Calum stared between Tramon and the unbroken fruit with a stupefied expression on his face, as if he had never fallen into such a situation in his life. Even a simpleton could tell that Tramon was an unparalleled expert after the momentary skill he’d just shown. Looking at all of the angry and judgemental glares that were digging into him from all sides, Calum shut his mouth and lifted his brother off of the ground, turning in a flustered manner to growl a warning to the old sword master. “The person you just assaulted is the future count of Caerson! Don’t think that you’ll get away with this.”
“I know I will. You two are just little rats that can’t stand on their own legs, same as your useless, pathetic parents.”
It became quiet enough to hear a pin drop, even Mr. Ashel’s eyebrows jumping towards the sky.
“What are you standing there for? Get the hell out of here!”
With Edmun’s arm over his shoulder, a red-faced Calum dragged his brother away from the training grounds and disappeared around a nearby corner. His exit coincided with a light chorus of cheers that came from the gathered disciples, who looked as if their frustration had been vented by a decent degree.
“Tramon,” said Mr. Ashel. “Why do you have to be like this?”
“That’s what I should be saying to you. I can’t believe you just let him hurt your disciple in such an underhanded way.”
“Do you think you helped him by intervening? You heard what that boy said. If the one you subdued just now is really to be the count of Caerson, then that means his father is the duke of Calis! Do you really think he’ll let this go so easily?”
Hearing their instructor’s voice, the surrounding disciples—especially Treves—grew visibly nervous.
“Daniel was one of the worst apprentices I’ve ever had. Should I be scared of that slob?” Turning to cast a sweeping gaze at the surrounding apprentices, he proclaimed, “If those boys try to give any of you a hard time, you come right to me. I don’t care if it’s their father or the king himself, they’ll be sent off in the same manner.”
Alistar wanted to bury his head in the dirt. After all of his efforts at befriending and placating his cousins, it had only taken a few moments of his master’s presence for everything to fall apart.
I need to leave.
Lessa and Anice remained quiet, giving him uncertain glances as if to ask whether or not they should follow after Calum. After a moment’s hesitation, he gave a subtle nod, but before he could attempt to slink away Tramon took a casual step and vanished from sight only for his voice to assail Alistar from behind.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“M—Master, I was just looking for you.”
Before he could turn around, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his neck and suddenly lost his vision. The last thing he heard before his consciousness faded away was Tramon’s disgruntled voice telling the girls to head home, and to let Caedmon know that Alistar would be staying at the collegia for the rest of the week.
***
Alistar blinked his eyes open to find them partially encumbered by a crusty layer of dried tears. His arms were completely numb, as if all of the blood within them had been drained.
This…why am I tied up? He was currently bound by a large amount of rope that had been looped around one of the taller branches of the tree that he usually meditated under, beneath which he hung like bait on a fishing hook.
“That was a really cowardly display back there. I’m disappointed in you.”
He took a moment to gather his wits, noticing Tramon nearby atop a wooden chair that he had dragged outside from within his house.
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“Master?”
“You’ve got some nerve, calling me that after not coming to my lessons. Also, why in the seven hells didn’t you give that cousin of yours a beating? Don’t tell me you were scared of him.”
“What was I supposed to do? I’m already walking on thin ice as it is!” Allowing a bit of helpless anger to slip into his voice, he cried, “Now that you’ve offended those two, they’ll surely take their anger out on Anne!”
“Then all you have to do is protect her. Or can you not even do that?”
“But what if my uncles—”
“Do you have such little faith in your master? Let me tell you, so long as you’re my disciple then nobody in this kingdom will go out of their way to bother you. Not unless they’ve got a death wish.” Coughing, he added, “As to whether or not you remain as my disciple, that’s yet to be seen.”
Tramon stood up with a light grunt, swirling the contents of a bottle that he was holding to get a feel for the amount inside. “Even though you went against my instructions, I’m a benevolent person so I’ll give you a chance to remain as my pupil. That rope is enchanted with a reinforcement spell, so your only hope of breaking it is by using a sharp blade, or some sort of saw.” The man’s balding head reflected the little sunlight that filtered through the treetop, calloused fingers tugging at his grizzled beard of grey strands as he stood there staring at his unfortunate disciple.
Alistar deflated as he saw the point that his master was making, feet dangling as he was slowly twirled around from the subtleties of his initial movements.
“Ah, you seem to understand.” Opening the door to his house and walking inside, he added, “Don’t think about asking anybody for help, either. The only way you’re leaving here is if you manage to break free on your own. And don’t expect any food.” With that, the door to the little home closed with a sharp click.
Alistar wanted to cry. To isolate him at the collegia after what had just happened, he not only risked offending his uncles with his absence but had also left Anice and Lessa alone in their task to entertain the Silverkin boys.
How can you do this to me, Master?
Smothering a frown and attempting to sideline his frustration, he began rocking his body back and forth until he was swinging like a pendulum. Once he’d gained enough momentum, he patiently chose the opportune moment to kick out with one of his legs and hook it around the branch above, pulling himself upward with only his lower body for leverage.
Blast it, he sighed, his leg aching from the maneuver. His master had made sure to leave a certain length of rope between him and the branch that he was tied to, which had forced him to be a bit rough with his movements.
After getting situated, he closed his eyes and began to meditate in anticipation of a long night of manipulating his swordsman’s aura. He could only make so many attempts before he ran out of energy, so he had to put as much focus and preparation as possible into each manifestation. The problem was that his hands were also bound behind his back, making it near impossible for him to get a proper angle with which to cut the rope even if he did succeed in condensing and sharping his swordsman’s aura to the desired degree.
A short while into his meditation, he was forced to cast a mending spell on his arms in order to return proper circulation to them in preparation for what was to come.
He made his first attempt about an hour after Tramon had retired into his home, deciding to try to cut the ropes that directly bound his hands before moving on to those that constricted his torso. After achieving the necessary mind state and manipulating the unique energy that ran throughout his body, Alistar coated his entire hand in a sleek layer of swordsman’s aura but immediately realized that the ropes were far too sturdy for his current composition and control to cut through.
I’ll need something more like a razor, he thought, maintaining focus as he condensed his swordsman’s aura around the index finger of his left hand. Like before, his attempt couldn’t even split a hair of the twined material, which told him that a reassessment of his approach was necessary. His next attempt came ten minutes later, when he arranged a thin extension of energy out of the tip of his finger. Unlike before, it wasn’t covering his skin but protruding outward from it.
Many streams of sweat dripped down Alistar’s body as he hung there in the shade of the tree, the air muggy with moisture as he struggled to maintain focus. Now that his energy wasn’t encasing a physical object, he had more leeway to adjust its size and shape. Not only that, he could thin it out and hone its edges with far more liberty, not having to account for the dimensions of his finger.
It was with a great sense of relief that he felt a few fibres of the rope give way, though this was only on one of the countless cords that covered his hands. In light of his sudden excitement, he lost focus for a brief moment and the energy at his fingertip dissipated like dust in the wind. Only this much… He gave his head a shake. Either way, he had seen progress. Rather than be discouraged at the paltriness of the results, his determination was doubled.
I can do it, he thought, closing his eyes and mimicking the same manipulation of energy as in his previous attempt. This time around, he managed to cut through an entire cord of rope before the little blade of energy ceased to exist. Feeling a bit of blood returning to his fingers without magical intervention, he began to smile. So long as he kept calm and patient, he would be able to return home before the evening was out.
***