Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 50

The sun shone. The insects clicked and chirped in the long grasses of the Enclosures. The door to one of the training-arenas swung slowly open and a young boy emerged. He closed the door carefully. His thick training armour creaked as he walked across to the nearby water troughs, where another boy, much smaller than himself, sat inspecting the training stick in his hand. The smaller boy had a bandage wrapped around his head, and a look of concentration on his sun darkened features as he ran his fingers along the stick's edge, inspecting its new scars for splinters.

The first boy reached the nearest trough and placed his ungainly training helmet on its edge, then pulled a pair of gauntlets from his belt and placed them carefully beside it. Then he scooped up a twin handful of water and tipped it over his dark hair. With that done, he began to remove the rest of his clumsy armour. The other boy watched him for a few minutes as he loosened the armour's buckles. He removed the vambrace of one arm, and placed it beside the gauntlets and helmet.

"Well?" said the boy who sat watching him.

"Well, what?"

The smaller boy scooped up a handful of water and flicked it across the trough. The taller boy continued to work, ignoring the droplets of water as they pattered across his front.

"You know something, Grifford. I reckon that sometimes you act deliberately thick headed."

"Sometimes it does not pay to act too clever, Field-hand Maddock. Look at my sister if you want an example of that."

Maddock grinned.

"So tell me. How did it go?"

Grifford looked over at the training arena he had just left.

"Fine," he said. The Field-hand rolled his eyes, and Grifford returned his attention to his buckles. "How was your own training?"

"Better than fine," Maddock said, and grinned again.

Grifford, sensing the other boy's mirth, looked up.

"I do not know what you are so pleased about, Field-hand. My father rejected your idiotic wishes."

Maddock shrugged.

"Not completely."

"Completely enough. I'm surprised he did not throw you to the Pride for your impertinence. It is what I would have done."

"Ah, Griff, you don't mean that."

Grifford shook his head. The boy was right, he didn't mean that. The field-hand did not deserve to be thrown to the Pride for his final act of bravery. The day before, he'd stood before his father, and the new Grand-commander of Klinberg had asked him what reward he desired for his services.

Grifford had nearly choked when the Field-hand gave his reply, and Tahlia had hooted with laughter. Their father had laughed as well, until he saw that the boy was being serious.

'I owe you a great deal,' he had said. 'But I cannot make you a squire. Those are laws I cannot change.' The Field-hand had nodded, but continued to look sullen. 'But take heart, boy. Unprecedented things have taken place in the past week. Factors in this world are changing. Only the Oracles know what waits in our future.'

Grifford shrugged at the memory of his father's words, and went back to unbuckling his armour, and Maddock went back to studying his training stick.

"Your father's answer was the closest thing to a promise I'll ever get," he said. "So you never know."

"I admire your optimism, Field-hand, but you know I don't agree with your desires."

"Maybe your father does." Maddock patted the slim package sitting on the trough beside him. "He gave me this, after all."