The Mages of Royas Bay (Mages of Wrystan 1)

Chapter 13: Friends

STANDING IN THE little cubby room three doors down from his own suite, Hawk realised for the first time just how little Arien had. Casting nervous glances over his shoulder, the younger boy pulled his new school bag out from under the bed and opened the chest in the corner. The clothes he was wearing were standard for off-duty pages: brown breeches, a plain dark green tunic and a white shirt. He also had a couple of mage student uniforms; the black trousers, white shirt and navy tunic of a first-year. His last set of clothes was a mismatched guard uniform that Hawk had cobbled together for him back in the forest, out of the packs of dead men, replacing the scraps they'd found him in.

He had one pair of boots. The rest of his things consisted of notebooks, quills and a bottle of ink, standard issue for pages and students alike. Lastly, Arien gathered up Rowan from where he was snoozing on the bed and was ready to go. There wasn't a single sign left that anyone had lived in the tiny room at all.

It made Hawk feel uncomfortable, especially when he led Arien down the corridor to his own rooms. Not that they were palatial, in fact, by some standards they were downright poor for the son of a march. Hawk had never cared. He had a comfortable bed, a window to look out of, a desk to work on, space to do a few exercises and his own wash room.

Nothing special, perhaps, but it had been his home for the last three and a half years. As such it was packed with bits and pieces of his life, and they were only a fraction of the things he'd left at home this summer. Compared to Arien's bleak little bag, Hawk felt terrible.

Arien didn't seem to notice, dropping his bag by the door and letting Rowan down to roam. "Now I see why Mage Faron gave us the rest of the afternoon off."

Hawk appreciated his humour. "Sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting company." Or to be moving. He still wasn't sure why he had to. No one had mentioned anything about moving the year before. He was comfortable in the page wing.

Perhaps that was why. As Hawk strode over to the wardrobe to pull his travel bags out, he realised that even after a year at the mage school he still felt like a page first, mage second.

"We'll start with the basics," he told Arien, rummaging through his clothes chest for his practice gear. "Then I'll see about finding some crates and a cart or something."

Arien nodded and started packing the bags with whatever Hawk threw on the bed. He did it wordlessly, and Hawk realised something else: he was moving because of Arien. Aside from Sidony, he was the only student the boy knew. Arien had already been marked out as different by being kept away from the school. Once everyone realised he was a natural mage things would only get tougher.

It was a big responsibility, but it also soothed something inside Hawk. He didn't mind moving so much now. Not if he was needed.

"You're good at that," he said, watching Arien roll up shirts and tuck arm guards together. Not a bit of space was wasted.

Arien shot him a wry smile. "I've had plenty of practice."

It was the first time Hawk had ever heard him refer to his past. Had he done this when he was a slave? Had he started out with clothes and other things when he'd run away? The questions built inside him, but he didn't want to spoil the mood by asking. He had a feeling Arien would only close in on himself if he did. One day, perhaps his new friend might tell him about it. Until then Hawk would let him be.

While Arien packed the clothing, Hawk turned his attention to his weapon chest. He really needed to take the lot, but it would be a pain to have to run back and forth from the school with his weapons every day. Especially when he could never be certain which ones he'd need for training on any given morning.