Raymond Feist - Flight of the Night Hawks

Tad’s eyes also narrowed. ‘Why Jonril?’

‘Because your mother didn’t like what was going on with you two in Stardock, and asked me to take you somewhere that you could find trades.’ He motioned for them to finish dressing. ‘You two have been aimless layabouts since the Choosing two years ago.’

Zane’s eyes flashed angrily as he said, ‘That’s not true, Caleb!’ Pulling on dry trousers, he glanced at his foster brother. ‘We work when we can find it.’

‘Unloading freight for a day or two every month is no craft,’ said Caleb.

‘We do more,’ added Tad. ‘We help during the harvest, we cart freight over to the island and we have found work as builders, too.’

Caleb smiled. ‘I know you’ve tried. But there’s precious little work now, and less when the new freight line sets up – they’re bringing their own lads with them down from Landreth.

‘No, your mother has the right of it. If you’re to find your way in life, it has to be somewhere else besides Stardock.’

The boys finished dressing and Caleb motioned for them to climb back into the wagon. He mounted the driver’s seat and took up the reins. As the horses obeyed his command and moved along, he continued. ‘There’s not much going on in the Kingdom, I’m sorry to say. I know people who could get you work, but no one who’d apprentice you. But things are looking up in Kesh and I’ve a few friends in Jonril who owe me a favour or two. We’ll see if there’s someone who’ll take in two promising lads. Apprentice at a trade, learn your craft and in a dozen years or so you can return to Stardock as journeymen crafters, if you wish, but apprentice at a trade you will.’

The boys sat uncomfortably in the back of the jostling wagon, Zane with his knees draw up to his chest and Tad with legs straight out. Both knew it would be a long ride.

The wagon bumped down the road, the horses kicking up small clouds of dust as the afternoon heat beat down. It was unusually hot for this time of year and the boys complained from time to time. They were restless and bored and the novelty of the journey had worn off. Caleb bore their complaints with good humour, for he understood their distress over the turn of events in their lives.

During the first day, they had expressed both anger and sadness at their mother’s decision to send them away. They fully understood her reasoning; Stardock had not been a prosperous town for years and work was hard to come by. Their youthful optimism had always led them to believe that something would have worked out had they remained, but by the end of the day both had slowly come to the conclusion that their mother was probably right. They would eventually accept the change as a welcome one, but for the moment they felt ill-used. At least, to Caleb’s relief, neither had mentioned Ellie and her part in Marie’s desire to see them somewhere other than home.

Caleb had known the boys for most of their lives and he was very fond of them; they were as close to sons as he would ever have, and he knew that while they didn’t consider him as a father, they did look upon him as a surrogate uncle and someone their mother cared for, even loved.

He had known Marie a little while her husband was alive, and had known even then that she had felt drawn to him, for he had seen it in her eyes, despite the fact that she was a dutiful wife who observed all the proprieties. Later, she had told him that even in those days she had found him compelling. He had noticed her too, but as with any other married women, he put any thoughts of attraction aside. Two years after the troll raid and the death of her husband, they had become lovers.

Caleb would have liked nothing better than to settle down with Marie, but he knew that with his duties, it would never be possible. His work for his father and the Conclave of Shadows called for constant travel and putting himself in harm’s way. He was absent more than he was around, and Marie deserved better than that.

Yet she had never voiced any complaint nor showed any interest in another man, and Caleb secretly hoped that someday he might convince her to move to Sorcerer’s Isle – the place he considered to be home – or perhaps he would return to Stardock and live there. He put those thoughts aside as he had many times before, for dwelling on them only put him in a dark mood.

As they drove into the wagon yard, Caleb said, ‘When we get to Nab-Yar, we’ll find a buyer for this rig and purchase some saddle horses.’

Zane turned and said, ‘We don’t ride, Caleb.’

Caleb said, ‘You’ll learn while we travel.’

The boys exchanged glances. Riding was something reserved for nobility, soldiers, rich merchants, and the occasional traveller, but farm hands and town boys got from place to place by shanks’ mare or in the back of a wagon. Still it was something new to contemplate and anything that would break the tedium of this journey was welcome.

Tad shrugged then Zane grinned, his face lighting up as he said, ‘Maybe we can become fast messengers?’

Caleb laughed. ‘In that case you’ll have to become very good riders, and how is your sword work?’

‘Sword work?’ asked Tad.

‘Fast messengers get paid all that gold for getting their messages through in a hurry and safely. That means avoiding highwaymen, but also being able to fight to the death if attacked.’

The boys looked at each other again. Neither had touched a sword in their life and both thought it unlikely that they ever would. Zane remarked, ‘Young Tom Sanderling went to soldier in Ab-Yar, and he learned to handle a sword.’

‘Kesh trains all their dog soldiers to be swordsmen,’ said Caleb, ‘but, if memory serves, Old Tom wasn’t happy about seeing his son go a-soldiering.’

‘True, but what I’m saying, is that if he could learn, so could we,’ said Zane.

Tad said, ‘You could show us. You carry a sword, Caleb, so you must know how to use it.’

‘Maybe,’ said Caleb, realizing he’d probably have to teach them a few basics when they camped that evening.

Tad swung wildly at Caleb, who easily moved to the side and smacked the boy hard across the back of his hand with a long stick he had cut a few minutes before. The boy yelped and dropped Caleb’s sword on the ground. ‘The first rule,’ said Caleb, bending down to retrieve the fallen weapon, ‘is don’t drop the sword.’

‘That hurt,’ said Tad, rubbing his right hand.

‘Not as much as it would had I been using a blade,’ said Caleb, ‘though it wouldn’t have hurt for as long, because I would have gutted you a few seconds later.’ He reversed the sword and tossed it to Zane, who caught it deftly. ‘Good,’ said Caleb. ‘You’re quick and have a steady hand. Let’s see if you can avoid repeating Tad’s mistake.’

The sword felt as if it were alive and deadly in Zane’s hand. It was heavier than he had expected and its balance felt odd. He moved it around a little and flexed his wrist one way and then the other.

‘That’s right,’ said Caleb as he circled the fire to face Zane. ‘Get used to how it feels. Let it become an extension of your arm.’

Suddenly he lashed out with his branch, intending to smack the boy on the hand as he had Tad, but Zane turned his wrist and caught the branch on his blade.

‘Very good,’ said Caleb, stepping back. ‘You may have a knack for this. Where did you learn that?’

‘I didn’t,’ said Zane with a grin, lowering the sword. ‘I just tried to keep the stick from hitting me.’

Caleb turned to Tad. ‘Did you see how he did that?’

Tad nodded.

Caleb motioned for Zane to drop the point of his blade, then stepped over to the boy and gripped his wrist. ‘By turning your wrist, like you did, you achieve the most efficient use of your arm-strength and energy. You’ll see men who use their entire arm, sometimes up to the shoulder, and sometimes you have to do that for a particular block, but the less strength you use early on, the more you’ll have should the battle wear on.’