The Monster War: A Tale of the Kings' Blades by Duncan Dave

Author:Duncan, Dave [Duncan, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: E-Reads, Ltd.
Published: 2010-06-30T22:00:00+00:00

14

Reunion

The youngster called Gavin ran—not into the residence, but across the yard to the elementary. The sergeant gestured for Badger to follow and then walked just behind him, within striking distance. He was being extraordinarily cautious, but that was a strong hint that Owen was in charge. Owen never left anything to chance.

The elementary was the oldest building on the site, dating from dark ages long ago. Originally it must have been a warriors’ feasting hall, but Badger could recall it being used for that purpose only once. In some more recent time, an octogram had been inset in the floor to turn it into an elementary. Serious sickness or injury had been treated there by healers summoned from Waterby. Most of the time it had just stood empty, a marvelous haunt for bats, rats, and small boys.

The man who emerged just as Badger reached the steps was clad in the floor-length gown of a sorcerer, black in his case. The cord around his waist was gold, which was usually the mark of a prior. He halted and stared down at the visitor, then reached up and threw back his hood to reveal a face very similar—rugged rather than handsome, stubborn, distrustful, wearing at the moment a wry, slightly lopsided smile. His dark hair was blazoned with a silver streak.

“Owen!”

“Bevan!”

They met in a rib-cracking embrace halfway up the steps and pummeled each other in the delight of reunion. It had been four years since they’d parted at the doors of Ironhall.

They went inside with their arms around each other, babbling the nonsense that is evoked on such occasions: “By the spirits, you’re not the boy I remember.” “You haven’t changed a bit.” “It’s been a lifetime!”…The joy became unbearable, Badger-Bevan’s eyes flooded and his voice cracked.

Owen released him abruptly, mood changing like a whip crack. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?” He had never approved of unmanly displays of emotion, even from a small boy. Tears had always provoked him to harsher punishment.

Badger drew one shuddering, deep breath and had himself under control again. “Sorry. My…seeing you…home…”

The elementary had been built entirely of vertical oak timbers, from an uneven stone floor to a too-high roof, whose rafters were home to bats and birds. It could never have been a comfortable place. Smoke would have filled it whenever the open hearth was lit, and the windows admitted little light, being mere slots through the massive walls. The small room at the back had perhaps been the master’s sleeping quarters, but it had been a later addition, of inferior timber. The minstrel gallery along one side was probably even more recent, but it listed badly.

The Fellowship had made some effort to clean it up. The eight-pointed star of the octogram was more obvious. Walls, which had no doubt once borne displays of weapons, battle honors, and hunting trophies, were now hung with cabalistic inscriptions on long scrolls. Since a lesson had just ended, the novices in their white gowns stood clustered around adepts, hearing of their failings and successes.

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