by Stuart Daly
Caspan felt the blood rush to his cheeks, conscious of the shocked looks his friends gave him. ‘I’m sorry.’
Oswald smirked. ‘Apology accepted, although my pinkie might hold a grudge against you for a while longer.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Now, I think we might start today with a lesson on how to identify Dray relics. How does that sound?’
Sara sat up straight and smiled enthusiastically. ‘Splendid.’
Oswald pushed his spectacles higher up his nose and gestured with a sweep of his hand around the room. ‘Most of the Dray artefacts and relics we find are passed on to King Rhys and his military advisers. We’re fortunate that he allows us to keep one or two items for training purposes.’
Kilt surveyed the relics on the shelves and tables, and frowned. ‘One or two? But the room’s full of artefacts.’
Oswald nodded and tapped the side of his nose, almost dislodging his spectacles, which he dexterously caught and repositioned. ‘Ah, but not all of them are Dray artefacts. And not everything is magical. In fact, only two of the items in this room have special powers.’ He regarded the recruits, a furtive look on his face. ‘Your task today is to find them.’
‘But how are we supposed to do that?’ Roland asked. ‘I don’t know about the others, but I’ve never seen a Dray artefact before.’
‘What better way to learn how to swim than to be tossed overboard and be told to make it to the shore,’ Oswald said, an amused expression on his face. ‘Well, what are you waiting for – the relics to jump in the air and say, “Here I am”?’ He clapped his hands again. ‘Get started.’
‘There’s nothing in here that can harm us?’ Kilt asked.
Roland shot her a wolfish grin as he sprang from his seat to inspect the jewellery on a nearby shelf. ‘What? Are you worried about putting on a ring and having your hair turn green and a tail popping out of your rear end?’ He laughed. ‘Now that’s something I’d love to see!’
Their teacher smirked and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint, but the two items won’t have any such … well, interesting side effects.’
Roland pouted. ‘That’s a shame. I was quite looking forward to see Kilt transform before my very eyes.’
Kilt pointed a finger at him in warning. ‘Keep going and you’ll see me transform all right!’
Lachlan silenced Roland with a stern look, then moved over with Sara to survey the items on a table near the balcony. Caspan joined Roland, and the two boys carefully worked their way through the artefacts.
‘Do you have any idea how we’re supposed to go about this?’ Roland asked after a few minutes, holding a piece of pottery up against his ear and shaking it.
‘No. But I don’t think your technique will get us far,’ Caspan said.
Sara overheard their discussion and looked back over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes when she saw Roland, who was now experimentally licking the relic. ‘Look for inscriptions in Ancient Tongue on the items. That will be a dead giveaway that it’s a Dray relic.’
‘Sound advice,’ Oswald remarked, impressed.
Roland placed the shard of pottery back on the table. ‘Yeah, that didn’t taste too pleasant. A bit like dried dirt, if you ask me.’
Sara’s advice may have been sound, Caspan thought, but it wasn’t much help if you couldn’t read Dray languages. He couldn’t tell the difference between Vorsklagovian and Salaharan, let alone Ancient Tongue. It would be best, he decided, to defer to Roland’s judgement. Yes, the black-haired boy liked playing the fool, but he had come first in the challenge to see who could join the Brotherhood. There was more to him than met the eye, Caspan believed.
Hours passed yet the apprentices couldn’t find the magical items. Caspan’s and Lachlan’s patience had long since expired. They rummaged hopelessly through the relics, giving the appearance of trying to be useful just so they wouldn’t be accused of giving up.
At one point, Caspan found himself working alongside Kilt. ‘It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,’ he sighed.
She glanced at Caspan disdainfully then shoulder-barged past him to another shelf. It was clear that Kilt made a conscious effort to avoid him for the remainder of the activity. Caspan ignored her and tried his best to assist Sara and Roland.
He was surprised by Roland’s perseverance. He had thought the dark-haired boy would have been the first to throw in the towel, but he carried on enthusiastically, all the while making humorous remarks, which, as the hours dragged by, Caspan began to appreciate. Even Lachlan and Kilt couldn’t help but grin at Roland’s suggestion that they should go on strike until their working conditions improved.
It was approaching midday when the group managed to narrow down their investigation to four relics: a sword, two rings and an amulet. All were made of a strange black metal and bore inscriptions in foreign languages that Sara was adamant were dialects of Ancient Tongue.
‘Where did you learn to read like that?’ Oswald asked her as he came over to inspect the items. ‘They don’t teach Dray dialects in the academies, do they?’
Sara shook her head. ‘My father taught me how to read Ancient Tongue. I’m by no means fluent, but I know enough to get by.’ She ran a finger along the inscription carved on the sword’s blade. ‘I think this says Dor Dlorthern, which means Foe Slayer, but I’m not too sure.’
‘Why don’t you pick the sword up and say that name?’ Oswald said, motioning for the others to step back.
Sara raised the sword and glanced at her friends uncertainly before returning her gaze to the weapon. ‘Dor Dlorthern.’
What happened next left everyone gaping.
The inscription flashed a brilliant, luminous green then the blade transformed into a shifting, grey, shadow-like substance. Sara gave a cry of alarm and almost tossed the sword aside in fright, but Lachlan quickly stepped forward and placed his hand around hers, helping her to hold it tight.
Oswald nodded proudly. ‘Well done. You’ve found the first of the magical items.’
Sara swallowed and stared at the sword in wonder. ‘But I never would have known how to had you not told me to read the inscription.’
‘Magical Dray weapons and pieces of jewellery can only be activated by reading their inscriptions,’ Oswald explained. ‘It’s similar to how we summon Wardens. Of course, we don’t know how the magic works. We haven’t yet uncovered the secrets of the Dray’s arcane sciences. Until then, all we can do is keep searching for as many artefacts as possible and use them to our advantage.’
Sara handed the sword to Lachlan, who waved it through the air. ‘It feels as light as a feather,’ he said, mesmerised. ‘What type of sword is it?’
‘We call these shadow blades. They are the most powerful weapons we’ve discovered. They weigh next to nothing, so the wielder’s hand never tires. They can also slice through steel.’
Roland’s eyes flashed with excitement. ‘Any chance of a demonstration?’
Oswald shook his head. ‘Perhaps another day.’ He extended his hand towards Lachlan, who passed over Foe Slayer. Oswald said something in Ancient Tongue and the sword’s blade turned back into black steel. ‘I’m sure Master Morgan, who’ll take you for sword-training lessons, would like to show you that.’
Roland rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, joy. I can hardly wait.’
Oswald grinned. ‘Morgan might be stern, but you won’t find a finer sword trainer in Andalon. Pay attention to what he says. You’ll learn a lot from him. But we’ve become sidetracked.’ He tilted his head towards the remaining three relics. ‘You still have one item to find.’
Sara stepped forward to the table and inspected the rings before holding one up. ‘I think this might be it.’
‘And the reason for your choice?’
Sara’s eyes narrowed as she carefully studied the black metal band and its inscription. ‘The other ring and the amulet bear the names of Dray women. I know it was common practice for the Dray to carve their names onto their jewellery as a sign of ownership.’ She turned t
he ring around. ‘I can’t read this inscription, but I’m sure it’s one of the Dray dialects.’
Roland peered over her shoulder and nodded. ‘Yeah, I have to agree. It’s definitely a rare dialect.’
Lachlan exhaled angrily and pushed him aside, tired of his sarcasm. He looked back at his fellow initiates. ‘So none of us can read it?’ They shook their heads.
Oswald held out his hand, palm upwards. ‘If you’ll allow me?’ Sara handed him the ring, which he slipped onto his right index finger. ‘Inthol florandal,’ he said.
Roland stared at the old man expectantly. ‘So what did it do?’
‘The inscription should give you a clue.’ Oswald held up his finger, revealing the letters engraved around the black band, which were now glowing green. ‘You were correct in thinking this is a rare Dray dialect. There are few in the Four Kingdoms who can read it. Fortunately, I’m one of them. It says, “Swift Feet”.’
Roland frowned. ‘Then why aren’t you moving fast?’
‘Maybe because he hasn’t actually moved yet!’ Kilt exclaimed impatiently.
Roland rubbed his chin and nodded. ‘Oh, yeah.’ He wiggled a finger towards the far section of the room. ‘Um, Oswald, you wouldn’t mind running over there for a second, would you?’
Oswald smiled obligingly then took off. Caspan’s eyes grew wide with fascination. Never before had he seen anybody move so fast. No sooner had Oswald started to run than he was standing at the far side of the room, ten yards away.
‘Now that’s impressive!’ Roland applauded.
Caspan pointed at the sword still held in Oswald’s hand. ‘Imagine if you were wielding that at the same time. That would be a lethal combination.’
Oswald took off the ring and walked back to join them. ‘And that’s why we must keep searching Dray burial sites for magical items. I firmly believe that the Brotherhood will be responsible for defeating the Roon. Hopefully, by now, you can see why it’s important to be able to read Ancient Tongue. These items are powerless unless we can translate their inscriptions and unlock their magic.’
Caspan nodded, feeling as if he was just about to take his first few steps up a massive mountain. He was confident that his thieving skills would be a great asset to the Brotherhood, but in other areas, such as reading ancient languages, he was useless. He’d also never held a sword before in his life and was dreading his first lesson with Master Morgan. Caspan feared he’d be made the laughing stock of the order.
Roland slapped his thigh and sat on the edge of one of the tables. ‘Well, I’m inspired. You’ve changed my opinion of Dray languages. I didn’t really think they’d be of much use. Yeah, the Masters have said they’re really important and all, but I couldn’t see any practical use for them – apart from trying to impress bookworms in libraries, which isn’t really high up on my list of priorities.’
Sara scowled at him before turning to Oswald. ‘Will you be teaching us Ancient Tongue?’
‘I wish I could.’ He returned Foe Slayer to the weapons rack and gazed out the window. ‘But I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I have to join other members of our order down in Salahara. I’ll be gone for some time, so I imagine one of the Masters will take my place.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the apprentices. ‘I wanted to meet our new initiates before I left. I’m glad I got the chance.’
‘Is that where Raven and Thom are?’ Caspan asked, wondering why he hadn’t seen them around the House of Whispers. ‘Are they in Salahara?’
Oswald nodded. ‘There’s a whole group of us down there, exploring some tombs we’ve only just discovered. Of course, I’m not as young as I once was, so I’m little use in fighting off brigands, crawling along passages and climbing ropes.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘But I can translate almost any inscription we encounter. Dray tombs often contain riddles and cryptic passages that need to be solved in order to circumvent traps. That’s when I come in particularly handy.’ He smiled sadly. ‘But it looks as if our time here has come to an end.’
Sara pouted. ‘When will we see you again?’
‘Who knows?’ Oswald shrugged. ‘You might have even finished your training by then and be fully fledged members of the Brotherhood.’ He held up a finger. ‘If you take anything away from this lesson, I’d like it to be this.’
‘Let me guess: Gramidge’s sideburns have to go?’ Roland interjected.
Caspan raised his sleeve to conceal his grin. Lachlan didn’t find it humorous, though, and punched the black-haired boy firmly on the shoulder.
Roland whimpered and rubbed the spot where he had been hit. ‘Hey! That wasn’t very nice.’
‘And neither was interrupting Oswald!’ Lachlan remarked. ‘You need to learn to keep your mouth shut.’ He looked to the elderly treasure hunter. ‘You were saying?’
Oswald cleared his throat. ‘It’s very apparent that each one of you is skilled in different things. You also have distinct personalities. You’ve only just started your training, and already I can sense friction and tension within the group.’ He raised his finger again. ‘You must learn to work together as a team. Your lives may one day depend on it.’
These parting words weighed heavily on Caspan as he followed his fellow initiates down the tower’s spiral staircase. If anything, today’s lesson had reminded him of his own limitations. Stealth of hand and the ability to melt into shadows may have been enough to survive on the streets of Floran, but things were different here. Fortunately, each of the recruits had skills that complemented one another. Now they just needed to work on getting along.
This, Caspan feared, might be the hardest part of their training.
It was during their third training session with the Wardens later that week that the personalities of the magical beasts started to show.
Master Scott took the initiates down to the field. Sitting atop an old stump at the edge of the forest and chewing on strips of salted pork, he watched and monitored the recruits. He offered the odd word of encouragement here and there, but most of his comments were critical, correcting the initiates on how they should be more assertive in their commands. After an hour the Master called in the recruits and asked them to assemble before him.
‘Now that you’ve spent a few sessions getting to know your Wardens, you need to start training them,’ he announced. ‘We’ll begin today teaching your companions how to guard. It’s one of the most basic and important commands they need to learn. The Wardens are too large to enter many tombs, so we often set them on guard duty outside.’ He waved his hunting knife at a wagon to the side of the field. ‘I want you to order your Wardens to guard the wagon whilst you go off and hide in the trees over there for a few minutes. Are there any volunteers to go first?’
Roland’s hand shot up. The Master nodded and Roland, grinning as if there was no tomorrow, led Bandit over to the wagon. The black-haired boy reached inside his cloak and produced a black sash, which he tied around his manticore’s head.
‘What’s that?’ Sara asked.
‘Accessories maketh the manticore.’ Roland moved away, allowing everyone to see the mask he’d made the night before. ‘What do you think?’
Scott sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘When you’re ready.’
Roland nodded excitedly and positioned Bandit in front of the wagon. Leaning in close, he whispered in the manticore’s ear, ‘Okay, this is it, buddy. We’re on display, so no mucking around.’ He stepped back, hands on hips. ‘Sit,’ he commanded in a firm voice. But the manticore remained standing and blinked several times at him.
‘We’re going to do this the hard way, are we?’ Roland muttered, smiling nervously at the Master as he moved behind Bandit. Standing on tippy-toes he pushed with all his might on the manticore’s rear end, forcing him down into a sitting position. Roland gave a satisfied nod and hurried back to face his Warden. ‘Guard!’ he ordered, before turning and walking towards the edge of the forest. Roland looked proudly at his friends. ‘Now, don’t be too embarrassed if you can’t follow the
high standard I’ve set.’
No sooner had these words left his mouth than Bandit snuck up behind him, stretched out a massive paw and tripped Roland over.
With the exception of the Master and Lachlan, everybody guffawed. Even Roland couldn’t stop laughing, which only seemed to encourage Bandit more. It was only on his seventh attempt, in fact, that Roland finally managed to make it over to the trees without his manticore following after him and trying to make him stumble.
‘Didn’t you say the Wardens once guarded Dray kings?’ he asked Scott, when he emerged from the trees and rewarded Bandit with a piece of meat from the small sack hanging from his belt.
‘That’s correct.’
‘Then why’s he behaving like this?’ Roland asked. ‘I can hardly see how Bandit could have been entrusted to cover a tomb. He can’t even guard a wagon for a few minutes! It’s almost as if he’s never been trained before.’
Scott smiled softly. ‘You have to remember that your Wardens haven’t been summoned in hundreds of years. You’ve drawn them out of a deep hibernation, and it’s going to take them a few weeks before they get re-accustomed to receiving commands, not to mention in a new language.’
Roland sighed and wiggled a finger in warning at Bandit. ‘Well, you’d better not take too long, because I don’t like this little game of yours, trying to trip me over whenever I turn my back. It’s only a matter of time until somebody – and by that, I mean me – gets hurt.’ He tried to stare angrily at Bandit, who tilted his head slightly and regarded Roland thoughtfully with his large yellow-brown eyes. It wasn’t long before a wide grin crossed Roland’s lips and he motioned for his Warden to come over for another piece of meat. ‘Aw, I can’t be mad with you, can I?’
Caspan, Sara and Kilt didn’t fare much better with the task. Granted, their Wardens didn’t cheekily knock them over, but they did refuse to stay put by the wagon. After about half a dozen attempts each, the recruits finally managed to perfect the firm tone of command needed. Caspan also found that pointing his index finger at Frostbite helped reinforce his instructions.
