The Wheelwright's Apprentice (28 page)

44

Art was in no fit state to ride a horse, and in any case, Captain Hanna didn’t think he should be on his own. Nevertheless, as he was needed to get a message to the Earl, Art was sitting beside Big Davi in his cart, nibbling on hard biscuit. It several miles before Davi thought Art would be interested in talking, and when he did, he wasn’t very tactful. “I never thought you could look so rough.”

That at least got Art to smile. “I didn’t think so either.” He sat up properly and wiped his face. “I don’t like killing.”

“The Captain said you’d killed before, so why the violent reaction?”

Art was quiet for a time and eventually answered, “He was right, I have killed before. I’ve even killed a Will adept before. The difference between those times and this one is that I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I did. I was actually very bloodthirsty. Learning to live with myself after what I did was hard for me - and my girl. It took me much longer than it should for me to be able to express my feelings to her.”

“Wasn’t it a bit dangerous to take on two adepts at once?”

“It’s ridiculously dangerous to take on even one. I got a little bit lucky.” He gave a smile that didn’t do much to improve his looks. “They never thought a kid dumb enough to fall of the castle wall, and knock himself senseless could have the Will. I was a bit sneaky too.” He gathered his thoughts. “The commonest passive defensive spell we carry simply throws the attack back at the aggressor. I tweaked mine to throw anything that bounced back at me to the other adept, with a bit of a boost. If they had their defenses up, they’d have been essentially bouncing it between each other until...”

“Until what?”

“I don’t know as it never came to that. Anyway, I was braced to flit away if I had to.” Davi had the impression that either Art was being modest, which didn’t seem to be his style, or he was winging it. Since he was still visibly a youth, he was almost sure it was the latter. It suggested that he might need a lot of support.

Art dug into the back of the cart and came up with a captured sword. “What are you doing with that?” Davi asked him.

“It’s an idea I have. Once I manage to get the message inside the castle, I want to make sure someone knows it’s there.”

“Using that old sword?”

“It won’t be a sword,” Art explained. “I can’t bang on the gate. There’ll always be somebody watching it, and I can’t be sure there won’t still be an adept or two in the camp. Watch.” Half of the blade vanished, and a bell appeared on the bench between them. Art turned it upside down and checked for the ring to hang the clapper. He showed it to Davi. “Neat, huh?” Davi nodded, unable to say anything. Moments later the sword got slightly shorter and a clapper popped into view. Art deftly attached it and gave it an experimentaրl ring. It sounded a bit odd, but made enough noise.

“If it has to be inside the gate, how will you ring it?”

“I’m still working on it.”

“You never got much training, did you?”

Art made a noise like a bark. “That’s an understatement.” He shook his head. “I did get trained as a healer, but a lot of that was because my father wanted me to learn how to kill. It’s sort of the same thing. I also got a bit of training in battle magic as we were in a war and, well, I was on his side. Oh, and how to flit. Even that was mostly for his convenience. Otherwise, it’s all self taught. I don’t know whether or not I can do something until I try.”

“So you are winging it?”

“That’s the only way to learn. The good news is you can come up with something different, and if you do it changes everything.”

“You mean you might be able to do things you don’t know you can?”

“I suppose so. Let me think about what I’m going to do with the bell.”

Davi drove the cart as close to the castle and its besieging army as he felt was sensible before inviting Art to get off and walk. He got a surprise when he did. “Do you want to come along? You’ll be cold and bored stiff sitting there for hours.”

Once the shock had worn off, Davi asked, “Won’t they see me?”

“I can hide two people as well as one.” Art took his hand. “As long as we’re touching.”

“This isn’t fair,” Davi whined. “I get to hold your hand for a nice long time, and in the end all that happens is you get to ring a bell.”

“You can stay if you want. I thought it would be a nice experience for you to walk around invisible for a while.”

“I’ll come. You’re a bastard, you know.” Art’s only reply was a devilish grin, which barely lingered as they both vanished.

Half an hour later, having tiptoed through the enemy lines, they reached the castle gate. They were alone as the all enemy were at least four hundred feet away, well out of bow shot. Davi was still holding on with a sweaty grip when Art said, “I’m going to need both hands, could you touch me somewhere else?” A split second later, he realized his verbal mistake. “The back of my neck will be fine.”

“Spoilsport.” Davi wasn’t too miffed, but wanted Art to know that he’d let a chance go.

Art retrieved the bell, which had been muted, from a bag slung from his shoulder, attached the message packet to it, and put his hand on the gate. “How thick do you reckon this is?”

“I don’t have to reckon, I’ve been through these gates quite a few times. They are this wide.” He was holding his hands a shade over a foot apart, and smiling.

“They can see you, and there’s always somebody watching the gate.” Davi gave a muffled squeak, and put his hand back on Art’s neck. “Let’s do this fast.” Art stood right up against the gate, holding the bell. “Here goes.” The bell vanished, and the sound of its clanging started at once. Even through the foot plus thickness of wood, the sound was painful. Art kept it up for almost a minute before he stopped. “That worked better than I had hoped. Let’s go around the side and see if they reply.”

When they had found a dark shadow cast by the bulge of a corner tower, Art said, “You can sit down and let go now.”

Davi leaned back against the castle wall and could see Art’s faint outline. “We wait now?”

“We wait and hope you weren’t seen, that they have no Will adept left in the camp and that someone dares to wake the Earl up to read the message.”

“You brought me all this way, holding hands, to keep you warm if we get stuck here for the rest of the night?”

Art ignored the sally and continued, “The message, which was signed by Captain Hanna, asked the Earl to drop a rope right here for us to climb, so we could explain our situation to him. Look out for a rope.”

“How did you ring the bell?”

“When I do surgery and there is a lot of blood, I’ll float it in the air to keep it clean before I put it back. It was a bit like that.” Davi didn’t know what to say to that.

A few minutes later, there was still no sign of any rope, but Davi did see some archers at a distance in the moonlight. “I must have been seen. Sorry.” He pointed in their direction.

“They most likely can’t see us in these shadows, but will probably loose a few in this direction out of principle.”

A minute later a small volley of arrows winged its way unerringly towards them, which Art carefully diverted into the wall behind them. They made a clattering sound which could definitely be heard by the archers. To be on the safe side, their officer ordered a second volley which was treated similarly. The archers looked to be moving on when a rope suddenly and noisily landed on Big Davi’s head. The fact that he let out an involuntary yelp didn’t help. This naturally brought the archer’s attention back to the shadowed corner where they were hiding.

“Davi, get up the rope quickly.” Davi struggled to get a grip and get moving. Art wasn’t too sure how near he had to be to be able to protect him, so he decided on a different tactic. “Keep on going, you’ll be fine,” he whispered after Davi.

He strode, visible, towards the archers, and stopped about thirty paces away from the wall. All he wanted to do was buy time, not only for Davi to scramble up the wall, but also to forestall them sending someone to tell any adept who was still in the camp that they had run into a problem. A glimpse over his shoulder showed him Davi struggling. Being a big man, climbing a rope was not too easy for him. It might take longer than he thought. He stood and waited for the archers to act. They seemed confused by someone who would stand in the open, weaponless and face them.

All Art wanted was a minute or two of uncertainty as Davi clambered upwards, and for a bit that was exactly what he got. Rather sooner than he hoped, he saw the archers preparing to shoot so he immediately took to his heels, and ran for the rope. He decided to zigzag as he wanted them to think that was why they were all going to miss. Clambering up the rope, it came to him that this was the only time that he thought fondly of Master Jeffy and the unrelenting regime he had drilled into him. Before he knew it, he was almost up to Davi, and was able to whisper, “Move, or I’ll make you suffer.”

He moved. Even though he was nearly exhausted Davi managed to reply, “It’ll be fun being invisible. Right.” Art made sure that the next set of arrows all hit the wall close to Davi. Seconds later they were both over the battlements and iۀlements n the castle.

The fact that neither of them had a weapon meant that the castle guards were polite, but vigilant as they were escorted to the Earl. They were led to what was obviously a small dining room as it was set for a meal.

Notwithstanding that he wore only a robe and was visibly stressed, the Earl cut an impressive figure. He had chosen to look more mature than Art might have expected. He sported a full greying moustache, and other traces of grey licked the sides of his temples. Other than this affectation he was so well built he could have been training with Arch for fifty or so years.

“Captain Hanna wanted me to explain certain developments and ask for instructions, sir.” It was clear that the honorific was an afterthought.

The Earl flopped down onto the chair at the head of the table and gestured for them to sit. “Let’s hear it.”

Art explained everything from the ambush and their rescue after Saran’s non-appearance, up to the demise of Boban and his friend. The Earl didn’t interrupt. Art skirted over his own role, describing himself only as “an adept no one had seen before.”

The Earl was sharp. “That was you, wasn’t it?” were his first words when Art finished.

“Yes, sir, it was,” he admitted, as he chose to don the face he was born with.

This brought a restrained chuckle from the Earl. “My friend the Count sent me some help!” He got to his feet and put out his hand. “Call me Damon.”

They shook hands. “I’m Art.”

This produced another dry chuckle and a shake of the head. “The most dangerous Art. I am happy to meet you.”

“
I think I am more the incredibly lucky Art. Now, sir, what are your instructions?”

“Open the gates and we will graciously accept their surrender.”

Since Art had a rather questioning expression, the Earl added, “You have lived your life in Galland. Your father has made it the richest country in the region, and by far the nicest place to live. Do you know why?”

“No idea. He seems to be awfully sensible though.”

“That he is. The key is Will adepts like us. There are probably more adepts in Galland than in all the four countries that border it on the west. Not only that, but they are all doing very useful and productive things like building roads, working as healers and keeping the peace. The most important thing is they are not fighting and killing each other. Your dad sees to that. Outside your borders it’s different. Power struggles are continuous, and adepts get killed almost as fast as new ones are found.”

“So?” Art still wasn’t clear what he meant.

“You disposed of three adepts. Hereabouts they are pretty rare. There is only a tiny chance that there is one left out there, and even if there is, we two will easily be able to send him packing.”

45

Art woke. He cracked an eye and saw that it was dark outside. Memory slowly returned. He and the Earl had made the force surrounding them surrender as they had no remaining Will adepts with them. Shortly after that, Captain Hanna and his troop had arހrived and the whole castle had been in turmoil. There were over two hundred and fifty prisoners to confine and not enough room for them.

Administrative problems, fortunately, were not his problems, and in any case Davi and he had been up all night and were exhausted. They had been shown to a room and had collapsed. He heard a soft snore. Oh.

He turned to see Davi, like him, fully clothed but for his boots, lying inches away. Art cracked a small smile. He would definitely use this to get revenge for the way Davi had ribbed him yesterday. Was it yesterday? How long had he slept?

Art pulled on his boots, being careful not to wake Davi, and opened the nearest door. It was the jakes, that was useful. A couple of minutes later he tried another door and found himself in a rather grand corridor. There was a boy sitting against the wall, dozing. Art gave him a small shake.

“Wh..what? Oh.” The boy suddenly bounced to his feet and said, “Sorry Milord. His Excellency the Earl bade me take you to him when you woke.”

“Can you take me by way of the kitchens please? I need a bit of refreshment.”

“No need Milord, he’s at dinner.”

“Why do you call me Milord?”

“That is because Milord has the Will, and here everyone with the Will is Milord.” He hesitated, adding, “Unless they are entitled to be called something grander, Milord. Of course here, everyone with a grander title has the Will.”

He was led along several corridors and down stairs while he absorbed his changed status. On passing a very ornate mirror, he paused and noticed that he was showing his own face. Since the Earl had last seen that one, he decided to keep it.

The dining room where the Earl was eating with his chief officers and a few guests was quite small, and as it turned out, right next to the kitchen. The Earl rose when he entered, not just to be courteous, but also as a way of telling the other people in the room that Art was important.

“I trust you slept well?”

Art nodded. “Thank you, very well. I must have been asleep a long time.”

There was a place, next to the Earl that had presumably been kept for him, and as soon as he was seated he was introduced to the other diners. The only person he knew was Captain Hanna who was very quiet, and just smiled at him.

A bowl of soup appeared in front of him, and since everyone else was already eating, he dug in. He had nearly finished it when he heard his name mentioned. “Art is the man we can thank for lifting the siege and allowing us to have a good meal again.”

Art looked up to see The Earl’s gaze on him. “Art, did you know that you are actually responsible for all the conflicts that have started in this region, including the siege of this castle?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” he blurted. He was assailed by twin surges of guilt and doubt.

Earl Damon put on a kind expression. “Don’t worry. If you hadn’t been the catalyst, some other person or event would have triggered things anyway.”

Art’s soup bowl was replaced with a full platter while he was sitting with his mouth open. This brought him back to reality. “What do you mean?”

The Earl had finished eating, so he told Art, “Let Art, me explain while you eat. The last month or so has been very busy around here, and you should know what’s happened, and more importantly, why.” He took a big draught from his flagon, sat up, and explained, “It all started when your country was invaded. Aravia was so old, she could have been struck with power madness at any time, and when she did she chose to go after your father. The problem was that it wasn’t your dad who killed her. That would have been an affirmation of his strength. When you killed her, it was seen as a sign of his weakness. The assumption was that he couldn’t do it himself.”

Art was understandably confused, “What has that got to do with all this?”

“To answer that I’ll have to give you a lesson in the region’s geography and dynamics. Four countries border Galland from its southwest to northwest. From the southwest, first we have this country, Toranavia. North of us there is Waygand, then Jeerea and finally, Summerland. Summerland isn’t a nice place and the adept who controls it, a monster called Draman, is about as nasty a person as you can imagine. So much so that its people used to flee in droves over the border to Galland until thirty years ago when the border was firmly closed. Draman has always looked at Galland with huge amounts of resentment and jealousy, and has been waiting for an opportunity, if not to conquer it, at least to carve off a decent chunk. The problem he has is that Galland has a lot more people, a much bigger army and, more importantly, many more adepts. He’s had to stew for decades, waiting for something to happen to give him a chance, and recent events make him think his chance has come at last.”

He looked at Art. “Any questions so far?”

He swallowed the mouthful he had been chewing. “No, not yet.”

“Draman believes that your father is on his way out. It doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not. As long as he thinks the Count’s going, Draman will act as if he is. He’s counting on your father to invade Hanpo or Arglaria when power madness strikes him fully. That will be his chance. There will still be the problem of Galland having many more adepts than answer to him. To this end he made an alliance with the ruler of Jeerea to conquer both Waygand and us. This would give him enough power to attempt invading Galland, or to kill your father’s replacement.”

“What if my father were to invade Summerland, or one of the other countries to his west instead?”

“That’s most likely the argument he used to get Jeerea to enter an alliance in the first place. If he looks westward, we’ll need all the allies we can get.”

Art was embarrassed for not thinking things through. “He could be fine for years yet, even decades.”

“That’s true, but would you want to wait until there was an army at your borders before you thought about defending yourself?”

“I’m beginning to understand why my father wanted me to learn about soldiering.”

Art heard the door opening behind him, and the Earl greeted the newcomer. It was Davi. “Sit and have something to eat, you must be hungry.”

A place was made for Davi at the table. When he was seated, he muttered at Art, “You could have woken me.”

This was an opening better than any he could have hoped for. More so as it was in front of an audience of powerful people he didn’t know. Art turned to Davi, changed to his handsomest face, and drawled, “What reason on earth would I have to wake yave to wou? You are the most boring bed companion I’ve ever had. I mean you didn’t want, or were unable, to do anything.” He paused for effect. “Except snore.”

Captain Hanna couldn’t hold himself, and burst out laughing while the other diners looked at each other. “Forgive my colleagues, it’s just friendly ribbing.” It seemed that they didn’t see the Will used much, let alone for a joke.

This allowed the company to indulge in a few chuckles, and when they subsided, the Earl took charge. “You now know the background; the question is what happens next.”

This led to a long and animated discussion amongst the diners, following which the Earl summarized what he believed had happened, and what he should do. “I was targeted early or even first, as they view me as competent, dangerous and friendly towards Galland. Someone to get out of the way. Now that they have failed, lost three adepts and two companies of troops, they’ve been set back. We should try to set them back further before they find out what’s happened.” He stood up. “Before I can act, I need to go and see the Grand Duke. I’ll need his permission if I’m going to move my troops anywhere, let alone into another country. Art, it’d help if you came.”

* * *

Ten minutes and a hundred or so miles away, Art was introduced to the ruler of Toranavia, Grand Duke Tomasz. After Earl Damon had explained the situation, the Grand Duke asked Art a lot of probing questions, and then said, “That’s interesting and encouraging news. I have some news too. My agents have recently told me of several other skirmishes going on in what is becoming a wide theater of operations. The main force of the Summerland/Jeerea axis is massing in Jeerea well to the east. They appear to be looking to take the city of Furl, which is the center of the ranching industry in Waygand. This will allow them to feed their army and then cross down to the Eastern Riding of Toranavia. Both regions are relatively under-populated, flat, and offer little to concern an invading force. The few castles can simply be invested and then passed. It’s not a bad strategy.”

Earl Damon and Art caught each other’s eyes, and the Earl was quick to note, “The way you tell it, I would guess there’s more.”

“Correct. Besides you, there are three other regional lords who have been attacked. Presumably the ones that they expected to give them the most problems. One is more significant than the others. Baron Edgurd, who has a castle north of Furl, and a decent-sized standing army, is directly in the path we expect the invaders to take.”

The Earl, taking Art for granted, offered, “How can we help?”

* * *

Art spent the whole of the night flitting backwards and forwards between Earl Damon’s castle and Baron Edgurd’s north of Furl. Each time he carried two soldiers with him. Earl Damon had taken on a different role moving women and children away. It was the first time Art had flitted so much and it was very tiring, so much so that sometime during the night, he failed in his attempt to flit, and stayed stuck in the Earl’s castle holding onto two of Captain Hanna’s troops. “I’m sorry I have to take a break” he said. “I need a snack...” He collapsed.

He woke to see Davi’s face inches from his. “Oh my! The delicate little flower has recovered from her fainting spell. You look so cute when you’re sleeping.” That was a bit too much, and the first thing that Art noticed, a book sitting on a table beyn a tablond him, struck Davi firmly on the back of the head.

“I’m fine. How long have I slept?”

“Too long obviously, if you can be so sharp so quickly.” He rubbed the back of his head. “That hurt. It’s been a couple of hours.”

Art stretched, stood up from the bed he had been lying on, and asked, “What’s happening now?”

“The Earl got one of Baron Edgurd’s adepts to finish what you were doing. There weren’t many left anyway. I was told to wait and let you bring me when you woke up.”

* * *

Art got a warm welcome when he got back to Baron Edgurd’s castle. He was introduced as Milord Art to those he hadn’t met before. He now understood the title. It was just a convention that cut out a lot of explanations.

Earl Damon spoke to him quietly, “I’m not surprised that you collapsed, I had to have a nap myself. You must have moved twice the people I did. Troops are so much more disciplined than women and children.”

“I’ve never used my Will that much before. I didn’t know my limits. In fact, I didn’t know I had limits.”

The Earl’s tone became oddly avuncular. “We all have limits, it’s so seldom that we have to extend ourselves enough to reach them. Actually you should be happy that you have found yours. It’s always good to know yourself.” He put his hand on Art’s shoulder. “I hope you’ve recovered enough, best you get something to eat. Good sweet things help the most. We are going to sally at dawn and surprise them with twice the force, soldiers and adepts, than they expect.”

Art was skeptical. “I’m sure that they know that we could have moved hundreds more troops in at any time, given enough adepts.”

“That’s why we had to act so fast. They originally attacked or threatened to attack across such a broad front and in so many places that we couldn’t spare anybody to reinforce anywhere else. Our one little triumph has given us a chance to catch them napping. I told you that adepts were a lot thinner on the ground outside Galland.” Earl Damon beckoned a page over. “Please show Milord Art to the kitchens, he needs some good food.”

Art was guided politely and efficiently to the kitchens, where the page informed the lady in charge, “Milord Art here would like something restoring.”

The lady, who was young and pretty, and nothing like Art expected, took one glance at him and said, “I know exactly the thing you’ll be wanting. Sit right here and I’ll get it.” She was used to authority, and Art found himself sitting down before he realized it. Moments later a thick slice of cake appeared in front of him, and another in front of the girl, as Art now thought of her.

‘Thank you so much...” His tone of voice raised.

“You may call me Milady Iria.” She sat opposite him. “Now tell me how you disposed of three adepts.”

His mind snapped into gear. “My apologies, Milady. May I take it your father is the Baron and that we have something in common?”

“Yes, and you may. Now get on with the story.” She was eager.

“I came to eat, so it’ll take a bit.” He cut a forkful off and put it in his mouth. It was sickly sweet but he found himself taking another bite before he started speaking. Sh speakine seemed to hang on his every word, didn’t ask any questions or interrupt.

The first thing she said was, “My father would never allow me to take such stupid risks.”