Farmers & Mercenaries (12 page)

A
rderi Cor awoke to a pounding headache and bile floating in the back of his throat. Covering his eyes with his hand to block out the morning light, he rolled over with a groan and forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed. “Siln, time to get up.” His voice, thick with sleep, came out as a rasp. When no response came, he struggled to open one eye and took in his surroundings.

Other than rumpled covers lying upon his brother’s bed, it lay vacant. Fearful of the time, he snapped his head around to look out the window and see where the sun stood. The sudden movement caused pain to slice from his temple to the back of his skull. Once the ache subsided to a tolerable level, he focused on the light of the sun, trying to discern its location in the sky.

It is late! I have overslept!

Arderi flinched when the bedroom door burst open, releasing a grimace as his mother rushed to his side, a worried expression on her face.

Sitting on the bed beside him, Mis’am Cor threw a hand to his forehead. She then moved it to the side of his neck. “Are you all right? You do not feel warm. Siln said he tried to wake you, yet you would not stir!” She cupped his cheeks in her palms and peered into each of his eyes, one at a time.

“I am fine, Ma.” He made a weak attempt to remove her hands and succeeded only because she let him. “I just did not sleep well last eve.”

“Well, after your ordeal the day prior, no one will begrudge it if you do not feel like working the fields this day.”

Dreading the thought of staying home under the over protective care of his Ma, he struggled to stand, leaning heavily on her for support. Once on his feet, he felt better. Extracting his arm from hers, he walked on unstable legs toward the door. Turning, he smiled at his Ma. She smiled in return, the look of concern never left her eyes.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, other than a throb still hammering away in his head, Arderi felt normal. Skipping the noise of the kitchen, he opted to go directly to the dining hall. Entering the large room, his heart sank further at the realization that even the dishes had been cleared from the tables. Forcing himself not to stop in the doorway, he reached the first bench and sat down with a thump. He sank his face into his hands and tried to keep his head from bursting.

This is no illness. I wonder if
it is a reaction from using Alant’s Crystal last eve. I will not deny it was a strange and bad experience. What was my brother thinking, doing this to me?

He heard the door to the kitchen swing open and the swishing of skirted legs making fast progress across the room. Looking up, Arderi was glad to see that his mother had entered carrying a plate and mug. “You should not go to the fields this day. You do not look well.” She set her burdens down in front of him.

A batch of cheesed eggs, grits, and a thick slice of ham covered the plate. The mug was full of cool water. He picked up the cup and took a long drink. “I am not ill, Ma. Simply tired, like I said.” He put on what he hoped was a brave face.

I have no desire to spend the day cooped up in my room with Ma hounding me.

“Well, be that as it may, you have already missed the wagons.” She ran a hand through his short, sandy brown hair in a motherly attempt to comb it flat.

“That is all right, Ma. The field we are working is not far. It will do me good to walk a little this morn.” Turning his attention to the meal, he picked up a fork and dove into the eggs with zeal. He had not realized how famished he was until he took the first bite.

“Hump. Well, you are a man grown now. If you feel you are up to the task, far be it for a mere mother to stand in your way.” She leaned down and kissed him on the top of his head before heading back to the kitchen. “Just leave your plate when you are done. I will have one of the girls fetch it later.” This she called out over her shoulder before disappearing through the door.

By the time Arderi finished firstmeal, the throbbing in his head had receded to a minor pulse. Pushing his empty plate to the center of the table, he stood and left the dining hall. The usual group of elders sat gathered on the porch, and he took a moment to pass pleasantries with them before picking up a brisk walk toward the fielder’s gate.

A bright blue sky covered the horizon and a nice cooling breeze snaked its way through the streets of the stead. Arderi, in as high of spirits as he could muster, considered the horrendous start to his morn. He did not enjoy the effects the Memory Crystal had had on him, yet he certainly loved his brother’s message.

Alant could feel the power in me! I am going to be a Shaper and join him in Mocley!

The fielder’s gate came into view once he rounded the final bend in the road. A couple of guarders milled about the area looking bored. Arderi did not envy the thick leather armor they wore, now with the weather growing warm. As he drew nearer the gate, one of the guarders waved to a Hobbsword who leaned against one wall. When the guarder pointed at Arderi and said something to the Shaper’s guard, Arderi’s heart skipped a beat, yet he continued toward them without pause.

The Hobbsword held up a hand. He appeared only a few winters older than Arderi, although a little taller and fuller in the shoulders. The large yellow starburst on the breast of his red and gold stripped tabard looked as if it had just been stitched into place. “Hold, fielder. Are you Arderi Cor?”

“Aye, sir.” Arderi felt his face flush and his pulse quicken.

“You are to accompany me. I am to deliver you to the Shapers for Testing.” Without waiting for a reply, the young man pivoted on his heel and marched away. The sword and scabbard hanging at his side slung away from his hip and returned with a slap against his thigh. He angled in the direction of the market area and the center of the stead, striding away at a brisk pace.

“Go on, boy.” The guarder pitched his head in the direction the Hobbsword was going. “It is never wise to keep a Shaper waiting.”

Jogging to catch up, Arderi fell in a step or so behind the man and followed him as they wound their way through town. He could not stop himself from staring at the chainmail shirt that seeped out from under the striped tabard of his escort. The guards of the Shapers were the only ones in all of Hild’alan who wore armor of a grade better than plain brown leather. He noted more than one passer-by stopping to gape as they passed.

Sweat licked Arderi’s palms as the Magistra came into view. The building that housed all authority within the Hild’alan stead was a large, five-story stone building. Even though it sat in the shadow of the Palintium, it held its own beauty. Grooved columns, holding aloft its arched ceiling, lined the stairs ascending to the main entrance. The Regent, along with his clerks, scribes, and anyone else needed to run an efficient stead, worked inside. The top two floors, however, were reserved for the stead’s Shaper Order. Other than to be Tested, the only reason a commoner would have in coming here would be for healing.

I remember when I broke my arm while playing with my house mates. I was only five or six, and I do not recall much of the visit. I have never had a need to return since.

Yet now, as he approached, Arderi found his trepidation far exceeded his desire to take the Test. The fear growing inside him over the past few weeks bubbled up and lashed out as strong as anything he had experienced while facing the Krugour. His head whipped from side to side as he thought of ways to avoid his fate.

Get a hold of yourself! Where does this fear come from?

Taking long, deep breaths, he forced himself to relax, then followed the Hobbsword past the main stairway and into a side alley that separated the Magistra from the Palintium. “Why are we going this way?” Stopping, he eyed the deep shadows between the buildings.

“I am not told reasons. The Shapers tell me what to do and I obey. I was told to deliver you to the side kitchen entrance.” The young man never looked back nor broke from his stride.

A small wooden door set in a recess of the wall stood partly open. The Hobbsword took a step past it and stopped. Turning, he raised an arm indicating that Arderi should enter.

Stepping into the dimly lit room—a single lantern set on a small wall hanger the only source of light—Arderi found himself in a large storage area. Stacks of boxes lined one wall. The other was home to various sacks, bags and barrels arranged in an orderly fashion on a row of wooden shelves. Sitting on a stool under the lantern, and next to the only other door in the room, sat a boy several winters younger than Arderi. The boy was dressed much like the man who had escorted him here, save that the boy wore no armor nor carried any weapons. When the two entered the room, the boy jumped up, made a bowing gesture to the Hobbsword, and dashed from the room.

“You may take a seat on that stool. Someone will fetch you shortly.” The young man stepped back into the alleyway, closing the door behind him.

Arderi sat down in nervous anticipation of what was about to happen, putting his hands in his lap. To keep his mind occupied, he looked around the room. The task proved to be short lived as the place held no secrets.

Just a plain old storage room.

Luckily, before his fear had time to manifest itself once more, the door opened and a Shaper stepped into the room. The man seemed about the same age as Arderi’s father. He had brown eyes, which sat exceedingly close to a beak-like nose, giving him a shrewd, bird-like appearance. With his short brown hair cropped in the local style, he could have been mistaken for any commoner. That is, if he were not wearing the dark blue robes with the golden starburst of the Shaper’s Order embroidered over the breast. The sickly smile he wore did little to relieve any of Arderi’s discomfort.

The man gave a short nod. “Good morn and well met. I am Sier Witlan Singe, Hon’nar to Grand Master Grintan of Hild’alan.”

Popping to his feet, Arderi was unsure if he should bow or not. “Morn, sir… Sier! And well met. I am Arderi Cor, sir.” His face burned.

The Sier smiled, yet Arderi could not tell if the man was being polite or amused. Sier Singe raised an arm and indicated the door that led into the interior of the Magistra. “Please, the Master Shaper is awaiting you in his study.”

Trying to imitate the boy who was in the room when he arrived, Arderi made a small, awkward bow and stepped into a kitchen. Women busied themselves about the room, though only one looked their way as they crossed and took a side door. Arderi followed the Shaper down a small hall. About halfway down this hall, the Sier slipped up a narrow stairway. Ascending the stairs behind his guide for several levels, Arderi found himself in an area with more grandeur and riches than he had ever before seen. Lush red carpet covered the center of a wide hallway. Rich tapestries hung between the massive oak doors that lined the hall. Pristine wooden pedestals, some with fine vases resting on them, others with intricately carved statues, stood in front of each tapestry. The shear wealth presented here overwhelmed the young fielder.

Not even if
I combined the entire worth of every family in the stead could I come up with so much!

“Are you all right?” The smug voice of the Shaper jolted Arderi, and he realized he had stopped walking and now gawked like a fool. “You look pale, boy. Do not fear. I assure you the Test is painless. Ignore what your friends have told you. It is common knowledge that the older kids love to tell tales of the horrors of being Tested. They do so simply to torment children who have not yet been Tested.” The Shaper gave his unsettling smile once more. Like a bird would give to a worm it was about to snatch in its beak.

“It is not that, Sier, sir.” Arderi paused to build up the nerve to continue. “I was just wondering… if I may?”

With a nod and wave of the hand, Sier Singe bade him to continue.

“Well, Sier, sir. I was just wondering why the Master Shaper will be Testing me?”

A look of understanding fell on Witlan Singe and he quietly chuckled. “I see, well… You have your brother to thank for that, I am afraid. Did Siln not tell you that he was Tested by the Master Shaper as well?”

Arderi shook his head. “Nix, Sier, sir.”

“Well, there you go, then.” Sier Singe cocked an eyebrow. “Shall we?”

“Aye, Sier, sir.” Except that Arderi did not move. Instead, he turned and indicated the small stairway they had just ascended. “Why was I brought in the back way, Sier, sir?”

Singe’s face remained calm. Like a bird that had just eaten a worm. “When your brother, Siln, was brought in for Testing—Well, let us just say that this time the Master Shaper decided to have some privacy from the Regent and his staff during your Test, shall we?” The Sier turned and started down the corridor. “Now, it is not polite to keep such an important man waiting.”

Of their own volition, Arderi’s feet dragged the carpeted floor as he followed the Sier. Before he knew it, they arrived at a gilded door, carved with an array of symbols and runes that Arderi found beguiling. When they passed through the door, he found himself in a large round room devoid of any windows. A plush, exquisitely decorated circular rug covered most of the floor—blue and red patterns danced and traced their way throughout it in a complex design. Several bookshelves, designed so they would rest flush against the curved walls of the room, encircled the chamber. Books stuffed every shelf, and in front of these sat trinkets and artifacts, which Arderi could not begin to identify. He was again struck by the amount of wealth presented here. In the center of the rug sat a large oval table.