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

by Shiriluna Nott

  Gib shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He could think of nothing to say, so to avoid another awkward lull, he changed the subject. “We should keep looking for those pastries. Heidi and Carmen will be upset if you don’t bring them back a treat.”

  “Yes,” Joel replied. The older boy blinked once, slowly, and Gib was certain he detected a trace of disappointment in his roommate’s crystal blue eyes.

  While Joel bartered and paid for a box of pastry desserts, Gib busied himself by pawing through a rack of brightly colored scarves at a nearby booth. Despite the sunshine and the festive atmosphere, his mood was glum. I’m a coward. I’ve had ample opportunities to explain to Joel how I feel, yet I’ve managed to botch every chance due to my own idiocy. It’s clear he isn’t going to make the first move. Not that he should have to. He’s been hurt already—deeply hurt. Gib bit his bottom lip, tears of frustration threatening to spill over the crests of his eyelids.

  “Halt there, boy!”

  Gib was so caught up in his own emotions he barely registered the booming voice. It wasn’t until Joel flew up nearby that the sentinel trainee noticed something was happening. Only a few paces from where they stood, a boy with wild, russet hair was being dragged into the street by a pair of sentinels. The boy was flailing his arms and trying to twist away from the guards. His tattered clothing clung to his emaciated body by threads. He had no hat or gloves, and the soles of his boots were so worn Gib imagined the boy’s toes must be frozen inside.

  The two burly sentinels marched the boy to where a hat vendor was standing with arms crossed over his squat chest and mouth pulled back into a fearsome scowl. One of the sentinels gave the boy a harsh shove, and the youngster crashed into the snow with a gasp.

  “Is this the thief?” one of the sentinels asked.

  “Aye,” replied the vendor, sneering down at the alleged perpetrator. “That’s ’im all right. He’s the waif who stole a fur cap from my booth.”

  “I didn’t neither,” the boy cried, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks. “I didn’t take nothin’.”

  The vendor balled his hands into fists. “Lyin’ thief. I saw it with my own eyes. You took the hat and ran off without payin’ even one silver for it.” The vendor’s caustic voice carried through the muted street. Indeed, business seemed to have come to a grinding halt as all eyes fell upon the confrontation.

  “I didn’t do it,” the boy whined in a pitiful voice.

  The sentinel turned to face his partner. “Search him.”

  The other guard nodded and began to roughly search the youngster. Only a moment later, he found a hat lined with rabbit fur stuffed into a sleeve. The boy wailed and once again tried to escape. He must have known there was no use denying the theft any longer.

  The vendor’s eyes widened. “That’s the hat! That little bastard took my hat!”

  Gib watched the scene unfold before him with a growing sense of pity. This poor boy couldn’t have been any older than Calisto. What sort of desperation could the youngster be feeling if he needed to steal to survive?

  “That settles it,” the first of the sentinels remarked. Reaching down, he gripped the boy by the back of the neck and hoisted him to his feet. “It’s off to the stockade for you. Maybe a couple days there will make you think twice about stealing again.”

  The boy’s eyes were wide with terror. “No, please!”

  The sentinel cuffed him on the back of the head. “Quiet, boy.”

  The vendor pointed a stubby finger at the boy. “Look to see if he’s had previous offenses before you take ’im away,” the vendor demanded.

  The boy wailed as one of the sentinels held him in place while the other guard ripped the boy’s tattered cloak away from his body and tossed it to the ground. The boy whimpered and tried to twist away, but the iron grip around his arm forced him to stand still. The other guardsman pulled the waif’s tunic down, low enough to reveal his gaunt neck and shoulders. Gib stood close enough to see an angry, blistering welt branded into the boy’s skin just above his left shoulder blade. All around, people gasped and whispered about the boy’s fate being sealed.

  The restraining sentinel growled as he spoke to his comrade. “He bears the mark all right. You know what that means.”

  “Please,” the boy begged through his tears. “Let me go! I won’t never do it again, I swear!”

  “You won’t be doing much of anything without hands!” the second guard snarled in response.

  “We should leave,” Joel hissed in Gib’s ear. “I don’t want to see ‘justice’ being enforced here.” The mage trainee set a firm hand onto Gib’s shoulder, trying to redirect his attention, but Gib was unable to turn away from the wretched scene as it played out before him.

  The sound of metal scraping on leather rang out as one of the sentinels drew his sword. The blade gleamed dangerously in the sunlight. All the color drained from Gib’s face as he realized what was about to happen. His brown eyes darted to Joel. “He’s just a boy. Someone has to stop this.”

  Joel’s eyes were filled with despair. He couldn’t even meet Gib’s gaze. “It’s the law. There’s nothing to be done for him. Come, let’s leave. Please. Neither of us needs to see this!”

  The young boy was being dragged, kicking and screaming, to a nearby vendor booth. People jumped out of the way, not wanting to be caught between the guards and their quarry. Gib took a step back as well, trembling as he watched one of the sentinels force the sobbing boy’s arm flat against the wooden surface of the booth. The other sentinel prepared his sword, gripping the hilt between large hands. Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks as he begged them for mercy, but neither sentinel appeared to be in a forgiving mood.

  The hat vendor was there too. His mouth twisted into a baleful smile as he pointed at the boy. “Carry out the punishment, gentlemen!”

  Gib’s stomach flopped as he tried to hold down the contents. Oh Goddesses, they’re really going to do it. Right here in front of everyone. They’re going to cut off his hands and no one can stop it. Joel was pulling Gib’s arm, telling him to look away, but he was frozen in place. He watched in horror as the sentinel raised the longsword into the air, high above his head. Time seemed to stand still. The blade hung there, poised as though it was floating.

  Gib slammed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see the weapon when it came crashing down—

  “Halt!”

  Down the street, one of the royal guardsmen had separated himself from the rest of the procession. He left his post in front of the carriage and was storming toward the two sentinels and the vendor. Gib’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the pair of sentinels pause and exchange glances. He hoped this was some kind of intervention but was unsure if the royal guardsman was here to stop the madness or carry out the sentence himself. Ceremonial armor shimmering in the daylight and broadsword in hand, the royal guardsman glared down the length of his narrow nose at the sentinels, more intimidating than even Weapons Master Roland. Dark eyes glinted from within the helm.

  The guardsman gripped his sword in one hand and pointed at the young boy with the other. “There’s no need to carry out such a harsh punishment for a mere child. Hand the lad over to me. I’ll see to it he’s properly reprimanded.”

  The hat vendor issued a challenging snort. “Hand him over? On whose authority?”

  The royal guardsman shot him a wry smile, but his words didn’t contain even a trace of humor. “On the authority of Her Majesty, Queen Dahlia Adelwijn. The Queen commands you turn the boy over to the Crown of Arden.”

  Immediately, the two sentinels relinquished their hold on the boy, bowed their heads, muttered hasty apologies, and melted into the crowd.

  The hat vendor’s eyes bulged with rage. “It’s written in the laws that this waif be punished for his crimes!”

  The royal guardsman regarded the squat vendor for a moment before responding in a voice laced with superiority. “And so he will be, in a manner Her Majesty feels appropriate.”r />
  “B–but,” the vendor floundered, face as red as a tomato. “The boy’s been caught thieving already—he bears the brand on his shoulder as proof! This is his second offense! The law states he’s to lose his hands so he can’t steal again!”

  The guardsman took the boy by the arm and began to guide him away but whirled back around to face the vendor. “Are you questioning the authority of Her Majesty, your Queen? I can very well escort you to the stocks if you’re unable to quiet your foul mouth.”

  Jaw set into an ugly grimace, the vendor said nothing more. Gib smiled to himself. He’s smart enough to know when to shut up. A pity. I would’ve loved to see the royal guardsman drag the vile little man away.

  Joel cleared his throat. “I think it’s best we leave.”

  Gib nodded, watching as the guardsman escorted the young boy in the direction of the carriage. “What do you think will happen to him? The Queen won’t—have his hands removed, will she? He’s just a poor boy. It doesn’t seem fair.”

  The crowd was dispersing around them. Joel sighed, keeping his voice low and measured. “I’m sure by now you’ve come to realize many of Arden’s laws are unfair. I agree with you. It’s an unjust punishment for a little boy who likely has no home or food and probably had been driven by the cold to steal that cap.” Joel offered a smile. “For what it’s worth though, I know my aunt, and I assure you, she would never let harm befall a child in her presence.”

  Gib’s shoulders lost some of their rigidity. “That’s good to know.”

  The mage trainee motioned in the direction of the royal procession. “It’s likely tonight the boy will enjoy a warm meal and bed to sleep on for the first time in his life, if Queen Dahlia has her way. Before she was Queen, my aunt was a patron at the orphanage. She spent a lot of time and money there, and even after she accepted the role of Queen, she still feels it her duty to protect the children of Silver City.”

  “Well, now I know where Diddy gets his kind heart from,” replied Gib as they made their way in the direction of the Adelwijn estate. He snorted a laugh. “If only all highborns could act with such compassion.”

  “Imagine that,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

  Gib furrowed his brow, a secondary thought crossing his mind. “Those sentinels—they were cruel too.”

  Joel’s voice was flat. “Yes. You’ll find that many abuse the power they’ve been given. This is why I warned you to stay clear of them today.”

  The two boys walked in silence. Gib was lost in his own thoughts. Those sentinels—they could be me in a few years. I might very well be thrown into a similar situation. I don’t think—no—I wouldn’t be able to do something like that to a little, helpless boy. I couldn’t. I don’t care if it’s the law. It’s not right. That boy was starving and freezing. He needed a helping hand, not punishment.

  “I’m never going to be like that,” Gib replied at last. “When I’m a sentinel, I’ll uphold the values Seneschal Koal spoke about on that first day of class. I won’t ever raise my sword against a child or anyone else who needs help. I’ll serve justice if I must, but I’ll never oppress.”

  Joel stopped, turning around so he was facing his roommate. A sad, sweet smile formed, sending a bolt of exhilaration surging through Gib’s veins. “You, Gibben Nemesio, are a beautiful soul. Don’t ever change. Ever.”

  Chapter Eight

  The rest of the day whirled by in such a tangle of celebration and preparation that Gib lost track of time. When he awoke the following morning, his first thought was to look over at Joel, who was slumbering peacefully in his own bed. He looked lovely as always. It seemed a shame he would have to awaken soon.

  The sentinel trainee’s stomach rumbled as he became aware of the wonderful aromas hanging in the air. These were not normal breakfast foods. He could smell breads and pies, meats and spices. Gib’s mouth watered and he wondered what could be waiting for them in the dining room.

  Feet swinging over the edge of the cot, Joel sighed and blinked his eyes open. A moment passed when Gib couldn’t look away. He was entirely transfixed by those misty blue orbs and began to wonder if he’d ever not be.

  Joel rubbed his eyes as he sat up. “I’d thought I was dreaming at first. It took me a moment to realize you were actually sitting in front of me.”

  Gib glanced down at himself, still in the borrowed sleeping gown. He winced. “A good dream I hope.” The sentinel trainee brought his hands up to his hair only to find that it was—as predicted—a wild mane that wouldn’t be smoothed no matter what he tried to do. “I’m terrifying enough to be a nightmare right now though.”

  Joel chuckled as he rose from his own bed. “Gib, you don’t know how wonderful you are.” He smiled so genuinely that Gib could almost forget the broken, withdrawn boy from the start of the academic year. “I’d venture to say our baths are ready and then we may go eat.”

  “It smells like there’s a feast down there.”

  “Oh, there no doubt will be. Mother always goes overboard with our Midwinter meal.”

  Gib found himself nodding, even though the concept of having too much food was lost to him. “I hope my brothers have plenty to eat today.”

  Joel’s handsome face pinched as he winced. “I’m sorry they couldn’t be here. Or that you couldn’t be there. If it were within my power—”

  “It’s not.” Gib tried change the subject. It had been a stupid thing to say. Joel shouldn’t have to feel guilty for being born to a wealthy family. Gib tried to right the situation. “Despite our modest means, my family has always done well enough for Midwinter—I didn’t mean to make it sound as though I was being ungrateful. I miss them is all.”

  “I know.” Joel’s voice was soothing. “I’m sure they miss you as well. Perhaps when the caravan road clears you’ll be able to send them a letter.”

  “I’ll have to. I mean, I’m sure they know why I didn’t make it home but still—” Gib put his hands in his hair and looked out the bedroom window at the snow. “Liza wasn’t able to make it back to them either. She’s on duty.”

  “I hope next year’s festivities are more suitable to your family,” Joel responded. The mage trainee had a hard time maintaining eye contact but his words were sincere. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I were to be separated from my loved ones on such a day as this.”

  Gib willed away the guilt and worry with a deep sigh. “They’ll be all right. I’m sure of it.” He turned back to his companion and offered the best smile he could muster. “Baths then?”

  Joel nodded as he swept toward the door. “Yes.”

  Once they’d bathed, Joel offered Gib some fine garments to wear. The clothing was too short for Joel but still a bit long for Gib. Either way, the lush tunic and leggings were a vast improvement over Gib’s worn-out clothes or the standard Academy uniform.

  Gib looked at himself in the hallway mirror and barked a nervous laugh. He didn’t recognize himself. “I hope your family has a sense of humor.”

  Joel smiled as he adjusted the long sleeves and pant legs. “You look fine. Just make sure not to fidget and it should hold.” He took a step back to appreciate their joined efforts, giving a brief nod before going solemn. “My family will be here in the next couple of marks.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Joel forced a smile which Gib immediately disliked. The mage trainee’s features were much better suited to honesty. The older boy cleared his throat and wrung his hands as though he was nervous. “Everything will be all right but—I feel I should warn you. You’ve already met Liro. You’ll also meet my uncle today and he’s much like Liro. I promise you everyone else will be favorable. They’ll see you for what you are, not what you are not. Neetra, however—” He fished for words.

  Gib acknowledged his understanding with a stiff nod. “Stay clear of Neetra and Liro. Got it.” He offered a smile and hoped Joel would follow along, but it seemed his heart was heavy with worry.

  “It’s not fair and I’m so
rry. They’ll most likely ignore you, but even that is terrible.”

  “It’s all right.” Gib wanted to reach for Joel, to take his hand or touch his shoulder, but knew better. “Trust me, if Liro and your uncle ignoring me is the worst of it, I’ll have a pleasant day.”

  Joel’s smile was weak. He managed a nod and led the way down the stairs. “I’m sure there are things we can do to help. It will pass the time at least. And perhaps we should check on breakfast.”

  “I thought you’d never ask. Everything smells amazing.”

  “Unfortunately, you smell our midday meal. Breakfast this morning will be light, probably porridge with dates or toast. That way we will be more than ready to eat our fill when it’s time.”

  Gib didn’t mean to sound disappointed, but the emotion must have seeped through in his response regardless. Joel glanced back with a smile and assured him it would be worth the wait.

  As soon as they walked through the dining room door, Gib knew he’d heard the truth. The smell of roasting ham, breads, sweets, gravies, and other wonderful foods bombarded his senses and made him want to beg at the kitchen door like a stray. It was with a heavy heart and watering mouth that he accepted his humble dish of porridge and took a seat next to Joel.

  Across the large dining table sat Carmen, the youngest of Joel’s sisters. She swung her feet back and forth beneath the table and picked the dates out of her breakfast one by one. Carmen kept her shrewd blue eyes on Gib. “How old are your brothers again?”

  Gib smiled at her forwardness. She wasn’t at all what he thought a highborn lady should be. He liked it. “Tayver is your age, twelve, and Calisto is nine. He’ll be ten come spring.”

  Carmen nodded. “Will Tayver come to Academy next harvest? I’m going to go. Father says that if I behave myself I can even sign up to be a sentinel trainee.” Having eaten all the dates, she began to pick at her porridge. “Are there any girls in your year? I heard there aren’t many.”

  Gib swallowed a bite of his food and nodded heartily. “There are a couple of them. One of my good friends Kezra is a girl. She’s one of the best in our class with a sword and shield.”