The Crafter's Son: Book One of the Exciting New Coming of Age Epic Fantasy Series, The Crafter Chronicles

by Matthew Berg

  Kestrel nodded. Aelric seemed to know what he was feeling.

  Aelric continued. “You did well. You’ll make a fine scout of the King’s Army, Starkad.”

  Kestrel was torn. He was elated at the hunt master’s words, but he still felt sick to his stomach thinking about what he’d done. And long after he took his last look at the form on the ground next to him, his mind’s eye saw the half-human face of the kobold lying in the peace of death on the forest floor.

  Derek had been picking over the kobold’s possessions while Kestrel was engaged with Aelric, and he had laid everything out on top of the kobold’s vest, which he had also removed, and had spread out on the ground. There was the dagger, a pouch of poorly struck copper coins, and a necklace comprised of a leather cord and a translucent green stone bound about its middle with a thin copper wire. A small pouch was off to the side, and Kestrel could see mold growing on the open flap, and bits of half-eaten food had spilled out of it. Apparently, there was nothing else of worth.

  Derek spoke to Kestrel. “Take whatever you want. They’re your spoils to claim.”

  Kestrel picked up the dagger and drew it from its sheath, noticing as he did so that Derek’s eyes had dropped at his selection. But Kestrel took one look at the notched and chipped blade, at the yellowed bone handle that wobbled slightly on its tang, and he gently tossed the dagger back on the pile.

  Something of the child in him liked the look of the green stone, but he hesitated in claiming it, feeling morbid at the thought of carrying it around with him. But then it occurred to him that the necklace could be a way to remember the creature from whom he’d taken it, and a symbol of the kobold’s spirit rather than simply a trophy of a kill. Maybe if he took it, it would be his way of paying respect to the creature he had killed. These thoughts passed rapidly in his head, and on impulse more than anything, he grabbed the necklace.

  Surprising himself then, he bent his head and put the necklace about his neck, tucking the stone into his tunic so that only the leather cord was visible.

  Kestrel looked around to see how the others might react to his decision. Aelric wore a quizzical face Kestrel couldn’t interpret, but the others didn’t appear to deem it as noteworthy as Kestrel did and were already looking back to the pile to see if Kestrel would take anything else. Kestrel understood. “Go ahead. Take whatever you want. I’ve no interest in anything else.”

  Derek smiled and grabbed the blade, his face showing an unusually expressive satisfaction. Kestrel suspected the blade would be a prop for telling stories more than a serviceable knife.

  The copper coins remained where they were, and no one made a move to claim them. And it was not until Aelric gave the order that they should all head back toward the horses that Tavish Ranald went back to collect them.

  13

  An Arrival

  Fall was grudgingly holding out against winter one day when Cedric held the day’s lesson in the rooftop garden. There were a handful of locations Cedric used more often than others for his lessons, but the garden was far and away Breeden’s favorite. Maybe it was because it had been the location of his first class, or maybe it was because of the beauty and peacefulness of the place itself. In any event, it was a magnificent day, and on a day like this one, the garden was exceptionally special. The sun was shining brightly, and there was a pleasant bite to the air. Breeden tried to blow vapor from his mouth. He smiled. Not quite cold enough. But close.

  Cedric’s lesson was drawing to a close, and even the cleric appeared to have trouble keeping himself interested. He was talking about the political factions in Laon and the rising power of the merchant class there. Breeden had first thought the topic was too advanced for him, but when he looked around the rooftop at his peers, he saw that there were vacant and inattentive faces in surplus. Even Oskar, who was always so alert and eager lest he miss anything important, looked bored.

  Cedric was in the middle of a sentence when he suddenly stopped. “And in an environment where the merchants are permitted to buy royal writs of inheritance, it is but one step away from a system of government where power is derived more from earned wealth than wealth is derived from inherited power. In the waning influence and even disappearance from court of many of the oldest households in the court of Laon, we can see the demise of the latter and the rise of the former. It is only a matter of time before . . . before I bore even myself half to death. I’m sorry, children. But it seems that today’s lesson is going to have to undergo an indefinite postponement due to lack of interest and clement weather. Enjoy your lunch hour, and then some. I will see you back at the east wing library immediately following the ringing of the first bell.”

  The words had no sooner left Cedric’s mouth than Kestrel was sprinting for the stairs. But something caught his attention, and he stopped short several feet from his goal. “Well, now. What’s that about, then?”

  His eyes were facing the front gate of the inner bailey, and everyone, Cedric included, turned to see what he was looking at. By its appearance, it was the carriage of some wealthy noble. The carriage was enormous, completely covered in gilt, and wrought with intricate detail. Breeden had seen nothing even remotely as impressive or gaudy before and guessed that it must be the carriage of someone high in the court.

  Derek spoke first. “I think that’s the king’s carriage. But how could he arrive without our knowing? And why would he come here?”

  Breeden didn’t like the way Derek said here but chose to ignore it in favor of devoting his full attention to the mysterious and captivating carriage, which continued to roll toward the keep. When the carriage was still in sight of the group, and just before it would have passed out of vision beyond the corner of the keep, it stopped. Apparently, there was some sort of honor guard in a formation that extended from the gate to where the carriage had stopped.

  Soon everyone had migrated to the low wall at the northwest corner of the garden to watch the spectacle. From this vantage, the carriage and honor guard were close enough that Breeden could see the stern faces worn by the guards. After a handful of moments had passed, the duke’s steward arrived from within the castle and approached the carriage in a slow and stately manner. Upon reaching the carriage, he opened the door, held it open with one hand, and offered his other hand to one of the carriage’s occupants. Breeden wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard the steward say, “My lady.”

  He mouthed the words in imitation, trying them out and wondering who it could be. “My lady?”

  Breeden looked around at the others. Oskar and Janelle were beside themselves with excitement. Derek was interested as well but was trying hard not to show it. Kestrel and Laudan were talking quietly to themselves, Kestrel trying to appear uninterested, and Laudan seemingly genuine in his lack of concern. It was then Breeden noticed that Cedric was not so much interested as amused at the tension in his students. He must know, thought Breeden.

  “Who is it, Cedric?”

  Breeden’s words caught the others off guard. And now Oskar and Janelle were torn between hearing what Cedric had to say and watching to see someone emerge from the carriage. But Cedric smiled in response to Breeden’s query and would only reply, “One of my new charges. She will not be participating in your group, however. It will be a private-tutoring affair.”

  “But who is it?”

  But this time Breeden’s words were lost in a collective gasp as a stunningly beautiful young girl emerged from the carriage. She wore a full-length gown of yellow silk and had radiant blond hair that extended down to her waist and shone like spun and polished gold. Her face was a delicate construction of soft curves and gentle angles. Her nose was small and perfect. Her cheekbones were high. And even from this distance, all the boys were taken aback by her sheer beauty.

  Derek was the first to speak, and when he did, his voice was laced with a rare and telling respect. “The princess.”

  Breeden was stunned and couldn’t take his eyes off the young girl, who looked to be—if he had to
guess—only a few years older than him. She held herself erect as she stepped down from the carriage, and Breeden was struck by her poise and dignity as she moved. There was a sense of calm and composure about her, as if she were not of the real world but rather a figment of a waking dream. And despite the fact that they were watching her from a rooftop more than ten yards above the courtyard in which she stood, she seemed somehow to float above even them. It felt impossible to believe she was a creature of flesh. She gracefully took hold of the steward’s arm, and they proceeded toward the castle at an agonizingly slow but, to Breeden, quite welcome pace. When she finally disappeared from view behind the building, it was a great cruelty she had not lingered longer within his sight.

  As if a spell had been broken, Breeden found he was able to move again and look about. Everyone but Cedric and Janelle was gaping at the location where they had lost sight of the princess. Cedric began to chuckle a low laugh of genuine mirth, and Janelle looked like a viper ready to strike out at all of them.

  Kestrel snapped out of it next and whistled, low and long. “Well, I swear I’ve never seen anything so utterly beyond my reach in my life. Did you ever even imagine that there was such beauty in the world, Breeden?”

  Breeden shook his head, and Oskar answered for him. “No, I did not. I swear I never would have thought it possible.”

  Breeden glanced back to Janelle and found she was now looking directly at him. Upon capturing his attention, she squinted her eyes in as baleful a glare as she could muster and stormed off to the stairway.

  Breeden watched her leave with a face torn between smirk and confusion. To Oskar he queried, “What do you suppose that was about?”

  Oskar shrugged his shoulders. “Jealousy, I’d say, though I’m not sure of what or whom exactly. Perhaps she didn’t like seeing our jaws all hit the floor at once!”

  Kestrel and Breeden both laughed at that.

  When Breeden looked at the other two boys, he noticed that Derek’s face was a mask of concentration, while Laudan’s was one of utter rapture. Breeden had never seen Laudan demonstrate such open emotion before. He was always quiet and kept to himself. And he never became caught up in the debates and arguments Derek and Kestrel were so fond of stirring up. Now that Breeden thought about it, the boy only seemed truly comfortable talking with Kestrel.

  As Breeden watched, Derek broke off from staring at nothing and followed after Janelle, his steps full of purpose. But Laudan was a statue, and it looked as if he still held the image of the departing princess in his mind.

  And then Kestrel noticed Laudan’s state and laughed out loud, grabbing his friend’s arm and giving him as hard a shove as he could muster. Laudan maintained his balance easily but did finally emerge from his trance. He looked confused and asked, “I’m sorry. What was the question?” And he glanced around, noticing first Cedric’s amused and still-chuckling face, and then Kestrel’s wry look.

  Kestrel responded without missing a beat. “The question was about the rise of the merchant class in Laon. Cedric was just saying—”

  Laudan picked up on Kestrel’s tone, realizing that a joke was being made at his expense, and he punched Kestrel in the shoulder, his long reach more than countering Kestrel’s agile attempt to dodge out of the way. The blow struck solidly, and Kestrel grimaced in genuine discomfort. Breeden and Oskar smiled at the exchange, and Cedric grimaced along with Kestrel.

  “Words, Laudan. Do not resort to your fist when your mouth can serve.” The admonishment was mild and light in tone, but Breeden could tell Cedric was serious at the same time.

  Laudan responded with immediate remorse. “But he is as quick with his words as he is with his feet. How am I supposed to best him when I am so slow and clumsy?”

  “Exercise your mind, my son. Just as you need to walk about in your armor for a very long time before you can wear it without discomfort and even forget that it is there, you need to practice your words in the same way. Rather than rely on the strength of your arm, which can fail you when sick or tired or wounded, you need to hone your mind to be ready for the times when your strength abandons you. What’s more, how many times have the stories been told of the mighty warrior brought down by poison or a stray arrow? Do not forget that in the hour of your greatest need, your strength may not be enough to make the difference.

  “And you,” he said, turning to face the now thoroughly amused Kestrel, “you need to learn to watch your tongue lest you make pledges from which neither your tongue nor your feet can save you.”

  Kestrel wiped the smile from his face and assumed a composed expression that Breeden immediately knew was studied. Cedric wasn’t convinced either.

  “I am quite serious, Kestrel. You may be quicker of mind and defter of foot than most, but there will always be someone quicker. And it is a man’s words, even more than his deeds, that too often make his enemies. Lest you think the stories I mentioned to Laudan don’t apply to you, reason out, if you will, whether any of those stray arrows may not have been so stray. Those stories are a lesson for both of you. You are, neither one of you, unassailable, and if you are going to be proper knights, you’d best learn, and learn soon, the power that comes from humility. That is enough for now. Go and think on what I have said. I will see you in the east wing library after the first bell.”

  Kestrel, Laudan, Oskar, and Breeden were quiet as they descended the stairs from the garden. But Cedric had not followed them, so when they reached the bottom of the stairs, Kestrel took the opportunity to jest with Laudan a bit more about the princess.

  “So, Laudan, I understand that the princess is here. She apparently arrived this morning. Do you suppose we will get a chance to meet her?”

  Breeden thought Laudan looked unsure of himself, and his response was slow in coming. “That was the princess. Of course it was. Why is she here?”

  All three of his friends laughed, and Kestrel replied, “Boy, you are a lovesick fool! Cedric just got through telling us that he’s going to be tutoring her, and before you ask, no, she isn’t going to be part of our group. She’ll be a private student of his. But I haven’t figured out why Cedric or why here yet.”

  Breeden couldn’t help himself, and even with his limited and romanticized notions about nobility and the royal court at Arlon, he felt comfortable enough with this group to make the suggestion “Maybe there’s some sort of scandal the king wants to keep her away from. Or maybe there’s more to Cedric than we know.”

  Kestrel considered the words and didn’t dismiss Breeden for being an “uppity peasant,” as Derek would have. Instead, he responded with a shrug. “Could be. The royal court is never a safe place to be. And I know that Cedric was a knight under the king’s father. So you never know, I suppose. Plus Aelric said something about the Krigares being active right now. Scouts have reported that they may be preparing for war. So more than one reason to send her south?”

  Oskar was originally from Arlon and, like Breeden, seemed to be growing more and more comfortable in the company of Laudan and Kestrel. “Cedric supposedly saved the king’s father during a terrible battle with the trolls. He’s a hero in Arlon for it, and I’m sure the king respects him for it too. I also remember hearing that the old king sent him down here to Ridderzaal on his deathbed. Something about not wanting him to get caught up in politics, I think.”

  Kestrel nodded. “That could definitely be it, then. Now I’d like to see if we can figure out what the intrigue is all about. Hmm. Anyone up for a run through the cellars tomorrow? I’ve heard that there are secret passages throughout the castle and that there’s even an escape tunnel that comes out on the river somewhere.”

  Breeden thought it sounded both terrifying and exciting at the same time and couldn’t help himself. “I would love to!”

  Oskar hesitated but finally agreed. “Sure. Count me in.”

  Laudan sighed and shook his head, but Breeden somehow knew he would come too. Laudan was very close to Kestrel. In fact, Breeden wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Laud
an without him. Kestrel would make the occasional appearance on his own without Laudan, but never the other way around.

  Kestrel was beaming. “So it’s agreed, then! Outstanding! Let’s go get something to eat before we have to meet back up with Cedric. Satje?”

  At the appointed time that afternoon, everyone made their way to the library as Cedric had requested. Janelle still bore a sullen mask and seemed just to tolerate her peers and even Cedric himself. Derek looked unusually relaxed, as if he’d resolved some inner conflict. And the other four boys came noisily clamoring into the room from the hallway, involved in a boisterous, though good-natured, discussion about a merchant they’d encountered on their trip to the market.

  Oskar was trying hard to be heard over Kestrel and was comparing the man with someone he knew back in Arlon. “I’m telling you, this guy had a lump on his neck big enough to be a second head.”

  Breeden laughed, enjoying the back-and-forth between the two and recognizing, not for the first time, the many similarities between Oskar and Kestrel. Oskar was sharp-witted and could launch a comeback to rival anything Kestrel could come up with. And where it was clear Kestrel was much more learned than Oskar, Oskar was easily his match or better in picking up new concepts and in thinking on his feet. Oskar was mentally tough as well, undoubtedly from his upbringing in an orphanage.

  But Breeden still gave the edge in confidence to Kestrel. Kestrel was one of the most confident people he knew. Breeden thought that his being raised in a noble household must have made the difference. Breeden suspected that he and Oskar would never feel the same way. During classes with his noble friends, there was always the reality lingering in the back of Breeden’s mind that he could never become a knight—that his heritage wouldn’t allow it. It didn’t bother him though. Well, maybe a little—even as fantastic a notion as the whole thing was.