Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1)

by Jonathan Renshaw

  Letting his eye latch on a sign – jewellery made from seashells – Aedan stole a casual glance behind him. It was the same man with the grey hat and shaded face, still fifty paces behind. The uncertainty was making him uncomfortable. It was time to solve the riddle.

  “I’ll catch up,” he told Hadley, and turned down a side alley. Once around the corner, he ran in a big loop, emerging onto the main walkway behind the stalker who was now entering the alley, following in Aedan’s tracks. Aedan darted after him, keeping one turn behind and peering carefully around the corners.

  But this stalker appeared to have a nose for such tricks. At the third corner, Aedan peered around to see the man looking straight at him. He caught his breath – it was his father. A peculiar mixture of hope and uncertainty rushed through his veins. He realised just how much he had wanted this reunion. Tarnished as the relationship had been, the good times came back now and glowed in the silence that hung between them. He stepped out into the alley.

  “I heard rumours that you’d entered the academy,” his father said.

  Aedan smiled. But the answering sneer on his father’s face showed this to have been a mistake.

  “Oh, smug are you? Want to show that you’re better than me now? Is that why you ran off to their snooty lectures and mounds of books?”

  “No,” Aedan replied, suddenly confused. “No. It wasn’t like that. It was when Harriet wanted to … actually it was because of what happened back in the Mistyvales – the slavers – and about taking revenge for her … and being strong enough to stop any bullies … and General Osric –”

  “And nothing about me! Yes, I understand all too well. A dead girl and some general are more important to you than your own father. And Harriet! You’d actually stoop to taking that woman’s advice!” Clauman’s voice had risen; he was working himself into a shuddering rage.

  “No, it’s ... You don’t understand. Harriet –”

  “Oh I don’t understand, do I? Is that it?” He was striding towards Aedan now, jaw clenched. He closed the distance with big steps. “It’s your turncoat mother and that fool of a meddler that have been putting these ideas into your head. With a bit of fancy learning you think you’ve risen above me, don’t you? Don’t you?” He was shouting now, spit flying, eyes bulging as his rage snapped free of the last restraints. “You think you don’t need to respect me anymore because you can read and scribble! Don’t you? Let’s see about that …”

  Aedan wanted to run but he was locked in a paralysis like that of deep sleep. He could see it all clearly and slowly. His father seized him by the neck and hoisted him off his feet while striking so hard with the other hand that Aedan barely remained conscious. Skin was burning and ears ringing when he was dropped.

  “Filthy little traitor! Treacherous, milk-blooded coward! I always suspected she would teach you to despise me. You both deserved every thrashing you got and more.”

  Aedan wanted to say that it was not true, that he had missed his father, that he had wanted to see him – and indeed he had. But now the words curdled in him. A deep cauldron of hissing anger heaved its contents out, turning his eyes and his thoughts dark, though he was still unable to move.

  A sudden chill of dismay passed through him as he remembered something. He fought against his locked muscles enough to glance down, and let out a small breath. No dark patch. He had relieved himself not too long ago, but what if he had not? Dread rose in him as he saw the completeness of the ruin his father could bring.

  Clauman took a handful of Aedan’s hair in a shaking fist.

  “Now,” he said, barely in control of himself, “let me warn you not to interfere with matters that do not concern children. The stall you ruined earlier today was one of my sideline investments. You stole from me. Tonight my boys will collect what was stolen.” Then he brought his face right down to Aedan’s. “If you meddle with my operations, the discipline you have needed in the past will be like mist compared to the hailstorm I’ll set on you.”

  Aedan stared back from a whirl of screaming, stamping fear and rage. “You … a criminal?” he finally managed between gritted teeth.

  Clauman stood and waited a long time before answering. “All that knowledge and still blind?” He looked around before continuing. “I am an artist. When I lived in Tullenroe I was legendary, and my reputation here is just beginning to take root. No window, no safe defied me, and no doddering lawman ever had any idea. Not even your mother knew – thinking herself so clever with all her books. The reason I can trust you to hold your tongue is because the knowledge would destroy your future quicker than mine. Interfere with my plans again and you will know what it is to be sorry.”

  He picked up his hat where it had fallen during his exertions.

  “In a few weeks, things will be ready, and it will be time to fetch you back from that foolish academy. Your vacation is over. There’s work for you to do. And it starts tonight – you keep yourself and your friends clear.”

  By the time Aedan had found a water barrel and washed the blood from his face, it was late. He returned to Enna’s where he found everyone had finished their meals. Lorrimer was wiping his mouth. Aedan guessed that Enna had pushed a meal at him even though he had blown his money earlier. It would have required little pushing.

  “What have you been up to?” Peashot asked.

  “Nothing.” Aedan turned his face away from the lantern glare.

  Nearby, Coren was fastening straps over a cart that held all the copper pots, pewter bowls and mugs, wash basins, cutlery and spices. Several bulging purses of coins were put into an iron box which was stowed in the cart too.

  Liru and Delwyn were heading in the same direction as the elderly couple and offered to accompany them. Coren began explaining that he and Enna needed to wait for their relatives, when Malik and Ilona walked around a corner.

  “Ah. Here they are,” Coren said. “These are our grandchildren.”

  “You are brother and sister?” Hadley asked them.

  “Cousins,” said Ilona, with a shake of her golden hair and a winning smile. Her look turned cold as she saw Aedan.

  Malik glared with open enmity.

  “How did you manage to afford such a huge tent?” Ilona asked, stepping back and staring. “And a table too? And why aren’t you where you set up this morning?”

  Coren explained what had happened and how the boys had taken it upon themselves to build the tent.

  “It was Aedan’s idea,” said Hadley.

  “But Kian’s carpentry,” said Aedan, diverting the attention and hoping nobody had looked at him too closely.

  Ilona turned to her grandmother, “Did you do well?” she asked.

  Enna beamed as she pulled out the money bags. “We can pay the next three months, just from today’s earnings,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

  Ilona threw her arms around her grandmother and avoided looking at Aedan.

  Malik avoided looking at anyone. He took up the handles of the cart and set off towards the exit, signalling the parting of ways. Liru and Delwyn accompanied the little group as they trundled away into the night.

  Aedan watched them go. Someone small peeled from the shadows and scurried ahead of the cart.

  His father’s words began to echo in his head. The picture hadn’t been clear at first – shock had kept his mind numb – but he saw it now. And if he interfered his life would be ruined by a father whose anger knew no bounds. It would be madness anyway. What could his little group of boys with training weapons hope to do?

  All strength, all sense of purpose had been battered from him. He trailed silently behind his group of friends as they headed in the opposite direction, back to the city gates. He hoped it would be a clean robbery, that none would be hurt, especially Liru.

  And then he began to feel ashamed. He knew that if it had been Kalry, a hundred fathers would not have held him back.

  Once again, with her memory came purpose.

  “Stop!” he said.

 
; The others came to a halt and looked at him. He rocked slightly, staring at the ground, grimacing.

  “What is it?” Hadley asked. Then he stepped closer. “Hey, how did you get these bruises?”

  Aedan ignored the questions, took a breath, and looked up. “Follow me,” he said.

  He made a turn and then another so that they were walking back towards the other half of the party.

  “Aedan, where are we going?” Hadley asked.

  Aedan stopped and turned around, and for the first time, they all saw the bruises. “I think they are going to be robbed. I’m going back. It is going to be rough so don’t come if you don’t want to get hurt.” Then he turned and set off at a run. Without a word, all five followed.

  The screams made the search easy. They stepped into a shadowy section of the festival ground’s outer lane and saw, a little way ahead in the bright moonlight, a large gang surrounding the party of six. Aedan counted the assailants – twelve.

  Malik lay still on the ground beside one of the thieves who was moaning and clutching his head. The other boys jeered and shoved the girls, dodging out of the way of kicks and swipes. One of the boys laughed as Liru’s fist skimmed his throat. He stopped laughing when she took advantage of his inattention and hoofed him in the groin. He struck her so hard that she fell back against the cart and dropped to the ground.

  Peashot and Hadley started forward, but Aedan gripped their arms and held them back.

  “Wait!” he said.

  Peashot listened, but Hadley dragged him forward and then turned at him like a mad dog on a frail leash. He did not like being told what he could not do.

  “Just trust me, Hadley. I also want to charge in, but that won’t work here. We’ll have no chance. Shift the disadvantage – remember? Let me think.”

  Reluctantly they hung back as Aedan tried desperately to clear his mind and hatch some strategy.

  The gang tightened its circle.

  “You and those dirty little friends of yours be making our boss angry today,” one of the gangsters taunted.

  Aedan grimaced at the memories recalled by the thuggish tones. He could almost see the Anvil in front of him again, dipping and lurching with his taunts.

  “The boss, he says only take the money, but it looks to us like you’ll be needing a mighty big lesson in manners.”

  Aedan’s head buzzed with anger but he forced himself to concentrate. This was a large gang of much older boys and some grown men. If he and his friends simply charged in, they would accomplish nothing. Anger is a poor strategist, Dun had constantly told them.

  Aedan glanced around, taking in everything that could be used to their advantage.

  Moonlight flooded the scene, but he and his friends stood hidden in the shadow of a large oak. The gang stood between the last line of tents and a wall on the right. This wall was more like a tier, the higher ground above it being flush with the top; a ramp behind Aedan led to the higher level. On the left side of the alley, opposite the gang, there was an opening in the line of tents, no more than a narrow passage – it was probably this passage the gang had used to hide in. The ground beneath his feet was gravelly, and if he moved forward, he would lose the cover of shadow.

  An idea grew in his mind. The gang would have to be thinned in stages.

  “Peashot, Kian,” he whispered, “get up the ramp behind us, and when you are above them, hit them with whatever you can – rocks, slings, even blunt arrows if there is nothing else. Aim for the head, don’t stop even when we are among them. Just try not to hit us.”

  The two boys slipped away.

  “Lorrimer, Vayle, go back round the tents and wait in that passage opposite them. Some of the gang will probably try to go through there to get behind Hadley and me when they hear us. Vayle, go ahead and crouch to trip them. Lorrimer, use your staff on their heads as they fall.”

  They nodded and glided off.

  “Hadley, we drop however many are sent to get rid of Peashot and Kian. Take a handful of gravel for the eyes, then use your training sword like a club.”

  Aedan unslung his quarterstaff and removed the strap. The wild rush in his veins was causing his fingers to fumble and his hands to shake. This would not be like one of Dun’s exercises. These opponents would not hold back. They would strike with the intention to harm, perhaps kill.

  He tried to stop the shaking, but couldn’t.

  Hadley wriggled his leather-clad training sword free. Then they both scooped a handful of gravel, moved apart so they wouldn’t strike each other, and took positions just inside the shadow where they would be able to see without being seen.

  They waited. Aedan was breathing like he had just run a mile. Fear and excitement tightened him up, gumming his thoughts until he looked at the staff in his hand and suddenly realised he had forgotten everything he’d been taught on how to use it. He hoped, in a kind of dizzy panic, that some of the techniques might come back, otherwise he’d just have to swing and chop and hope for the best.

  “Good luck,” said Hadley. Not even he could hide the trembling in his voice.

  “Good luck.”

  Two rocks flew out from the upper level. One of the bandits went down with a sigh and another screamed and reeled away, clutching his nose. The next two rocks were partly deflected, surprise having been lost. There was some shouting and four of the gang separated from the group and started running towards the ramp. They drew knives and clubs, but showed no sign that they had seen the boys waiting in the thick shadow of the oak.

  Aedan crouched.

  Heavy boots thudded closer.

  Forty yards, twenty …

  He took a deep breath.

  Ten, five …

  Aedan and Hadley flung their handfuls of gravel. The first two gangsters broke into howls of pain and skidded to a halt, hands over their eyes. The next two had only a heartbeat to prepare as they ran into a quarterstaff wedged into the ground and a small sword swung powerfully at knee height. They both dropped. Blows fell thick and heavy on the backs of heads and any fingers that got in the way.

  One of the gangsters was a hulking bull of a man. He recovered himself sufficiently to grab the staff, wrestle it away with a roar, and deliver a glancing blow to Aedan’s shoulder that was still enough to knock him down. But Hadley, finished with his two, circled behind and unleashed a furious swing at the big man’s head, producing a groan and a heavy thud as the body collapsed.

  Aedan, panting and trembling, picked himself up from the ground and retrieved his staff. He looked back at the cart. The gang still kept their prisoners at bay while cursing the two boys throwing rocks.

  It was not easy to concentrate, but he pulled his thoughts together and counted.

  Only five! Where were the others?

  He crouched and spun around, looking for a surprise attack. From a distance, he heard two thumps of falling bodies and a few woody-sounding whacks. The noises came from the direction of the passage. Someone began to shout and threaten in strained tones that betrayed a struggle. Another three whacks brought silence.

  Six of them against five gangsters, Aedan thought, assuming Vayle and Lorrimer were still on their feet. He decided to move quickly, before anyone thought to use the prisoners as hostages. He also wanted the thugs to face away from the wall, giving Peashot and Kian targets that would not dodge.

  With Hadley beside him, he ran along the tented side of the road, calling Lorrimer and Vayle as he neared. They jumped out into the open.

  “It’s a bunch of children!” The biggest of the gang jeered, drawing a long, cruel blade. “With toy weapons.”

  It was the last thing he said. The distraction had worked. Peashot’s expertly aimed rock bounced off the side of his head and he crumpled. Kian’s glanced from another’s shoulder.

  One of the remaining four turned and grabbed Ilona by the hair. Aedan flew at him, Hadley and the others following. This was the part where the tricks were done and the advantage was lost. The man holding Ilona reached for a short, c
urving blade like a claw.

  Aedan could not afford to wrestle with that blade; he had to make a clean strike. But his arm was numb from the blow he had taken on his shoulder, and as he swung the staff round, it escaped his grip and skittered away. There was no time to run after it now.

  Without breaking stride, he sped over the last few yards and leapt into the air – something Dun had forbidden – aiming his elbow at the much taller gangster’s head. The distance closed as he soared, swung … and missed. The man’s head had moved. An airborne attack had made adjustment impossible. The momentum carried Aedan into the wall where he thudded against the stones and dropped to a crouch. Ilona’s captor looked at him and smiled as he put the blade to her throat.

  “Call them off or I’ll be painting everything red.”

  It was what Aedan had feared. With a hostage they could dictate anything they pleased. He opened his mouth to speak when he noticed something in Ilona’s hand. She raised her arm and Aedan caught the glint of a blade just before she jabbed it into her attacker’s thigh. He screamed and dropped his hands to the injured limb. Ilona ducked away, but she caught her foot on something hidden in the long grass, and fell. The man drew her knife from his leg with a shudder, raised his own to throw at her, and then dropped in a heap as a rock collided with his head.

  Peashot looked down with a savage smile.

  Aedan’s attention was pulled away as someone yelled. He turned to see Hadley struggling on the ground under a boy larger and heavier than him. The boy was clawing, spitting and biting like a rabid dog. Teeth marks in Hadley’s neck began to well with blood. The clawing became more frantic and then, gradually, the arms wilted and fell limp. Hadley released his hold on the boy’s neck and both of them slumped back and lay still.

  Only one of the gang remained standing, knife poised. Lorrimer and Vayle were circling him. Vayle hobbled noticeably as he thrust and swung Aedan’s staff, his training sword still tucked away on his back. He was clearly too weak to step in and commit himself, and it seemed that Lorrimer was too timid.