7: In the Grass

Face down in the grass, covered in sweat and dust, Tad inched forward with all the patience his recent training could give him. He moved only when the wind blew, or when horses came and went, and hid him momentarily. Twenty-five paces away Mr. Brightstar was, for all appearances, standing in a field enjoying the afternoon air with a crossbow in his hands. Once in a while he would shoot a padded bolt into the grass seemingly at random.

Tad had a similar crossbow: if he could land a solid shot before being “killed” by his master, then he would win the game. Up to now Tad had always lost, but he wanted badly to win. Just once, he wanted to be the one to sneak up on Nolan Brightstar. But he would have to be patient.

Avra Basil, looking uncommonly sober and neat, strode over from the house to stand near Mr. Brightstar. When the elf had the halfling’s undivided attention for a moment, Tad moved forward.

“You are training the human boy again?”

“Yep.” Nolan punctuated this with a thunk as he sent another bolt swishing into the grassy field. “Every day.” There was a creak and a click as the weapon was reloaded.

“I came to ask you Nolan, because you see more than most.” Now another pair of eyes were sweeping the hillside, searching for tad. And these were elf eyes, which rumor had were sharper than any. “How is it the geas affected the sisters and the princess if the covenant is, as the dwarf states, a blood-bound oath?”

“Five hundred years is a long time, Avra, even for elves nowadays. There could be thousands of forgotten descendants of the Hemmets.” Thunk. Swish. “Maybe you should be asking Minzerek these questions.” Creak ... click.

“I tried, but he uses words only a wizard can understand.” Both men watched the grass intently for a while, and Tad’s muscles began to cramp from being still. “The sisters say their mother, the Baroness of Ardengard, felt no compunction. And Calanth says the same of her line. They three were the only ones to be compelled.”

“Princess Calanth had the box. And the sisters,” Thunk. Swish. “are some of the better Riders in the kingdom. Far better than the silver-hoarding nobility in Corak, to be sure.” Again there were sounds of reloading.

“They were chosen by the geas,” said the elf thoughtfully, “for what they could contribute. A very intelligent geas, which chooses its subjects. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“No,” said Mr. Brightstar, “never.” And for a moment the two men looked at each other.

That was Tad’s moment, and he was so excited about it he couldn’t stop shaking. He stood and, taking careful aim at Mr. Brightstar, let loose with a shot that went so wide it nearly hit the elf instead. Panicking, Tad tried to reload but couldn’t get a proper grasp on the string. He looked up just in time to see Avra with his bow and Mr. Brightstar with his crossbow, aiming at him with with smiles on their faces. The last thought Thaddius had, before the arrows hit him, was that they were enjoying this way too much.

The twin impacts lifted Tad entirely off his feet and threw him onto his back. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, and all he could see were the sky and bright spots floating in front of his eyes. Then there was Avra’s face, slightly blurry. “It was an admirable approach, young human, but your attack is pitiful. To attack unseen is the hunter’s advantage. To come boldly is the warrior’s. Use more stealth, or be more fierce. In between is ... not so good.” Avra nodded at the halfling and took his leave.

Nearly an hour later Thaddius was again within range of his mentor. And, this time, he was determined to wait. He spent a long time watching his master through the sights of his crossbow, aimed between silently parted blades of grass. His master, as was his habit in the late afternoons, was sipping from a flask of wine in between random shots into the grass. Eventually, Tad felt sure, something would happen to distract him.

Distraction arrived in the guise of Rider Aidan, dressed in breeches and a simple tunic, hair loose, and armed with only a dagger. It was disconcerting to see the normally armored and axe-wielding woman walking peaceably in the field like a commoner. “Nolan, I’d like a word.”

“Shoot,” said the halfling, sending a bolt into the grass. “but no talking in the afternoon without something to cool the tongue.”

Aidan took the offered flask and drank. “A halfling custom?”

“Common sense,” said Nolan, taking back his flask. “now what is on your very tall mind, Rider Aidan?” Thunk. Swish. Reload. “Or should I say, Lady Aidan?”

“Please,” she waved away the idea with the greatest indifference, “everyone knows we’re bastards. We’re three generations of women of uncertain parentage.”

“Funny thing about bastards,” said Mr. Brightstar significantly, “anyone could be the father.” What was that expression that passed over her face? Was it contempt, of the need for husbands and fathers? Was it satisfaction, of knowing something others don’t? Tad was almost sure his master hadn’t seen it, focused as he was on finding himself.

Aidan, Lady or not, stuck to her present business. “You can’t take your apprentice on this trip. It’s too dangerous for him.”

“Legally, he’s my indentured servant.” Thunk. Swish. “So I only have a minimal obligation for his safety.”

“You can’t bring him. We have no idea what we’re facing.”

“That is why it’s called adventure,” insisted Mr. Brightstar, “because you don’t know what will happen. ” Creak ... click. “Anyway, I can’t leave him behind. What will he do? And he needs his lessons.”

“I think he can do a lot better than learning to be a sneak thief.”

“I prefer gentleman adventurer. I hardly ever steal anything.” Thunk. Swish. “From anyone living, that is.”

“And what do you think will happen when the fighting starts? He isn’t even grown yet.”

“He’ll HIDE.” Thunk. Swoosh. This bolt landed less than a foot from Tad’s face, but he didn’t so much as blink an eye, so intent was he on keeping his aim on Mr. Brightstar’s heart.

“What,” said Aidan with exasperation, “are you shooting at?”

“Tad, I hope.”

“He’s out there? Where?” She shielded her eyes against the sun and scanned the field.

“It’s rather the point that you don’t know, isn’t it? That’s why it’s called hiding.” Nolan worked the mechanism of the crossbow, “Or maybe he fell asleep. Or one of the horses stepped on him.” For some reason the trigger mechanism wasn’t catching.

“I’ve spoken to Lady Calanth,” pressed Aidan, still looking for Tad, “and she’s willing to take him on in her household. He can do the horses for her, or be a valet or something.” Tad for a moment considered changing targets, but the movement might give away his position.

Mr. Brightstar turned to face the tall woman in anger, “You haven’t the right! I’m not letting her turn him into some kind of ... houseboy.”

And that was when Tad shot him, right in the chest. The little man went toppling backwards with a cry and landed hard somewhere out of sight. Aidan bent over Nolan pityingly, “Oooh, that’s going to hurt tomorrow.”

Tad carefully cocked his bow, while sputtering sounds came from Mr. Brightstar general direction. “It hurts a lot right now,” he groaned. “And I’d watch out if I were you.”

“What do you mean?” Aidan straightened up and resumed looking for Thaddius, who was loading his crossbow as fast as he dared. “You don’t think he’ll shoot me by accident do you?”

“No, not by accident,” said the disembodied voice.

Understanding hit her face before Tad was truly ready, so he was forced to rush the shot. The bolt swished through the blades of grass and hit her hard in the upper arm so hard the shaft snapped. Aidan’s eyebrows flew up into her hair in surprise and, Tad thought, approval. But then things started to go badly.

Aidan bowed over Nolan briefly, and Mr. Brightstar’s sword appeared in her “uninjured” hand. She crouched, disappearing in to the grass. Tad could hear her moving, swiftly. She was coming for him, and it was going to hurt. He reloaded as fast as he could, and barely got the padded bolt into place before she found him. She exploded out of grass and bore down on him, sword in hand, the joy of battle on her face.

And Tad froze. For a heartbeat, he was caught in the certainty that his life was over. He was going to die in the princess’ hay fields, brained or sliced open by a madwoman for the sheer joy of it.

Then something kicked into life in Tad’s body, an animal instinct to preserve his life no matter what the cost. He rolled away from her attack as her blade cleanly cut through a yard of grass. He kept trying to move away from her, backpedaling, but she moved with him, not letting him out of the range of her sword, never letting him up. Then she was standing right over him, sword poised for the killing blow.

Tad aimed his crossbow straight up and pulled the trigger. The bolt hit her solidly, right there, and she didn’t even flinch. They just looked at each other for a moment, Aidan standing with the small sword in her fist, and Tad on the ground with the spent crossbow still in his hand.

“You did not just do that,” she said, and clubbed him with the pommel of Mr. Brightstar’s sword.

----

Tad woke suddenly, like one does when he realizes he has overslept and is late for something. Somebody was shouting.

“I’ll thank you for not killing my apprentice until AFTER he’s trained,”

“I thought he wasn’t your apprentice. And he’s fine,” she said encouragingly, “Look, he’s breathing.” Tad was hauled up onto his feet so fast his head spun. While getting his decidedly wobbly legs under him, he tried to remember what was so important that it had woken him up. “See, he’s standing.”

“Only because you’re holding him up. Let me have him, you’d break a fence post if you leaned on it.”

“He shot me.” Aidan draped one of Tad’s unresponsive limbs over Nolan’s shoulders. “Twice.”

“Good, you deserved it.” The halfling took Tad’s weight and got him moving towards the big house. “Come on boy, let’s get you some rest.”

Tad suddenly remembered what was so important. “I don wanna be a valay,” he tried to say very carefully, “don make me a valay, okay? Bein' house boy is boring. Sounds dumb.”

“Fine,” sighed Aidan, “you can come. Come and be a sneak thief for us.”

“Genlman venturer,” slurred Thaddius.

“You tell her, kid.”