by Stuart Daly
Only Lachlan mastered the activity at the first attempt. His griffin, Talon, perched himself dutifully atop the wagon, scanning the field with his unblinking auburn eyes for a full ten minutes before Lachlan returned.
‘Beginner’s luck,’ Roland muttered.
As it turned out, Lachlan’s ‘beginner’s luck’ lasted for the entire duration of the lesson. Lachlan and Talon excelled at the next two activities: retrieving a training sword from the distant weapons racks, and locating a water satchel the Master had hidden somewhere on the field. By the end of the morning, Lachlan was the envy of all the initiates. Caspan had to admire his humility, though. He wasn’t boastful in any way, and received the Master’s compliments with a quiet modesty.
‘How do you think that went?’ Scott asked at the conclusion of the lesson, once they had dismissed their Wardens and were sitting on the grass in front of him.
‘It’s as though I’ve found a partner in crime,’ Roland commented, inspecting the soul key hanging around his neck.
Kilt rolled her eyes. ‘As if one of you wasn’t bad enough!’
‘Do you think that’s merely a coincidence, sir?’ Sara asked curiously.
‘What do you mean?’ he said.
‘Well, we chose our Wardens based on what they looked like on their soul keys. We had no idea as to their temperament and nature. Yet they all seem to have very similar personalities to us.’
Caspan hadn’t really thought about it until now. Sara was right. There appeared to be an uncanny resemblance between the recruits’ personalities and those of their magical companions.
Sara’s pegasus was quiet and gentle, and waited patiently with Sara to be the last to attempt each of the activities. The magical horse watched everything intently, and galloped across the field to check on Kilt’s snow panther when she lost her footing on a wet patch of grass after returning from the weapons racks.
In spite of his ferocious appearance, Bandit was just as much a jester as Roland. The winged lion rarely stood obediently by Roland’s side, and was easily distracted by sounds made by small woodland animals in the forest. Every time a bird flew by, the manticore stretched his wings and fidgeted impatiently, as if he wanted to take to the sky and give chase. He was forever trying to trip Roland over, or sneaking up behind him to rip off the food sack hanging from his master’s belt. Bandit was also particularly conscious of getting dirty, and was constantly licking his paws and pruning his fawn-coloured fur.
Lachlan’s griffin, Talon, was strong and proud. Caspan had often heard eagles and lions described as noble, kingly creatures and, looking at the griffin, he could easily see why. Talon held his head high in a serious, almost imperious manner, the sun glistening off his impressive, curved hunting beak. His auburn eyes studied everything intently.
Kilt’s snow panther, Whisper, was just as temperamental and fiery as her master. She seemed to have little patience, pacing irritably between activities. There was a brooding quality to the cat’s features, accentuated by the dark shading around her eyes and the slight downwards curl at the edges of her maw. Whisper only showed affection for Kilt. Should any of the other initiates try to pat her, the panther raised her tail haughtily and moved away. She even growled at Caspan, forcing him to quickly retract the carrot Sara had given him to feed the Wardens. Kilt’s smug smile vanished, though, when Frostbite came over and stared challengingly at the giant cat. As large as the snow panther was, she was dwarfed by the drake and growled contemptuously before padding off.
This was the first sign Caspan had of how protective Frostbite was. The drake stood beside him for the remainder of the lesson, keeping a watchful eye on Kilt and her panther. Frostbite wasn’t reserved and shy like Sara’s pegasus, but seemed to be wary, Caspan thought. Perhaps the drake was just like him, and people had to earn his trust before he could open up to them.
Caspan often found that he’d lose himself looking into Frostbite’s eyes. They were enchanting, deep pools of wisdom, which reminded him that the Wardens were ancient creatures, born of a magic long lost. In the past Frostbite had guarded one of the Dray kings, but now he was serving a former street-thief. For the first time since becoming Frostbite’s new master, Caspan wondered if he was worthy, and what the drake thought of him.
‘Duke Connal believes the Wardens can look into our souls and see what types of people we are,’ Master Scott replied to Sara’s question, drawing Caspan from his thoughts. ‘That would certainly help explain why they form such intimate bonds with their masters.’
Roland pursed his lips and nodded. ‘That seems fair enough. They say dogs can smell fear.’ He chortled quietly. ‘Mind you, the only things my pet dog, Pirate, could smell were my mum’s apple pies, which she’d leave to cool on the windowsill. You wouldn’t believe how many hours of my childhood I wasted chasing that dog up and down the street, trying to pull pies from its mouth.’
‘Well, Wardens are a little more intelligent than dogs,’ the Master said. ‘I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Bandit stealing any pies.’
Sara regarded Roland suspiciously. ‘Not unless Roland puts him up to it, which wouldn’t surprise me in the least.’
Roland gave her a mock hurt look. ‘What? I’ll be a fantastic master. Just you wait and see the great things Bandit and I will do.’
Kilt snorted. ‘I can picture it already. Your faces will be on Wanted posters for sausage theft all over the kingdom.’
‘Ah, you know me too well.’ Roland grinned.
‘I don’t know if I like the term “master”,’ Lachlan said. ‘It makes it seem that Talon is my subordinate, when really, even though we’ve just met, it feels as if we’re close friends and equals.’
Caspan nodded. ‘I feel exactly the same about Frostbite.’
‘As do I,’ added Sara.
‘Yeah, well, Bandit and I aren’t quite there yet.’ Roland gave his friends a sheepish look. ‘I’m not as annoying as Bandit, am I?’
Lachlan shook his head, his expression deadpan. ‘No. You’re far worse.’
Everybody laughed, and Scott looked proudly at Sara, Lachlan and Caspan. ‘It’s good that you feel you have such a strong bond already. It will only intensify as the years pass. The Wardens will be your lifelong companions. They’ll learn all your strengths and compensate for your weaknesses. They’ll always be there for you. You’ll never find a more devoted and loyal companion.’
Roland wiped a fake tear from his eye. ‘That was beautiful, sir.’
Scott hurled a tuft of grass at the black-haired jester. ‘I think that will be enough training for today. While we’ve been busy here, Gramidge has prepared a pile of maps on Andalon’s three duchies and Caledon for you in the archive. Please make your way there straight after lunch.’
‘Maps! Can’t we just stay here and train our Wardens?’ Roland moaned. ‘It’s a beautiful, sunny day. The last thing I want is to be stuck in a musty old archive.’
The Master drew breath to comment, but Sara beat him to it. ‘Archives are not musty. They’re a repository of knowledge, containing written records of our history. You’ll never make a good treasure hunter if you can’t read maps and don’t learn where Dray tombs are located. For starters, you’ll never know where to begin to find them. You’d end up wandering all over Andalon, hopelessly lost.’ She turned to the Master. ‘Isn’t that right, sir?’
Scott grinned. ‘I couldn’t have said it better myself.’
Roland rolled his eyes. ‘Great. Maps it is then.’
A week passed before the recruits assembled in the combat yard for their first sword-training session.
Caspan was confident that he’d performed well in every lesson up until now. He had come equal first with Roland on the obstacle course in the woods, and was the only recruit to have successfully completed last night’s stealth mission, where they’d been required to sneak up on Master Morgan and steal an object from the wagon he’d been guarding. Caspan had likewise impressed when he’d scaled the facade of the old tower in t
he forest. To the amazement of his fellow recruits, he had completed this task without the assistance of a rope.
He felt particularly proud of himself when he guided his fellow initiates through a trap-riddled burial mound half an hour’s ride north of the House of Whispers. The Brotherhood used this for training purposes and had modified the traps. White chalk shot from holes along the walls when pressure stones were activated, and false floors led to pit-fulls of water rather than bristling stakes.
It took the group several hours to navigate their way through the subterranean complex. Caspan and Roland led for most of the time, although Kilt seemed eager to prove herself and often pushed her way past Caspan to inspect a corridor or chamber. There was also a moment, as the group first entered the tomb, when Caspan feared Lachlan was going to clobber Roland. The black-haired jester wasn’t taking the challenge very seriously and almost dropped their sole lantern. Fortunately, Lachlan took some deep, calming breaths and moved to the back of the group, distancing himself from Roland. His initial excitement over, Roland behaved himself for the remainder of the test, his eyes narrowed determinedly as he worked alongside Caspan. Oswald’s warning that they had to learn to work together as a team concerned Caspan, and he believed there was hope for them yet.
To his great surprise, Caspan had also made progress in reading ancient languages. He had attended Master Scott’s first lesson on this subject with great apathy, but at the back of his mind was Oswald’s comment that the ability to read Ancient Tongue was one of the most vital skills a treasure hunter could learn. He sat beside Sara during these lessons, and she always took the time to help him. She also offered to tutor him of an evening, a proposal he readily accepted. Caspan was surprised to find that she had extended her invitation to Lachlan.
‘Everybody back at the academy thought I was stupid because I couldn’t read,’ the muscular boy had confided during their first evening session. ‘But I’m not. It’s just that the words on the pages appear blurred to me.’ He lowered his eyes, ashamed. ‘My brothers constantly teased me about it. They used to have so much fun, pinning me down and making me read. Then they’d run off, laughing hysterically.’
‘I’ve never heard anything so sad. Maybe there’s something wrong with your eyes,’ Sara sympathised.
Lachlan shook his head. ‘I can see everything else fine.’ He flicked the open page in front of him angrily. ‘Sometimes the letters appear backwards, or even disappear off the page altogether.’ His broad shoulders slumped. ‘I was so embarrassed of being asked to read that I hid at the back of every class at the academy. On the rare occasion I was picked out, I made excuses, like pretending I had a sore throat, or that I couldn’t find the passage. I started to hate books. I once found one lying in a hallway and tore it to shreds.’
Sara smiled softly. ‘So you became a word assassin, waging a covert war against books.’
Despite Sara’s compassion, Caspan was sure that, being a bookworm, she considered such an act sacrilege.
Lachlan sighed. ‘It sounds exciting when you put it like that. But believe me, there’s nothing great about being called stupid all the time.’
Sara clapped him encouragingly on the shoulder. ‘Well, let’s see if we can fix that.’
Caspan also made steady progress in training Frostbite. All of them, in fact, had made such improvement with their Wardens that Master Scott had allowed them to go for their first ride yesterday. Sara and Kilt rode their Wardens around the field, learning how to steer them with the pressure of their knees, leaving their hands free to wield weapons. The boys, meanwhile, took to the skies.
That was stretching the truth a little, Caspan had to admit. They had to be content with learning how to make their magical companions hover several yards in the air. Before doing this they had to ready their Wardens with specially designed harnesses and saddles, which took well over an hour. Then, finally, when their companions were midair, it proved to be extremely difficult to follow Scott’s example and keep their Wardens perfectly still. Frostbite had a tendency to drift to the left, forcing Caspan to constantly pull hard to the right. The drake was incredibly heavy and powerful, and it wasn’t long before Caspan was massaging his right shoulder.
Lachlan and Roland didn’t do much better. Scott insisted they train with a twenty-yard gap between them, but they often veered to the side and bumped into one another. Roland was almost dislodged when he was accidentally swiped by one of Talon’s wings, but he clung tightly to Bandit’s neck and managed to correct himself.
Towards the end of the lesson, Scott rewarded the boys by allowing them to fly one lap around the field. Although banned from going any higher than ten feet, the recruits took off towards the woods, laughing and hooting, the wind in their hair, feeling like gods.
Despite Roland’s boasts that he was the greatest rider to have ever lived, he almost crashed into the trees at the edge of the forest. In typical Roland form, he hadn’t been watching where he’d been going and was instead trying to draw his friends’ attention to the fact that he wasn’t using his hands. Alerted by their cries of alarm, Roland had managed to pull sharply to the left just in time, barely missing the trees.
‘It was a close call,’ he’d admitted later. ‘Though nothing that Bandit and I couldn’t handle.’
But today they would have their first sword-training session, and Caspan feared he was going to fall flat on his face.
Master Morgan pointed at the weapons racks. ‘Over there you’ll find a large selection of swords. Choose one that suits your fighting style. Also grab a gambeson and helmet. I want you back here, armed and padded up, in ten minutes.’ He regarded the group sternly as they stood obediently before him. ‘What are you waiting for, an invitation? Go!’
With Roland leading, the recruits raced over to the racks. Caspan hesitated at the rear of the group, observing which swords his friends chose and deliberating over which one he should select. Sara and Kilt armed themselves with longswords. Lachlan chose a heavy, two-handed broadsword, and Roland a light, slim-bladed rapier. After some thought, Caspan decided it would be safest if he followed the norm and selected a longsword. It didn’t feel too heavy in his hand, and he was reassured by the length of the blade, which would be useful in keeping opponents at bay. Having taken off his cloak and pulled on a gambeson, he grabbed a helmet, picked up his sword and ran back with the others. He fell in at the end of the line in front of the Master.
‘You did that quickly. Well done. It means you get to spend more time training.’ Morgan strode up and down the line, noting the apprentices’ choice of swords. ‘Hmm, interesting. The swords you’ve selected reveal a lot about your fighting styles.’ He paused in front of Lachlan. ‘You like to rely on your strength to defeat your opponents, hoping that a few heavy swipes from your broadsword will overpower and crush them. Is that right?’
Lachlan raised his chin proudly. ‘Yes, sir.’
The Master gazed along the line and pointed at the rapier Roland held. ‘And you prefer to defeat your enemies with speed. You’ve chosen a difficult blade to master. A rapier is incredibly fast in the hands of a skilled swordsman, but you’re restricted to thrusting attacks. You’ll find yourself in real trouble if an enemy gets in close.’
Roland stuck his chest out. ‘Then I’ll just have to make sure they never get past my guard, sir.’
Planting his hands on his hips, Morgan regarded the boy. ‘You’re certainly not lacking in confidence, I’ll give you that.’ He turned to Kilt, then gestured with a flick of his eyes back to Roland. ‘All that remains to be seen is whether his skill with a sword matches his ego. Do you agree?’
‘Yes, sir.’ She smiled bitterly at Roland. ‘No offence intended.’
Roland waited for the Master to continue down the line before screwing up his face at Kilt and silently mimicking her. She scowled and poked her tongue out at him in return.
It was during these moments that Caspan realised just how different Morgan was to his more relaxed counte
rpart, Scott. Whereas Scott often smiled and allowed the recruits to question him, Morgan’s features seemed to be permanently set in a brooding scowl. The recruits learned much from him, but his lessons were always a serious affair. Had he caught Roland and Kilt pulling faces at each other, he’d make them run a hundred laps around the field as punishment. Meanwhile, Scott would most likely grin and pull an even sillier face in return.
‘Now, for our first sword-training session,’ Morgan said, having finished his inspection of the recruits. ‘In the thick of battle, this is the one thing you can truly count on.’ He parted his cloak and patted the weapon by his side – a double-bladed longsword, with a sweat-stained leather grip and a pommel in the shape of a cat’s paw. Even Caspan, who knew little about swords, had to admit that it was a magnificent weapon. ‘This is Claw. She’s been one of my closest friends for the past decade.’ Morgan raised a finger to emphasise his words. ‘Learn how to master a blade, and you’ll be a valuable asset to the Brotherhood.’
Caspan lowered his eyes dejectedly. That ruled him out.
‘I’ll teach you many things, but the most important lesson is that a skilled fencer uses this –’ the Master tapped the side of his head ‘– just as much as he uses his sword. And I’m not saying that a consummate swordsman headbutts enemies when they get too close.’ There was a hesitant chuckle from the recruits at the Master’s rare attempt at humour. ‘Your brain and your sword must become as one. The person with the strongest arm rarely wins a swordfight. It all comes down to how clever you are. A swordfight is a contest of wits. Learn how to read your opponent’s moves and anticipate their attacks.’ He let them ponder this for a moment before continuing, ‘To begin with, I need to see how skilled you are with a blade. It gives me a good indication as to what I have to work with. I’m going to split you into pairs and get you to duel. Just forget that I’m here while I wander around and watch. As there are five of you –’ he pointed at Lachlan ‘– you can practise on one of the training pells over there. So, when you’re ready, get started.’
