The Apprentice (4 page)

“If you
will not hear me, then take your leave. Go, and hopefully your journey will be
safe.” Brennon turned from the knight, seeing that his cause was lost. Rowan’s
father was a stubborn man, but he knew when to give up.

There
was a heavy
thud
as the knight tossed a small purse of coins on the
table. The sound told Rowan that they were being paid very well for offering
little more than a bed and some food.

“I thank
you for your hospitality and your advice.”

The
knight turned to leave.

“Wait.”

The
knight stopped at the door and turned at the sound of Petar’s voice, as did
Rowan. He wondered if his brother was going to try and speak for him, but that
would be out of character.

“If you
intend to leave despite our father’s advice, perhaps you would be willing to
let us guide you part of the way.” Petar glanced at the purse the knight had
left behind. “We know the land much better than you, and we can show you the
quickest and safest path to travel.”

“I would
welcome the help, if you are offering it. But I do not wish to impose or cause
you trouble.”

“There
is little that we can do with the storm coming. If Petar wishes to show you the
kindness of leading you away from here, then he is welcome to do so,” Brennon
said.

A glance
from Petar told Rowan exactly what his brother meant by speaking up.

“I would
be willing to lead the knight.”

All eyes
turned to Rowan.

“I know
the land just as well and this will give me something to do. I do not mind the
weather. Perhaps I will gain a tale or two from the knight, hear of the outside
world.”

Petar
shrugged, as if to say that he did not mind Rowan taking his place.

“If you
wish to go, then go. But when you return, I do not wish to hear any more of the
lands beyond Corrinth.”

Rowan
nodded. When he returned, if he returned, his father would hear little more
from him about the outside world. Rowan would convince the knight to stay and
take him along when he left. That was his plan. This was his final chance. When
he returned, it would only be to bid his home and his family farewell.

“Let us
leave,” Rowan said.

*           *           *

Rowan led the way through the
forest. As much as he wished to speak, he could not seem to find the words.
This was in no small part because of the knight. Ever since they had left, the
man had not spoken so much as a single word to Rowan. He barely acknowledged
Rowan at all, focused instead on the nature surrounding them. They walked in
silence, Rowan leading and the knight following.

Rowan
pushed aside a branch that blocked his path, holding it out of the way for the
knight. The ground was muddy beneath their feet and even though they were
sheltered under the trees, the rainwater still dripped down and made them wet.
The storm had returned.

“Are you
certain that you wish to continue? This storm is only going to get worse.”

“There
are places that I must be and things that I must do. I cannot linger.”

Rowan
hesitated, the words still stuck in his throat. He knew the consequences of
speaking his wish, and he knew that once the words were spoken he could not
take them back.

“If you
will not stay, may I come with you?”

The
knight stopped, but did not turn to face Rowan.

“What do
you mean by this? You wish to travel with me, to leave your home and live the
life that I live? You are naive, boy.”

“I am
not a boy, and I
will
leave.”

“Allow
me to make things clearer,” the knight said, turning to face Rowan. “I am
leaving, and you are not coming with me. I will not take you.”

Rowan
recoiled as though physically struck. He tried to speak but the knight turned
and began to walk away.

“I think
it would be best if I continued alone from this point. I thank you for the
guidance and the hospitality you and your family showed to me. Farewell.”

Rowan
watched as the distance between them grew. The falling drops of rainwater that
made it through the trees had wet his face, and now they blurred his vision. He
wiped his eyes but it did not seem to help. He had to leave. He was not meant
to live out his life in Corrinth; he knew that he was meant for more. To be
told no was not something he could accept.

“I will
follow you anyways. I will leave this place, I swear it. You may tell me no,
but you cannot stop me!”

The
knight may have heard his shout or it may have been lost on the winds. Thunder
boomed overhead. The knight did not look back and he quickly vanished from
sight, leaving Rowan alone in the woods.

Rowan
stood still and silent for a short while, numb to the world. His gut was tied
in knots and he did not know what to do. He wanted so desperately to follow the
knight, to continue onwards and ignore the consequences. It was what he had
claimed he would do. But when he tried to move forward, he instead found
himself turning around. He fought it, struggled against resigning himself to
defeat, cursed himself for his weakness as he began to walk back towards the
house and the life that waited for him there. He walked through the trees and
the cold, but he could not help but look over his shoulder as he walked away.
The knight was gone. Rowan did not expect anything different.

He had
not gone far before a sound caught his attention. There was a rustling in the
brush nearby, something going past him. Rowan wondered what animal would be out
with a storm coming and why it was not afraid of him. He paused for a moment
and wondered if he should follow, but decided against it. He made it a short
distance further before he heard another sound that made him turn. It was a sound
that did not belong in the forest: the sound of steel.

Rowan
stared back into the distance and listened. The wind blew and he could hear the
boom of thunder echoing. He wondered if perhaps he imagined the sound, but then
he heard it again. A faint clanging.

He
turned and began to walk towards the sound, in the direction that the knight
had gone, curious about the noise. He heard the sound again and began to jog
faster, hoping that nothing was wrong.

The
branches whipped about and struck him as he ran. The gathering storm had grown
loud and he lost track of where he was going. He came to the clearing without
even realizing it.

The
knight stood in the middle of the small clearing with his sword drawn and
another man Rowan did not recognize stood facing him. Neither man moved, just
stood staring at each other, eyes locked and bodies tensed. Rowan gazed at them
from outside of the clearing, unwilling to go any further. As he watched, the
unknown man lunged forward with a small blade in hand. There was a movement
that Rowan could not follow and when the knight stepped away, he pulled his
blade free and the man fell to the ground.

Confusion
and fear shot through him. He could not tear his gaze from the body that lay
before the knight. Blood pooled at his feet, the fallen man’s life slowly
leaving his body. The dead man’s stare was disturbing; Rowan felt as though the
eyes were staring directly at him.

He took
a step back and tripped, the noise alerting the knight. The large man’s head
turned and he fixed his gaze on Rowan.

Before
Rowan could rise, the knight cleared the distance between them and stood over
him, his blade angled so that Rowan could not stand.

“What
are you doing here?”

“I
heard—”

“You
were not to follow me! I told you to leave me be.”

“But I…”
Rowan stammered, struggling to find the words. He had heard the sound of steel
and had known something was wrong. Fear dulled his mind and he found it
difficult to think straight, to speak. “I was going to follow you. I told you,
I am leaving.” He did not know why he said what he did, but somehow the lie
felt right. It gave him purpose.

The
knight stared down at Rowan, and he struggled to meet the man’s gaze.

“This
was not supposed to happen,” the knight eventually said, moving his sword and
stepping away so Rowan was free to rise, which he gladly did. He felt better
once he was on his feet, but he did not dare to move. “I should never have
sought shelter; I should have been more careful not to involve outsiders.”

The
storm was beginning to rage around them. The trees creaked and groaned as they
strained against their roots, swaying in the wind. There was a flash of light,
followed by the harsh crack of lightening echoing through the valley. Rain fell
and the trees did not offer the protection they had earlier.

The
storm was coming and soon it would be dangerous to remain outside. Rowan knew
that he should leave, head back to his home and take shelter. A glance from the
knight told Rowan that the other man knew the same, but the man’s face was set
and it was clear that he was not turning back.

“You
should leave. Go back to your home where you belong,” the knight said. “You
have no cause to place yourself in danger, and I will not protect you.”

Rowan
met the man’s gaze and shook his head. “I have come this far. I turned back
once, I will not do it again. I told you that I would follow you and leave this
place, and now I swear it.”

The
knight turned and walked away as though he had not heard a word Rowan had said.
Rowan glanced at the body, wondering if this knight was truly someone he should
follow. He had just murdered a man, though it had seemed to be in his own
defense. But Rowan had no time to think and his mind was set. He started after
the knight.

Chapter 4
                           
 

Though he had been truly committed
to leaving, Rowan was glad that he had not been forced to do so. The fates had
seen it fit to return him home, and they had forced the knight to return with
him.

Rowan
sat alone on his bed. He could hear the knight speaking with his father in the
other room, but he was not listening to their conversation.

Outside,
the wind howled and shrieked, hurling sheets of rain at the house. It had been
necessary to tie the door shut in order to keep it safely closed against the
fierce storm. Every gust caused the walls to shudder.  Rowan worried that they
would splinter and break, but the house proved sturdy and kept the elements at
bay. It was cold and damp inside, but Rowan knew that it was far worse outside.
He thought about the body of the stranger the knight had killed, wondering what
the storm had done to it.
Could the wind be strong enough to carry a body?
Rowan knew that the corpse would be gone by the end of the storm—if not taken
by the wind, then buried by mud or carried away by flood water.

Rowan
closed his eyes, trying to clear his thoughts. He did not want to think of such
things, but they were difficult to forget.

After
the incident in the woods, Rowan had followed the knight as he tried to leave.
The knight had made his way onward and Rowan had stubbornly followed him
without a word or a protest. The knight was strong and quick, but as the trees
began to thin and the storm grew worse, his pace slowed to a crawl. But the man
had seemed determined to let nothing stop him.

“Turn
back,” Rowan remembered urging him. “We must turn back and shelter in Corrinth
or return to my home.” Rowan’s pleas had fallen on deaf ears. The knight had
glared at him. But although he had said nothing, it had been the first time he
acknowledged Rowan.

When the
storm had forced a halt, instead of turning back and seeking safety, the man
sought refuge among the roots of an ancient tree. Rowan joined him, earning a
glare but no argument. The tree’s roots were large and widely spread, offering
some protection from wind and rain.

“Why not
turn back?” Rowan had asked, trying to elicit some kind of response. “What
could be so important that you would risk your life in this just to gain a few
hours worth of travel?”

“I
should not stay. It would be dangerous to remain in this place any longer.”

Rowan
had not understood why the man was so determined to leave, but he had
eventually been able to make the stranger see reason. The man had agreed to
return with Rowan and leave once the storm allowed.

Returning
had proven no less difficult than leaving. The going was slow and the elements
fought against them. The winds howled and the forest floor was treacherously
muddy. Branches broke off trees and were hurled by the wind like spears. What
had taken barely an hour in better weather took twice as long. But eventually
they had made it back.

Neither
Rowan nor the knight had spoken of the death upon their return. Brennon had
questioned them at length, worried and curious as to what had taken them so
long. Had Rowan turned back when he should have, he would have returned much
sooner. He blamed the storm, and eventually Brennon had stopped questioning.

The
storm continued to rage outside. Rowan could not help but wonder why the knight
had been willing to face such weather. There were many questions that he had,
and he was determined to get his answers.

The door
to Rowan’s room opened and shut as someone joined him. Rowan did not need to
look to know that it was not the man he wanted to talk with. After so many
years, Rowan knew the tread of his brother’s footsteps. Petar may not be who
Rowan wished to speak to at the moment, but his brother was still welcome
company.

There
were a few moments of silence before Rowan turned to acknowledge his brother.

“Did
Father ask you to speak with me?”

“No. He
didn’t have to. I am curious myself. What happened that kept the two of you
outside in the storm for so long?”

“It was
nothing.” The lie was obvious, but Rowan was not overly worried. He could not
keep Petar from recognizing that he was lying, he could only keep him from
understanding the reason that he was lying. He could keep Petar from learning
about the dead man.

“Did you
ask the knight about leaving with him?”

Rowan
nodded.

“What
did he say? How did you convince him to return with you? Does this mean that he
agreed?”

“He did
nothing. I tried to leave with him and he would not take me. I followed him
anyways and eventually the storm forced him to turn around.”

“So you
are no better off now than you were before. Perhaps you should give up. Maybe
you were not meant to leave this way. Life here is not so bad.”

“That is
how
you
feel. You know how I feel.”

“Then
what will you do?”

“I will
force that man to take me with him. This storm has kept him here, so I have
until it ends to convince him.”

Petar
looked Rowan in the eyes. “I won’t hold you back, Rowan. But you should be sure
that this is what you want.” Petar said nothing after that. He left Rowan to
himself, for which Rowan was grateful. He needed solitude. There were many
things that he could share with his brother, but this was not one of them.

For a
long time Rowan did nothing more than sit and listen to the sound of the storm.
He kept expecting his father to come and speak with him, for something to
happen that would disrupt his meditations, but nothing did. Eventually Rowan
grew bored and pulled out one of the texts he kept, flipping through the
familiar pages. The markings blurred together. Rowan did not bother trying to
concentrate on reading each one. The pages held no secrets from him.

Dinner
that evening was a quiet affair with little conversation. The storm continued
to rage and the howling wind seemed to be the only voice. Rowan’s father spoke
very little and Petar seemed unwilling to talk, though Rowan found himself the
object of his brother’s gaze more than once. The knight kept his silence and
Rowan ate his own meal with little enthusiasm, though he was grateful for the
warmth of the meat and the heat from the fire.

It was
an unspoken tradition that when a storm came, Brennon would tell Petar and
Rowan tales and histories after their supper. He had started this when they
were very young. Rowan had always enjoyed stormy nights and the stories his
father had told, even after he grew older and knew that most of the tales were
fantasy. By Rowan’s thirteenth year, the stories had ended and been replaced by
local histories. They were never as interesting, but they were still tradition.
Yet there would be no tales that night. After Brennon finished his meal, he
ordered Rowan and Petar to clean up before he retired for the evening.

Petar
helped Rowan to clean but soon he too retired, leaving Rowan alone with the
knight, who it seemed would be placed with Rowan yet again. That suited Rowan
just fine. He needed to have his questions answered.

“We need
to talk,” Rowan said aloud as he washed his plate. He did not address the
knight directly, but there was no one else with them.

“There
is nothing to speak of.”

“I have
questions and you will give me my answers.”

“You
make it seem as though I am obligated to answer you. Do you not plan to follow
me as I leave? That was your plan before, yet now you seem unsure. It would
seem to me that giving you answers will only encourage you.”

“You owe
me at least one answer,” Rowan whispered. He did not want to be overheard.

“I owe
you nothing.”

“Then
why did you return instead of leaving? Why come back here with me rather than
going to town, where you could leave me behind?”

Silence.
Rowan left the dishes to soak and turned around, but he found the knight gone
and the door to his room ajar. Rowan followed, crossing the room quickly and
quietly, shutting the door behind him so that any words they spoke would not
carry. He stood blocking the only exit and stared at the man, determined to
continue the conversation.

“Why did
you kill that man?” Of all things, Rowan needed an answer to that question more
than any other. He wanted to leave, but he would not follow a murderer. Not
without a reason. “Are you even a true knight or are you just a man with a
sword who hides behind a title? Are you just a killer?”

The
knight ignored Rowan. He closed his eyes, turned away and said nothing. Rowan
repeated his question. He was determined to get an answer and he was nothing if
not stubborn. After Rowan asked the same question two more times, the knight
finally spoke.

“Will
you ever be quiet? Gods, you are perseverant.”

Rowan
did not know the word that the man had used, but he knew it was not positive.
He did not want to ask its meaning. “Will you give me an answer?”

“I
killed that man because he tried to kill me. I will say no more.”

“Why
would that man try to kill you?”

The big
man stared at Rowan. “You need to learn when to hold your tongue.”

“I
watched you kill a man. He was alive one moment and he was dead the next,
because of you. You murdered him.”

“I am a
knight, death will always follow me. I have killed men before, ended their
lives as I did today. But there is a difference between murder and killing. I
do not seek to end lives, but I will do so when I must.”

“And it
was necessary to kill that man?”

“Better
his death than my own. Had he lived—,” the knight stopped mid-sentence. Rowan
could tell that he had been about to let slip something he did not want to say,
something that would provide some measure of explanation for his actions.

“I need
not justify myself to you,” the knight said simply. “Perhaps this will dissuade
you from your foolish attempts to follow me when I leave.”

“It
won’t.”

Rowan
did not know why he spoke the words. Inside he was filled with conflict and
mistrust, his need to escape tempered by caution and worry. He had seen the
knight kill, and the man showed no signs of remorse or guilt.

The
knight turned to face him, a strange look in his eyes.

“What
makes you say that, boy?”

Rowan
hesitated. He was not entirely sure why he was so determined. The knight could
be a very dangerous man. He
was
a dangerous man. But he was not evil,
and Rowan’s gut told him the knight was worth trusting. He had paid well for
shelter and food, a trait so often undervalued when applied to strangers, and
he had not harmed Rowan in any way, though he could have easily done so. Rowan
knew that if he had been safe with the knight out in the storm after what he
had witnessed, then he would be safe enough travelling with the knight on the
road to the capitol.

Adding
to that, it was clear that the knight was hiding something from him. Rowan
suspected the man was more than who he claimed to be. And curiosity drove Rowan
forward.

“You
could have killed me today. A man with evil in his heart would have done so. I
witnessed what you did and you had no guarantee I would keep such a thing
secret.”

“I was
leaving,” the knight said evenly. “Once gone, why would I care what you told
people? The body was likely to be lost in the storm. Even if it was found, no
one would have known that man and no one knows me.”

“You
gave us your name.”

“And you
trust that to be my true name?”

Rowan
flushed. He had not thought of such a thing, for he had never had a reason to
hide his own name. Everyone he met knew him, if not by name then by face. If
not as Rowan then as Brennon’s boy.

“Had I
left, it would not matter what you saw or what you said. I would be gone and no
one would have followed me beyond the valley. At worst, I would be forced to
avoid this…village. An easy thing to do.”

“Still,
a man with true darkness in his heart would have killed me.”

“You are
sure of that?” the knight asked, his hand on his blade and a dangerous look on
his face.

Rowan
tried to not let his fear show. “Yes.”

The
knight’s expression disappeared and he released his grip on his sword. Rowan relaxed
as the tension diminished. He released a breath he had not known he had been
holding.

“You are
a problem. I cannot have you following me, as I do not doubt you will when I
leave. And it would be troublesome to leave you here.” The knight spoke aloud
to himself. “What can I do?”

Rowan
sensed his chance and took it.

“Take me
with you. If you take me willingly, I will cause no problems and you will not
need to worry about what I will do once you leave.”

The
knight looked at Rowan with a serious expression, reminding him of his father
whenever he warned of serious dangers. “I told you before that I am not worried
about justice being sought. It could prove troublesome if word left this
village, but not for the reasons that you think.