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

by Matthew Berg

  Breeden tried to take it all in, but there was too much to see. He still held the broadsword he had found, which had felt right in his grasp, and he turned his attention to the activities of his friends. He saw Laudan raising over his head the suit of studded-leather armor that was too big even for him. He saw that Kestrel had moved on from the crossbow and was trying on a pair of intricately carved bronze bracers—too loose, even when properly tightened onto his forearms. And he saw Oskar trying on various helmets, each falling straight to his shoulders.

  He realized they all looked like just what they were: boys trying to make the trappings of war fit their unready forms. Laudan wasn’t broad enough of shoulder—for the armor he’d found, anyway. Kestrel wasn’t thick enough of limb. And he and Oskar were kidding themselves that they would ever be permitted to wear, never mind use, such equipment. At that somewhat disheartening thought, Breeden walked over to the rack where he’d started and placed the sword back where he’d found it.

  The afternoon’s adventure had been thrilling and even somewhat terrifying at moments—at least to Breeden. He never would have believed that someday he might be exploring the dark and ancient tunnels beneath a castle. But upon reflecting on the life he knew was in front of him—working in his father’s business—the glow of the moment lost its luster for him. This was not his life. This was not his future. He had become friends with boys who would become knights in less than a year, but he would not. Could not. Although he’d never been bothered before by looking closely at his life, he realized that he was now. And building boats with his father could never inspire him the way this room and the images and adventures it conjured could.

  “What time is it, do you suppose? How long have we been down here?”

  Kestrel looked over at Breeden and saw the look on his face. “Are you all right? Is that fall still bothering you?”

  Breeden saw the opportunity and grabbed it. “Yes. Er, ah, no. I’m sure I am all right. But I do ache all over. Do you think we could leave now and come back another time?”

  Kestrel was visibly disappointed, and when he looked Breeden in the eye, Breeden thought perhaps he knew it wasn’t Breeden’s physical discomfort that made him want to leave this place. He held Breeden’s gaze a moment and then replied quietly, “As you wish.”

  And then he was all action, removing his bracers and placing them back where he’d found them. “Laudan! Oskar! Let’s leave this place. Now we’ve gotten it open, it’s ours to explore when we want. But I think we’ve done enough exploring tonight. And not a bad find at all, eh?”

  Laudan had noticed the expression on Breeden’s face too, and approached him, still wearing the oversize studded-leather armor. “Are you all right, Breeden? That door hit you pretty hard. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, and no, I didn’t hit my head. I’m just feeling a bit worn.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. But I’m sure tomorrow you won’t feel quite so well. I know after a good sparring match, I sometimes have trouble getting up the next morning. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  While the larger boy was talking, Breeden had found himself drawn to the armor he was wearing. At first he looked at it as he normally would, and then his eyes lost focus. The patterns he saw using his ability both imbued and surrounded the discs themselves and seemed to connect all the discs in a complex web. The weave of the pattern was so intricate that it was dizzying, and a moment later Breeden found he couldn’t look at it any longer. His eyes refocused, and he looked Laudan in the eye.

  “There is something about that armor . . .”

  Laudan hadn’t caught Breeden’s brief trance, and met his eyes. “What’s that?”

  “The armor. It’s special. It’s not just well-made; there’s more to it than that. I can’t explain it better. I’m sorry.”

  Laudan didn’t appear to register what Breeden was getting at, and grew a concerned look on his face. But he responded to the part he understood. “Thanks, Breeden. I like it a lot too. It’s funny, but my eyes just locked onto it when I walked into the room.”

  “I can see why, Laudan. Are you going to keep it?”

  Laudan considered. “I hadn’t thought to, since it doesn’t fit me, and I may not be allowed to take it, in any event. Maybe I’ll ask Cedric about it.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t!” It was Kestrel. “We don’t want him knowing we’re sneaking around in the cellars. If he knew, and decided we shouldn’t be, he could tell us not to, and we’d have to listen. But if he doesn’t know, we don’t have to take the chance he might not allow it.”

  Again faultless logic from Kestrel, thought Breeden. He found it hard to argue.

  Oskar, finally drawn away from his examination of a pair of scale mail gauntlets, nodded in agreement. “There’s a pretty basic rule at the orphanage: sometimes it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”

  Breeden liked the sound of that, but at the same time, he had to admit to himself that it didn’t exactly feel honest either.

  “Okay, I’m ready.” And he was. Breeden had had a long day, and what should have been a fun adventure with his friends had turned somewhat sour in the end.

  15

  Colors

  A few days later found everyone returning to their classroom of the day, after having taken lunch in one of the handful of empty rooms in the monastery where they didn’t risk spilling food on ancient artifacts or priceless vellums. They were passing through a stretch of hallway that had a balcony to one side and overlooked the main rotunda of the keep’s entrance. Just as they reached the section of the hallway where the railing began, they heard a commotion below. The huge main doors were being opened, and the horns were being sounded. Breeden wondered why the smaller side door wasn’t sufficient—especially when it meant letting in so much cold air—but kept his thoughts to himself.

  And then she was before them once again: the princess. This time they were all much closer than the last, and they could see they had not been mistaken about her beauty. Her eyes, now close enough to be clearly visible, were a robin’s-egg blue. And her glorious blond hair was tied back in a single thick braid. Her gown was a blue to match a cloudless summer sky, and she wore a fine net of small blue gemstones in her hair. The boys were once again struck immobile.

  She stepped into the rotunda delicately. And a young girl no more than eight or nine years old came behind her, holding the train of the long gown the princess wore. But as graceful as the princess made the act of stepping over the threshold, the young girl behind her had no such skill. She stumbled, stepping on the gown as she did so, and just barely remained on her feet.

  If the trance the princess had used to capture the boys’ hearts had been a dream, what happened next was a nightmare. So quickly Breeden wasn’t even sure he’d seen it properly, the princess spun about and struck the hapless girl across the side of the head, shrieking as she did so, “You useless and clumsy girl! I would be better off without you! Leave me! Now!”

  The scream was shrill and piercing, and Breeden knew he wouldn’t soon forget it. The poor young girl was devastated. She literally cowered before the princess’s wrath, and when the princess spoke again, this time with the words “Leave my sight!” the girl bolted out of the keep’s entrance and made for the gate to the outer city. From their perch on the balcony, Breeden and the others watched most of her stumbling and sobbing retreat before the massive doors to the keep were finally drawn closed.

  When Breeden looked back to the princess, she had already composed herself as if nothing at all had happened. She was perfectly serene, perfectly poised. And she had her hand extended slightly, awaiting the steward’s attentions. The whole scene had lasted a matter of seconds. And to Breeden, it was somehow not quite real. He looked around at his friends for some kind of confirmation that they had seen the same thing he had.

  “Well, that’s one hell of a way to ruin a fantasy, isn’t it?” Kestrel was addressing everyone and no
one in particular but was careful to keep his voice very low so it didn’t bounce off the dome overhead and reach the ears of the princess below.

  Janelle looked smugly satisfied. Laudan looked sympathetic. Derek looked troubled. And Oskar had blanched somewhat but didn’t appear overly surprised. Breeden wondered if the young orphan had heard tales of her behavior when he was living in Arlon. He would have to remember to ask him when they had passed beyond the balcony and it was safe to speak freely.

  The princess and the steward proceeded through the rotunda and passed beyond the view of Breeden and his companions. Looks were shared and eyebrows were raised, but Kestrel’s comment had been the only words spoken, and everyone seemed afraid to move from the spot. Finally, at Kestrel’s shrugged shoulders and his decision to move off, the rest of the group followed behind.

  Not much more than a minute later, they were all gathered in their classroom. Cedric hadn’t yet arrived. And when Kestrel closed the door, they all burst into conversation at once.

  “What was that?” Breeden bellowed, and Janelle laughed, excited at the prospect that she had regained some of her previous stature from the princess’s loss.

  “What a little hellcat she is!” chimed in Kestrel. “And I heard from one of the kitchen maids that she has already gone through one train bearer and two ladies-in-waiting! Are you sure you still want to marry her, Laudan?”

  Oskar’s reply was still excited but a notch or two calmer than the others. “I have heard stories but never would’ve thought they weren’t stretching the truth. But then I don’t think I would’ve believed it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

  Laudan spoke quietly. “I wonder what happened. I mean, what is she really upset about? There has to be more to what we saw.”

  Kestrel joked with his friend. “Oh no, you’re not going to make excuses for her, are you? She’s a shrew, Laudan—you’d better see that now!”

  “I don’t know. There has to be more we don’t know.”

  “Oh, there is, Laudan. But I’d guess it’s more of the same. Did that girl look like she deserved to have her head bit off?”

  Their conversation was interrupted as Cedric arrived. He wore an unusually stern expression on his face and had evidently heard their raised voices and seen their excitement when he entered.

  “The princess? The rotunda just now?” Cedric spoke the words mostly as a question, though his tone didn’t convey an expectation that their excitement could be over anything else.

  Breeden nodded anyway, and Cedric nodded back in response, as if resigning himself to a difficult course of action.

  “Hmm. The princess . . . is a fiery one. And she has her own challenges, just as each of us does.” He paused then, and Breeden got the impression he was trying hard to choose the right words—not a common occurrence for the very intelligent and well-spoken monk.

  “I do not condone her actions of a moment ago, and I don’t seek to excuse them, but I would ask each of you to remember a few things. One, she is our heir apparent, and as queen, she will hold power over the entire kingdom. I tell you this as much to remind you to watch your words and criticisms as to try to help you to understand the weight and gravity of that responsibility and how much of a burden it must be for her. Two, her father is a great and well-respected ruler, and well-liked too—which is not always the case with those we hold in respect. And her great-grandfather six generations back was our greatest king in memory. She lives under these two shadows—and the shadows of other fine kings in between—with no brother to take the throne in her place. And therein lies my third point: she needs must be a son to her father, in the absence of a male heir.

  “We cannot know what she may have done with her life had these circumstances not been thrust upon her. Perhaps she would rather have led a quiet life. Perhaps she would have liked to marry for reasons other than political ones. I cannot say, and you should not presume to judge, nor assume that you know her heart.

  “One final thing I wish you to know: I am working with her right now. She is my student, as you are my students. And as you know already, or can probably guess, I do not judge success with my students by memorization of rules and dates. I hold myself to a very high standard and am held by my god to one higher still. I will do everything within my power to help the future queen become a ruler to make her father proud.”

  “That will be enough on this subject for now. Let’s get on with our lesson for today.” He composed himself for a moment before continuing.

  “Oskar, what are Hyrde’s top three imports from other provinces or nations?”

  16

  Entanglements

  Winter had lasted forever. Occasional sightings of the princess, disagreements between Derek and, well, most everyone, and, admittedly, some fun times exploring the cellars aside, being cooped up in the monastery for classes all winter had felt a toil. Breeden reflected that he had been learning at least. And he had developed deeper friendships with Kestrel and Oskar especially.

  But while it was now technically spring, winter was trying to reclaim its hold, and a late freezing rain had coated the cobbled streets with a thin sheet of ice. Breeden had to use great care to avoid losing his footing on his way to class this morning. That he was cutting it close to making his lessons on time meant he had to fight with himself to be careful but go faster nonetheless.

  As he approached the main roadway, Janelle must have been watching for him through the window, because she appeared at the top of her stairs as he passed by. He was staring intently at the ground before his feet as he walked, and her sudden shout startled him. He looked up, caught a glance of her smiling face for a split second, and involuntarily took a staggered step backward. Then he was falling, both of his feet having slipped on the ice and come off the ground at once. He fell backward heavily and hit his head on the paving stones. Darkness surrounded him.

  Only a few moments must have passed before Breeden came to himself, since Janelle was barely at the bottom of the stairs. He remembered quite well what had happened and was mortified that he should do such a blockheaded thing in front of her. Then she was kneeling at his side, concern evident on her face. “Are you all right?”

  At that moment, as the sun’s rays filtered through the streets of Ridderzaal and cast the morning’s long shadows across the roadway, Janelle’s hair became aglow with the sun’s soft warmth, and he could see red and gold where normally there was only brown. Suddenly he could think of nothing but how gloriously beautiful she was. He smiled and closed his eyes, wanting never again to open them lest he forget the vision before him.

  “Are you all right?” Her voice came to him as if from far away, as if through water or wool. He didn’t want to respond. But his head was starting to hurt. And the warmth that had filled him a moment earlier was leaching from his body. Then he remembered that he was lying on his back on an ice-covered road and that he had been on his way to class. Slowly the realization came that he had no choice, but had better open his eyes after all and get to his feet.

  When his eyes opened again, Janelle’s face showed relief. Breeden couldn’t help but groan, and Janelle’s concern returned. “You’re not all right. I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “No!” He protested the word. Even then, in his weakness and on the ground at her feet, he wouldn’t have her thinking of him in that way. “I wasn’t scared. You just distracted me. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  And then she surprised him again by smiling warmly. “You’re a fool, Breeden Andehar. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

  He tried to get up then, and she touched his chest gently to hold him down. “Sit. Don’t try to stand just yet. Cedric will understand if you’re late. I’ll tell him what happened.”

  He laughed softly in spite of himself. He’d been thinking just that—that Cedric would be upset if he was late for class. But he realized that he had to get up despite her protest. “I’m sorry, Janelle. But I have to get to class. This is a very important lesson.�
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  Now it was her turn to laugh. “A very important lesson? On what? The purchasing habits of the merchant class in Laon?” And her smile remained this time, her head still shrouded in the soft caress of the new sun’s light.

  Again Breeden became caught up in the warmth of her face and smile, and he stopped trying to rise. He told himself he needed to remain where he was for a bit longer to humor her.

  They stayed that way for a long moment in silence, Breeden on his back on the icy road, Janelle’s hand still resting lightly on his chest. And it felt to Breeden that all was right with the world, despite the seeping cold, his numbing backside, and the pronounced ache at the back of his head.

  Janelle broke herself away first, standing up and stepping out of the sunbeam that had enveloped her. She reached for his hand. With some effort, Breeden was kneeling, and after a few seconds more, he was on his feet once again.

  Breeden gathered himself for a moment, made sure his balance was intact, and then nodded to Janelle that he was okay. They walked the remainder of the distance to the monastery without incident.

  Not knowing where class was being held, Breeden and Janelle looked first in the rooms closest to the monastery’s entrance and then worked their way toward the castle. But Cedric hadn’t made it too difficult for them, and they found their classroom on the second try.

  Cedric had already started class, and though he hardly looked up as Breeden and Janelle found their way to their seats at the back of the classroom, he was clearly displeased with their tardiness.