Warden (18 page)

Chapter 37

From what Errol later learned, they never found Prap’s body, despite following a blood trail that led across several city rooftops. Errol felt sorry for the man, but couldn’t argue that he was undeserving of his fate.

After the aswang flew away, Errol went to get help. It turned out that Master Algim had a concussion and Bander had a broken shoulder. Jaden didn’t suffer any broken bones, but he had a nasty bruise where Adversa’s wing had hit him (although he claimed the pain was minimal). In essence, Errol was the only person who escaped practically unscathed.

After making sure that his friends were being treated, Errol returned to the guest barracks, feeling exhausted and depressed. His visit to the city was far from anything he’d ever envisioned. Apolos was not a hive of sophistication, nor was it a safe haven. The city was afflicted with mass poverty, crime, starvation. More to the point, there were monsters here, too, just like everywhere else (and some of them were men).

But having his idealized notion of life in the city destroyed wasn’t the most calamitous thing that had happened. The worst thing by far about this trip was the fact that his Wendigo dagger was gone, and there was no chance he’d ever get it back. He fell asleep almost wishing he’d never come to the city, keenly feeling the loss of his magical blade.

*****

Errol awoke the next morning with an odd weight on his chest. It wasn’t exceptionally heavy; it just felt like it didn’t belong on his sternum. Sleepily, with his eyes barely open, Errol reached up with a hand to figure out what the object was that was resting on him. He sat straight up a moment later, when his fingers closed on a familiar sculpted handle. He looked at what he was holding: his Wendigo dagger.

He stared at it in complete shock, amazed to have it when he thought he’d never see it again. A cool breeze wafted across his cheek, and he realized that the window near his bed was open.

He stepped over to it and peeked out. The day was just starting as the first rays of sunlight were coming over the horizon. Errol looked down at the garden, but didn’t see anything other than growing vegetables. If a certain creature had returned his dagger, it was long gone now.

Errol hurriedly dressed, bound and determined to leave for Stanchion as soon as possible. However, he thought it would be rude to leave without saying goodbye to his friends.

He went to see Master Algim first. The scribe’s solar was still a mess, but there were half a dozen apprentices present cleaning it up. Master Algim greeted him warmly, his head wrapped in bandages, and Errol couldn’t help feeling that their positions were completely reversed from just a day earlier. He pulled Errol over to the side so they could talk with a small degree of privacy.

“You were getting treated last night,” Errol said, “but I wanted to find out what happened."

“That’s an easy tale,” Master Algin stated. “Prap came in, roughed me up, and took your dagger. He’d seen me heal you with it, so he knew where it was. That’s about the limit of what I recall.”

Errol filled in the rest, telling the scribe about the ensuing fight with Adversa (although he judiciously left out the part about his having a clean shot at the monster) and her escape. Master Algim just nodded occasionally, listening.

“Well, we should count ourselves fortunate,” the scribe said when Errol finished. “There’s not many who can say they walked away from an encounter with Adversa, even among the Wardens.”

The mention of Wardens brought something else to Errol’s mind.

“Do you remember what we said about Adversa following us before we got to Apolos?” Errol asked. “About how maybe she didn’t attack us on the road because there were four Wardens in our party?”

“Yes,” Master Algim said. “That’s probably more than she wanted to take on at one time.”

“I don’t think so,” Errol declared, shaking his head. “She took on the same four Wardens last night right here in your solar, and didn’t have a problem with it.”

“You have a point,” Master Algim acknowledged. “And, I presume, a theory.”

Errol smiled slightly before speaking. “I don’t think she was ever afraid of our numbers. I think it was the Wendigo dagger. I think she sensed its magic, and that’s what kept her from attacking us on the road. On top of that, I saw her face when she was fighting Prap and realized he had the dagger. She was terrified.”

“But then he stabbed her and nothing happened,” the scribe chimed in. “Or rather, he didn’t get the effect he was hoping for from a magic blade.”

“Yes. I think he was expecting it to stop her – and maybe she thought it would, too – but ultimately being stabbed with it was almost the equivalent of a flesh wound to her. Like it had lost its magic.”

“It did, in a sense,” the scribe said. “It is indeed a potent, magical blade – but only in your hands. You, as its master, are the only one who can truly command its might. Anyone else wielding it will only be able to utilize a fraction of its power.”

“So when Prap stabbed Adversa with it, the effect was no more than with an ordinary blade.”

“Well, even without the magic, it’s still an incredible weapon – it’s made from a Wendigo, after all. I think it
’s
simply more likely that Prap was lazy and expected the weapon’s magic to do all the work.”

“So he stabbed her once and thought that was enough.”

“Yes,” Master Algim said, shaking his head gravely. “I’m sorry that his carelessness cost you your weapon.”

Errol smiled; then, displaying a great degree of trust in the scribe, showed him the dagger. Master Algim almost clapped his hands with glee.

“How’d you get it back?” the elderly scribe asked.

“I think…” Errol began, choosing his words with care. “I think Adversa brought it back. I think it was her way of declaring her vendetta to be over.”

Or to thank me for not putting an arrow in her head…

“It’s also possible that she was compelled to bring it by the weapon itself,” Master Algim said. “Remember, you and the dagger are connected. I don’t think you and it
can
be separated. At least, not unwillingly, and not for long.”

Errol and Master Algin made small talk for a short time after that. Before long, however, Errol left so the older man could get some rest, but not before promising to keep in touch.

Upon leaving the scribe’s solar, Errol returned to Wellkeep, where he sought out Bander. He found the older Warden in the courtyard with his arm in a sling, watching some Wardens-in-training practicing their tracking skills.

Upon seeing Errol, he used his good hand to open up the flap of a backpack that was on the ground next to him. He pulled out an envelope that was sealed with red wax that bore the imprint of the High Warden’s ring of office.

“What’s this?” Errol asked as Bander handed him the envelope.

“Your official appointment as Warden, signed by the High Warden himself.”

Errol broke the seal and removed the envelope’s contents, almost unable to believe what he was reading. When he finished, he put the document back in the envelope, trying desperately to conceal his excitement. With everything that had been going on, he had practically forgotten the reason he’d come here in the first place. However, the Senior Wardens had examined him (and no doubt they had or would soon receive a report from Master Algim about his Wendigo dagger) and found him fit to serve.

“Thanks,” Errol said.

“No need to thank me,” Bander said. “You did all the work.”

“Well, I’m sure having your support helped,” Errol reasoned, to which the older Warden merely shrugged.

Bander wasn’t one for long goodbyes, so shortly thereafter they bid each other farewell and shook hands.

The only person left for Errol to say goodbye to was Jaden, but he couldn’t find him anywhere. Slightly disappointed, Errol returned to the guest barracks to retrieve his gear. While there, he drafted a quick note and left it on Jaden’s bunk, then headed to the stable.

He had just loaded up his horse and climbed into the saddle when Jaden came running in, clearly excited. Errol smiled, happy that he’d get to see his friend before heading home, although he couldn’t help staring at the angry purple bruise on Jaden’s jaw that marred his boyish good looks. Errol hoped it would heal quickly.

“I’m…glad...I caught…you,” Jaden said, bent over and out of breath, but highly animated. “I’ve got…news.”

“What?” Errol asked, fearing some catastrophe. “What is it?”

Jaden took a deep breath, and then let the words tumble out. “Your brother, Tom. He’s alive.”

THE END

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