“Most horses would have done just that if all you did was clean this wound. You have an uncanny way with horses…although I suspect it’s not just horses,” the captain said as he rummaged through his bag for a packet of herbs to make a poultice. “Are you sure you’re not a mage?”
Burchard gasped, his eyes narrowing in anger. “Me, a mage?” His temper flared. “How can you say that?”
The captain held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry…it’s just some mages can, you know…talk to animals. Some can even become animals. I just thought…”
Burchard growled before forcing words out. “I am not a mage. Just because I like animals and they like me doesn’t mean there is magic involved.” Burchard paced in the aisle, furious that the captain, who he thought was his friend, could even suggest that he had magic. Old memories flashed through his mind.
“Burchard!” his mother called.
A young boy with a mop of curly blond hair, not more than five, came running to the house, carrying a squirming puppy.
“Momma, can I keep him?” he asked quietly, eyes hopeful. His mother was about to answer him when she gazed down at the puppy. Big, dark gray, with golden eyes and huge teeth.
“Wolf!” she screamed and yanked at Burchard’s arms, causing him to drop the puppy. His mother picked him up and ran back into the house screaming, “Wolf! Wolf!”
He thought he heard the puppy yelp but wasn’t sure as his mother carried him farther and farther into the castle, away from his puppy. Finally, she set him down and kneeled in front of him.
“How could you do that, Burchard? Endanger all of us with a wolf?” she said angrily, shaking him.
“It’s just…it’s just a puppy,” Burchard whispered, trying to keep himself from crying. Heavy footsteps came in behind them, and Burchard gulped in fear.
“You brought a wolf into this house. Why?” said General George Wolfensberger in his quiet, scary voice.
Lip quivering, Burchard turned to face his father. “The puppy is my friend.”
“The puppy is a wolf…you cannot be friends with a wolf. They are wild animals and not trustworthy.” His father paused, and a strange look crossed his face. He grabbed Burchard’s chin hard and turned his face this way and that. “Are you a mage, boy?”
Burchard shook. “A…mmmm…mmm…. mage?”
The General looked at his wife. “We need to have him tested.”
A shiver went down Burchard’s spine as he tried to shake off the old memories. The testing had been physically and mentally brutal. Because they had thought he had animal magic, they tortured him to try to get him to shift into one. Then, when that didn’t work, they went to work on the wolf puppy.
He turned and headed back down the aisleway toward the captain. “I assure you, Captain Thomas, that I am not a mage. The General made sure of that long ago.”
He watched the captain digest that tidbit of information as he finished applying the poultice to the horse. In Etria, for as long as Burchard could remember, mage testing was accomplished by pushing a child suspected to be a mage until they performed magic. Usually, heightened emotion was the trigger. Because having a mage in the family usually increased their status in the eyes of the king, families went to great lengths to be sure that child was a mage. Burchard had made a vow to himself after his testing that he would never allow anyone to be tested like that, not if he could help it. Nine years later, he still wasn’t sure how he would accomplish that—other than if he were blessed with children of his own, to not permit them to be tested in such a way.
Captain Thomas coughed. “I will leave you instructions for how to make more of the poultice. You’ll need to change it out once a day for a week. Stall rest only. After the week, you can begin hand-walking, two laps around the training yard twice a day for two weeks. Then, we’ll see. I would advise finding a horse you can borrow for the time being. I’m sure your knight master is going to need you to be able to ride.” The captain led the horse into a stall and removed its bridle before stepping out. He offered the bridle to Burchard.
Burchard took it. “Thank you.”
The captain nodded, gathered his things, and departed. Burchard watched the captain leave and then finished putting away his riding gear in the room at the far end of the stable that was set aside for such things. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he headed out of the stable and walked face-first into someone much taller than he was.
“Sorry,” he muttered and was greeted by a familiar chuckle. Taking a hasty step backward, Burchard looked up. His knight master, a tall, lanky man with short-cropped brown hair and a graying beard, peered down at him with bright green eyes.
“Sir Peter,” Burchard said with a bow.
“I heard you had trouble with bandits today,” Sir Peter Windemere said casually.
Burchard bit back his initial response. Sir Peter was much more easygoing than his father, but he’d been serving under him for barely a month and didn’t feel confident in their relationship yet. “Yes, sir. Captain Thomas helped patch up my horse,” he replied, hoping Sir Peter would move out of the way so he could go get cleaned up before the dinner bell rang.
“Tomorrow morning, we are supposed to practice with Sir Daniel and Squire Ruschmann,” Sir Peter informed Burchard as he stepped to the side so the squire could pass.
Burchard let a small smile escape as he moved past Sir Peter toward their barracks. His knight master would not get reprimanded for being late, but Burchard definitely would. “They’re here?” Still smiling, he recalled the last conversation he had with Ruschmann, when his friend had mentioned they could be coming north when he saw him this past spring, but he hadn’t had any word since then. Although Ruschmann Blackwell was a year older than Burchard, Burchard had found that he had more in common with him than he had with his own brothers. They had spent many evenings together practicing sword work or going over assignments the three years they were pages together.
Sir Peter nodded and turned, heading toward the barracks they were assigned to. “Yes. I don’t know how long they will be here for, but it should be least a few days. There have been some small skirmishes at the Stinyia border with rebels, and I believe Sir Daniel is headed there.” Burchard was about to ask another question when Sir Peter held his hand up to stop him. “No, we haven’t gotten any orders yet. It is only a matter of time though.”
Burchard opened the door to the barracks and followed Sir Peter in. He went straight for his bed and small chest of drawers. Burchard pulled out a clean tunic, pants, and undergarments.
“You’d better hurry!” Sir Peter called from farther back in the room.
Sighing and wishing he had time for a bath, Burchard hastily yanked off his boots and stripped, dropping his stinky clothing in a heap and pulling on the clean clothes. Then, Burchard walked to Sir Peter’s space. The knight had the same bed, a slightly larger chest of drawers, and a desk.
“The water is still warm. You should at least clean the dirt off your face.”
Burchard took the washcloth off the rim of the bucket and dunked it before scrubbing his face. When finished, he looked in the mirror. Bright blue eyes peered back at him. His blond hair was matted and in need of a comb or a haircut.
Gong!
“We’re out of time,” Sir Peter said, standing up. Burchard glanced at his knight master, unspoken question in his eyes. “You’re presentable enough. He knows you had to take care of the horse.”
Burchard didn’t comment, not feeling nearly as confident as Sir Peter that his father wouldn’t chew him out for his appearance and clear lack of a bath.
2
Burchard followed Sir Peter into the dining hall within Alderth Castle. The dining hall was situated in the center of the castle. High overhead were large wood beams. Huge metal circles hung from the beams, holding oil lamps that provided the light for the room. The castle staff would lower and raise them using a pulley system that was somehow hidden within the beams. In the center of the dining hall was the main table that ran the length of the whole room. The loud rumble of the officers’ voices made it difficult to pick out any individual. Weaving through the crowd, Sir Peter led them toward the head of the table where the General was sitting. The seats at his immediate right and left were open, while the others were full. As they approached, Burchard caught his father’s eye and gave him a brief salute. General Wolfensberger nodded in acknowledgement and waved his hand to indicate the empty seats were for Burchard and Sir Peter.
