The Apprentice (25 page)

Rowan
glanced at Trainer Torrhen and chose to return his practice weapon to the rack
rather than hand it over to the trainer. He then jogged after Darius. His day
was not over yet.

Chapter 19
                     
 

It was late in the day when Rowan
finished with Darius. The evening hours had not yet begun, meaning that Rowan
would have to wait for dinner. The trainers had long since released the other
boys, allowing them to spend the rest of the day as they saw fit. Many
continued to train while others rested or socialized.

“I am
done with you for the day,” Darius said. “You are free to train as you see fit
until the evening meal, after which you will return to the barracks. There is a
curfew imposed on all trainees. If you are caught out after dark, you will be
punished.”

Rowan
nodded his assent. He did not like the idea of a curfew, but he had nowhere to
go in the middle of the night and voicing his displeasure would only make his
life harder.

“Am I
allowed in the woods?” Rowan indicated the wooded area on the opposite side of
the fields. He had no reason to go exploring, but he wanted to know what was
off limits just in case he decided to spend his time alone.

“You are
not allowed in the kingswood without the permission of myself or another
trainer. Exercises are occasionally conducted in there when we want to teach
tracking and hunting, but the forest is forbidden to you while alone. Am I
understood?”

“Yes,
Trainer Darius.”

The head
trainer stared at Rowan with a piercing glare, but after a moment he appeared
satisfied that Rowan would keep his word. Darius turned and continued speaking.
“In the morning, you will rise with the other boys and break your fast. When
you have finished eating, you will make your way to the fields and perform
warm-up exercises with the other boys before you begin training.”

Darius
then left Rowan to himself. He stood alone on the practice fields. Most of the
boys were gone, likely back to the barracks, but there were still others who
had elected to continue training. Several boys stood shooting targets where
Rowan had worked with Trainer Caius. Caius was gone, but another trainer was
watching the boys as they practiced. Other boys were wrestling and a few were
even sparring with wooden swords.

Rowan
looked around at the emptied fields, trying to find something that would serve
to occupy his time. Working all day with Darius had drained him, but the
prospect of returning to the barracks to sit and wait for dinner was not
appealing. By this time, Rowan recognized most of the equipment on the fields,
having practiced with much of it only hours before. He thought about joining
the boys who were sparring, but decided against it. They were evenly matched in
numbers and skill, and Rowan did not wish to disrupt their group. But
practicing with a blade appealed to him, so he turned and made his way back to
the barracks to retrieve Tenro.

Tenro
lay on Rowan’s bunk, exactly where he had left it earlier that day. Rowan
retrieved the blade from where it rested. As he left the barracks, he found
that many were watching him; some with interest, some with curiosity, and no
small number with envy. Rowan felt pride at that. He had a blade of his own. It
was the symbol of his status and his position as Baird’s apprentice, and he
held it proudly.

A few
boys followed Rowan from the barracks to the training fields, but none
approached him. They went about their own tasks and Rowan made his way towards
the practice dummies. He unsheathed his blade and started the blade dance.

Though
no one stared, Rowan felt as though all eyes were on him, as though he was the
center of unwanted attention. He tried to concentrate, focusing only on his
blade and on moving through the different stances. Tenro was heavy, but Rowan
was growing accustomed to the weight. He finished the motions of the sword
dance and gave himself a moment's respite before turning to the nearest
practice dummy. Rowan fell into an on-guard stance and was ready to strike when
the sound of an approaching voice broke his concentration.

“Ho
there!”

Rowan
turned and found that several boys had approached him. The one who had called
out to him was Byron, he remembered. The boy who had tripped him earlier.

“I am
Byron.” The boy stepped forward and gave Rowan an appraising glance, his gaze
hovering on Tenro. He wore a smug look, as though introducing himself to Rowan
was some great favor. Byron made no introduction for any of the other boys,
though they were obviously together as a group.

“I
remember your name,” Rowan said. He did not wish to be rude or insulting, but
Byron was not someone that he wished to befriend. At Rowan’s words, Byron’s
false smile turned to a frown.

“You are
Baird’s apprentice. Did you know that my father once tried to earn me that
position? He failed, of course, as did every other noble and commoner alike who
tried to convince Baird to take on an apprentice. I never cared much until you
arrived.”

“You
want my position?”

“Gods
no! I received my own masters and was taught by the best that gold can buy. I
don’t care for Baird or his knighthood. I just find myself annoyed by your
presence. You have something you should not.” Byron took a step forward,
placing himself just outside of Rowan’s reach. The dark haired boy was almost a
hand taller than Rowan and he was well muscled. He glanced down at Tenro, then
at the scabbard that lay on the ground nearby.

Byron
picked up Tenro’s scabbard, holding it with both hands while he examined it. He
held it as he would a blade and swung it, moving in a bastardized version of a
form from the sword dance. His movement was faulty and he held himself wrong.
Had he not been holding Tenro’s sheath, Rowan might have laughed. But as it
was, the situation called for something else.

“Put
that down, please.”

Byron
looked to Rowan. “Why should I?”

“Put it
down.”

Byron
grinned. “As you wish.” He threw the scabbard aside as Rowan watched in anger.

“Let me
see your blade,” Byron said.

Rowan
tensed. “No. Tenro is not meant for you.” He tightened his grip and shifted his
shoulders so that the blade was further out of reach. There was a tense moment
as Rowan and Byron stared at each other.

Without
warning, Byron’s arm shot forward. Rowan, thinking that the boy was making a
grab for Tenro, held the sword away from him. But Byron had not made a grab for
the sword, and his fist struck Rowan in the stomach. There was pain, but Rowan
ignored it, focusing instead on his opponent. Rowan’s sword arm came forward to
strike, instinct driving his reactions. He stopped himself before making a
blow, but his motion and his hesitation afforded Byron the opportunity he had
been looking for.

The
larger boy grabbed at Tenro and tried to pull it away from Rowan. They
struggled for a moment until Rowan rammed his elbow and shoulder into Byron,
knocking both boys to the ground. Rowan rolled over and found his feet, ready
for a fight. He held himself defensively in case he had to defend himself
against the other boys.

“What is
going on here?”

The
voice came from the right. Trainer Torrhen was fast approaching with a mean
look in his eyes. His gaze went from Byron to Rowan, though he seemed to see
only the blade in Rowan’s hand.

Rowan
straightened and lowered his guard. There would be no further need to defend
himself with a trainer present.

“What
happened here?” the trainer demanded.

One of
the other boys spoke. “Trainer Torrhen, he—”

“My
question was not meant for you. I am speaking to these two; the rest of you are
dismissed. Return to the barracks.”

“But—,”
the same boy tried to continue, pointing at Rowan as though placing blame.

“Go now!
Or you will stay with them and be a part of this.” Torrhen fixed the boy with a
stare that made him flinch. The boy turned and jumped as he realized his
companions had already gone. He hurried after them, clearly glad to escape.

Rowan
watched as they retreated, leaving him alone with Byron and Trainer Torrhen.

“I want
to know what happened here.”

“I was
practicing with my blade—,” Rowan began, but his speech was cut off by Byron.

“He
attacked me!”

The
words hung in the air for moment. Rowan found himself speechless at such a
blatant lie. He had done nothing wrong. Byron had approached him, confronted
him, and caused a struggle.

Trainer
Torrhen looked to Rowan expectantly.

“That’s
a lie. I did not attack him. He approached me and tried to take my blade.”

Torrhen’s
eyes flitted to the blade in Rowan’s hand and his face hardened.

“Trainees
are not allowed weapons. I do not know where you found that blade, but you are
not keeping it.”

“The
blade is my own. Trainer Darius gave me permission to train with it.”

“Is that
so? And he gave you permission to fight with it as well?”

“No,”
Rowan responded. Darius had been extremely firm on that point.

“I do
not know why Darius has allowed you such freedom, but I think that this
incident will show him that you do not deserve it.” Trainer Torrhen turned to
face Byron.

“Byron,
you are to return to the barracks with the others. Tomorrow morning you will
find me and I will give you your punishment.” The trainer turned back to Rowan.
“You are to come with me to see Darius. We will see what he has to say about
this incident.”

*           *           *

“Was blood drawn?”

Darius
stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring pointedly at Rowan, who
sat a few feet away. His gaze was unwavering and he had not once acknowledged
the blade resting across Rowan’s lap. Darius had quickly dismissed Trainer
Torrhen after hearing all that he had to say.

“No. No
blood was drawn.” Rowan answered truthfully, yet his answer did not seem to
please the head trainer.

Silence
hung in the air as Darius said nothing. Rowan shifted in his seat, trying
unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position. The chair that Darius had given
him felt as though it was made for discomfort. It was the only chair in the
room, however, leading Rowan to wonder if Darius himself used it.

“Earlier
this very day, I warned you that the privilege of keeping your blade would
require you to act with responsibility. You were forbidden from using your
weapon against others, just as you were forbidden from fighting other
trainees.”

Rowan
grew cold. Darius had indeed forbidden him from exactly the type of incident
that had just occurred.

“You put
me in a difficult position, Rowan. I trust that you were not a willing
participant in this evening’s confrontation, but that does not make you
innocent. The fact that no one was injured is good. However, I am reluctant to
allow you to continue holding your weapon. It would be safer and better kept in
my possession.”

“But I—”

“Imagine
the consequences if someone were to take your sword, Rowan. What if another boy
took your blade and misused it? Or if it caused harm to another, whether
purposefully or by accident. In any circumstance, you would be held
responsible. That is what you risk by carrying your blade.”

Rowan
wished to speak out, to say that he would accept any risk to keep Tenro. But he
understood the weight of such a responsibility. He would be responsible for his
weapon and any pain or problems that it caused, whether he was at fault or not.
It would require his constant attention and supervision just to ensure that it
was safe and accounted for, and this would be made even more difficult by the
fact that he would not be allowed to carry it with him.

“May I
keep my blade? I am willing to accept the burden of responsibility that comes
with it.”

“Are you
truly willing to accept such a burden?” Darius stared at Rowan, searching for
hesitation or uncertainty. Rowan held the trainer’s gaze and nodded. He would
keep Tenro no matter what the cost.

“Even if
you are willing to accept responsibility for your weapon, I am loathe to allow
you to keep it. Your sword is a hazard and a liability. I have no guarantee that
you will be able to keep your blade safe. In fact, I know that you cannot do
so. Not without locking it away.”

“Then
give me a lock,” Rowan said desperately. “Give me a lock for my chest so that I
can secure Tenro. Do that and I can assure you that it will not be taken.”

“You
guarantee
that it will not be taken?” Darius appeared thoughtful, giving Rowan hope that
he might still be able to keep Tenro.

“I
understand my responsibility, and I will do everything in my power to ensure
that my blade is secured. It will not be used without your consent, and not for
any reason other than practicing.”

Darius
nodded and Rowan practically sagged with relief, releasing a breath he had not
known he was holding. Tenro had become a part of who he was, and losing the blade
would be equivalent to losing a hand or one of his legs.

“I will
hold you to your word. If another incident like this occurs, I will take your
blade from you and have it melted for scrap.”