“No. No, that is not why I am apologizing. I am sorry about what I did to you. I had no right, yet you came to me for help.” His speech was awkward as we walked through the hallway where my room was. “I do not know if you will ever be comfortable with me, especially when I will be training you, coming at you with a sword as if your life depended on it… well it does but...”
“No, I don’t mind,” I said calmly. “People are probably going to try and kill me anyway, but with your help I might actually survive.”
It was a sentence I never thought I would have to utter in my life, the severity of the situation once again registering. If I couldn’t protect myself, if Bowen hadn’t agreed to train me, then I probably would have ended up dead.
We were finally at my door, my hand now clammy at my impending predicament.
Bowen let me go. “Well, goodnight,” he said softly.
I opened the latch and was ready to go inside when he turned around again, a soft smile playing of his lips.
“Penblwydd hapus, Jade,” and then he retired for the night.
I was left there stunned, my heart beating at the sight of him. Perhaps it was the earlier drinks that were impeding my thoughts, but I smiled, my cheeks blushing at the way he said my name.
What are you thinking? I quickly shook his face from my mind and closed the door behind me in an effort to leave my emotions outside.
The week’s festivities finally came to an end. It had been filled with drink, food and presents and not much else. But now it was time to hunker down, first beginning with Bowen’s training.
My studies with Master Lewis continued and finally sped up. I could now name every herb in and out of his garden as well as control fire (unexpectedly well), produce healing potions (expectedly horrible) and read enough Latin to understand a spell and how not to have it blow up in my face (literally).
“What do you use to make a memory-altering potion?” Master Lewis had been quizzing me now for days about the different potions and spells and how to utilize them for attacks and medicinal remedies.
“Mix together arsenic, thyme, and horehound. Boil them, strain the leaves out and add the liquid to whomever’s drink. Save the remaining leaves by tying them into a small pouch and place them under the intended’s bed.” As I learned, I found that all magic was in some way part science, its specific measurements and precautions similar to those I had slaved through during my high school years.
“Brilliant. Just brilliant. The High Elders will be pleased with all you have learned.” He went to his desk and grabbed a beaker of purplish-looking liquid—an earlier attempt of flu potion I had been trying to perfect for weeks.
“But not enough. I feel like I’m lacking something. I mean I am good at this,” I gestured to the many vials and pouches I had prepared in the last months, “but what about the more natural magics? You mentioned before that great mages are able to use the magic from within to control what they want. How do I do that?”
When I had first started my classes with Master Lewis he had thought me one of the greatest witches of this time and that my studies would be easy. Sucked for him when it turned out to be the complete opposite.
“Sadly, that is not something I can teach you. You gain that insight from experience, which you have none of.”
I fiddled with the box of herbs in front of me, the soft colors of their leaves swishing around, and weighed my options on how to get the experience. I knew I wouldn’t find it sitting in the master’s lab all day. “I’m going to find Bowen. Maybe he can teach me more.”
Master Lewis looked up from the text that now occupied his hands. “Please be careful!” he shouted, a note of actual worry in his voice as I left the room.
Janet sat in the living room of Bowen’s mansion sipping at her tea, the remnants of bread crumbs left from her morning meal scattered across the plate in front of her. The constant patter of rain hit the roof and windows in a rhythmic pattern. It was another early morning and the university wanted to meet for the millionth time concerning Jade’s disappearance. Dave came into the room, a mug of coffee in one hand and the early paper in the other.
“I don’t even know what to say to them anymore.” She put her head in her hands, the weight of the situation lying heavily upon her nerves.
“Then don’t say anything. Just listen to them.” Her husband took a gulp of his coffee and sat down in the chair next to her.
“But it’s not fair. It’s not fair to us or them!” It had been over a month since her daughter’s disappearance. “I should just tell them that she ran away.”
“Well, technically she did. Do you think that will quell their enthusiasm in finding her?”
“Yes.” Both parents turned around to find Bowen standing there, already dressed for the day in his pressed gray suit, while Janet still had yet to remove her makeup from the day before. “Janet I think that is the best thing we can do at this moment.”
She stood and closed the distance between them. She had no more fight left in her. She wanted to tell him he could go to Hell. That this was all his fault. But it wasn’t. “Alright, I’ll tell them.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “What should I say?”
“Tell them that Jade called you from a private number, telling you that she ran away and didn’t want to be found. That she felt trapped where she was and wanted to find her biological parents.”
Both of their heads snapped up.
“Bowen.” The usually light-hearted Dave was now replaced with the forty-three-year-old businessman. He still hadn’t told his wife about his earlier conversation with Jade about her biological mother and he hated to keep things from her, but in this situation, it was necessary.
“It explains away everything. Why she didn’t get in contact with you sooner and why she’s been gone for so long.”
Janet hugged her sweater tighter around her shoulders. Without saying a word she left the room, silent tears rolling down her face. Dave went to follow his wife, Bowen stopping him before he went.
“I’m sorry, Dave, but this is the only way to get the university and police to stop the search.”
“We know. Why do you think it’s so hard for her? Because deep down, she wants someone to keep looking.”
XXI.
I went through the usual warm-ups before practice of stretching my muscles and loosening my limbs. In my first week of training my arms and legs had felt like they were on fire, the implementation of unused muscles leaving a lasting ache throughout my body. Training was usually done outside, but since today’s weather consisted of a torrential downpour of rain and hail, Bowen had graciously moved us indoors. The thick padded suit that stank of sweat kept me warm from the early January frost, the New Year bringing nothing new but more cold and wet.
Inside was like any other gym, except instead of dumbbells and workout equipment there was an array of dull weaponry that covered the walls. A straw and burlap sack dummy was pushed into a far corner so we would have enough room to spar while the stone floor was replaced with a thick mat, allowing any falls to be softened by its weight.
“Let us begin.”
I held up the blunt training sword that I had used for the last couple of weeks. It was like the ones always seen in movies: The blade made of thick steel while the hilt was of a simple design. It was much heavier than I expected.
Bowen attacked and I did my best to deflect the blow from above. Quickly I countered as he had taught me and moved in closer to make up for my short stature. He shot to the left and raised his sword, aiming for the back of my leg. I brought my own down and our swords clashed.
“Good. I see you are finally able to think and move. That will keep you alive.”
Think and move.
Something played around Bowen’s face. It wasn’t exactly joy, the corners of his mouth only lifted a fraction of an inch, but his eyes held excitement, liked he had f
inally relaxed enough to not cringe every time he hit me. The first week of training with him went just as well as it had with Master Lewis. I was awkward and lacked the strength to even lift, let alone attack with a sword, but Bowen managed to find one perfect for my weight and size.
We continued the dance as I crossed right. Using my smaller stature, I got in Bowen’s blind spot and attacked, but he deflected the blow. Our choreography continued until both of us were heaving for air.
“We are finished for today. Rest and get something to eat,” he huffed.
I took off the padding that was now drenched with more sweat. I wore a thin shirt and trousers underneath that Haf had heatedly argued about, thinking it was unladylike of me to be walking around in tight trousers but I convinced her that wearing them would be better than being dead.
Instead of padding, Bowen unclasped his leather vest. It was easier for him to move around in, yet sturdy enough that if I were to ever land a blow, it would hold.
We both donned our cloaks, ready to brave the short walk through the open courtyard towards the main house, when the door flung open.
“Sir!” It was Dakarai. I had started to learn the names of the men that guarded the stronghold—better to have more friends than enemies. “There has been an attack on the town.”
“What?” Bowen’s vigilance went from zero to sixty. “What happened?” He threw down his cloak and started to reapply his leather armor.
“The Brotherhood has leveled buildings using large pellets of ice. They have used the storm to whip up gales strong enough to rip timber from the ground. A dozen or more villagers have been slaughtered, over a handful injured, and they are not finished.” Dakarai paused, knowing his next words would tip Bowen over the edge. “Sir, your brother leads them.”
Bowen’s eyes turned cold, the once friendly tutor now replaced with the deadly warrior. “Where are Tristan and the other guards?” He reapplied his cloak and sped out the door, the guard following right on his heels with me keeping pace.
“The captain is down there as we speak!” Dakarai shouted over the screeching wind. “They are trying to quell the storm as best they can but our magic is outmatched.”
We ran across the courtyard and into the hallway that led to the armory.
“Gather as many men as you can,” Bowen commanded, ripping open the door to the weapons room. “We must stop their magic, at any rate delay it if we cannot end it. I will be there shortly. Where exactly are they?” He found his swords easily and strapped them to his side, this time adding gauntlets and shin straps for added protection.
“They are in the fourth-quarter district, where the Stag and Hen is... used to be.” Dakarai grabbed some of the pouches lining the wall. I recognized them as the ones I had made with Master Lewis.
Please let them work properly!
“Okay. Tell Jonathan to bring me a horse. I’ll go on ahead and–” Bowen’s stare bore a hole into the back of me. “What do you think you are doing?”
I had just about finished tying my own leather gauntlets and vest over the thin chainmail shirt I now wore, “Going with you,” and donned a short sword.
“Absolutely not!” his voice bounced off the old stone walls. The words reminded me of the last fight I had with my parents about going to Wales. Maybe if I had listened I wouldn’t be here right now. I pushed the thought from my mind. “You do not have enough training and the Brotherhood’s men will be all over the place. No, you will stay here.”
“I’ve had almost two months’ worth of training between you and Master Lewis, you need everybody you can get.” The tingling sensation under my skin began to hum. I need to do something, anything.
Bowen stood taller, his eyes looking down to me. “Very well,” and gestured to Dakarai to leave, the surprise on my face evident. I didn’t think he would accept my argument so easily. “Finish putting on your leather while I fetch the horses.”
Swiftly he left the room, the door banging closed behind him. It was only once I heard the slide of the lock that I realized I had just been played.
“Shit!” I banged my fists against the door. “Let me out! Bowen! Dak! So help me when I get out of here I’m gonna punch both of you in the face! Let. Me. Out!” Nothing. They had gone. I stood with my forehead pressed against the door, trying to figure a way out of the windowless room. When I had asked Tristan earlier why there were none, he had said it was so none of the outside elements could rust the steel.
Hello! Jade! You idiot. You’re in an armory. Just break the fucking thing down!
Going to the far side of the room I chose an axe that looked hefty enough that it could go a couple rounds, yet small enough that I could lift it. Hacking at the lock I finally bore a hole through it, the sound of it falling out to the other side barely registering as I pushed my way through and ran to the stables.
“Jonathan! Give me a horse!” The stable hand looked me up and down. Ironically, he looked like he had never ridden a horse in his life; his gangly form had as much weight to it as a stork.
“Sorry, Milady. Bowen gave me strict instructions that you were not allowed out. And I would rather go against your wishes than his.”
“Fine.” I made a show of stalking away in defeat, but once far enough, ran to the outer gates, a gail of wind almost knocking me down.
If they won’t let me out, I’ll just sneak out. It shouldn’t be that far to the fourth-quarter district.
While the guards were preoccupied with carting people in from the danger, through the bustle and shrouded weather I made my escape. It was my first time stepping out of the place since coming here, but the path to the bottom hadn’t changed from when I had taken it in my time. Instead of the forest that would have been to my right, there were bare fields that looked out on to the ocean, which made it easier to see any oncoming attacks from the water. Not that it helped in this case.
If I thought the weather here was bad, looking to my left, my breath caught in my lungs. What I presumed was the fourth district was being assaulted by a mushroom-cloud storm. It was as if a wall had been placed around the area to keep people out, or in, for that matter.
I made my way through the jostling crowd and into an alleyway just off the path below. Running through the maze of houses I followed the direction of the walls so as not to get too lost. As the air got colder and the hail even heavier, I knew I was just a street away and stopped.
Lining the main road were bodies. Some torn to pieces, probably from the force of the hail or more likely by the Brotherhood, while others were still intact. The ones that had made it out alive were few.
I held my nose at the stench of it all, my stomach heaving at the sight of broken bodies. Blood and guts and piss filled every inch of my field of vision and I almost passed out because of it. Almost. It was then that I saw a small child sitting next to his mother, his eyes red-rimmed yet he didn’t make a single sound, frozen to the spot, his strength having died with her.
I went over to him, his clothes were torn and I could see how his skin stretched taught over his rib cage. His leg was bent at an extreme angle and the pain in his eyes… I couldn’t tell what was his blood and what was his mother’s, the two mixing gruesomely together. I tried to hold my own fears back, convincing myself that if I blacked out now I might end up like them.
“I’m going to fix your leg,” I screamed over the wailing storm. The boy made no action to move, just sat there staring at his mother with big eyes. I brought out a vile of potent healing potion made with the oils of angelica and rosemary, and lathered them on my hands to place over the boy’s break. Silently, I cast the mending spell. It took excruciating minutes for me to set the leg back in place, all the while the boy teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. By the time I handed him off to a passing guard, he was out cold.
I moved on to the next person, doing what little I could with my limited knowledge. I realized th
at my hands were now steady, unlike when treating the boy when they were almost bouncing with fear. It was only by my fifth patient that someone grabbed me from behind. Getting in a fighting stance, I was about to slam my palm into his face when I saw who it was.
“What the hell are you doing here?” There was blood streaking Tristan’s hair, making it look like a screwed-up highlight job. Anger and fear twisted his features as he pulled me into a nearby alcove, sheltering us.
“I’m here to help.”
“You should be behind the castle walls! Not on the frontline!” The cut above his brow was still bleeding. My fingers glowed with a pulsating light as I placed my hand over the wound to mend it, only for him to push me away. “Leave!”
“But I can help them! They won’t survive if they don’t get treatment!”
“Then they do not survive!” Tristan’s anger bubbled, as if someone had left a pot of boiling water on the stove to overflow. He was a captain of the Guard, sworn to protect those less fortunate. I never would have thought him capable of those words. “You need to be safe. Imagine what Master Lewis would say.”
My own anger was now brimming to the surface. “He’d say that I’m the savior and capable of making my own choices.” Before he could order me around some more I dashed out of the alcove and into the street. All the patients were being attended to by the rest of the healers, their broken cries and gaping wounds on display for those few still fighting. My skin vibrated with the adrenaline which pushed through me as I made my way into the battle.
I took hold of my sword, ready for whatever danger lay ahead. I could barely hear anything over the cry of the storm piercing the air. Utilizing a once-thatched house, I took shelter behind it and peered around the corner to assess the battle. All that was present were casualties of the fight. Men and women from both sides littered the ground, the colors of red, green, and black scattered about.
To Those Who Never Knew (A Monksblood Bible Novel Book 1) Page 15
