The Apprentice Stone by Darrell Newton

Author:Darrell Newton [Newton, Darrell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fantasy, orphan, Alternate History, Christian, military, Time Travel, coming of age
Publisher: Firesmyth Press
Published: 2017-10-07T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Angelo

Fortress of Calatrava

Local Date: 2 July 1212

THE CASTILIAN KNIGHTS and elderly nobleman escorted Angelo on horseback to the command tent towards the rear of the camp. It was early morning with the sun low, but it was already muggy with a layer of haze on the horizon. They passed Guillem de Cabestany, clothed in his black travel costume and playing a fiddle. Several militiamen, and seven knights of the military Order of Santiago, who were watching him play, glared at Angelo as he passed. Instinctively, sensing a threat, Angelo activated his froneesis implant, which gave him heightened analytical abilities. He chose not to use it or his gravity manipulating gravitas implant when he sparred with Goliath, although during the fight he almost had to switch it on; Goliath had earned his name. Angelo tried to rely on his natural abilities as much as possible. He needed to keep sharp. He was in the habit of telling his apprentices that, “One never knows when one will lose Avar-Tek abilities.”

With his froneesis switched on, Angelo instantly knew the history of the Order of Santiago, the training tactics they used, who their commander was, and his disposition. He calculated only a 7.6 percent probability they would try to assault him. If it came, the assault would be weaponless and nonlethal, and the man nearest to him, man number one with the gray cowl, would lunge at him. It would be a feint. The attack would come from the two behind him. Two and three would pull him from his horse. Once down, two would wrap his arm around Angelo’s neck in a choke-hold, pulling him back. Number three would strike him in the gut. Number one: backhand to his face. Two would drop him to the ground, kick him. Name calling. Crowd laughing. These thoughts passed through Angelo’s mind in well under a second. The images and concepts came so quickly that time seemed to slow for Angelo. Each element of the attack had its own probability level and Angelo knew of several counter attacks for each. The thoughts were so intuitive and instinctual, they seemed to him as one fluid motion, like muscle-memory, an action so practiced it became second nature. If the knights did attack him, his response would be so swift that it would appear like an effortless dance.

As he rode past the knights, the probability of attack quickly diminished. The crowd’s mood changed, cheering for Guillem. Probability of attack dropped to zero.

His escort brought him to the command tent. Armed bishops stood on either side of the path, and most greeted him with stares of defiance and disgust. If Angelo were to put words behind their body language, they would be, “Tired of the heat and lack of bloodshed? Go home.” This bothered him, being despised by the people he was helping, in this, the land of his birth.

As he and his escort dismounted, the guards at the tent entrance lifted the flaps, and Angelo entered with his escort.

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