War Bow

by P. S. Power

  That got a sage nod, from the other boy, his blond hair neatly combed and cared for already, for the day.

  “I understand. You’re riding to the front, at the end of this week?”

  That was the plan, so he nodded.

  “Yes. Just for a short visit. Then I’m back here for a time.” The words came out as if Anders was suggesting it was a pleasure trip for him. That wasn’t honestly the truth. It was for the war effort, nothing less.

  Regardless, the Prince frowned at him.

  “There has been talk asking if it is proper for you to go. It isn’t just your age, though that’s a part of the situation. It might just be better to protect you, and bring the generals back here for a few weeks, rather than the other way around. I know that there’s a plan in place to see to that, introducing you to those types here, in the future.”

  That was a thing that he’d heard before, from Prince Robarts. For him it was the best plan, though he doubted that he’d be held back this time. It was easier to send him, even if a small risk, than it was to remove leadership from the troops, in a war zone.

  Anders was covered in a light sheen of sweat, even if the room was cool. It wasn’t a soaking, but he needed to clean up for the day, before going out. To that end, he smiled at Erold, then waved him away.

  “I need to prepare myself. Then get some food. This... It’s a bit like I’m running and have been for half a day. More than that now. There’s no real rest in sight, either. Not that it’s a large hardship. I just need to take some care at the moment.”

  Another nod came, and a wave. It was a casual thing. Then, they were friends.

  “I’ll see you later then. At the meeting. Also, Sweyn wants to see you before you go. Eltha Tennet as well. I was asked to inform you of that?” There was a knowing smile then, as if the words were about something secret or romantic. It honestly wasn’t.

  The woman had just been set to spy on him. That was the real answer to her seeming interest in him. Eltha was simply being friendly about it, if a bit pushy. Then, there was no reason for her to seek him out, day to day, which had to make it rather difficult to keep track of him. Until the servants had taken over in the mornings, he’d been with her for at least fifteen minutes a day. Now he was going to be removed from the castle for at least a month. More than that, if travel was hard.

  A thing that would have more to do with the weather than anything else. Even Anders, the young boy, knew that wagon caravans moved ridiculously slowly at times. Which meant that he needed to make certain he had clothing with him, the warm kind, in case he had to stay the winter at the front. It was a thing that he knew he could come up with, if he was careful. A thick travel cloak, a sturdy hood, stout trousers and a tunic. Some kind of mittens, as well.

  He nodded, then realized that doing that was probably going to take the rest of the week, even if he could use the linen Princess Peri had provided him for the task. That was going to take shifting the nature of the fabric, which would take something other than silk or leather. Those were the only two materials that he could make things look like if he changed their character. So, that would mean he could, currently, work in linen, or those fabrics.

  Not that leather was a fabric.

  Erold being gone meant that he could get some water in and scrub himself. It would mean stripping down, of course. Without thinking, he moved to his wash basin and touched his empty water pitcher.

  “Wo-ere ot neg-fen.” It was a simple spell. One that he used at least three, sometimes up to ten, times per day.

  So, he was a bit shocked when the world went dark and he opened his eyes, laying on the hard stone floor. From the feeling of it, he’d managed to land on his face rather nicely. His right cheek hurt enough when he reached up and touched it to show real damage had been done. He was also panting hard still. As if sprinting up a hill as hard as he could.

  “Which, is probably about correct. Fool. You know there are limits on personal energy.” There were long pauses in his speech, due to the gasping and carrying on he was doing at the moment. His very lungs began to ache from it and his stomach threatened to cramp from the effort.

  When things subsided, about five minutes later, he stood, going carefully, in case that action was going to send him back to his stony napping spot. Thankfully it didn’t.

  There was water in his clay pitcher, meaning the spell worked properly. It was simply that he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to be. Normally he liked to start his mornings without half his face being bruised purple.

  He took his time and carefully scrubbed up, being that his face truly was tender. He did it twice in fact, since he sort of wanted to avoid going to the low hall now. It was going to be hard to explain that no one had beaten him. If anyone even cared to think that. They might, or might not. In general, people tended to pretend not to see that kind of thing. It could serve him well, that day.

  Still, he dressed himself slowly, then realized that dawdling wasn’t going to help anything. He was still breathing hard enough to notice, but his stomach had started to growl noisily at the same time. The food was in the low hall, so he needed to go and get it. Otherwise he was going to have to make sure that he turned his face the other way when he keeled over next.

  He left his daily wear the same as it had been the day before. Anders didn’t even bother to clean it, which was fine, since it had been done several times the day before, but left him feeling a bit dingy and unkempt. It was, he had to think, no worse than what most people did, day to day. That didn’t mean his habits of late weren’t causing him to feel a bit like he was being lazy as far as personal care went.

  It was a thing he simply had to put up with. At least if he weren’t going to sit down while working. That or figure out how to do the work in a way that was less of a drain on him than his current skills allowed for.

  No one came to sit by him at the morning meal. He did get a few strange looks, from his heavy breathing and bruised face, but he smiled and waved at people when they did it, which seemed to assure them that nothing was all that wrong with him. After eating nearly twice the food he felt entitled to, he moved back to his room, since he had things to do, even if they weren’t about magic.

  It meant sitting at his little table, the armor piled to the side of it, with pages set out as he worked on compiling a written text. The one in front of him was called Communication at a Distance. He gave the complete style he’d developed, including information that was needed to make it work. At least, it would be complete, once he finished it. He was only ten pages in by the time his middle informed him that he was going to have to eat again.

  Anders thought about his current efforts as he moved to the low hall to eat again. As he chewed his bread, a crusty end piece with fresh sweet butter, his mother came in, settling next to him. She looked at his face, then away, not touching him. She winced though.

  “Did... Someone strike you? In practice or...” She seemed to be getting at something in particular.

  A thing that he didn’t truly understand.

  He shook his head though and grinned at her, even if it hurt.

  “Nothing like that. I’m just running so many active spells, for the sick people here, that when I tried to use magic to fill my water pitcher, I woke up having fallen on my face.” He didn’t touch it, since that was rude at meals. It wasn’t a big offense, like belching loudly or using foul language, but it was frowned upon. “It’s just my own lack of skill, to tell the truth. If I was better at magic, I’d probably know how to prevent such things. For now, I’m going to have to manage things by being sensible, I’m afraid.”

  The words got his mother to glance at him then.

  “Ah. That sounds better, than it could have been, then. I couldn’t see a reason for anyone to punish you at present, but such things aren’t always sensible. How are you occupying yourself at the moment, if you need to stand back from such things?”

  Anders understood that she wasn’t asking out of personal concern, bu
t rather due to her trying to be understood by those around her. Those who listened to the speech of others.

  “I have an interesting writing project, right now, for Master Tolan. After the meal I’m in a meeting.” He nearly said that it was with the King, which probably wasn’t a secret.

  Anders didn’t know what that would be about. If he was supposed to pass messages to the front, then he was going to have to be most careful about how he did it. Then, if he laid on the floor as he spoke the spell, he couldn’t fall down when he passed out. It would hurt, but that was just a thing to be moved past, if it was required of him.

  His mother nodded, her face a bit more guarded than he was used to noticing from her. As if she were hiding things from him. That or others around them. Slowly, eating for a bit first, more slowly than he was, since his plate was emptying quickly, she nodded. It wasn’t a happy seeming thing, just matter of fact.

  “I imagine that many will want to visit with you, now. Word has spread in the night and this morning, in all places inside the castle proper and even outside of it. About you having aided those falling to the red fever as you have. It is... Well, frankly, some are considering it a true marvel. A sign that you might not be a mere boy, at all. Master Tolan has assured them that you are not ridden by a dark beast, or other unclean thing. Still, there is talk. Mainly in the court and attending areas. The servants aren’t looking at it that way at all.” She grinned then and, a bit inappropriately, nudged her son on the arm with her elbow. “They are all pointing out that you are, clearly, just Anders. One of us, no matter your current strange behavior.”

  She smirked a bit at the words, as if they were strange, in and of themselves.

  That was probably the simple truth of the matter. After all, the lowest in the castle and, he had to imagine, outside of it, probably feared magic as a rule. It was strange to them, so was considered a danger. They would also be leery of a man in armor or one armed with a sword. Anders saw that kind of thing regularly and still felt a slight twinge of fear when suddenly confronted by an armed man, himself. That he didn’t react so much, when seeing those who used magic was, he knew, due to the fact that he was personally friendly with most of them in the castle.

  Those few he wasn’t close to, tended to be rather specific in their use of their powers. Like Countess Rainly and her coven of witches. They mainly worked to control the weather, he thought. A thing which was interesting to consider. They worked in a group of, he thought, four. They also could influence things at some distance from themselves, if he had that right. There was a limit, but it was far more than ten paces. How they did it was, he had to assume, the true secret of their talents.

  Still, that was done in the local area, not at hundreds of miles away from their target. It also took them days of work, casting spells, to make it happen. At least that was what he’d heard. That kind of thing, taking a long time to make magical effects take place was normal, really. He was the one being odd, working in a style that allowed almost instant results like he was.

  Then, Countess Rainly wasn’t falling on her face, trying to do her type of magic. Not that he’d ever heard of. She also didn’t walk around sucking in air like she was running, even as she sat in a sturdy chair. At the moment she should be in her bed, of course. Resting and healing from her fever. She was fresh into it, like Princess Mathia was, so would need his attentions for a while. Perhaps longer than seven days.

  Many of the servants wouldn’t. When Anders had been dying, it had taken only one night of Farad making his brain reduce in swelling to rescue him. He tightened his face then, which his mother responded to by looking around. As if a threat might be present.

  “Is there issue here?” She spoke gently, her voice soft, but nearly sweet sounding.

  “Only in that it just occurred to me that I over-stepped in what was needed for the healing. I linked the spells to myself for a week each, when most of the people probably only needed a day or so of aid that way. I...” He shook his head, since the answer there was clear. He could simply redo the spells and reset the time on them.

  That hadn’t been part of his training, but it was clear that magic often followed the instructions it was set. The idea that he couldn’t simply alter parts of it, even as it worked, was likely an artificial limitation. Really, it hadn’t come up for him at all, before that moment. Still, there was no harm in holding things for a while, to ensure people were comfortable and truly healing, before setting them free that way.

  Part of him wanted to test his new theory out right then, since he was a bit uncomfortable, but that was lacking in what would be needed to protect his friends. Some of them, like the Countess, Princess Mathia and Alice Cook, the serving woman, would need to be aided for some time. Most of the rest should only require a day or two from him. Sir Daniel was probably almost well, from the worst of the symptoms at least.

  That was strange, since he was clearly the one who had been closest to true death the night before. He shrugged then.

  “Well, I should be able to release some that I’ve aided, in the next day or two. They have already mainly healed themselves, so it won’t be a problem for them. They’ll still need to rest.” That part was going to be hard to get them to do, he knew. He certainly hadn’t done that, after getting out of his death bed at any rate.

  It was odd, because his Mother didn’t seem to get how much of a relief that would be for him. Even holding only half the spells active would be much easier on him. He tried to work out a plan for that, restating the spells, so they could be let go of, before the time factor strictly ran out.

  Really, what he needed for that was a new spell word. One that would let him identify a specific set of work, then let go of it, without interrupting anything else. That could be seen to later, of course.

  Smiling at his Mother, he tried to be a bit more polite, not speaking about himself alone.

  “What news do you have?” It was a common enough thing to be spoken of at table. Then, he was relatively certain that was mainly done by the spies.

  She ate several bites of food, doing it rather delicately, using a knife and fork constantly, as he was doing. It wasn’t always her habit, for the low meals like they were enjoying at the moment. A thing that she was doing absently enough to indicate that it was probably due to long held habit for her. Meaning that, when she’d eaten with her fingers at meals with him, she’d probably been showing solidarity, instead of what she was used to doing. Then, much of the time she ate her evening meal at court, which required far finer skills that way.

  Her voice was relaxed then.

  “I hear that there are grain shortages. The Yansians burned portions of our summer harvest. In return we did the same to their people, along the border, to hold those resources from them. We’re entering the brutal portion of the war, or so word has it from those who understand such things. Also, Countess Rainly took ill with the red fever. Some think it might have been an assassination attempt. There... Honestly, there are some real indicators that it’s true. What word do you have on that?”

  Anders grimaced a bit, not wanting to speak about those he was working with, not having their direct permission. Still, Lyse was his mother, so he was required to. Interestingly, Anders figured that simply saying nothing to her that way would be fine. It was the older man inside that called for him to attend to her wishes. That was, in part, down to having come from a very different culture.

  “She is doing better. Her breathing is clear and there is no signal of fever. She’s still with the illness however, so needs to stay away from those who might catch such things.” There was no swelling in her brain, either, so she wasn’t going to die from the disease. Not now.

  Anders shrugged.

  “Hopefully whoever set that in motion, if it is a thing, understands not to come at me in retaliation for thwarting them. That would be unfortunate, if they tried such a thing.” Anders was attempting to be calm about the idea, even though he felt a tickle of fear inside over it.


  Instead it came out sounding as if anyone trying such an importune thing would simply die. Several people around them stiffened then.

  Lyse didn’t, simply chuckling a little.

  “Oh, I can see that would be the case. On top of the obvious reasons, a man that fights illness so well is far too valuable to risk to games of power or intrigue. I’m certain none would try you. Not for those reasons. Now, are you prepared to ride, or will this new occupation prevent that?”

  He shook his head, slightly.

  “It won’t. I’m also not truly ready yet. I have a wagon, but need some oxen to pull it. I also don’t know if I have the lend of horses for the trip yet. I could walk, or ride in the wagon, I suppose. Baron Kilroy suggested that I have time to learn how to drive such a thing, so I might do that.” It would still be good to have the horses, since he could travel faster that way, if the need arose. Even he understood that oxen, while sturdy and hardy weren’t the fastest mounts one could have.

  The words got a nod, at least, which seemed happy enough.

  “I’ve heard of that. I, personally, don’t have need of anything going in that direction. Would you be willing to take some things to people there? Some missives and such. Perhaps small comforts and tokens? We could arrange for a small fee for it. A few have asked after such things, last night. You’re my son, so they naturally sought me out for that. I didn’t suggest that they seek you directly, not knowing the plan that way.”

  Anders could see that as reasonable, so grinned. It left his right cheek in pain. That was a bit swollen, in a knot where he’d hit the floor. The bruising would probably be attractive and well colored at least, once the days passed enough for that.

  “I’ll measure the wagon after my meeting and then work up a chart for what will fit inside of it. Baron Kilroy has already spoken for part of the space.” That was limited, of course. Still, there would be room for some small things, along with his own gear, if he were careful and planned well enough.