Knight Templar in Training - 2. Misson To Cross Creek

If we do not crush eggs we will have to slay dragons.
—Origin unknown

Alten spoke softly, but firmly. “The custom of training acolytes in the skills of a warrior, while honored in your home, has fallen from favor here in the capital city. As you have learned, we do have a Master of Arms, and some of the boys can use a quarterstaff with a little skill; some fewer study fencing—a poor excuse for swordsmanship. I’m afraid that most of our energies go into politics.” Alten paused, then continued. “Unfortunately, that includes internal politics, which benefits neither the Temple nor the Light. I am distracted, no, more than that, I am hindered in my efforts to serve the Light by a faction of clerics who want this Temple to be no more than a place for mindless ritual, and who refuse to acknowledge that Darkness has any real power.”

James was startled at the Senior Cleric’s candor.

“James,” the Senior’s eyes bored into the tween’s. “James, I am convinced that the rule of Light is being disturbed in Arcadia and that at least one center of disturbance is located in a market village some three days to the southeast. I need information, but I can send no one from this Temple. No one has the training; few would have the inclination even if they had the training. I know that this is not the reason you came to this Temple, but…would you undertake a mission to investigate and report back to me?”

Stunned at these revelations, James was silent for a moment. Alten didn’t move, and gave no indication that he was in a hurry for the tween to answer. When at last James spoke, his voice was clear. “I will serve the Light as you bid.”

The relief on Alten’s face was palpable. “Thank you, lad. Now, come here…there’s a map I want to show you.”

On the morning set for his departure, James slipped quietly into Alten’s chambers. The Senior was awake, and busy. “In this vial is Holy Water; it is well-sealed and its aura should not be visible to any but the strongest mage, and I do not think you will encounter such. If you are caught with this, claim that you stole it from the Temple. Here, I want you to have this,” Alten said, handing the tween a dagger. “I would like to have offered it to you in ritual, but there is no time, now.”

James took the dagger. It was plain, but sturdy. The haft showed some wear, but the blade was bright and sharp. The sheath was strong leather. “Thank you, Senior Alten,” he said, “I shall treasure it as if you had given it in ritual, as I treasure your confidence in me.”

The Senior reached out tentatively, and gently touched the boy’s hair. “Thank you, James. Thank you, indeed.”

In the stable, Alten pointed to a gray horse with a silver blaze on its forehead. “He’s sturdy—a gelding—but not flashy. If you’re going to pass yourself off as a ruffian, it would not do to have a finer looking horse. Don’t be fooled by his appearance. He’s young, healthy, and well trained. Here…a pack of supplies. I’ve put in a bag of coins, a book of poetry, and a couple of candlesticks.” At James puzzled look, Alten chuckled, “Well, if you’re going to be a ruffian, you need to have stolen something. Take a look at them, so you know what you’ve stolen!”

The first two days of James’ journey were uneventful. The weather was overcast, and the south wind hinted at snow to come. It’s cold for an autumn day, James thought. It’s going to be a cold winter.

Late on the third day, as the sun was sinking behind his right shoulder and touching the clouds in front of him with pinks and salmons, James spotted his objective. The town was nestled in a bowl bisected by a river. It appeared to be a new town: its stone walls were only partly built. It was surrounded by fields much like those through which James had ridden all day: harvest nearly completed, stooks of grain waiting for wagons to carry them to threshing floors, and golden pumpkins on the vine. A patch of kitchen garden by each house was freshly turned for the planting of turnips and other winter vegetables. The scene was too bucolic to raise any fears; had Alten not warned him, James would never have believed that the market town harbored Evil.

He was not challenged as he rode into the town, and the few people who were about in the gloaming ranged from the courteous who nodded to him with a smile, to the uncurious who largely ignored him. Ahead, he saw a lantern being hoisted to illuminate a sign: it was obviously an inn, as the sign showed a tankard, a plate, a bed, and… What was that, anyway? It was too fat to be a cow, and had a broad nose and short, stumpy legs. James shook his head. He’d just have to ask.

The boy who had hoisted the lantern was still standing outside the door of the building when James rode up. Recognizing James to be a stranger, the boy held out his hand. “Welcome to the River Horse Inn,” he said. “May I take your mount to the stable?”

“A river horse? Is that what it is?” James asked, indicating the sign, and needing a moment to think.

“Yes,” replied the boy, “although my grandsire calls it a hippo… hippo… hippo-something. You can ask him, if you don’t mind an answer that will take at least an hour to tell.”

While the boy spoke, James gestured. The flow of energy that he cast returned to him without change, indicating that neither the boy nor the immediate surroundings held Dark Magic.

“I’d like to hear that story,” James said, “If there’s room for me tonight, and supper?” When the boy nodded, James continued, “Then perhaps you’d lead me to the stable, and we’ll see to the horse, first.”

After removing the tack and blanket from the horse, rubbing it down well, and feeding it—mostly hay, but a few carrots—the boy led James to the back door of the inn. “My name’s Joey. You tell me if you need anything. Here…through this door to the common room. You sit by the fire…we’re not busy tonight…and I’ll bring your supper. My Pa will come over with ale and a room key.”

The boy showed James into the common room where a low fire provided both heat and smoke. The boy was right; there was little custom this evening. There were two men standing at the bar. Their manner suggested they were well known to the publican who was filling a mug from a keg resting in a cradle on the bar, itself. The boy ducked behind the bar and whispered to the publican, who immediately filled another mug from the keg, and brought it to where James had seated himself.

“My son says you’ll stay the night,” the man said. “He also said that you wanted to know what a hippopotamus is. Eighteen pennies, or a silver shilling, will buy your room, supper, and breakfast. Supper’s stew and bread. Breakfast’s porridge. Ale after the first mug is a florin. The boy cleans out the stable; he gets a ha’penny. Oh, and about the hippopotamus. My Pa will be here soon. I’ll send him over. He likes ale.”

The man stood while James feigned searching his pockets to round up the necessary eighteen pennies ha’penny. He had silver, but knew better than to flash it unnecessarily, just to save a penny or two. The publican pushed the ha’penny back. “This is the boy’s. I’d be obliged if you gave it him, yourself. That way he knows where it came from, and how he earned it.” The man turned abruptly and left, just as Joey came up with a plate of stew and a basket of bread.

“I found you an apple, too,” the boy said. They’ve just come in the last tenday, and the harvest was good.”

James quickly switched the ha’penny for a penny and held it out to the boy. “Thank you, Joey, and thank you for helping me comb my horse. That’s worth a ha’penny more than your Da said you got for cleaning up the stable.” The boy clutched the penny in obvious delight.

“Thank you,” he said. “And remember, anything you want. Oh, here’s the key to your room. Pa said to give you the one in front. It’s at the top of the stairs and then all the way to the left. Bath’s just beside it.”

James finished the simple but good supper, and was contemplating another mug of ale when the door opened and an old man entered. The common room had gained several customers while James ate, and they all greeted the old man cheerfully. He strode to the bar and greeted the publican, who pointed to James. The old man glanced in his direction, and then walked over to where James sat. James held up two fingers, indicating a request for two mugs of ale.

James stood as the old man approached. “Will you sit and drink with me?” he asked, gesturing to the chair next to his.

“Thank you, youngster, gladly I will. My son says you don’t know what is a hippopotamus, and would like to know why the inn has its name. Ah,” this last at seeing the boy bringing two mugs of ale, which he set on the table. James quickly produced another ha’penny for the ale.

“Yes, I would. I recognize the form of the word. Hippo means horse, does it not?”

The old man laughed a hearty laugh. “Very good, boy. Hippopotamus means river horse, although I’d not want to try to ride one!” He turned to the boy who had stayed. Come here, Joey, sit with your Grandpa and help me tell the story.”

The boy who had earlier expressed some derision at the story was apparently as fond of his grandfather as the man was of the boy, and sat between James and the old man, while keeping an eye on his father, across the room.

The old man spun tale of his travels across the Eastern Sea, and his encounter with the hippopotamuses of the Great Eastern Continent. He told of being blown by a storm into northern seas. “Do you know of the Lamp of Valeus?” he asked James.

“Do you mean the glow that appears on the northwestern horizon during Harbinger?” James replied. When the man nodded, James continued. “I saw it once. We were in the mountains. It was two days after a storm, and the sky was especially clear. The stars were still, and the Great Moon had long set. I saw it then.”

“Our ship was driven so far north that the Lamp became a river of light,” the old man said. “It stretched across the sky from horizon to horizon, and was visible throughout the night.” He continued his story, relating adventures among the jungle islands at the top of the continent on which Arcadia lay; how he found gold and jewels and brought them back to Arcadia; and how his treasure bought this inn and brought him a bride who was more fascinated by his adventures than his money. Joey was sent twice more for ale for his grandfather, although James stopped after his second. When the old man had finished the story, he shooed his grandson off, and peered at James.

“You’re a polite listener, and Joey seems to think you’re okay. Notice how he sat between us, rather than on the side away from you? He doesn’t easily trust people, but when he does, they’re usually okay. Now, I’ve got to get home. I live with my daughter. Wouldn’t do to stay here, now that I’ve given the inn over to my son. Thank you for the ale; Light to you.”

James stood. “Light to you. Thank you for your story.”

James was the only overnight guest. The bath was clean, but the hot water was a bit sparse. James was reluctant to use magic to warm water for himself. There was no need to make noise nor leave evidence that he had magical skills. He employed a little magic to clean himself and his clothes better than soap and water, alone, would have done, and started back to the spacious room that was his for the night.

Joey and his father were waiting by the door. Before James could speak, the boy blurted, “All my brothers have left home, and all of my friends are too busy with harvest to visit. You’re a nice boy; may I spend the night with you? Will you share boy magic with me?”

The boy’s father spoke, “I told him he could ask, as long as you know that this isn’t part of the inn’s service. He’s my son, and not a catamite. He’s been lonely, though.”

James took Joey’s outstretched hand. “I’m honored by your trust and would gladly share boy magic with Joey.”

James stirred as the cock crowed. Joey pressed a kiss on James’ lips. “I’ve got to fix breakfast,” he said. “Thank you for a lovely night.” James shivered in the brief cold as the boy’s warm body slipped from under the covers, and he was gone.

James was finishing his breakfast when the publican came over to his table. “Joey said you were kind to him, last night. He’s very happy this morning; happier than I’ve seen him since his last brother left home. Of course, he’s not that far away, but that man just won’t let him…” The man sighed.

“Please, if you can, sit for a moment,” James invited. “I’m looking…; well, is there work where your other son is?” James, reluctant to lie, was uncomfortable with this half-truth.

The man glanced around the empty room, and then sat across the table from James. “I never thought I’d say this to anyone, but you don’t want to seek work where my son is. A bad place, that. It’s supposed to be a school for fighters, but they’re locked up like chattel. And who ever heard of a school that didn’t charge? They’re supposed to be paying him to learn. Crazy, if you ask me. My son’s a tween; he’s capable of making his own decisions, but this one…this one was wrong. Wait a minute.”

The man went to the bar, and drew two mugs of hot tea. “On the house,” he said, putting one down in front of James. “Joey went to try to see him one day. Disobeyed me on that, he did. Would have whipped him except he was so scared when he got back.”

The man paused. “James, are you Good?” The capital letter was obvious in his voice. “Can I trust you?”

James thought for a moment. How much to reveal? “I swear, I am a servant of the Light,” he said, looking directly into the man’s eyes.

The man studied James carefully, and then continued. “I’m trusting the life of my son to you…and perhaps the lives of two sons. You’d better hear this from Joey.” Putting his fingers to his lips, he whistled. Joey burst into the room from the kitchen. “Get yourself a mug of tea, boy, and come here.”

As Joey sipped his tea, his father repeated a little of what he’d already said to James, ending with, “Joey saw his brother, but for only a minute, and only through the bars of the gate. You tell it from there, Joey. Tell him everything, including what I said not to tell anyone.”

The boy began, “The man who was with him said it was time for me to go. I tried to hug Acclaudius through the gate. He reached out to hug me back, and I felt his hand shove something inside my shirt. I started to reach for it, but he pushed my arm away, and shushed me. I sussed it was something that he didn’t want them to know he’d given me. I ran home. In my room, I pulled a leather package out of my shirt. Inside were six coins, like none I’d ever seen before. They were creepy and scary. I showed them to Pa, and he said to cover them up and never show them to anyone or to say anything about them. And that’s all. They’re buried…” The boy looked at his Pa, who nodded. “They’re buried in the corner of the stable yard.”

James sat speechless for a moment before he spoke. “How long ago was this? And Acclaudius. Your brother. Have you heard from him since?”

“This happened only five days ago. And no, we’ve not heard from Acclaudius. But we don’t…didn’t…haven’t since he went to that school two months ago.”

“You said the coins were creepy and that they frightened you. What was creepy about them?”

Joey thought. “They were slimy, except that they were dry. They were hard to hold on to, and tried to squirm out of my hands.”

“They didn’t have a face and a seal, like coins of the realm. They had patterns on them, like a maze…you know, a puzzle maze,” the publican added. “They were hard to look at, and seemed dark, even in the brightest light.”

James looked at the publican and his boy. “You said you were putting the life of your sons in my hands. I now put my life in your hands, and in the hands of your son, Joey.” turning to the boy, James asked, “Your father told you to keep a secret, and you did so until he told you to reveal it. I’m going to tell you and your father a secret. If it’s okay with your father, will you keep this secret, too?”

“Joey, we will trust this boy, and we will keep his secret as he will keep ours. Agreed?” the father asked.

The boy nodded. “I promise.”

James began, “I told you I was a servant of the Light. That is true. I am a sworn cleric, and I am on a mission to discover what Evil may lie in this town. I think that you have already done what I was sent to do. I think you have found Evil, or a place of Evil. Will you tell me more about this school?”

Before the publican or the boy could answer, the door opened and two men came into the common room. Hailing the publican, they called for ale. “Tonight,” the publican whispered to James as he left.

Joey’s father, whose name, James had learned, was Thanuel, closed the common room early. There were only two customers, and both were old friends who were easily chased off after a mug “on the house.” As earlier agreed, James joined Thanuel and Joey in the kitchen, where a small fire burned in the grate. He declined with thanks Thanuel’s offer of a mug of mulled wine, and noted that the man did not drink, himself.

Thanuel began the story. “Cross Creek is the market town for about 50 farm families, all within a half-day’s ride of here. Most folks who live in the town are craftsmen, who make things that the farmers don’t make for themselves. There used to be two schools, one run by the Church. Across town from here. On the creek. Joey’s been there, on and off for the past fifteen years or so… he can read and write and figure…he and his grandfather are the only ones in the family who can…anyway, he’ll go again if we ever get a new cleric. The other school was for boys wanting to join the army. About two miles south of town. Taught them to fight, but not much else. It was what they needed, though, and the fellows who ran it were two army veterans. I knew them to speak to.

“About a year ago, they weren’t there, and three other fellows were. The story was that these new people had bought the school and the old owners had moved to Arcadia. It was common knowledge that the transfer had been recorded with the cleric, though. What was strange was that they dismissed all the students. Said they were going to be changing things around, fixing the place up, and so on, and that they’d let people know when they were going to open up, again.

“About four months ago, they started recruiting. Tweens, only. No boys or men need apply. In fact, no one need apply. It was by invitation, only. Don’t know how they chose their students…but they did invite my Acclaudius, and he accepted. Wasn’t the money, I don’t think. We’re well enough off. Wasn’t the training…he could have gone to school in the capital if he’d wanted. Anyway, he’s a tween, and can make his own decisions…” Thanuel’s voice caught, but he continued.

“Part of the deal was that they were to live full time at the school, and weren’t allowed distractions, like any contact with their families. Some folks have been able to see their sons, for a minute only, and through the gate, like Joey did, but there’re rumors that the boys are punished after these visits. And that’s about it. They buy supplies from the farmers. Pay in silver. They don’t come into town. Yeah, that’s about it.” Thanuel stopped talking.

James observed his silence for a moment, and then asked, “Are they still recruiting? Do you think I could get in there?”

Thanuel looked at James. “Everyone says that they’re not looking for anyone else, just now. A couple of boys tried to get in after the first group, and were turned down, flat. They were told to come back in the spring. You could try, though.”

“I think I’ll just do that. Tomorrow,” James replied.

“Speaking of tomorrow, it’s Market Day, and I’ll be busy,” Thanuel said. “I’m off to bed. You two don’t stay up too late. It’ll be busy for Joey, as well.”

Joey had already left the bed when James woke the next morning. When James got to the common room, he found the inn already busy, but Joey spotted him and rushed over with a bowl of porridge and a mug of tea. The boy’s smile was bright.

After his brief breakfast, James rode to the school over a light dusting of snow. The road was full of people going the other direction, toward the town, for Market Day.

The school was not hard to find. It was a complex of buildings surrounded by a wooden wall and located about 100 yards from the road. Not strong enough for a real defense, James observed, but it does provide privacy. And a place for a lookout. As James approached, a head visible above the parapet ducked down. Moments later, a figure wearing partial leather armor and carrying an unsheathed sword appeared behind the bars of the gate. James dismounted and walked toward the gate, his hands clearly visible.

“What do you want?” the figure asked gruffly.

“They told me in the town that you trained fighters. I want to learn,” James answered. “I don’t have much money, but I can pay something.”

“We’re not taking students, now. They should have told you that, too. Try in spring.”

“But that’s months away…” James began.

“Live with it,” the man answered, and turned his back.

James turned and walked away. He did not need to use magic to tell him that this was not a Good place; it had an aura of darkness. When he reached the road, he mounted his horse and galloped back to town.

James returned to find the town thronged with people. Every inch of the main street was lined with booths or blankets displaying wares and food. Farmers with apples traded for pumpkins; those with potatoes swapped for sweet potatoes. Farmers traded for cloth, and weavers for food. The mill ran continuously as farmers traded bags of wheat for smaller bags of flour. James squinted to see the aura of magic around the mill; the miller and his sons were using the magic of their craft to keep the grain pure of grit, and to keep the millstones sharp. There was likewise an aura of magic about the smithy, and James watched for a while as the smith and his apprentice shoed horses and repaired farm implements. Although seemingly idle, James was taking the pulse of the town.

The people seemed ordinary. The children were bright-eyed and energetic, dashing among the legs of the tweens and adults as they played. Men greeted one another courteously or heartily depending on the degree of acquaintance. Women issued orders to their husbands and sons, and kept their daughters close at hand. When James caught someone’s eye, he usually received a courteous “Good Day,” or—from vendors—an invitation to inspect or to buy. Neither the people nor the day was much different from a market day in his own mountain town. If there is evil in the town, James thought, it seems to be limited to the school.

That night, James talked with Thanuel and Joey, again. It was late, and both were exhausted from serving the crowd that visited for Market.

“It was just as you said; I was told to come back in spring. I didn’t dare use magic to investigate, but there was a definite stink of Evil to the place. I can’t wait here until Spring. I’m going to go back to Arcadia and report, perhaps get different instructions.”

“Father, should he take the coins back with him?” Joey asked.

Thanuel thought for a moment. “That may be too great a burden for James. On the other hand, your brother must have known that neither you nor I would know what to do with them.” Turning to James he asked, “James, the decision is yours.”

James thought for a moment, and then said. “I think that they should be examined by people who might be able to understand what they are. Perhaps this will give us a clue about the nature of the school and what their real aims are.”

“So be it,” Thanuel said. “Joey, you did well today. Don’t let James oversleep tomorrow morning. It’ll be a long day for both of you.”

The next morning, James helped Joey dig up the coins. They were tightly wrapped in their original leather pouch, which James tied a second time with a bit of string. He didn’t need to use any magical power to know that there was a miasma of darkness about the coins. Rather than keep them on his person, he relegated the package to the saddlebags.

Thanuel was standing in the back door of the inn. James paused to speak with him.

“Thank you, again, for your trust and your help. I cannot say when, if ever, I will be back. That depends on the orders I am given. On the other hand,” he continued, “If Joey or you are ever in danger, Joey can write to me. A personal letter, from a friend, inviting me to return to visit. Send the letter to…let me see…send it to Arcadia for James, in care of Correll, the Cobbler, on Temple Square. He knows me, and I think he’ll do me this courtesy. I’ll arrange for him to let me know if anything is received.”

Turning to Joey, James hugged the boy, and received a sweet kiss in return. “Take care of yourself, Joey. I hope we’ll meet again.”

As James rides down the street, Joey slipped his hand inside his father’s. “Do you think we’ll ever see him, again?”

“I expect so, son,” Thanuel said, adding silently to himself, for your sake, and for Acclaudius’ sake, I hope so.

It was dark when James reached the capital city, and nearly curfew before he entered the Temple compound. After stabling the horse, he sought out Alten. James related his adventure to the Senior, concluding with, “I left the package containing the coins in the stable, carefully hidden. I didn’t want to bring them into the Temple, itself, for fear of contamination—of the Temple or of the coins. Once we determine what they are, I think we owe an explanation to Thanuel and his sons. As to the school, I don’t know. Wait until spring, or try some other way…” The boy’s voice drifted off.

Alten stood and walked over to the chair where James sat. Placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, he said, “You have done well, James; very well. You showed courage and cunning. You were smart to trust the innkeeper and his son; you were smart to arrange a way for them to contact you; you were smart to keep the coins out of the Temple. You showed courage offering yourself as a student at the school, although I’d rather you had arranged a message to me, first, in case it had been necessary to rescue you.” At James startled look, Alten continued, “Oh, if you hadn’t come back in a tenday or so, I’d have sent someone after you. Mind you, I don’t rightly know who. I’d probably have had to borrow some soldiers from Prince Auric. However, knowing where you likely were could have saved time. Still, the risk was slight. Yes, you’ve done well. Now, before you fall asleep in my chair, let’s get those coins.”

The Senior led the way to the stable, peremptorily dismissing the Probationer who was cleaning the floor, leaving the stable empty save for the horses, James, and himself. “Right, now, where are they?”

James pointed to the rafters far above their heads. There was a platform that would be full of hay in a few weeks, but which was empty, now. “It took me three tries, but I threw the package up there. I’ll have to move a ladder…that one, and then climb over the beams …sorry, I wasn’t thinking about retrieving it at the time.”

“You must have been tired…you’re about to fall asleep now. Let me see…” Alten frowned, and then gestured as he gathered magic to himself. “Don’t want to use too much; as you said, we don’t want the coins contaminated.” Alten gestured to a coil of rope, the end of which snaked up and over a rafter even higher than the platform, and then flowed down into Alten’s outstretched hand.

“Feel like a ride?” he asked James.

James nodded. Alten fashioned one end of the rope into a cradle through James legs, wrapping it around his waist and under his arms. “I was a sailor, a couple of lifetimes ago,” the Senior said. “Never thought I’d make another boson’s chair.” When James was well roped, the Senior began to haul him into the air, using a little magic to reinforce his own strength.

“Good,” James called from overhead when he was level with the platform. He began to swing a little, until he could reach the packet. “I’ve got it!” Alten lowered him to the ground and James handed the packet to the Senior.

“Umm,” Alten said, looking at the package from the corner of his eye. “You’re right. There are nasty things in there. Come.” He led the boy from the stable to another outbuilding. “Please go back to the Temple and tell Arne, my acolyte, to summon the Seniors to meet me here. Then, go to sleep. Your room is ready.”