Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) (38 page)

As angry as he was with his cousin, by the
time they were halfway through their meal they were joking together
like nothing had ever happened.

“Did you really see a basilisk?” Clint asked
as he sat on a hay bale gnawing on a chicken leg.

“I think so,” Broderick answered, “but it
was dark. Whatever it was, it was big.”

“How did you get away?”

“The cave was small. I don’t think it could
move very fast.” He shrugged. “But I don’t really know. I just ran
as fast as I could.”

“How many times did I hit you anyway?”

Broderick counted his bruises. “Eight.”

“Ha! Well you only hit me three times. I
win.”

“I took a chunk out of your ear though,”
Broderick said. He pointed to the white bandage wrapped around
Clint’s head.

“I wonder if we went outside if we could
find it,” Clint said. “Drop it in the abbot’s soup.”

The two boys nearly killed themselves with
laughter.

They were indeed given extra chores the
following morning. They were sent to clean fallen branches and
leaves from the monastery’s garden courtyard, as well as the
surrounding stone cloister. They assisted the nuns with dinner
preparation and cleaned the chapel’s sanctuary after the evening
meal.

Life in Halus Gis was a far cry from the
cushy castle living they had enjoyed with their royal families on
Edhen. At the monastery, life was hard. Everyone earned their stay
through hard work, and there were no servants to pick up the
slack.

It all served to remind Broderick just how
much he missed home.

In the mornings he and the others learned
about science, history, and medicine from the nuns, followed by
classes on math, language, and culture from the priests. The
classroom teachings offered little of interest to Broderick, though
he was learning to speak Efferousian, which he only took seriously
because Khalous said he wouldn’t continue to train him unless he
did.

Slightly more interesting was the survival
classes taught by Pick and Stoneman that came after lunch.
Broderick learned how to fashion traps for small animals, how to
think like a forest predator, and what plants held medicinal
qualities.

But where Broderick’s true passion lay was
in combat training.

Throughout the afternoons and evenings he
and the other boys belonged to Khalous, a merciless taskmaster who
tortured their bodies with melee practice, sword fighting, archery,
and other physical exercises that left them exhausted. As their
scars accumulated, their bodies and minds were tempered into
instruments made for war.

As the weeks passed, Broderick’s body grew
leaner, and his muscles more taut. His hands became tough and firm,
and his endurance strengthened, as did his tolerance to pain.
Scrapes and bruises that would’ve sent him running for the castle
nurse back in Aberdour were no longer worth acknowledging in the
midst of all he had to get done in a single day.

Autumn came and went. Winter blanketed the
landscape. Though the cold and frost was not nearly as bitter as it
was in the highlands of Aberdour, the seasonal changes were a
welcome reminder of the splendor of home.

“I could do without the snow,” Brayden
remarked one afternoon while he and Broderick were checking their
traps in the woods south of the monastery. He tightened his fur
cloak around his collar.

“I love the snow,” Broderick said, watching
his leather boots make dirty indentations on the pristine white
ground.

“Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you always take the position
opposite of me.”

“It’s what brothers are for.”

From atop a large boulder came the voice of
Nash, who said, “You’re dead. And you’re dead, too. I just killed
you both.”

Broderick looked up and saw their friend
aiming at them with his bow. He was clad from head to toe in brown
furry hides that kept him silent as well as warm.

“It’s almost too easy,” Nash said, sliding
down the edge of the rock to the ground. “Or maybe I’m just that
good.” He touched a hand to his chin in thought. “Yup, I’m just
that good.”

Ty emerged from behind the boulder,
shirtless, his toned copper skin on proud display. The Efferousian
orphan had lived at the monastery for three months before the
refugees from Aberdour had arrived. He was the same age as Brayden,
tall and lean, with thick black hair that he had grown into a long
ponytail.

“Aren’t you cold?” Broderick said, gesturing
to Ty’s half naked body.

The Efferousian just shrugged.

“Watch this,” Nash said, drawing an arrow
from the quiver at his hip. “Ty!”

Ty grabbed a short log from the ground about
the size of his forearm and sent it spinning into the air. Nash’s
arrow picked it out of sky in an instant.

Nash bowed to his audience. “Thank you.”

“I’s teaching him this,” Ty said.

Nash shot him an offended look. “Wait,
you’re supposed to make me look good, remember?”

“You said to be agreeing with you when there
are them girls around.”

“What girls?” Broderick asked.

“We agreed that if there are ever any girls
around we’ll help each other look good.” He slapped Ty on the arm.
“But someone needs to practice a bit more.”

Ty smirked. “He’s just worrying too much
because he’s the only one of us who is being without a girl.” He
winked.

“Oh?” Brayden said. “You’ve got a girl?”

Nash scoffed. “Senona? Wait, I’m sorry, I
must have missed the part where she realized you’re alive.”

“Who is Senona?” Broderick asked.

“She was brought to here same time as me,”
Ty said. “Her village raided by wildfolk.”

“Do you know her well?”

“Not as well as I would be liking, sir, but
I’m hoping to—”

He stopped. Broderick watched the slight red
flush on his cheeks drain. He followed his gaze to the ridge behind
them where two black vipers stood observing their discussion. The
men descended the hillside, eyes locked on the four boys.

“It has been a long time since I have heard
anyone other than my comrades speak my native tongue,” said one of
soldiers, a bearded fellow with dark eyes and a long scar running
across the top of his shaved head. “Naturally, when I hear it
spoken in a foreign land, especially by children, I become
intrigued.”

The boys were silent as the two soldiers
sized them up.

“Would you mind coming with us?” the bearded
soldier asked. “Our camp is just over this hillside. Our commanding
officer would like to ask you a few questions. Then you may be on
your way.”

“We are orphans from the monastery, Halus
Gis,” Brayden said, surprising Broderick with his calm and even
tone. “We must be getting back.”

“Ah, yes, I am sure,” the soldier said. “It
is never wise to upset the delicate routine of a duktori. Still,
surely you can spare just a moment or two.”

The other soldier grabbed Nash by the arm
and ripped his bow from his hands.

“Follow me,” he said.

Brayden back-kicked the soldier holding Nash
hard enough to knock him down. “Run!” he shouted.

The bearded soldier lunged at Brayden,
sending an armored elbow into the side of his head. Broderick
sprang upon the man, knocking him down and striking him in the
face. Nash and Ty ran forward to help when the second soldier got
to his feet and attacked them both. In his heavy armor he plowed
into them like an avalanche. Ty tried stabbing him in the collar
with his knife, but the soldier blocked the attack and grabbed the
boy by the throat. He lifted him into the air and slammed him on
the ground.

“Look out!” Brayden shouted, but by the time
Broderick heard his shout his legs had already been ripped out from
under him. The world spun. He fell to the ground face first and ate
a mouthful of snow, dirt, and pine needles.

Broderick rolled over to see the soldier
looming over him with a dagger raised high.

Pick descended from atop the boulder like a
mountain lion, thrusting a pair of knives into the man’s neck,
right at the edges of his armor.

Khalous plowed like a bull into the second
soldier, driving his sword through his face and neck.

“Get up,” Khalous said to Nash. “There is an
entire camp of black vipers just beyond that ridge. Now be quiet
and get back to the monastery before any others notice you.”

“It might be too late for that, captain,”
Pick said. He readied his sword as three more vipers descended the
hillside.

“Stop in the name of the high king!” one of
them shouted.

“Go!” Khalous said.

Broderick helped his brother to his
feet.

The vipers rushed toward them, weapons
drawn.

Together, the two brothers turned to flee
when an arrow flew past Broderick’s face. He flinched, turning, and
saw one of the soldiers topple to the snow with an arrow through
his eye socket. Spatters of red littered the snow. A second soldier
tumbled into a heap next to his comrade with an arrow through his
neck.

The third soldier came to a halt. He looked
around, seemingly confused by the almost magical appearance of the
two bolts. He fell to his knees a moment later, coughing and
hacking from an arrow in his cheek that had lodged in the back of
his throat.

Dana emerged from the pine trees behind them
and put an end to the soldier’s pain with a final arrow to his
forehead. She pulled the green hood of her cloak back. If Broderick
had a word for the expression on her face as she looked at the
three dead men it was disgust.

“Dana?” Nash said.

Broderick gaped at his sister, eyes wide
with amazement. Neither he nor Brayden had ever killed a man
before, and in an instant their sister had felled three.

“All of you,” Khalous growled, “back to the
monastery before I kill you myself!”

Broderick sprinted headlong through the
trees, ignoring the thin branches that lashed at his face and
tugged at his wool slacks. When they came to a river, Khalous told
them to stay in the water and follow its eastwardly current, which
took them further from Halus Gis but kept them from leaving
footprints in the snow.

The freezing river water soaked through
Broderick’s boots and leggings and numbed his toes. He and the
others followed the river’s northward curve until they were leagues
away from the camp of broods. Then Khalous led them west through
the woods, running all the way to the fields east of Halus Gis.

“To the barn!” Khalous said. “Move!”

Broderick didn’t hesitate, and ran the rest
of the way to the monastery, through the southeast gate, up the
main road, and into the big wooden barn next to the chapel.

Preston and Clint were inside cleaning the
stalls. Their grungy tan tunics soaked in sweat and days old grime.
They both looked up, startled, when Broderick scrambled through the
doors, sat down on a hay bale, and ripped off his boots. His toes
ached as he rubbed them.

“Broderick, what in all the known world
happened to you?” Preston asked.

“Black vipers!” he said, shivering.

“Really?” said Clint, sounding enthusiastic.
“Where?”

“In the hills… south of the fields,” he
answered between breaths.

Brayden and Nash ran into the barn, huffing
and sweating.

Dana entered the barn with her bow in hand.
She walked straight up to Broderick and knelt to closely examine
his face, a look of grave concern in her rich brown eyes.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Although touched by his sister’s compassion,
Broderick refused to appear in need of her care, at least, not
while the other boys were present. “Of course,” he said, pushing
her hand away.

He continued to rub his feet, which were
finally starting to warm.

Ty and Nash sat down and began to remove
their wet clothes.

“You should’ve seen this girl,” Nash said,
pointing to Dana. “She was so fast! Two of them were down before I
even knew what was happening. And the third viper, she put an arrow
right through his—”

Khalous shoved open the door of the barn
with a crash. His energy simmered like boiling water under a pot’s
lid. When he spoke, his volume and anger brought a unified gasp
from the group. “Like a bunch of mules, you are. All of you.
Braying like asses over slop in a bucket.” He walked over to
Broderick and Brayden, eyeing them with a fierce agitation. “You
two are lucky we followed you. There was a company of twenty black
vipers camped on the other side of that ridge.” He looked at Nash.
“You all were so loud it’s a wonder they didn’t come down upon
you.”

Khalous put his hands on his hips and paced
back and fourth. He had yelled at them in anger before, but this
was different. His face was red with fury, which was unfair,
Broderick thought, considering that he, Brayden, and Nash had
almost lost their lives at the hands of twenty black vipers.
Broderick was confident that they would’ve fought them off had
Khalous not intervened.

Pick entered the barn. Behind him came a
dozen young children, the very same ones who had traveled with them
from Edhen and had yet to be adopted by Efferousian families.

“You’re all sleeping in here tonight,”
Khalous said. “Everyone from Aberdour will be up in the lofts. You
will make no sounds. Understand?”

“Why?” Broderick asked. He slipped on a pair
of dry leggings.

“Because you’re a bunch of negligent fools!”
Khalous yelled.

Broderick drew back, frightened by the gruff
captain, but enraged as well.

“We didn’t know they were there,” he said.
“We would’ve been quieter if we had.” He covered his feet with some
dry hosen.

“That’s the problem, master Broderick,”
Khalous said. “You didn’t know they were there. What do you think
I’ve been trying to teach you? Survival.” He paused. “Stop acting
like stupid children and recognize that we are at war. Your lives
are at stake here! And because of your carelessness you’ve
endangered the lives of everyone at this monastery.”