“So… it doesn’t disturb you that I can…” Kevon trailed off.
“Like you said, if I didn’t know you, then yes, it would.” Waine said after a moment. “But since I do…” he shook his head and laughed. “I can see you having a lot of potential, and I know I can’t possibly see it all. You’ll be very interesting to be around.”
Kevon breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re the only one that knows. I’ve been too afraid to tell anyone else.”
Waine nodded slowly. “It’s probably a good thing. You never…”
There was a rustling in the undergrowth and Waine whipped around, training a freshly nocked arrow. A raccoon poked its head out of a bush to look at them, and the Warriors both laughed.
“We’d better get down the road,” Waine decided. “I know it’ll make me feel better.”
Kevon agreed, and as they set off down the road again as quickly as they dared, Kevon could not help but feel renewed hope. Though he had lost, hopefully for just a short while, Carlo’s guidance and Bertus’ cooking skills, he felt better. In Waine, Kevon had found an ally he could depend on. If the road ahead proved to be clear, as the Blademaster suspected, Kevon and Waine would be able to continue their weapons training. And now that Waine knew Kevon’s secret, Kevon could begin testing the limits of his magical skills once again.
With any luck, Kevon could have Gurlin dealt with before two seasons passed. After that, only one more obstacle stood between Kevon and the life he wanted to lead.
Holten.
Chapter 22
Kevon yelled and launched into a flurry of slashing attacks intended to throw his opponent off balance. His arms were beginning to burn with exertion, but his full-force strikes, strengthened and steadied by his Art, took their toll on Waine.
The Seeker parried the first strike, dodged under and around the next two, stepping aside for a better attack angle. By the time Waine managed to swing his practice blade to attack, Kevon had already wheeled around on one foot and his sword was interposed between them. Waine swung twice more, and each time was parried easily.
Kevon put his other foot down and settled into a lower, more conventional stance. The focus he had shifted to keeping his balance was redirected back to his arms and sword, and the attack began anew. He slammed his sword into Waine’s with resounding force, causing the Seeker to take a half-step to his right. Kevon followed the motion around to his left. He turned, crouched, and whipped his sword over his head to block the answering stroke from Waine. Meanwhile, he kicked out his left leg to sweep around and hook the Seeker’s feet out from under him.
Waine saw the attack coming at the last second and jumped over most of it, landing a bit off balance but recovering in time to block yet another follow-through attack from Kevon.
The two clashed another half-dozen times before Kevon felt the sweat starting to slide down into his eyes. Modifying his movement spell, he swept the sweat away, hurling it as an afterthought at Waine’s face.
The surprise of the droplets splashing into the Seeker’s face and eyes gave Kevon the opening he needed, and he slid through Waine’s defenses to stab him with the blunted end of the wooden sword, square in the gut.
Waine ‘oofed’ and dropped his sword, spreading his hands outward, palms facing Kevon in a gesture of surrender. As soon as Kevon nodded acknowledgement, Waine made a face and began rubbing his eyes. “Kevon?” he asked.
“Mmm?”
“It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if that never happened again.”
Kevon snickered. “Sorry, it was kind of a reflex.” He reached into a pack and drew out a rag to toss to Waine. “Besides, you told me not to hold anything back this time. Be glad it wasn’t fire.”
Waine finished wiping his face and tossed the rag back to Kevon. “Yeah, it’s probably best if you keep the fire in the middle of camp. We’re still deep enough in the forest I’d hate to see it get away from you.”
Kevon shuddered at the thought of the forest burning around them. It had been two weeks since they had parted company with Carlo and Bertus, so they were still a week or two of steady travel from the forest’s edge. Once they left the woods, it would be another week’s travel to East Thaddington.
The exhausted Warriors sat about for a while, as was their custom, enjoying the cool of the evening while the horses fed. Not much in the way of game had presented itself that day, so they would make do with cold rations.
“You know what the best way to kill your old Master’s evil Wizard friend is, don’t you?” Waine asked, seemingly at random.
Kevon sighed. He hadn’t really wanted to think about it. He was almost content living, traveling, and training. “How do you think that is?” He asked.
“Well, Carlo had the first part of it right, carving that signet stamp,” Waine said, thoughtfully. “And you have the book to deliver.”
Kevon gave him a look of mild annoyance. This was nothing he’d not already considered.
“Wait a minute…” Waine protested. “Hear me out. You go in with a good enough letter, all cloaked up Mage-style, with that knife of yours, and just stab the guy.”
“They’d know I wasn’t a Mage, then, because I wouldn’t be one the instant I touched the knife.” Kevon groaned, rolling his eyes.
“Just wait!” Waine persisted. “Wear the knife under your cloak. I can rig your sheath somewhere that won’t be obvious, upside down on the back of your leg, maybe? You could draw it through a slit in a pocket. You would have to be careful when you sat, maybe fake a limp, but…”
The simplicity of the plan struck Kevon like a hammer. If he did it right, he could get more information about what Gurlin and Holten were conspiring to do. In any case, he could surely get close enough to Gurlin to strike a killing blow.
“Do you think we could get to Gurlin’s tower and back to Navlia before Carlo and Bertus arrive?” Kevon asked quietly.
“It’s in the Western Ranges, right? We’ll have to feed the horses more to push them any harder, but I think so. I’ve made the trip faster, riding alone.” Waine answered. “We’ll turn west when we hit the open, avoid East Thaddington altogether. A quick stop in Navlia for supplies and your… costume. If everything goes well,” Waine laughed, “We’ll have a week or two to train at the Guild in Navlia so that you can challenge for Seeker when Carlo arrives.”
“And after that we could go to East Thaddington to find out about the sword,” Kevon finished. “And no one else would have to find out about me.”
As they ate, they fleshed out some of the particulars of the plan. Kevon began thinking again about how to revise the letter; what would be best to get him into Gurlin’s confidence.
Kevon’s mind reeled with schemes late into his first part of the watch. When he finally roused Waine for his half, Kevon easily drifted off to sleep.
For the first time in weeks, his dreams were untroubled.
Chapter 23
Kevon had never been so happy to see the sky. The strangled ribbon of blue that hovered over the road, punctuated rarely by small clearings, had begun to depress him. Kevon had grown used to seeing perhaps one star at night through the dark forest canopy. He marveled at the half-dozen that still glimmered in the slowly brightening morning as they rode clear of the trees.
The two Warriors made better time since their decision to bypass East Thaddington. Instead of training every evening, they opted for extra travel time every other night.
Kevon insisted, and Waine agreed, that for each training session until they met Gurlin, he would use no magic. He either used the knife, or one of the practice knives that Waine whittled out of broken branches, touching something metal before the sparring began. Kevon was fairly certain that offensive magic against a Wizard that outclassed him so completely would be largely useless. Metal in his blade would be proof against most magical assaults, and deadly offense as well. He wanted to be sure he was in top condition when the time came to use it.
Two days after exiting the forest, the track t
he Warriors were following ran through some fields. They spotted the first farmhouse and the first people they had seen since they had left Carlo and Bertus. Waine nodded amiably at the couple sitting by the front of the farmhouse, but pressed on ahead as Kevon was just about to ask about lodging for the night.
“We didn’t want to stay there,” Waine said after they were half a mile past the house.
“Did you know them?” Kevon asked.
“Didn’t have to,” Waine answered. “Did you notice how many repairs that place needed? Or the weeds in the fields?”
“Not really,” Kevon admitted. “But why?”
“Any decent farmer would be out tending his fields if they looked like that, or fixing his house.” Waine looked at Kevon soberly. “If you ever need to stay at a place like that, sleep sitting up with your back in a corner, and your sword drawn.”
Further down the road, they rode through some fields that were far better kept, and saw a farmhouse that was much nicer looking, with several outbuildings. As they neared the house, Waine pulled his amulet out of his tunic and straightened it on his chest. Kevon noticed and followed suit.
Waine began speaking in a low voice even though no one was visible and the house was still a few hundred yards away. “It’s customary for folks to lodge Warriors for free. It’s also common practice to overpay for traveling supplies when you leave, if at all possible.” Waine continued to explain. “Money here’s not as scarce as it is in Laston, I’d imagine, but it’s still a fair distance they’d have to go to spend it.”
Kevon nodded in agreement. In Laston, money was something nice to dream about having. You couldn’t eat it, ride it, or any number of other things that you could do with hard goods.
The two Warriors slowed to allow the farmer, who they spotted returning from a field, to reach the house first. When they arrived at the main house, all five family members were outside, waiting. The farmer, his wife, two boys perhaps nine and ten, and a little girl that half-hid behind the family dog that bristled slightly at the newcomers.
“We require lodging for the night, and could use some supplies, if you can spare them.” Waine said, dismounting and extending a hand to the farmer in greeting.
The older man clasped Waine’s arm in greeting, smiling warmly. “You’re welcome to it. It’s not much, but please, make yourselves at home.”
The boys helped Kevon lead the horses to the barn and showed him where he could unload the gear. They chattered and bickered as they brushed and grained the animals, then turned them out into the fenced pasture with their own horses. Then they raced each other back to the house, a grinning Kevon following closely behind.
As he entered the building, Kevon smelled something delightful, and followed it to a stew bubbling in a copper cauldron over a brick oven. The farmer’s wife stopped stirring long enough to shoo the Novice into the other room where Waine and her husband were sitting in chairs at the large table. The boys had flopped down on the floor and were listening to one of Waine’s many hunting adventures.
“The boys want to be Warriors when they grow up,” the farmer said after Waine’s story concluded. “We had a Warrior stay here about a year ago. He needed supplies, but didn’t have any money. He stayed on here for a few weeks building the sheds, helping out wherever it was needed. The boys loved watching him practice the sword.”
Waine glanced over at Kevon. “We didn’t train last night. Supper’s not quite ready…”
The boys nearly tied themselves in a knot in their mad scramble to be the first out the door. Kevon walked out to the barn and retrieved the practice blades.
“Let’s give them a show, shall we?” Waine said with a wink as Kevon handed him his wooden sword.
Kevon smiled and dropped back into a defensive posture. He blinked slowly, and when he reopened his eyes the runes for Enhancement and Movement already glowed faintly in his mind. He wrapped the spell around himself using a bare minimum of power, not wanting to waste good magic on the opening moves of the demonstration.
Waine began as usual, darting in and out with quick single strikes or two-hit combinations that Kevon no longer needed magic to parry easily. He quickly stepped up the attacks to longer strings of strikes, faking one direction before shifting his grip or balance to make the practice sword whip around at Kevon from a completely different direction.
Things were quickly reaching the point where Kevon could not defend much longer. He released more power into the already glowing runes, and they flared more brightly in his mind’s eye. Kevon felt the magic solidify around him, guiding and speeding his limbs in turning the tide of the match. He allowed the symbols to burn more brightly than ever before. The rush of magic gave him speed and control in quantities he’d never before experienced, and he had to hold back to keep from completely overwhelming Waine. Kevon found that the edges of his runes were beginning to frazzle, and he felt his magical energy bleeding out far faster than normal. He slowed as he clamped back down on his reserves to focus on re-visualizing the spell symbols.
The moment of hesitation was all that Waine needed to penetrate Kevon’s defenses. The Seeker pushed hard into a parry, levered Kevon’s blade downward with his own, and brought the upswing crashing into the side of Kevon’s head.
Kevon had recovered control of the Movement spell too late to defend against the strike, but had time to shift his focus to Waine’s sword. Figuring the Seeker had not really planned for his blow to land, Kevon assumed that Waine was not holding back. The Movement rune flared brightly as the blade thwacked into Kevon’s cheek, the magic checking most of the force almost as completely as if it had been parried by another blade.
Kevon made a point of whipping his head away from the impact to make it seem more painful and dramatic. The boys both gasped in shock, and their father winced. Kevon and Waine both took a step back to face each other, and raised their wooden swords in a military salute. Waine handed Kevon his practice sword so the Novice could put it away.
When Kevon returned to the house, the boys were jabbering away, telling two different accounts of the match to their mother simultaneously. The farmer’s wife said nothing, nodding and smiling as she crowded the table with four place settings and prepared to dish up bowls of soup.
“That was quite the display,” the farmer said as Kevon approached. “Are you sure you two are a Seeker and a Novice?”
Waine chuckled. “We’ve been training endlessly under a Blademaster. We’ll both advance before the season is out,” he assured the man.
“This is the best meal we’ve had in weeks.” Waine said, smoothly changing the subject after sipping some of the steaming broth. “What do you use to flavor it?” The Seeker was his usual charismatic self, slipping from conversation to conversation. Whenever circumstance allowed, he told a bit of one hunting adventure or another.
Kevon ate in silence. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or if the farmer was studying him more intently than he was comfortable with.
I shouldn’t have used magic, Kevon thought to himself. Waine was a capable fighter, and it was evident in the way he carried himself. Though Kevon had begun to notice a bit more grace in his actions from time to time, he was clearly not the Warrior that Waine was. Kevon did not know if the unwanted attention was real or not, but he swore inwardly never to use his magic for show again.
After dinner and a few hours of storytelling, the Warriors retired to the barn to bed down.
“So what happened during the match this afternoon?” Waine asked. “I know I started off faster than usual, but you were keeping up fine. Better than usual, if you ask me. But then…”
“I slipped up.” Kevon sighed, causing dust motes to swirl through the shafts of moonlight that pierced the barn. “I kept using more and more power, and it got away from me. I couldn’t control it, couldn’t keep my spell together.”
Waine let out a low whistle. “That’s what you need to practice, then. Burn through your magic while you have it. There’s always
your sword to fall back on.”
Kevon laughed, amazed that the Seeker, who knew little or nothing about the Arts, had once again shown keen insight in how Kevon might best use them. “Yes, I think I should. He pulled his blanket up about his shoulders and settled in. “Good night, Waine.”
Chapter 24
The journey to Navlia wound up taking the Warriors nine more days. Kevon and Waine met up with a three-wagon caravan led by a Merchant on the second day, and advised them of the danger on the road to Eastport. The Merchant immediately reversed course, and hired Kevon and Waine on as extra protection on their return to Navlia. The caravan already had two veteran Warriors; tired looking Adepts older than Carlo. Kevon and Waine refused payment for the job, accepting only meals with the rest of the group; the caravan’s cook was almost as good as Bertus.
Since they were not pushing the horses later into the night every other day, the younger Warriors resumed their evening practices, without magic. The Adepts seemed never to take any time to train, and Kevon saw only one of the men’s swords cleaned at all.
Evenings were the worst for Kevon. Listening to the Merchant’s tales of trade runs, the Novice was sure he would be a better businessman. Rhulcan would never have made that mistake, he found himself thinking. The Merchant had several bad trades to his name, resulting in losses that were covered by his father. Marelle would be too proud to accept that, let alone admit to it. His mind sought out her memories often in the evenings.
Kevon and Waine’s fourth day with the caravan, the Adepts seemed to liven up somewhat. The extra sleep gained from splitting watches with the younger Warriors seemed to have refreshed them. The more capable looking of the two sat near, watching Kevon and Waine as they sparred. After a while, the older man pointed out some minor things, shifts in stance, weight distribution, and sword position that he said would help. The younger men made the adjustments and worked on their sword form for a while before returning to sparring. The changes felt a little strange, but Kevon thought that they would make them more effective fighters in the long run.
Apprentice Swordceror Page 17
