Brotherhood of Thieves 1 Page 13

  Raven nodded. ‘It’s a shadow blade.’

  ‘Last week Master Morgan brought it down to the training yard.’ Caspan chuckled quietly. ‘He made Roland hold up a normal sword, which the Master then cut to pieces. By the time he finished, Roland had his eyes squeezed shut and was holding nothing more than the handle.’

  ‘I bet Morgan enjoyed that,’ Raven said, grinning. ‘I can’t quite picture him and Roland getting along.’

  ‘They have their moments.’ Caspan looked longingly into the sky, dreaming of distant lands. ‘Hopefully it won’t be long until I can join you on some of these missions. I love it here, but there’s so much of the world I want to see.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Raven raised a finger in warning at him. ‘But no running off across rooftops with stolen coin-pouches this time.’

  Caspan laughed and crossed his heart. ‘I promise.’

  Raven left later that afternoon, just as the sky was starting to darken. It was sad seeing her go, as she rode off on her magical dire wolf, Shadow. If it weren’t for her, Caspan would have never had the opportunity to join the Brotherhood. He felt greatly indebted to Raven and knew that, had it not been for their chance encounter back in Floran, he’d still be scrounging in the city’s sewers.

  He lay awake for a long time that night, thinking about the Caledonish highlands and the desert kingdom of Salahara. It was almost as if he could hear these lands whisper to him, luring him with the promise of ­adventure.

  But there was another reason he couldn’t sleep. Something had troubled him since his discussion with Gramidge about the Roon. Everybody seemed so confident that the magical weapons and Wardens discovered by the Brotherhood would play a pivotal role in the war and ensure Andalonian victory. Yet everybody seemed to overlook the fact that the Brotherhood had been created twelve years ago and that the Dray weapons were yet to have a significant impact. All he ever heard about was the Roon’s advance further south. Yes, the northern legions had the odd victory, but they were few and far between.

  Settling his head in a more comfortable position, Caspan closed his eyes, fearing it wouldn’t be long until the Roon invaded the south.

  Kilt shoulder-barged into Caspan, knocking the saddle from his hands. Not bothering to look back, and most certainly without a word of apology, she continued walking towards the field. Whisper padded silently after her, glanced at Caspan and growled disdainfully.

  Caspan sighed, took his saddle and walked over to join the others. Lachlan and Sara gave him sympathetic looks, and Roland picked up a clod and threw it at Kilt when her back was turned. It bounced off her shoulder, prompting her to spin around and scowl at Roland, who couldn’t help but grin.

  The Masters had asked them to assemble with their Wardens at the top of the field for a special riding lesson. The recruits were at the end of their second month of training now, and had taught their magical guardians all the basic commands. Like sword training, the recruits had Warden-training lessons every day. Last week, Scott had been so impressed with their progress that he had taught them some more intermediate manoeuvres, which they quickly mastered. He had promised them that today he and Morgan would instruct them in some advanced riding techniques. Caspan had been so excited that he had barely slept the night before. He wasn’t going to let Kilt spoil the day.

  Caspan had summoned Frostbite before heading over to the stable. He found his drake waiting with the other Wardens, glaring at Kilt and Whisper and growling under his breath.

  ‘Don’t let them get to you,’ he whispered into Frostbite’s ear and gave him a stroke under the chin. ‘It’s not Kilt’s fault she’s got the personality of a burp.’

  Perhaps it was his imagination, but Caspan thought he heard a deep, chuckling noise rise from the drake’s throat. He stared inquisitively into Frostbite’s eyes. ‘Can you understand me?’ Caspan kept his voice low, conscious of his friends overhearing.

  The drake stared back at him for a moment, blinked, then gazed up at the sky, his attention caught by a distant falcon. Caspan smiled and scratched Frostbite behind the ear. ‘I guess not. We’ve got a big day ahead of us. Our first proper ride together.’ He leaned in closer and whispered in his guardian’s ear, ‘Go easy on me, won’t you.’

  ‘Take a look at these two,’ Roland remarked, drawing the other recruits’ attention to Caspan and his drake. ‘You’d swear they were in love.’

  With the exception of Kilt, who scowled and mumbled something under her breath, everyone laughed. Caspan chuckled to himself as he saddled Frostbite.

  The Masters joined the recruits. Morgan summoned his wolf, Fang, and it wasn’t long before he was leading Kilt and Sara around the perimeter of the field, steering their Wardens between obstacles and leaping over log hurdles he and Gramidge had set up earlier. Sara’s Warden, Cloud Dancer, was clearly faster across open stretches of turf, but Kilt’s panther and the Master’s wolf weaved dexterously through the wooden barriers, making up time and catching up to the pegasus.

  The advanced technique that Morgan taught the girls looked incredibly difficult. When they raced across the open field, the girls had to lean to the right in their saddles and reach out with their hands until they brushed through the grass. Once they had mastered this – which was not without a few near falls – he taught them how to swing their left foot over their saddles and, keeping a firm hold on their saddle-horns, drop both feet down to the ground. They would then bounce back up and swing both feet over their Warden’s back to repeat the manoeuvre on the opposite side. Morgan took the caution of teaching this technique with their magical companions stationary. After a few successful practices, the girls led their Wardens across the field at a slow, cautious pace, and attempted the manoeuvre again. Sara came off first go, and Kilt, much to Roland’s mirth, only managed to prevent herself from falling off by clinging to her saddle-horn. She was dragged for almost fifty yards before she managed to pull herself up again.

  As difficult and dangerous as the technique looked, the girls didn’t have far to fall, unlike the boys, who risked plummeting from the sky. Perhaps that was why Sara rarely flew Cloud Dancer. Granted, her pegasus could not match the speed of the boys’ Wardens. Cloud Dancer was a large, graceful horse, but had the ability to fly short distances when needed. As far as Caspan was concerned, there was no comparison between riding around obstacle courses and taking to the sky, and he couldn’t understand why Sara preferred to stay on the ground.

  Caspan was drawn from his thoughts by Scott. The Master summoned Shimmer and, after some brief instructions, led the boys over the forest to the south of the House of Whispers. They started off cautiously, flying at a safe distance above the tallest trees. Scott carefully monitored their progress, ensuring the boys were correctly performing the manoeuvres he was teaching them. It wasn’t long before the Master gave a satisfied nod and suggested that they increase their speed.

  Soaring over the sea of green, their cloaks flapping in their wake, the boys hooted joyously. Never before had they flown so fast, and never before had Caspan felt so excited or free. Sitting atop Frostbite, he could feel the drake’s chest expand and contract with each breath, and he could sense the drake’s immense strength with each beat of its wings. Despite this, he felt safe. Frostbite responded instantly to his every command, and he was securely harnessed into his saddle.

  Reaching the end of the forest, Scott led the boys up into the open sky. He taught them how to glide and ride wind currents, and how to perform vertical climbs and descents. By the end of the lesson, the recruits had even learned how to perform abrupt, midair stops. They had by no means mastered the art of flying, but the Master was very impressed with their progress.

  ‘I never knew it would be so much fun,’ Caspan said, once they had dismounted back on the field.

  Roland stared at Kilt, who was still riding Whisper around the obstacle course. ‘She almost spoiled it for you.’

  Caspan shrugged and waved a dismissive hand in her direction. ‘I’m not goi
ng to let her ruin my fun. If she’s got a problem with me, she’s going to have to learn how to deal with it. I can’t change my past. And I’m ­certainly not going to change who I am.’

  Lachlan gave him a nod. ‘Well said.’

  Roland shook his head in disagreement. ‘You’re far more patient than me, Cas. I would’ve had it out with her long before now.’ He grinned. ‘Either that, or I would have paid a visit to a cow and left something wet and steaming under her pillow.’ He nudged Caspan. ‘All you have to do is give me the word.’

  Caspan laughed and pushed him away. ‘I’m not lowering myself to your level.’

  Roland started to untie his saddle. ‘Well, the offer’s still standing, should you ever change your mind.’ He held Bandit by the reins, slung his saddle over his shoulder and led his manticore back towards the stable.

  ‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’ Caspan asked.

  ‘Oh, nowhere,’ Roland said over his shoulder. ‘I just thought I’d get back and … um, tidy my room before lunch.’

  Caspan frowned. ‘Really?’

  Lachlan rolled his eyes. ‘Didn’t you hear? We’re having sausages.’

  ‘Say no more.’

  Lachlan gave a rare smirk as he stared after Roland, who was now jogging back across the field, determined to get a headstart on the others back to the Great Hall. Then he hugged his griffin around the neck. Caspan thought it was strange that, for someone who rarely showed emotion, Lachlan was so affectionate with his Warden.

  Suddenly aware that Caspan was watching, Lachlan pulled back from his Warden and cleared his throat. ‘As much as I hate my brothers, I wouldn’t have met Talon if it weren’t for them. It was their taunting that drove me to join an elite military order. So I guess, in some strange, twisted way, they’re responsible for my new life with the Brotherhood.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you’re here. It’s not every day you get to fight and train alongside somebody who’s as big as one of the Roon.’ Caspan smiled.

  Lachlan stared absently across the field. ‘Apart from the fact that they made my childhood a living hell, I’ve never told you much about my brothers, have I?’ Caspan shook his head. ‘Well, if you think I’m big, you should see Darryl, the oldest. He makes me look like a midget.’

  Caspan whistled. ‘No way.’

  Lachlan nodded. ‘He’s almost a foot taller than me and built like a fort.’ He rubbed the side of his jaw subconsciously. ‘I’ve never felt anybody punch so hard, nor ever met somebody so pig-headed.’

  Caspan’s brow furrowed. ‘I don’t get it. Aren’t brothers supposed to look out for one another?’

  ‘Not in my family. Sometimes it’s like a war zone, with all the screaming and yelling and punches being thrown left, right and centre. My dad was never around much and my poor mum had to deal with us as best as she could. We drove her mad. She’d often storm out of the house and tell us she’d never come back.’ He smiled sadly. ‘But she always did. I suppose that’s one of the great things about mothers. They’ll always be there for you, no matter how much of an undeserving ratbag you are.’

  It seemed so long ago that Caspan had lost his mother that he could barely picture her face anymore. He tried not to think too much about his life before joining the Black Hand. The memories were too painful. Perhaps, when he was older and learned how to deal with his loss, he’d one day return to Floran and visit his old neighbourhood. Maybe then he might find comfort in the memories triggered by the familiar streets and houses. Maybe, one day …

  ‘I used to dream of running away and joining the King’s armies,’ Lachlan continued. ‘Then I’d return home a famous warrior. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on my brothers’ faces. They’d have no choice but to respect me.’ He glanced at Caspan. ‘Well, that’s my life story. Sorry if I bored you.’

  ‘Not at all. We’ve each got our own story as to what brought us here.’

  Lachlan tilted his head towards Kilt, who was dismounting from her panther on the far side of the field. ‘Except her. We know nothing about Kilt, apart from the fact that she can’t stand her parents.’

  Caspan stared thoughtfully at the girl. ‘She’s a strange one. I’m sure she’s harbouring a dark secret, and I can’t help but feel that me and her parents lie at the heart of it.’

  Lachlan turned to Caspan and frowned. ‘You? How? You don’t even know her parents. Do you?’

  Caspan shook his head. ‘No. But whenever her parents are brought up in conversation, she usually gets aggressive towards me for the next few days. Don’t you find that a little odd?’

  Lachlan shrugged. ‘There might be something in it. But who knows.’

  ‘Roland thinks that she may have been robbed by a pickpocket, perhaps even a member of the Black Hand, and she holds me responsible.’

  ‘Whatever the reason, you’ve shown great restraint in ignoring her.’ Lachlan patted him on the shoulder. ‘I don’t think I’d have the patience or self-control.’

  Caspan sighed. ‘I don’t really have much of a choice. She’s already made up her mind that she doesn’t like me. Confronting her about it will only make matters worse.’

  Lachlan tutted. ‘You can’t run away from your problems.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we’ll just wait and see.’

  Caspan thought about asking Lachlan if he could have a word with Kilt on his behalf. Lachlan was the only initiate Kilt seemed to respect. Caspan was sure this was on account of the fact that he was so physically strong. He was about to ask Lachlan, then decided against it. He’d fended for himself for so long on the streets of Floran that he didn’t like turning to others to solve his problems. Besides, it wasn’t fair to drag Lachlan into a conflict he had no part in.

  Lachlan glanced towards the manor house and shook his head wryly. Roland had just reached the house, checked over his shoulder to see if he was the first initiate to make it back, and thrust a fist triumphantly in the air.

  ‘Since I’ve grown up in a house full of bullies and teasers all my life, it’s surprising how tolerant I’ve become of Roland,’ Lachlan said wistfully. ‘I thought I would have clobbered him during our first few days here.’

  ‘I was counting down the days until that was going to happen! Poor Roland – there’s nothing vindictive in his taunting, he just can’t help himself.’

  Lachlan nodded. ‘He can be so irritating, especially when he goofs around during lessons that might be crucial to our survival. And do you know what the most annoying thing is? He’s probably the most skilled out of all of us. He was first to complete the challenge back in Briston, and I doubt I could beat him in a sword fight. I’m stronger than him, but he’s incredibly fast. You normally come first in climbing and sneaking tests, but he’s never far behind. There’s not a competitive bone in his body, though. And nothing ever seems to worry him. It’s ­infuriating!’

  Caspan chuckled ruefully. ‘He does have a way of making people angry, especially Master Morgan.’

  ‘He’d better watch his step there. Morgan will only take so much more before he explodes. Let’s just hope we’re not around when that happens. Even I’m scared of him.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.’ Caspan looked at him, confused.

  ‘Only of Master Morgan,’ Lachlan whispered. ‘And you’re not allowed to tell anybody.’

  Caspan crossed his heart and grinned. ‘I won’t tell a soul. We should start heading back. There’ll be no food left if we give Roland too much of a headstart.’

  Lachlan started leading Talon towards the stable. ‘Yeah, I don’t really feel like eating yesterday’s leftovers.’

  Caspan felt like taking Roland up on his offer of planting cow dung under Kilt’s pillow. The recruits had been given the task of climbing a side wall of the House of Whispers. It was four storeys high and offered few handholds. They could use a grappling hook and rope but had to complete the challenge in less than five minutes. To make matters worse, they had been divided into two teams. As misfortune
would have it, Master Scott had paired Caspan up with Kilt.

  Kilt was kneeling at the base of the wall, preparing their equipment. Caspan waited a few yards off to the side, his arms folded across his chest. He had tried to help her, but she’d shot him a filthy look and pushed him away. He glanced at his friends and sighed. They were working together, all contributing to securing their grappling hook to their rope with the knot Scott had taught them. Caspan scrutinised the way Kilt was tying their knot. She most definitely wasn’t using the same method as the Master. It was clear Kilt was rushing, pressured by the fact that the other recruits were ahead of her.

  Which is no great surprise, considering they’re working as a team, Caspan thought. As much as he resented having Kilt as his partner, he knew that if he didn’t get in and help they’d never finish the task in time.

  ‘Here, let me try,’ he offered, kneeling beside her.

  She slapped his hand. ‘Go away.’

  Caspan drew a long, frustrated breath, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily. ‘You know, there’s a much better way to do that. If you’ll only let me show you.’

  Kilt stared him straight in the eye. ‘The last thing I want is your advice.’

  Caspan was taken aback by the animosity in her voice. He’d just about had enough of the way she treated him. He rose and stood before her, hands on hips. ‘What have I ever done to you?’

  ‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ When he gave her a blank expression, Kilt got up and shoved her face so close to his that their noses were almost touching. She lowered her voice so that the others couldn’t hear, but it was full of venom. ‘You’re a former street thief – a gutter rat! I want nothing to do with you.’

  Caspan tried his best to remain calm. Kilt had a fiery temper at the best of times. Getting into an argument with her now would only make matters worse. ‘We’re all thieves now.’

  Kilt’s eyes narrowed into slits. ‘No, we’re not. Lachlan, Roland, Sara and I are treasure hunters. We don’t put knives to people’s throats in alleyways and steal their hard-earned coins. We’re nothing like you.’