by Aaron Thomas
“What are those for?” Bowie slid to a stop, almost bouncing into the Captain as he suddenly turned around.
Towering over Bowie, he spoke in a low voice over grinding teeth. “What are those for, CAPTAIN! You will show proper respect to superior officers or they will teach you respect. This is your one and only warning.” Captain Lorusk was red in the face and looked as though he would like to give the lesson to Bowie himself. He wiped a small amount of spittle from his lip before speaking again, “Those are the traitor bowls. They are for executing wizards, armor, and weapon bearers that are traitorous to the king. I wouldn’t worry about those too much if you want to be an archer. Only one archer has ever become an armor bearer in the history of the Earth Realm. You will have no reason to fear the bowls. Instead fear the hangman’s noose.” With that, Lorusk spun back around and started his quick-paced walk. Bowie was glad that the captain hadn’t put on the fire bracer he held in his gloved hand. He was in a bad enough mood already.
It occurred to Bowie as they walked that the captain had taken a circuitous route instead of leading straight to the trainee’s barracks. Led along the line of soldier’s barracks, Bowie found out why very quickly. Soldiers that were outside talking or training began to laugh and remark about Bowie’s bright yellow outfit. He got several invitations to dance and sit on the soldiers laps while they drank at the local taverns. A group of archers that were either very poor shots, or too drunk to hit the target were standing in a small groups of five to seven. They all started to point and laugh at Bowie. One man started to say how he would like to train Bowie and hold him close to help steady his aim. Bowie was getting a little red in the face and was wondering if it truly did match his hair color, like his dad had always claimed. He eyed the targets past the men and waited until he had the rhythm of Lorsusk boots hitting the ground to cover his shot. Very quickly, he reached up and pulled an arrow from his quiver, knocked it and shot into a group of men. They all threw themselves onto the ground and the whole line of archers started shouting to the captain. Slowly the archers took notice of Bowie’s red feathered arrow that lay amongst the far targets on the field. Captain Lorusk turned to see what the men were shouting at, but they all had fallen silent in fear or in shock at the well placed shot. Bowie again continued to walk until he skidded to a stop nearly running into Lorusk. The captain looked from the men and back to Bowie, oblivious to the arrow down range. “Get back to work men. You will have enough trainees to intimidate in a couple weeks. Until then, it looks as though you need more training yourselves.” The men slowly started to get back to shooting arrows. Bowie smiled at Lorusk’s back as he took up walking again. They approached a wood building with small slats for windows along all three stories. Lorusk pointed at the front door, “Inside should be the barracks sergeant. He will get you a room to stay in while you are trying to become a soldier.
Bowie didn’t know what Captain Lorusk had against new trainees but he spoke as respectful as he could anyways. “AYE AYE, Captain.” Bowie headed in to the barracks and found that they weren’t really rooms but stalls with shelves on the dividers. Each stall contained nothing but straw for sleeping and a shelf that, while sitting on the ground, would allow you to write somewhat comfortably. Bowie had no reason to stick around. He put his belongings in his stall and left to explore the town and find a tall ale.
***
Kilen walked to the side and slightly behind Brent as they passed through the halls and out the back door to the castle. Outside was a vast training ground. Brent immediately pointed to four large steel structures out in the middle of the area. “Those are the traitor bowls. I will meet you over there in a few moments.” Kilen made his way to the bowls, but glanced over his shoulder to see Brent talking with a guard. The guard saluted and ran off to complete the orders he had received. “Excuse me,” he said as he caught up. “I had to send for Jace. He is to be your mentor. He is my father’s best scout, so you listen to what he says. Now then, these are the traitor bowls. Each one is meant for the execution of a wizard or elemental wielder that betrays the king. The traitor or accused traitor will receive a trial, and if found guilty of treason they will be placed in the bowl according to their elemental power. For instance, If I committed treason I would be placed in the water bowl. Each bowl has its own way of torturing their victims before they die. The earth bowl has small pipes that allow the bowl to be filled with sand once the wizard is inside. The sand will eventually suffocate the wizard inside, thus killing the wizard with his own element. The fire bowl is half filled with oil while the unconscious fire wielder is inside, when they wake up they use the fire to find where they are at and ignite the oil inside. The oil won’t kill them, but it will burn all the oxygen up inside and cause them to, once again, suffocate. The wind bowl was harder to imagine. The wind wielder is placed inside and the lid secured. Then the bowl is lifted all the way to the top of this tower and dropped. The wizard inside will feel what it is like to fall without the wind to catch them. I don’t have to tell you how they die.” Kilen swallowed the lump that was growing in his throat. “The water bowl was a little bit harder to construct. At first it was filled with water. The idea was to drown the wielder, but the smart wizard they first tried it on used the water to move bubbles of air to him inside allowing him to breathe indefinitely. So they created a wax seal around the edge of the bowl to prevent moving air in with water. The engineers came up with the idea that since water is everywhere they would use the opposite of water to kill the wizard. So now they fill the bowl with oil, separating the wizard from his element for the first time in their lives. The result is drowning by oil.”
“These are sickening. Why are they in the middle of the training grounds? Shouldn’t they be kept somewhere out of sight?” Kilen turned away from the bowls, thinking about suffocation with no light, no sun, and no one to comfort him in his last moments. With the feeling of eyes watching him, he began to feel the emotions from behind the eyes. The emotions of the voices built in anger also. He held onto their feelings, hoping to learn more about them. The latching on to the men inside his head was the distraction he needed not to lose his stomach.
Brent laid a hand on Kilen’s shoulder, “The King keeps them here as a constant reminder of what happens to those who become traitors.” The emotions of the voices in his head shrunk away at Brent’s light touch. A man a little shorter than Kilen walked up to Brent. He wore light brown pants and a white wool shirt covered by a green traveling cloak. He wore two short swords crossed on his back with pommels sticking out above his shoulders.
The man saluted Brent with his fist to his chest, “Scout Jace reporting as ordered, Councilmen.” By introduction Kilen knew that this man was supposed to be his mentor, but Kilen was unimpressed with the man. He looked like an everyday farmer that found a couple of swords to carry around.
“It’s good to see you Jace. Unfortunately I have no time to catch up with you today. I have received instructions from Calvin and the King that you are to be this young man’s mentor. I would like you to meet Kilen. He is a second generation blade and armor bearer. Do not hold that against him. His father was Dylan Everheart and former scout to your wizard.” Jace appraised Kilen closely then nodded to him. “Kilen is untrained other than a few short lessons that he received along the way. I am confident that he can fill you in on what he has been able to learn so far, and what he lacks in knowledge. You should be pleased to know that he has ambitions of being a scout. Please teach him well.”
“I will do my best with what my mentor has given to me in a son. Kilen, it is a pleasure to meet you. I last saw your father about fifteen years ago. He was my mentor in these same training grounds, I hope I will do him honor in training you.”
Brent grasped Jace’s hand, “I’ll leave you to care for him then. I have other matters I must attend to. He will need a place to stay in the wielder’s barracks. I’ll send more instructions for you, Jace as I receive them.” With a nod of acceptance, Brent turned to leave go
ing towards the door they had come from.
“Come on then, I just got in this morning and I have things I need to tend to also.” Jace started towards the wielder’s barracks at the eastern wall of the training grounds. “Those are the soldier’s and trainee’s barracks. Stay away from them as much as possible. They will be confused by your weapon. You bear no shield and sword on your cloak so they won’t know how to treat you. Along that back wall there are the classrooms for the training you will receive. Do you have any particular skills?”
“I went to school learning everything up until the day of the Springfest that just past.” Kilen handed the book he had been making to Jace, who promptly started flipping through the pages. “I know map making, history, war tactics, mathematics, and I can read and write Sir.”
Jace stopped in his tracks and looked around then stepped close to Kilen. “Do not call me sir. You attract unwanted attention to me. Most people do not know who or what I am. From this day forward I am Jace, not sir or lord or master. If I give you an order you will make it sound like you thought of it first, and were going to do it anyway. When you are a fully trained scout you will want the same treatment. Do you understand?” Kilen indicated that he did, “Good. Rule number one of being a scout, there are spies and traitors everywhere. Always be cautious and alert.” Jace stared into Kilen’s eyes, making sure he understood before flipping through the book again. “I’d say you can write and draw too. I think you might have made a better scholar than the one’s the library holds here. I see that you know these sword forms and can draw them, but are you any good at the sword?”
“I was never allowed to handle the sword, or a stick shaped like a sword in play. I started to learn in Keepers. That’s where I learned what I have put in the book.” Jace looked up briefly before continuing to flip through the pages.
“Lots of good information about poisons, cooking, and herbs in this book. If you can memorize these then you won’t have a problem with testing out of those classes. I will need to get you some help to get you caught up on the weapons training. When you start your training you will need to pass as many classes as you can as quickly as you can so that we have time to train you in the sword and magic. Until I can get the private instruction you need, you will be on your own to get acquainted with the training grounds and the rest of the city. Some of the instructors, including myself are a little unorthodox in our training.”
They walked up to a stone building with oak doors and small, barred windows. A small man came out and came straight to Jace. “Jace, will it be the same accommodations as normal?”
“Actually, I won’t require a room this time. They have me in the instructor’s portion of the castle again. I have come to show this man where he will be living while training here. This is Kilen Everheart. Add him to your roster.”
“I will do that. Master Kilen, I will have room seven open for you. If you will come with me I will get you a key. If you have a horse, I’ll have it brought around and placed in the stables behind this building.”
Kilen looked at Jace and then replied, “Actually it’s just Kilen, if you would. Thank you for the room.”
Jace started to back away, “Kilen remember my instructions. I will send for you if I have any appointments or information for you. Until then, continue your work.” He tossed Kilen his book back before turning to walk away. Kilen followed the small, fat, balding man inside the barracks. There was a small room with a pallet where books were on shelves labeled with the room numbers.
The fat man handed him a key marked with the number seven, “My name is Ted. If you need anything, or require any information I will do my best to accommodate your request.”
“Thank you, but I think I would just like to rest a while, Ted. My things should be brought around from the front. If you can make sure that they get here, I would be appreciative.” Kilen made his way to room seven and unlocked the door. Inside was a bed with an actual mattress, a trunk, wardrobe, small writing desk, and a washstand. Kilen unlatched his armor and set it in the trunk before washing his face. Without unstrapping his sword or even taking off his boots he fell into bed. The voices in his head even seemed to relax a small amount when he finally closed his eyes and went to sleep. Not yet, wait until I tell you it’s ok, was all he heard, but he couldn’t tell if it was dream or reality.
When Kilen woke up he felt rested until he moved to find a pain in his side He had slept on his sword. He was so tired that the pain hadn’t woken him. He realized that this was the first time he had slept without actually touching the blade to his skin and using the magic to revitalize himself. A smile crept onto his face. He was reminded of the promise he made to Sergeant Wells. He moved about the room searching his bags that had been brought in during the night. A covered dish also had been brought in and was sitting on his writing desk. Kilen changed into a set of new trousers and wool shirt that was laid in his wardrobe. The food gave off a wonderful smell and Kilen ate greedily after putting on his clothes. Finally Kilen looked out the window and saw that it was late morning, probably around nine o’clock, he thought.
He decided that since he had nowhere else to be he would finish touching up his book. He made a few finer details to pictures, and made new drawings that he couldn’t do while on horseback. Kilen pulled out some polish for his boots and armor. Finally, he found himself with a tidy room with nothing left to do but look at himself in the mirror. That is exactly what he did. Using the stool from the desk, he sat in front of the mirror looking into his own eyes searching for the other men behind them. “I can hear you and I know you can hear me.” He looked around feeling a bit strange talking to voices he wasn’t sure where actually there. “I want you to know that whatever this is we are in this together. You’re only way out, is to help me find a way to get you out. If you’re even real,” he added actually talking to himself this time. He felt some anger build up inside of him. He knew that it was Max. He associated the feeling of anger with the voice. He could now tell the difference between the two men. Max was quick to excite and become angry, while Joahna was steadfast and calculating. “Max, I’m trying to help you. I want you out of my head.” The anger was quickly replaced with a small amount of fear, but still the voices remained silent. Staring into the mirror, looking in his own eyes for about an hour Kilen became very stiff, and had accomplished nothing. He decided he would have to find another way to approach the situation or find someone who could help. He wanted to find someone that was of the Fire Realm to see if the two men he and Bowie had killed were named Max and Joahna.
Kilen looked out the window, all the work had kept him busy until noon. He searched his bags and found a green jacket. He stepped out into the hallway and locked the door. Ted was in his office at the end of the hall going over the ledgers on the shelves. Kilen thought it was never too early to start making friends. “Good morning Ted.”
“Kilen, I’d thought to come in to wake you up. I’m glad to see you up and around. A servant was here a while ago demanding to see you at once. He wrote you a note. I told him I would pass it along. He brought your things and I placed them in your room.” Kilen looked at the note and saw it was signed by Leroy.
“Thank you. If that particular servant comes around looking for me again, please let him in. Even if I am not here. He is a personal servant to me and has some skills that I need daily. Do you know where I can find him at this hour?”
“He looked to be dressed for the kitchen. They usually send new ones off to learn their place under Master Horval, the chef in the castle.”
Kilen tossed Ted a gold crown from his purse, “Ted I ask a couple favors of you.”
“All you have to do is name it and I will see it through,” Ted bit the crown to see if it was made of real gold. His expression was that he very satisfied with the coin.
“First, if that servant comes by again please admit him to my room. No reason will be necessary for his being admitted. Second, I was wondering if you could let me know if someone com
es around asking for me or if you hear any rumors about me. Don’t start any rumors mind. Just keep an open ear.”
“It will be as you ask, I will report everything to you when you ask for it.” Kilen nodded in agreement as he walked out of the barracks onto the training field. Men were in the fields practicing blades, archery, lancing, axes, and even a little boxing. Kilen quickly made his way to the castle kitchens after asking some guards for directions. He still got lost twice but was making mental notes on the way around the grounds. When he arrived at the kitchen he looked again at Leroy’s note. It simply said, “Save me. They think I’m your personal servant. Leroy Bradley.” Kilen tucked the note in his pocket and moved about the kitchen which was thick with smells of fresh bread and cooking meat. Leroy ran around from the tub he was washing pots in. His shirt was soaked despite the apron he had on. His forehead was wet with sweat he promptly wiped it away at approaching Kilen.
“Thank the Brights, I thought you would never get here. Have you thought of an excuse yet to get me out of here?” Leroy was looking around nervously as though he were a deer surrounded by hunters. Before he could answer a skinny, greasy man with shoulder long black hair gathered into a tail behind his head came whipping a ladle at Leroy’s shoulder. Leroy jumped back out of the way.
“This is the second time I’ve had to put you back to work, you skrag. Do not bother this lord or I’ll have your hide flayed out and made into a new apron for the next skrag I have to whip into shape. Go on, get back to work!” He waved his ladle above his head menacingly.
Finally Kilen broke into the chef’s rant, “Actually, he wasn’t bothering me. He’s my personal servant and I have need of him this day.”
“Oh, you’re his master are you? Well Councilmen Parker said his master was a weapon bearer. Show me your blade and you can do what you with this lazy dolt.”
