Children of the Fountain (5 page)

The lamp in the corner of the room lit Mr Hardy and Alonso from behind, casting their faces in shadow, and Matthias struggled to see their expressions as first Mr Hardy spoke.

“You see, Matthias,” he began, “you
can
be trained here. As a member of the Guard you will take up arms in our war which is now, sadly, yours too.”

The gentleman leaned forward, his elegant cuffs brushing the desk. “Everyone here in this castle serves the duke and his cause. Some have served for many years, and plenty have given their lives. We ask you to join us.”

“Why me?” he asked.

”You are special,” Alonso said. “In all my journeys around the empires I search for special children; gifted children. You are such a child. Your particular gift is your speed. You are probably the quickest child I have ever seen.

“Others have different gifts. Mr Hardy, for example, can pick off a butterfly’s wing with a rifle from over three hundred yards. His sight is extraordinary, and matched with his aim gives him his ‘gift’. Some of the children here can scale fortress walls, throw a man twice their size to the other side of the room, or creep up and slit your throat whilst you were standing in broad daylight.

“This is a school to focus those skills, learn others and from others. You will become a devastating weapon to help fight against a great evil that has plagued this land for too long. You
will
learn to kill.”

Matthias looked at the lamp in the corner of the room. Watched it flicker from yellow to orange and then back.

Mr Hardy spoke again. “I realise this is all a lot to take in. Normally we take children who have been brought up by parents aligned to the duke. They send their sons and daughters to us to train and stand beside them. Your case is unusual, but not unheard of.”

“They all have chosen to come here?” said Matthias.

“Yes,” said Mr Hardy. “Whereas you were…found.”

“You must understand it was no coincidence I was at the abbey,” said Alonso. “As a mystic, my visions take me many places in search of individuals such as you. I am often disappointed, but not always. Shortly before you I
found
one other child this way. His name is Harry.”

“I’ve met him.”

“Harry is finding it all a little difficult too,” said Mr Hardy. “Alonso discovered him in a village in the north. He had become quite a local legend with his hunting skills.

“Harry was able to creep up on game until he was literally on top of it,” said the mystic. “It is possible to approach a man without him being aware, but to get that close to deer or boar was unheard of.”

He toyed with the knife on his belt absentmindedly. Just for a brief second the light from the lamp caught the silver and it flashed. The large oak chair creaked as he leaned on it and spoke softly. “Harry could have crept into this room behind you right now and you wouldn’t have heard him.”

Matthias turned around but there was only the solid wooden door with the iron key inside. The trembling light cast the silhouettes of Mr Hardy and Alonso onto the wood and he swallowed hard before turning to face them.

Mr Hardy sighed. “Local rumour, gossip in the village; people with your gifts do not stay anonymous for long. Your sister possessed a
very
special gift. Without our help she couldn’t learn to control it and so...”

Their
help? Could they have helped? If Rebecca had been able to control her gift, disguise it, maybe the Legion wouldn’t have found her. Perhaps she would still be alive. If they had taught her, turned her power into something she could have used to defend herself. A look flashed across his face as he thought how this could so easily of been the case. But his uncle had kept him and his sister away from this world. Away from a world of war and murder. But it had hunted them down.

And now he wanted to turn and hunt the hunter. Find this man Nunez and kill him. But where and how he had no idea. Was this castle the place to start? Or should he just leave and go find him on his own. He was certain he would recognise the man if he saw him again. The eyes; pale blue, bright but somehow lifeless.

Matthias’s own eyes glistened before he turned away to look at the floor. “What if I don’t want to fight in your war?”

Mr Hardy smiled in a charming but ever so slightly sinister way. “My boy, a most poignant question. Why should you indeed take up arms or even lay down your life for this cause?”

“Why indeed,” said Alonso. He stood up and made his way to the fire burning on the other side of the room. He placed one great hand on the mantelpiece as he leaned down to stoke it. As the flames picked up the room seemed to be illuminated with slithering fingers making their way down from the ceiling. The smell of burning coal flowed into Matthias’s nostrils and the mystic turned to face him.

“You can walk away from the fight. From the people who killed your sister. But the Legion will have won. There’s no way you’d ever find Balthazar Nunez and certainly, without proper training, no way you could best him. But, you can walk away. Or you can stay. Learn. Prepare.” The two men looked at each other and gave Matthias time to consider.

He already knew this was the answer. Now he had found a path to his revenge. One that would lead him to the man who killed Rebecca.

“I want to learn to fight,” he said, “I want to join you.”

“Yes,” said Mr Hardy in a soft voice, “I believe you do. I also know how much you must be hurting at this moment. But I need you to understand something. The decision you now take upon yourself shouldn’t be taken lightly. The road ahead of you is long and hard; most difficult.”

“I understand,” said Matthias, “but this is all there is for me now.”

“Not so,” replied Mr Hardy, “there are other places you could go. We could ensure your safety. Maybe even find a family who would take you in.”

He thought about the offer. A family. But then his thoughts turned to his sister. His sister who would never know a family; who would never again run or play; who would never laugh, nor cry, nor sing, nor dance.

“Rebecca and the children at the abbey never received such an offer. It is in their name I must decline it.”

Mr Hardy looked at Matthias once more with those big gentle eyes. A small smile creased the corner of his mouth.

“Very well,” he said. “Report to the mustering hall at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. You can start basic hand to hand combat training. We’ll see how you go from there. Mr O’Grady will be your instructor. Be courteous at all times and treat him with the utmost respect…if you want to end the day in one piece.”

“Yes, sir.”

“One more thing. We do not use surnames here you will be known only as Matthias. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“People have to
earn
their family names, whatever it is.” The smile had gone.

Matthias got up to leave but paused. “My grandfather,” he asked, “will I get to meet him?”

“All in good time,” said Mr Hardy, returning to his notes. As Matthias made his way slowly back to his room he found himself wondering what he had let himself in for.

When Matthias awoke the next day Harry was already up and sitting on the end of his own bed reading a book. He was used to sharing a dorm with ten or twelve others, so to have just one companion was a first. The boy turned and looked at Matthias as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“You’re awake then?” he said, in a jolly voice.

Matthias yawned and scratched his head. With so much going through his mind and his body shaking with cold he couldn’t really focus on early morning conversation.

Harry stood up. “I said, ‘You’re awake then?’” His voice was accented and more common than the other children he had heard around the castle.

“I’d say so,” said Matthias. He got up and hopped barefoot across the cold stone to the trunk at the end of his bed and started to dress. He took off his nightgown and placed it inside where the clothes he had arrived in lay. They looked sad, discarded at the bottom of the trunk. After changing into his new livery he took one last look at the white shirt and brown breeches before closing the lid.

“Are you to train with us then?” said Harry, starting to get ready himself. Matthias looked him squarely in the eye. The boy grinned back.

“Yes,” said Matthias, “I am to learn to fight.”

“Great,” said Harry. “Who have they started you with? O'Grady I expect?”

Matthias nodded, whilst adjusting his new clothes. They fitted well and were thick and hard wearing. The fine materials clung to his frame tightly and the duke’s emblem shone on his chest. At his side he hung a small dagger which had been provided with the garments.

“He's a tough one; be warned,” continued Harry. “He'll start you off slow, but as soon as he sees that look in your eyes he'll want to find out what you're made of.”

Matthias finished buckling his belt, “What
look
?”

Harry turned to face him fastening on a sword belt that held a foil neatly in place at his side. “Why, the look you're giving me right now. It may make you feel a bit stronger and give the world the impression you are trouble, but in here it'll just make people think you're scared. Some of the young ‘uns try it. I hear they don't last long.”

Harry took a step closer and whispered in his ear, “A word of advice. If you want to last, don't try and act as a hero. You won't fool anyone and you'll probably get your neck snapped.”

He gave Matthias a friendly pat on the back and said, with an enormous grin, “Come on, it’s in the morning hall. I'll take you there.”

Matthias sighed and let his face relax from the distant stare and square jaw he realised he had been wearing and followed his roommate. As they walked he tried to remember the corridors they had come down as feeling sure he would get lost returning.

They eventually reached the hall and it was enormous. Along its walls hung all manner of weapons and armour. Different types of swords at one end, all neatly side by side – there must have been twenty or thirty of each type! Next to them were helmets, breastplates and further along a collection of wooden weapons.

Near these were a group of perhaps twenty or thirty children gathered; all younger than Matthias, but not much. They were chatting idly amongst themselves. Matthias could see many of them had wooden swords on their belts and all had studded jackets of leather.

As Harry led them in, some of the children stared and looked him up and down. Matthias made his way to the back of the group and tried to avoid their looks.

The biggest of a group of three boys turned and said out loud, “Our new teacher looks a bit young!”

There were a few guffaws but thankfully most of the class ignored him. The boy poked his friend in the ribs and was just about to come out with another jibe when he received a sour look from Harry.

“He's with me, Walter,” said Harry. He turned, gave Matthias a wink, and then left via one of the other corridors. The other boy turned back to his friends with a sideways look at Matthias.

Whilst they waited he started to take in more of the scene. Hanging on the other walls were ropes, climbing equipment and harnesses; then, further along, pistols and muskets. The majority of the hall was covered in a thick carpet the like of which Matthias had never seen; it almost made him bounce with each step.

As Matthias looked around the children he noticed they appeared agitated. Some were fidgeting with the straps on their armour and belts, others simply looking at the floor with gloom. He once again found himself squaring his jaw and setting his shoulders back. Today was all about learning he reminded himself. Pay attention, do exactly as the teacher says and treat him with respect.

For several more minutes they waited, the air getting tenser. Then, from a far door, a man marched in wearing a thick leather jerkin and trousers. His red face was accompanied by grey hair and an even greyer bushy beard making him look like a knight from the Crusades. He strode over purposefully to the group and barked at them like a general, “Alright everyone. Let's have you.” The children all scurried to line up against the wall and Matthias fell in at the end. The barrel-chested teacher walked down the line looking at each child in turn until finally he came to Matthias.

“I'm Mr O'Grady, your instructor. Follow my instructions and try to keep up and I think we'll get along just fine.” Up close the man was intimidating. His face had several scars that looked almost as old as him and his teeth were black and broken. A rapier hung at the side of his belt and his fingers danced across the hilt when he shouted. It looked as if he was about to draw it upon one of the children and Matthias wondered for a moment whether he ever had.

“Walter, Stephen, Raphael. Present!” he bellowed. The three boys who had been sniggering all leapt forward and drew their wooden swords before standing in a line. O'Grady walked up to the wall and took down two wooden swords, one of which he threw to Matthias without a word. He then took off his sword belt and handed his rapier to another student.

“En garde!” he yelled, and then advanced on the three boys. Immediately the three of them split up so as to encircle the instructor and the other children watched, fascinated. Then, like a snake pouncing, the first of them leapt at O'Grady without fear.

The boy’s lunge seemed slow and clumsy, or maybe that was just the way O'Grady made it look as he easily flicked the low strike aside and countered with one to the boy’s chest. The boy sunk to his knees in genuine pain from the strike but the instructor was not done yet. The old man swiftly followed up with another crack straight in the boy’s ribs who finally collapsed.

O’Grady turned to face the other boys but addressed the groaning mass on the floor to his side. “Too easy, Stephen. Very slow, even for you. The strike was too low for a target taller than yourself. Get up!”

The boy groaned on the floor and Matthias thought he heard a faint, “Yes-sir,” muffled into the carpet. Stephen got on to his knees rubbing his ribs and, with a sullen look, made his way back to the line taking deep breaths.

The two remaining boys shared a slightly nervous look with each other but maintained their calm and prepared to strike. First up was the one Harry had called Walter. He crept to within striking range of the teacher but merely carried out small thrusts well out of reach, presumably he was testing the range of the man.

“Come along Walter,” said O'Grady. “Show me your mettle, boy.”

Walter stepped back and to Matthias’s surprise leapt straight at the teacher, only he went up and up; perhaps twenty feet over the instructor’s head. O’Grady turned to face the boy who had landed behind him. “Good, Walter. But you’ll get nowhere jumping around all day.”

Matthias turned to look at his classmates; they were all staring intently. Nobody seemed to have notice the boy had leapt the height of a house! Mr Hardy had called the children ‘gifted’ and he was beginning to understand why.

The boy took barely a step back but leapt again and this time quickly turned and lunged. His strike looked true, but once more O’Grady was quicker, he knocked the boy’s blade aside and thundered into him with his shoulder. The youngster’s breath could be heard leaving his body as he too fell to the floor.

“Too open Walter! Were you paying attention last week? It’s all about the footwork boy.” He looked up at the remaining opponent who had now turned slightly pale.

The boy was quivering, his breathing quick as he tried to maintain his composure. He looked at the old instructor who stared back with mad eyes. Then, something seemed to snap within him and he lunged. It was clumsy even to a layman and the boy’s sword was wild and high. O’Grady made it look simple when he ducked, disarmed and flung the boy over his shoulder. He landed heavily only a few feet from Matthias.

“Disappointing class,” said O’Grady, re-adjusting his belt and jacket. “Clearly people haven’t been paying attention. Right here we just saw three prime examples of what
not
to do. Never miscalculate your opponent’s strengths, never go in open and always watch your feet. Balance is of the highest importance.”

The class nodded glumly. Then O’Grady looked at Matthias. “You, new boy. What’s your name?”

“Matthias, sir.”

“Let’s see what you’re made of, come on. I’ll go easy on you.”

Matthias remembered he was gripping a wooden sword; though more out of fear than preparation. “Sir?”

“Come at me. I won’t hurt you.”

He gingerly stepped forward and held the sword at what he approximated was a fencing stance. “En garde!” bellowed the instructor. They immediately began to circle each other as the boys before had done. “Now remember what you’ve seen here,” said O’Grady, “Keep your balance, attack high and don’t open up your body.”

Energy pulsed through Matthias as his arms, legs and even his stomach tightened. Somehow his fear had vanished and an animal instinct took over. Every muscle in his body burst into life and it was almost as if time slowed down around him. For a second he thought he saw a small look of confusion cross the instructor’s face. He picked this as his moment to attack and leapt at him sideways with the wooden sword.

O’Grady instinctively brought up his own to block and disarm Matthias but he had been expecting this and had already planned his next move. The attack was a feint and he used his own motion to spin around the disarming move and turn his back to the teacher. He finally brought the sword up to the teacher’s throat in a sharp thrust. There was silence as the class stood open-mouthed looking at the two in front of them. O’Grady with his arms by his side and Matthias standing in front him, back to chest but with the sword held above his head and poking into the man's throat.

“Impressive,” smiled O’Grady. “I can see we’ll have some fun.” He started chuckling and Matthias thought he felt him press in closer to the sword.

“Only one thing.” This time he definitely leaned in to the dull wooden point. “You’re slightly off balance.” With those words he whipped Matthias’s legs out from underneath him.

He fell to the floor and landed with a thump on his back. Now O’Grady had the upper hand and he didn’t waste a moment. Before Matthias could recover the older man had crossed his own two swords to make a ‘V’ around Matthias’s neck. The crazed eyes glared down at him and the mouth formed a crooked, blackened grin.

“With a little hard work we can make sure you don’t overstretch yourself, eh?” The teacher stood back and offered Matthias his hand before hoisting him up. Massaging his throat he took his place in line with the other boys and felt a touch of pride as he noticed a few of the looks of curiosity he had garnered.

The rest of the morning was spent concentrating on footwork through a combination of lectures and then more complex balancing exercises. Once Matthias got to grips with the theory it came naturally to him to be able to follow O’Grady's moves and steps. This soon became apparent to everyone and several of the other boys started to look at him with suspicion.

At midday they broke for lunch and Matthias followed the flow of children toward the smell of food coming from a banqueting hall. It was there the familiar face of Harry appeared bobbing through the crowds.

“Ahoy there!” he shouted. Matthias managed a smile and waved weakly. It had been an exhausting morning and he was looking forward to some food.

“How was the class?” said Harry.

“It was good,” said Matthias, as they made their way to the queue of children receiving food. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

“Oh really? I heard you gave O’Grady a few surprises.”

As they reached the front of the queue they were handed an empty bowl each. This was promptly filled by a maid with a mixture of meat, vegetables and broth. Next to it was a large basket of bread and Matthias helped himself to three pieces.

“Everyone’s saying you managed to beat his disarming move with your first attempt! I know you’re a little older than the other children in the class but it’s still impressive. I imagine they’ll have you joining the rest of us within the week.”

“I hope so. I want to learn as much as I can as quickly as I can.” He took a tankard of water and followed Harry to a table. They both started eating; it was good food and he was glad of the bread to add substance to the meal. The banqueting hall bustled with what must have been close to a hundred children all eating and talking excitedly.

One of them approached the table. He was bigger and older, maybe eighteen, with blond hair and blue eyes that narrowed when he saw Matthias. “Hello Harry,” he said with a big smile. “Who’s your new friend?”