The Novice, Page 2

  There was a pause, then a cackle as the king and Lord Faversham burst into laughter. Even Charles snorted, though the malice never left his eyes. Arcturus sat in silence, setting his jaw.

  The king held up his hand, cutting the laughter short. His smile narrowed to a pursed slit.

  ‘Charles, come here.’ He beckoned the young noble over, then leaned in and whispered in his ear. Charles hesitated, then strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  The king steepled his fingers, levelling his gaze at Arcturus. His grey eyes revealed nothing, but Lord Faversham drummed his fingers on the armrest, betraying a sudden nervousness. Despite the heat, Arcturus shuddered under the king’s scrutiny.

  ‘You’re playing a dangerous game here,’ Lord Faversham said, narrowing his eyes at Arcturus. ‘Did they pay you to feed us this cock and bull story? Because if you think for one moment that you’ll be able to lie and leave this castle alive, you are much mistaken.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Arcturus replied, cursing the quaver in his voice. ‘I read the scroll aloud and the demon appeared.’

  ‘Commoners cannot summon demons,’ the king snapped, impatience getting the better of him. ‘The gift is passed down in the blood, always for the first born and sometimes for the rest. The noble houses have been the only summoners in Hominum for two thousand years. Now, I will give you one more chance. If you tell me the truth and identify the thief, I will give you four hundred shillings and transport to Corcillum. You can’t say fairer than that.’

  But Arcturus could feel something new, grating on him like nails on a chalkboard. It was pain, distant but fierce, emanating from the thread that held him to the demon. A fresh throb made him fall to his knees, clutching at his skull. The dual sensation of this fresh pain and that of his own injuries was almost too much to bear.

  ‘You’re hurting it!’ he cried, burying his head in the fur of the bearskin rug.

  ‘When will you end this farce?’ Lord Faversham growled, kicking at Arcturus with his foot. But the king held up a bony finger, before pointing it at the entrance to the library.

  ‘As we speak, your son is whipping the demon downstairs as I instructed him. I was hoping to merely cause the thief some discomfort. Instead, it seems we have revealed him.’ The king smiled as Arcturus whimpered in agony.

  He was barely able to comprehend the words, fresh waves of pain robbing him of all sense.

  ‘Who are you, boy?’ Lord Faversham growled, lifting Arcturus from the floor by the collar and holding him up in the air. ‘Your stableboy disguise has been found out, tell us which house you belong to now and perhaps your punishment will be less severe. Are you a Sinclair? A Fitzroy?’

  ‘No . . . house . . .’ Arcturus choked.

  ‘Put him down, Royce,’ the king ordered, tearing Arcturus from Lord Faversham’s grasp before his command could be obeyed. ‘This boy is no impostor. Can you not tell by his accent, his demeanour? His body odour alone reeks of a common upbringing.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Lord Faversham asked, breathing heavily. ‘That this boy is telling the truth?’

  ‘I am saying,’ the king murmured, tapping his chin with a long finger, ‘that this boy is . . . something new.’

  3

  The Pinkerton was called in to take him away, though Arcturus needed little encouragement. The two men scared him in a way that none had before. It was not cruelty or sadism that made them different; he had encountered more than enough men and women who shared those qualities. No, it was their complete lack of empathy that horrified him, their clinical scrutiny and calculating eyes. It was as if he were not even a person to them, but rather a commodity to be used, or tossed aside.

  He was thrown back into his dark cell, but this time with a bucket of water and some fresh bread. Arcturus devoured it like a rabid animal, revelling in the warm chewy texture. On the other hand, the demon was given no such sustenance, and its thirst and hunger plagued him for hours on end. He banged on the door and demanded it be fed and watered, but received nothing but curses from the Pinkerton, then silence.

  Finally, when the water bucket was empty and hunger began to gnaw at his stomach once again, Arcturus was dragged from his cell, then marched through a side door and into the courtyard.

  This time, the king was not there, but Lord Faversham and his son were waiting for him, their faces dark and broody with ill humour. A large box lay on the ground beside them, with a strange leather harness wrapped around it.

  As Arcturus trudged towards them, he took in his surroundings, scanning for an escape route. The courtyard was surrounded by a cobbled stone wall, thick with ivy. An elaborate archway curved over the entrance, and it was blocked by a heavy iron gate.

  ‘Still alive are you,’ Charles said, kicking at the gravel on the ground moodily. ‘I had hoped you would have died in—’

  ‘No, Charles,’ Lord Faversham cut him off. ‘The king has made . . . arrangements for the boy, as you well know. No harm will befall him whilst he is in our care, is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ Charles sighed.

  Arcturus remained silent, his eyes on his feet. He could sense his demon now, so close he could almost smell it. The box beside him trembled. Arcturus turned his eyes towards it and gasped. His demon – it was trapped inside! He kneeled and laid his hand against the wood, sending it feelings of calmness and safety, despite his own misgivings about the future. Slowly, the trembling stopped. The sound of lapping inside gave him some relief, as he realised they had finally given it some water. It seemed, for now, the Favershams wanted both of them alive.

  ‘They’re here,’ Charles said, pointing at the sky.

  Two dots hovered in the heavens, like birds circling above a cornfield. Slowly but surely, they grew in size, until two winged beasts landed before them in a flash of feathers and fur.

  Arcturus had to step back as they flapped and folded their enormous wings, the tawny feathers fluttering in the wind. They looked like winged, horse-sized stags, with majestic antlers branching from their foreheads. Their front legs ended in hooves, yet their back legs were clawed like a falcon’s, complete with deadly talons that dug into the ground. Instead of the traditional bob that all deer had, these creatures had long, elegant tail feathers.

  Both were fitted with polished leather saddles and bridles, in which two riders sat, resplendent in navy blue uniforms that had golden epaulets and shining gold buttons. They removed the leather caps and dark goggles that they wore on their heads and shook their hair out with audible sighs of relief.

  One of the riders dismounted and embraced Charles, kissing him on the forehead. She was beautiful, with golden hair that fell about her face. Arcturus shuddered as he realised she was Charles’s mother, Lady Faversham. As she turned to Arcturus, her expression was hard, her pretty face as cold and cruel as winter.

  ‘He is the reason we are here?’ she narrowed her eyes at him. ‘We flew through the night.’

  ‘The boy, and the fact that Charles couldn’t get half a day’s ride from here without losing his demon!’ Lord Faversham growled. ‘He needs to be flown to Vocans since he can’t be trusted on his own and he is already late starting the year as it is. You shall have to provide him with a new summoning scroll, or he won’t be allowed to attend. It is a shame you cannot gift him your Peryton – you need it for the Avian Corps. It will have to be the other one.’

  ‘You lost your Canid? Do you have any idea what your father risked to capture her for you?’ Lady Faversham hissed, seizing Charles by the ear, her anger as sudden as her arrival. ‘Now I will have to give you my Arach, and I caught it only weeks ago.’

  Charles wailed like a baby, pulling at his mother’s hand until she released him with a grunt of disgust.

  Arcturus absorbed the information, taking note of the names of the various species of demon, and the fact
that his own was female. It appeared that demons could somehow be gifted through scrolls, and needed to be captured first. If he was to survive the coming weeks, he would need to learn all he could.

  His understanding of the world of summoning was vague at best, given that he lived so far north of the jungles on Hominum’s southern border where most of the skirmishes took place. Though they were not officially at war with the various orc tribes that inhabited it, the nobles, their retinues and the king’s army would patrol along their borders, keeping Hominum safe from the occasional orc raiding party. Boreas, the city in which Arcturus lived, was far to the north, near to the border with the elves.

  The next rider dismounted, a brunette with long tresses that came down to her waist. She nodded respectfully at Lord Faversham then went about attaching the box to a leather lead, before securing it to the bottom of her mount. She grinned at Arcturus’s wary expression and gave him a wink. He responded with a hesitant smile, which was swiftly wiped away when Lady Faversham clicked her fingers at him.

  ‘You, boy. If the king did not have such an interest in you, I would have you hanging from the gallows in a heartbeat! Nobody steals from the Favershams, especially not some filthy stableboy.’

  Charles smiled hatefully at Arcturus from behind her back, drawing a finger across his throat. Arcturus responded with a cool stare, though tendrils of terror gripped his heart. This time, it was the demon that calmed him. Waves of encouragement and support flowed through their mental link as it sensed his discomfort.

  ‘Watch your back, boy,’ Lady Faversham said, unimpressed by Arcturus’s apparent lack of fear.

  A servant scurried past them, dragging a heavy trunk behind him and attaching it to Lady Faversham’s Peryton.

  ‘Be careful with that,’ Charles ordered, striding over to survey the fastenings. ‘I don’t want my clothes all rumpled because you did it wrong.’

  The servant bowed, a flash of fear passing across his face. He was barely older than Arcturus, and he looked half starved. Arcturus felt fortunate he didn’t have to work in this household.

  ‘Ophelia, are you sure Lieutenant Cavendish’s Peryton can carry the Canid?’ Lord Faversham asked his wife.

  ‘It’s only a pup,’ Lady Faversham responded. ‘If she was full grown it might be a struggle over such a long distance, but thankfully you caught it young.’

  ‘Aye, Hubertus is as strong as an ox!’ Lieutenant Cavendish called, tying one last knot on the thick leather leads that were now attached to the demon’s cage. She winked at Arcturus again, and he marvelled at how young she was. She could barely be older than eighteen, yet she wore the uniform of an officer. The Lieutenant jumped on to her mount in one fluid leap, then patted the saddle behind her.

  ‘We’d better get going if we’re to reach Vocans by nightfall. Since my luggage is a bit heavier than yours, we might get a bit of a head start on you, if that’s all right, Captain Faversham?’ she asked, rubbing Hubertus’s neck.

  Lady Faversham gave her a curt nod then, with one final glare at Arcturus, she strode into the manor house. Arcturus hesitated before striding to the Peryton and holding up his hand. Lieutenant Cavendish gripped it firmly and pulled him up behind her with surprising ease. He could feel the Hubertus’s muscles bunching beneath his legs, as the demon unfolded his wings.

  ‘Hold on tight,’ she murmured, grasping his hands and putting them around her waist. ‘I hope you have a strong stomach.’

  The wings flapped once. Twice.

  And they were flying.

  4

  The world was spread below Arcturus like a patchwork quilt, the fields of crops splitting the earth into squares of green, yellow and brown. With every beat of the Peryton’s wings, the fuzzy white cloud bank above them loomed closer. Soon they were in the mist, surrounded by a haze of the purest white Arcturus had ever seen. He revelled in the cool air, opening his mouth to catch droplets on his tongue. It was over all too soon, for they burst clear of the other side into the bright sunlight moments later.

  ‘You’ve got a strong grip there, lad!’ Lieutenant Cavendish chuckled, before clucking her tongue at Hubertus. The Peryton slowed down, until they hung above the clouds, rising and falling with each wingbeat.

  ‘Sorry,’ Arcturus breathed, realising he was squeezing her midriff tight. He relaxed his grip and gazed at the cloudscape around him. It was if they were floating above a sea of cotton, soft and welcoming as a featherbed. He had an insane urge to dive into them, but a gap revealing the ground far below reminded him of where he was.

  ‘You’ll get used to it,’ Lieutenant Cavendish said over her shoulder. ‘The first time I flew, I threw up over the side.’

  ‘I wish you hadn’t said that,’ Arcturus groaned, feeling his stomach give a sudden lurch. He was not the only one feeling ill. Below him, he could sense that the demon was feeling nauseous as its box swung back and forth, and the hunger that gripped its belly was not helping matters.

  Lieutenant Cavendish swivelled in her seat and flashed him a grin.

  ‘You know, we’re going to be travelling together for the rest of the day, we might as well get to know each other. My name is Elizabeth Cavendish, what is yours?’

  ‘Arcturus, good to meet you,’ Arcturus said, proffering his hand and shaking hers awkwardly. He hesitated, then asked. ‘You’re very young to be an officer, aren’t you?’

  ‘My, my, aren’t you the forthright one!’ she laughed, tossing her hair from her face. ‘Actually, I’ve just graduated from Vocans, so I’m twenty years old. All graduates go on to become officers, but I’m just a Second Lieutenant, the lowest rank possible. I’m glad of it to be honest, what with the baby on the way. The less responsibility the better!’

  ‘You’re having a baby? Shouldn’t you be resting, instead of fighting in the army?’ Arcturus asked.

  ‘Nonsense,’ she scoffed, giving him a prod. ‘Maybe in a few months, but I’ll go home when I’m good and ready, thank you very much! Of course, most nobles my age have children as soon as they graduate, if not before, so the army are very understanding.’

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ Arcturus asked.

  ‘Don’t you know anything?’ Elizabeth asked, then smacked her forehead. ‘I keep forgetting you’re just a commoner. Very strange business, you’ll have to fill me in on the way.’

  Arcturus bristled at the word ‘just’ but forgave her for it almost instantly. Of all the nobles he had met, she was by far the nicest, and didn’t mean any offence.

  ‘Nobles have children early because only our first born children are guaranteed to inherit the ability to summon as well as our estate. If I was to die in battle tomorrow, the Cavendish line would be cut off forever! Better to leave a successor, just in case. Luckily for me, the Aerial Corps is a pretty safe job at the moment. We do a bit of scouting, keep an eye on Hominum’s borders, avoid the occasional orc javelin here and there. Pretty simple stuff.’

  It made a lot of sense, but it made Arcturus feel almost sorry for the nobles. Imagine having to marry so young, even if you hadn’t met your soulmate yet!

  As if she could read his mind, Elizabeth smiled and clicked open a heart shaped locket that hung around her neck. A tiny painting of a handsome, mousy haired man sat within.

  ‘I was one of the lucky ones. I found the love of my life early on. He was a servant at Vocans and a commoner, like you. You’re probably the only person I can tell who won’t judge me for that. It is custom for the first born nobles to marry the second or third born from another noble house. It’s caused quite some controversy at the academy, I can tell you. I guess I’m lucky that you’re going to Vocans now. Maybe they’ll have something else to gossip about.’

  As far as Arcturus knew, marrying a commoner was unheard of. He was glad in a way, for it meant that perhaps not all nobles viewed commoners as the Favershams did. At the same ti
me, Elizabeth’s talk of gossip made him anxious about how he would be received at the academy.

  ‘Come on, we have a lot of ground to cover if we’re to get there before sunset. You can tell me your story on the way.’

  They flew through the day and night, the endless cloudscape broken by glimpses of the ground below. Arcturus tried not to look down, for the lurching of the Peryton’s wings made his stomach uneasy. Instead, he distracted himself by telling Elizabeth his story.

  He found himself going all the way back to his childhood, from the early years of starvation and backbreaking labour in the workhouse, to the endless beatings and abuse at the hands of the innkeeper. Elizabeth spoke very little, but he knew she was listening for she would occasionally interrupt to ask him to describe something further. She was as fascinated by his life as he was hers, and he suspected that she was unaware of the plight the orphans of Hominum faced, despite her common husband. For a moment he thought he saw a tear trickle down her face, though whether it was the harsh winds that tore at their faces or his words that brought them forth, he did not know.

  As the sunset cast a rosy glow over the cloud bank and Hubertus began his descent, Arcturus reached the end of his story. Somehow, it had felt good to let it all out. He realised she probably knew more about him now than anyone in the world.

  He was about to ask where Vocans was, but his mouth fell open, speechless, as it came into view. Four crenelated towers stretched into the sky on each corner of a vast, shadowed castle. It was a perfect square, but for a crescent shaped courtyard surrounded by high walls. A band of murky, black water surrounded it; a moat that could only be crossed by a heavy drawbridge. In the dim light of dusk, Arcturus could see hundreds of lights glowing from behind thin windows. It was a giant building, larger than anything he had seen before, as vast and immoveable as a mountain.

  They glided expertly into the courtyard, circling until they landed on the cobblestones. Arcturus felt a flash of relief from his demon as the box thudded into the ground behind them.