the treasonous act would likely be blamed on Rowan. Without his master's
guidance and protection, Atlea was no longer safe for him. Gannon would have
men searching for him, and Rowan could not hide forever, not even within the
massive city of Estion. It was too close to the capitol and eventually he would
be found. He had already ruled out the option of returning home to the North,
and going south would force him near Estoria. Even if he made it past the
capitol city, the southern edge of the country was guarded by Fort Brigg and
its wall. And winter was coming. The southern lands would freeze, becoming
inhospitable wastelands where even Baird had struggled to survive.

The
thought of his master brought a dark feeling, and Rowan turned his thoughts
back towards where his road would take him. He ruled out traveling west. He
remembered his journey with Baird and he knew that the plains would offer no
easy escape. They were a vast area with little in the ways of sustenance. On
the plains Rowan would go wanting for water until he reached one of the two
great lakes, and he doubted he could make it that far. This left Rowan with two
options. He could head north past his home to the barren, primitive land of
Terratreos or he could travel east to Lauratrea.

Rowan
chose the eastern route.

The road
to Terratreos was less dangerous, but the lands in the East were far more
appealing. He thought of his master once again and felt the weight of Baird's
absence. He could not even bring himself to think of the princess.

There
was little left for him now in Atlea.