A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  Joel’s dark eyebrows knitted together. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I think so. My stomach keeps doing this odd thing.” As if to confirm the story, a rumbling growl issued from Gib’s empty belly. “Oh. I guess I’m just—”

  “Hungry.” Joel finished the sentence and leapt to his feet. “Forgive me. I should show you to the dining hall. And after that, I can take you to the training arena and anywhere else you may need to become familiar with.”

  Gib nodded. He didn’t want to be a bother but it was nice to have someone extend such hospitality to him. “Thank you.”

  Already standing beside the door, Joel had an open, if not overly friendly, look. “You’re very welcome. Follow me.” He was honest, Gib was sure and took comfort in that. With any luck, camaraderie would come later.

  Chapter Three

  The rest of the day was a whirlwind of events, and Gib found himself swept up within the immensity of his new world. It was as though he were dreaming, merely bearing witness as some other boy stumbled through this strange place in utter confusion. Nothing felt real.

  Joel showed him to the dining hall, a large open room filled with rows of long tables lined with benches. The mage trainee explained to Gib that he would be taking his three main meals here. The variety of foods offered had been overwhelming. Freshly baked bread still steaming from the oven, vegetable stew spiced to perfection, warm apple cider, and meat were all on the menu. Chicken was roasted and rolled in butter until it was gleaming, blackened pork bathed in salt, and even sliced beef—an expensive commodity which had never been available at the farm.

  Gib tried a little bit of everything, and it all tasted like something prepared for a royal feast. The meat was so tender it seemed to melt in his mouth and the cider to wash down the meal was a perfect balance of spicy and sweet. Gib made sure not to overindulge. He was hungry but didn’t want to be seen as greedy. Joel watched him as he ate, asking questions warmly. The mage trainee seemed to be entertained by Gib’s astonishment.

  When his belly was full, Gib followed Joel around the rest of the campus. It quickly became apparent that the grounds belonging to the academy were much like a self-contained city within Silver. Two dormitory wings, each of them stacked three stories tall, faced each other and were separated by a long narrow stretch of the building where the class halls were located. In the space created in the middle of the three-sided building was an open courtyard with an alabaster fountain and various shrubbery. Joel pointed beyond the courtyard to an open field where much of the physical training took place except during inclement weather.

  By the time Gib returned to his room, exhaustion had seeped into his bones. He’d crawled into his bed, noting with a pang of guilt that the mattress was more comfortable than the straw mats his brothers had to lie upon. The thick, wool blanket scratched at his skin, but it provided adequate warmth, so he was able to ignore it. Gib shut his eyes, wondering if Tayver and Calisto were thinking about him. He hoped they were all right and wished he could have been there to say goodnight to them.

  Sleep took him quickly and entirely because the next thing Gib knew he was being shaken awake. He sat up, blinking and sputtering, and it took a moment for him to remember he was no longer on the farm.

  Joel’s face was cloaked by shadow. “Time to get up,” the mage trainee said.

  Gib yawned as he stretched both arms high above his head. “How early is it?”

  “Still a mark before dawn,” replied the other boy. “Enough time for you to have a bath, eat breakfast, and report to the courtyard for morning chores.”

  Gib noted that Joel was already dressed in a fresh set of robes and his raven hair appeared to be damp. How long had he been awake? “A bath?”

  Joel raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer not to have one?”

  “No! I mean—it’s just that—that—”

  “It’s not custom to bathe where you come from?”

  Gib locked his jaw and willed himself not to say anything he might regret. He enjoyed a good bath, maybe not as frequently as these pampered nobles, but he did try to stay clean. “I wasn’t aware such luxuries were available to us. Could you show me where to go?” If his voice clipped, Joel either didn’t notice or didn’t bring attention to it.

  After showing Gib where the bathing chamber was, the older boy excused himself. A steaming trough of water stood in the center of the room, fed by a narrow wooden conduit that came in through the window. A young attendant directed Gib to a shelf stacked with buckets and told him to fill one of the pails with water from the trough. He was also shown to the place where he could find a cloth and bar of soap for washing, and then Gib was left alone to scrub himself clean of the grime and dirt from the journey to Silver. The hot water left his skin scalded but spotless.

  After his bath, Gib meandered down to the dining hall and stuffed himself full of eggs, bread drizzled with honey, and fresh goat milk. He then followed behind a group of students who were making their way to the courtyard, wondering what kind of work he would be given.

  Upon arrival, a red-headed woman assigned him his morning chores. Today he was to help the kitchen staff clean and dry the dishes that had been sullied during breakfast. Gib worked diligently, keeping to himself, but many of the other trainees—highborns mostly—complained about the labor being too hard. Gib wanted to laugh. If this was hard then The Two forbid any of them ever have to bring in a field of crops.

  The sun was shining brightly by the time he returned to his room. Joel was just on his way out, a bundle of scrolls in his arms. He did, however, stop long enough to ask Gib if he would be able to find his way to his first class.

  “It’s my sentinel training class,” Gib said.

  “You’ll want to go to the field beyond the courtyard. Weapons Master Roland will be expecting you.”

  Gib grinned weakly. “Thanks.”

  Joel smiled as he passed by, and Gib’s stomach began to flutter again. He didn’t know what to expect at this first class. Would they expect him to know anything about combat or wielding a sword? If they did then certainly he’d be laughed off the training grounds. It was with a grim sigh that he went to meet his fate.

  He headed to the courtyard for the second time. Once outside he didn’t see a single student and began to fear he was running late. Indeed, the only person he passed was a worker pruning the shrubbery. He glanced at her and she pointed toward the training area. Gib nodded a wordless thanks. He could have found it himself, but it was nice to see at least one more smile before he went to make a fool of himself.

  As he crossed the barren yard, he began to pick up the sounds of his classmates. Voices called out merrily and laughter carried on the breeze. That, coupled with the sunny day, should have lifted his spirits, but he found no such comfort.

  At the far end of the field, students were gathering—too many to count. Boys his age or just a little older swarmed back and forth, playing rambunctiously. The general chaos and disorganization put him on edge. Gib thought of Cal and Tay as he watched the strangers scuffle. It would have been fun to join if he’d known any of these boys. He wondered briefly how many of them he would get to know and then the thought crossed his mind that many of them might die if they went to war. His stomach ached as he found the far edge of the field and took sanctuary under a large oak tree.

  Gib stared out into the distance, feeling more homesick than ever. Surrounded by countless trainees, he never would have thought he could experience such loneliness. His bottom lip threatened to quiver, but he bit down on it, determined not to be undone.

  “It’s big here, isn’t it?”

  Gib blinked and turned to see where the voice had come from. When he found no one, he thought to question his sanity. “H–Hello?”

  “Up here.”

  Gib tipped his head back. Sure enough, a pair of bare feet dangled above his head. He smiled despite his mood and stepped out from under the young man in the tree. “What are you doing up there?”
r />   The boy nodded vaguely toward the rowdy cluster of boys. “Trying to not get rolled up in that.”

  A quiet chuckle escaped Gib’s lips. “You’ll have to come down when the class starts.”

  The new boy sighed heavily and began lowering himself. “I suppose you’re right. I guess now that there are two of us we’ll stand a better chance of not being yanked in.” When he met the ground and stood to his full height, he was just a hair or two taller than Gib. The boy’s jet black locks, hunter green eyes, and brown skin suggested his common-born status as much as his shabby clothes and lack of shoes. Gib was suddenly thankful for his boots, even if they did pinch his toes.

  “I’m Gib Nemesio of Willowdale.”

  “Nage Nessuno, Silver.”

  Gib bit his lip and tried to keep his features neutral. He’d never met an actual Nessuno orphan before. Willowdale was so small that any orphans born there typically didn’t survive long enough to be taken to the closest orphanage. “So you’re a local?”

  Nage shook his head. “I work in the mines by the lake.”

  “Mining? I wouldn’t know much of that. I have a farm.”

  “A farmer? So you’re from outside the city?” Nage glanced over his shoulder as if he could see the farm from here. His smile was wistful. “I’ve never been very far outside of the city. Of course, I’ve never been this far into the city either.”

  Gib chuckled but his response was interrupted.

  “Oh no. Here he comes.” Nage ducked low.

  Gib was instantly on full alert. “Who? The Weapons Master?”

  “No. My roommate.” Nage blushed a little and scuffed his foot across the ground. “He’s a good enough sort but—he’s highborn.”

  “Oh, I see. Mine is too.” Gib craned his neck to look for this roommate but had no clue what he looked like. “He also means well but he’s odd. He thought I didn’t bathe.”

  “At least he didn’t assume you were a waif. Mine kept asking me why I didn’t have any shoes and wanted to have his father buy a pair for me.”

  Gib cringed. “That’s awful.”

  “This is him.” Nage had lowered his voice so much Gib almost didn’t hear it.

  An instant later they were joined by a third boy. Although he was taller than Gib remembered, he recognized the boy immediately as the pale youth outside the dean’s office yesterday. Today he wore a wide-brimmed hat which helped conceal his pale head and equally blanched skin. Despite the warmth outside, he also wore long sleeves and full-length breeches. His fancy training clothing, with brass buttons and embroidered seams, was out of place compared to the rest of the boys.

  “Nage, you found a friend?” the newcomer asked in a deep tenor voice.

  Nage shook his head. “No. We just met.”

  The tall boy smiled even wider than before and took Gib’s hand even though it hadn’t been offered. “My name is Tarquin Aldino. Nage and I are roommates this year.”

  Lucky him. Gib smiled and chose to say, “Nice to meet you. Gibben Nemesio.”

  Tarquin released Gib’s hand and an awkward silence rose between them. Gib didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly have in common with a highborn? By the looks of his clothes and feel of his smooth hands, Tarquin had never done a day’s work in his entire life. He’d probably been in school longer than Gib and all three of his siblings combined and possibly already owned stock in the mines where Nage would never be able to earn a decent living.

  “So,” the highborn offered after a minute or two. “Were either of your fathers soldiers?” When Gib and Nage both shook their heads and didn’t attempt to pick up the conversation, Tarquin took the plunge on his own. “My pa is head of the Armorer’s Guild and my older brother just finished schooling to be on the High Council of Arden one day. I volunteered to join the sentinels myself. I want to be a captain someday. What do you guys hope to accomplish?”

  It seemed such a silly question that Gib had a hard time not laughing. What did he hope to accomplish here? In his worn out tunic and too-tight boots? With his conscription notice still in his rucksack and two little brothers left to fate? He opened his mouth and the words fell out like lead. “I hope to survive.”

  Tarquin floundered, obviously at a loss. He faltered as if to say something but when it became apparent they had nothing to say to one another, Gib thought to look for an escape. They were saved a moment later when another young boy hailed them from across the field and Tarquin’s attention flitted away. Nage tapped Gib on the arm and nodded toward an unoccupied area beside a large shed. Without the need for words, Gib nodded in agreement and they took their leave while Tarquin was still distracted.

  Nage groaned as soon as they were far enough away. “See what I mean? Not a single real thought tumbling around in that head.”

  Gib tried to contain a laugh. “At the very least, he did seem well-intentioned enough. I had sort of figured when I got here, no one would want to speak to me. They’d be offended by the filthy farmer.”

  “Yeah. Did you meet the Instructions Master yesterday?”

  “Yes! What a foul man. Master Diedrick Lyle was everything I expected a highborn to be.”

  “I know. When the dean asked me if I could read or write I had to tell him no and that bastard laughed at me.” Nage rolled his eyes. “I told Tarquin about it and he became offended for me. He said his father doesn’t like Master Lyle either. I tried not to laugh because what do I care about what his father thinks? And I’m sure his rich father doesn’t care for me either.”

  They laughed between themselves and leaned against the shed that ran along that side of the training field. Long moments passed while they stared out at the other boys, but the quiet never felt awkward. Indeed, it wasn’t until the peace came crashing down that either of them thought to look up.

  Only a few paces away, a small commotion broke out. A cluster of older boys surrounded one who was much younger. With a red face pointed downward, the boy in the middle looked to be about the same age as Gib and Nage. The older boys circled and taunted the boy, asking snidely if he was ready for his first day of real work or not. One of them even called the young boy a “spoiled brat.” He talked back to them with defiance, claiming he was going to tell his father about their behavior. This only elicited a larger response from the perpetrators.

  A knot formed in the pit of Gib’s stomach and he glanced around, looking for an adult. Surely a teacher was around somewhere. Where was the Weapons Master to shoo these older, frightening boys away?

  “Father can’t always protect you,” one of them was saying. He was tall and well-built with dark hair, olive skin, and almond-shaped eyes. His smile was smug.

  “The real world is about to jump up and bite you in the ass, boy,” taunted a second one who was pale but just as tall as the first. The two of them seemed to be the leaders of this group of bullies and were certainly the most intimidating of them all.

  Nage kept his voice low so as not to draw their attention. “What’s their problem? Why’re they bothering that boy?”

  Gib swallowed a lump in his throat. The harassment seemed so much louder for the sudden drop in the surrounding noise. Every other student on the field had quieted and turned to look at the spectacle. “I don’t know but this isn’t right. Someone should say something.”

  “And have our teeth kicked in for our troubles?” Nage retorted. “I’ll pass. Besides, look at them. Every single one is a highborn, I’d reckon, even the young one. We don’t need problems with their fathers.”

  The young boy who was being taunted was trying to walk away from the bullies now. “Stop it! Leave me alone. Haven’t you had your fill yet?”

  The others continued to laugh at him. Gib clamped his hands together and looked desperately for help once more, still not seeing any adults. He knew he didn’t stand a chance on his own, especially when even Nage was unwilling to help. He thought about standing down and turning his head the other way, but he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t right. Someone nee
ded to say something.

  “Stop.” Gib’s voice carried further than he’d thought it would. His insides shook but he took a timid step forward. “Leave him alone.” This time he was louder still and several people looked his way. His face went warm, but he could hardly stop now.

  “I said to stop!” Gib’s legs trembled. He’d no idea how he was still standing. It got worse when the bullies turned to look at him, their eyes piercing and critical. Gib sucked in a sharp breath. Would they come for him next?

  The taunting subsided and whispers were shared like a single ripple through the group. Gib’s attention was caught by the tall boy, who was obviously the leader, as he narrowed his eyes. When he swept closer, the others all followed.

  His dark, slanted eyes shone coldly and his smile sent a chill up Gib’s spine. The leader was well spoken with a soft, haughty voice. “What was that, Little One? Did you call to us?”

  Gib swallowed and took a step back. None of them were his age. They were all taller and broader than he. They each wore a sword on their hip and swaggered as though they knew how to use such weapons. He wasn’t even a threat to them.

  “Spirit will only take you just so far,” said the second, louder boy in a nasty voice. “Better hope ya grow a bit more, boy.” He tousled Gib’s curls as he sauntered past. The others said nothing as they went along but each looked Gib in the eye, smiling victoriously. He tensed, prepared for a blow of some sort, but none fell. Indeed, they continued on their way and never looked back.

  Taking a deep breath, Gib straightened his hair and willed his nerves to calm. Overall, that had gone better than he’d planned. Every single one of them could have hung Gib by his feet but none had. They hadn’t even offered. In hindsight, it felt odd that they should let him off the hook so easily.

  The boy who was being bullied made his way over to Gib. “Thank you.”

  Taller than Gib—nearly everyone here was—the boy’s highborn status seemed confirmed. If Tarquin Aldino’s garments had been pleasant to behold, this boy’s were pristine. The embroidered embellishments running up either sleeve were of red thread and stood out on his crisp white tunic. The sleeves were meant to resemble wings but seemed such a waste of time and money, something these highborn children of Silver City apparently had to spare.