1. Jhareth's Battle

Jhareth hit the ground hard, rolling through the dirt and skidding to a stop about six feet from the sparring area. His opponent, a large, brown-haired boy named Tarias, stood before him with a smirk on his face. Tarias was built like a baby bull, and it took little effort for him to lift Jhareth to his feet by the front of his tunic. Jhareth broke the boy's grip and gave him a hard shove. Tarias barely budged, but responded by burying his fist into Jhareth's stomach.

"Tarias, that's enough!" shouted Instructor Owen as Jhareth doubled over. "This is not battle. You are supposed to be practicing those throws I showed you."

"Sorry, Instructor, it won't happen again." Tarias put his best smile forth, but his face turned to shock when Jhareth swept his legs out from under him. He cried out in surprise as his back hit the ground.

The rest of the cadets had stopped sparring so they could watch the exchange. Out of the corner of his eye, Jhareth saw Nerris and Dist heading his way. They smelled a fight, and wanted in. However, Tarias was his. Both boys regained their feet, Tarias's teeth and fists clenched. Instructor Owen sighed, seemingly resigned to the fact that they were going to fight no matter what he said.

Tarias charged, swinging wildly. Jhareth weaved his lithe frame between the blows, waiting for his opening. Eventually Tarias overreached and Jhareth ducked under his right arm, giving him a knee to the sternum. The air rushed out of Tarias's lungs and he backed up a step. Jhareth charged and tackled, sending them both to the dirt once again. Jhareth emerged in a mounted position and rained fists down on his opponent. Tarias got his hands up and sent a knee of his own into Jhareth's midsection. It was Jhareth's turn for an airless cry, and Tarias slugged him hard in the jaw.

Jhareth fell to his back and Tarias stood. An evil smile spread across his face and he stepped forward, only for his pants to fall around his ankles, displaying dirt stained breeches. The other cadets howled with laughter as Jhareth held up the belt he had swiped from Tarias's waist as they grappled in the dirt.

Owen tried to stifle a grin with one hand, but failed. Nonetheless, he resumed his authority once he composed himself. "All right, both of you stop at once! Jhareth, give him his belt back."

Jhareth held out the strap and Tarias pulled at it. Jhareth allowed the bigger boy to bring him to his feet before letting go of the belt. Tarias stumbled backward, still trying to hold up his pants with his other hand. Nerris applauded for Jhareth as Dist made mocking whistles to Tarias.

"Enough from the cheering section," Owen told them. He looked at Jhareth and Tarias. "If you two have such energy to spend, you'll spend it in the stables. You both have dung sweepers' duty tomorrow morning."

The rest of the class fell silent. Dung sweeping was their least favorite punishment. The grin disappeared from Jhareth's face. "He's the one who started swinging!" he protested.

Owen fixed him with a stare from his blue eyes. "Yes, but you not only had to retaliate, but humiliate the lad. You need to control your impulses, Jhareth. And you." He turned to Tarias. "You were obviously never taught to fight properly. Jhareth was able to take you down because he picked his spot instead of going in with fists flying. Discipline will always trump pure rage."

Owen dismissed them after that, as the lesson was nearly over anyway. Tarias walked off in a huff and Jhareth rejoined his friends, who had been practicing throws on the other side of the yard. They headed off to the mess hall for their midday meal.

Their sparring area was but one of many within Gauntlet's massive bailey. There were ladders and walls for scaling practicing, and catwalks as well for staff dueling, and an enclosed stretch of dirt where huge logs swung back and forth in an alternating pattern, so that cadets might practice their dexterity or else be felled by one of the swinging limbs. Jhareth still had not gotten used to the strange structures and obstacles in Gauntlet, all designed to make a cadet into a great warrior.

The mess hall was bustling with activity, as always. With over two hundred cadets and ten instructors and only three quarters of an hour to eat, every day was a bit of a scramble. Though Jhareth yearned to be out in the sun instead of the rank, sweaty hall, eating outside was a privilege reserved for those in their third year and up. Once they had their so-called food, a bean porridge with some honey mixed in and a jug of water, they were still early enough to have their pick of the tables.

Jodeth Blackwine and Errin Staker soon joined them. Though some of the nobles looked down on the commoners admitted to Gauntlet, Jodeth and Errin did not. When they met Jodeth on their first day of classes, Errin was already joined at the hip to him. Jodeth was on the short side, but a strapping lad all the same. Errin was blonde-haired, and would have been pretty if not for the mottled scar running up the side of her face and past her brow, making her hair in that area white and brittle. She had been lucky as a child; the sickness which had claimed her spared her life, but left her disfigured. Jodeth relayed the tale of Jhareth's fight to Errin as he sat down, already spooning food into his mouth.

Errin grimaced when he got to the punishment. "Don't let it get you down," she told Jhareth. "It was brave of you to stand up to Tarias. Almost no one else does."

"I think he could have taken you, though," Nerris said.

Jhareth smiled. "Thanks for your support, Nerris. You can carve that on my grave marker someday if you like."

"At least you've had some excitement in your day," Errin said. "Instructor Leta had us copying notes onto parchment all morning. My hand feels like it's about to fall off."

There were two types of schedules at Gauntlet. Combat Intensive focused on hand-to-hand combat, hunting and common weapons, along with less active classes like arithmetic, geography and history. Errin had those classes as well, but her schedule was Healing Intensive. Her days would consist of learning human anatomy, medicine and surgery. Gauntlet was a school for warriors, but every battlefield had need of healers.

"Why did you pick Healing Intensive if you want some action in your life?" Dist asked her.

Errin ran her hand across her scar. "It's always been my dream to find a cure for the plague that did this to me. No lady should ever have to look as I do. Healing Intensive can be rather dull, however."

"Healthier, though." Nerris touched a long gash on his arm.

Jhareth grinned. "Is Nerris upset about the little scratch I gave him?" He batted his eyes outrageously. "Maybe you should switch schedules with Errin."

"You're just mad because I threw you in that mud puddle yesterday."

"Is that what it was?" Jhareth asked. "I thought you were so terrified of my skills that it was a puddle of your piss."

"Do you always have this many witty comments in the morning?"

Jhareth smiled. "I'm full of them."

Nerris scoffed. "You're full of something, all right."

Everyone shared a laugh as they finished their lunch. This had all happened so fast to Jhareth that it seemed ages ago when they set out for Haladast with no money and no weapons. Their purpose had been to set out to the city of Orrigo so they could attend Gauntlet, a dream he, Nerris and Dist had shared for a number of years. He had thought they were through for sure after the incident in Bendel's Square, where they had killed a demon that they unwittingly unleashed. With the help of a statue, oddly enough. Instead, they had attracted the attention of Rhodias, one of Gauntlet's instructors, and he put in a word for them with the headmaster. They had been accepted just in time for the autumn term to start.

Jodeth's eyes left their table and he nodded toward a table across the mess hall. "Look over there."

Jhareth swung his body around. Tarias sat a table almost directly across from them, next to a sullen-faced youth with long, black hair. Jhareth recognized Valez Vaed, a cadet one year above them. On Valez's other side sat a beast of a girl taller than either of them, and almost as muscular as Instructor Rhodias. All three were staring straight at him, expressionless.

"Looks like you have some admirers," Nerris commented. "I'm guessing Valez and Maria don't appreciate Tarias's side of the story."

"Let them come," Jhareth said. "There's five of us if they want to do more than stare. Errin, you can take Maria."

Errin's eyes widened. "No way!"

Their view was obstructed as Instructor Owen walked between them. He glanced between the two tables. "Don't even think about it," he warned.

"Who, me?" Jhareth asked.

"Especially you," Owen said. "If you start any more trouble, I'll make sure all of you are much too busy to enjoy the sevenday, much less the Festival of the Saint. Don't forget that you and Tarias have dung sweepers' duty tomorrow. Some fourth years already got into a tiff earlier, so our own stables will be well in hand. You and Tarias will be heading to Castle Feigh to muck out their stables at first light."

Jhareth frowned as Owen walked away. As if he didn't already have enough to do. Classes started at dawn, and this was their only respite before they resumed for another three hours. Since he and Dist had never been taught how to read, they then had special classes during the evening with Instructor Farcia with the intention of catching them up to the standard of their fellow cadets. On top of that, since he, Dist and Nerris didn't have the backing of a noble family, they worked off their tuition by doing various odd jobs around the school: cleaning, washing clothes, serving food, scrubbing pots. At least he hadn't drawn turnip duty this week, as the cadets called it. He wouldn't be able to enjoy his lunch with his friends if he was dishing out gruel.

"Thank goodness for the sevenday," Jhareth said. "And thank goodness for the Church of Clystam. If they didn't forbid it, they'd probably be working us every day of the week."

"Don't forget the Festival of the Saint," Jodeth said. "That will be another welcome break. There are always lots of revels to be had."

"Sure, if you have the coin," Jhareth said. Saint Bendel's great victory over the demon-worshipping Calmarans was commemorated with a holiday the Agosseans called the Festival of the Saint, which would occur in two days. Dancing, drinking, competitions and even a parade would be just a few of the festivities he planned to enjoy.

"My father sent me some," Jodeth said. "Quite more than I was expecting, in truth. I think he wants me to... well... visit--" He cast a sideways glance at Errin.

"A brothel," Jhareth said. "You can say it, Jodeth, we're all friends."

Jodeth blushed. "Like I said, he sent me more coin than necessary. I'm a little nervous at the thought, though. I've never... would you all come with me? I'll share the coin."

"I don't know, my time is a valuable commodity." Jhareth put a hand on Jodeth's shoulder. "Very well, Jodeth, I'll make the sacrifice. For the sake of camaraderie if nothing else."

"You two are disgusting," Errin said. "We're Gauntlet. We're supposed to be more honorable than that."

Jhareth laughed. "It's our nature. We're men, after all. Or we will be after the festival."

Jodeth looked at Nerris. "How about it?"

Nerris raised an eyebrow. "Thank you all the same, Jodeth, but I'll pass." That didn't surprise Jhareth. They had all discovered the charms of women around the same time, but Nerris seemed terrified of them. He couldn't talk to one without going red in the face.

"Dist?" Jodeth asked.

Dist frowned. "I agree with Errin. There's nothing honorable in prostitution."

"What do you have against streetwalkers?" Jhareth asked.

"It's just wrong." Dist shook his head. "For everyone involved. They lure otherwise honest men away from their wives, and for what? Coupling with some diseased, half-starved wench for a mere quarter of an hour's pleasure."

Jhareth chuckled. "A quarter of an hour for you, maybe."

2. Dung Sweepers' Duty

Jhareth awoke before sunrise the next morning, and did his best to get ready without disturbing his bunkmates. Since they had been admitted to the school shortly before the term, he, Nerris and Dist had to take what space had been available. Nerris and Dist ended up in the same sleeping cell, but Jhareth shared his with four other first years. It was how he had met Jodeth, who snored lightly in the bunk above him.

He laced his boots and put on an old tunic, one he didn't mind getting dung stains on. He opened the door and crept down the winding stairs to the common room the first and second years shared. Nerris and Dist were already up, talking quietly next to one of the divans. Tarias stood in the corner by the fireplace, eyeing them with trepidation.

Jhareth yawned. "What's going on?"

"We thought it might go faster if we helped," Nerris said. "Lord Feigh's stables are not small."

"Besides, this is all his fault anyway." Dist jammed a thumb in Tarias's direction. "We can't let a severe injustice like this go on."

"You'll get in trouble if anyone catches you," Jhareth said.

Nerris shrugged. "What are they going to make us do that's more disgusting than this?"

"How did you convince Tarias not to go telling tales?"

"We merely pointed out that we know where he sleeps," Dist said, "and Valez can't protect him from the second year cells."

Jhareth grinned. "I knew there was a reason I let you two tag along with me. Shall we go, then?"

Gauntlet had no staff other than the instructors, the headmaster and the cook. Its walls were manned by other cadets, so it was not too difficult to convince the gate sentries that four of them were being sent to Castle Feigh for punishment instead of two. They trudged downhill where the path intersected the main road and followed it east to the city walls.

The watch was used to having Gauntlet cadets at its gates before dawn. Jhareth and Tarias were not the first boys to be sent down to Lord Feigh's stables. They were admitted without question. From the west gate it was not a long walk to the castle, which was situated at the top of a bluff overlooking the Aristian Sea.

"What comes?" called a sentry on the parapet.

"Cadets from Gauntlet," Jhareth called back, "sent to muck out his lordship's stables."

"You boys got in trouble, huh? Well, come right in." He shouted to the other guards, and the portcullis slowly rose.

Jhareth entered the bailey, trying to ignore the guards' snickers. A sentry in a conical helm and blue surcoat guided them to the stables, but Jhareth knew the way. After the fight in Bendel's Square, they had been invited to the castle they had once served as honored guests. Lord Feigh was too smart not to realize it had been they who had stolen the demon idol from his stores in the first place, but he had played dumb to accede to his sister's wishes. Lady Aledine had become quite smitten with Nerris, and she had vouched for them. Thus, they spent a fortnight in the company of lords and ladies while they waited for Gauntlet's decision on their admittance.

This was not the time for visits, however. The sun was not yet up and the castle still asleep. Jhareth tightened his cloak against the chilly air as crickets chirped all around him. The stables were located under the western wall, near the castle's secondary gate. It was rank inside, and the horses stubborn at being awakened so they could be moved from their stalls. They worked quickly, for they still had to be back at Gauntlet at dawn for morning drills. The castle would surely report back to Gauntlet how much they had accomplished, to determine if they had lazed about or not.

Upon finishing their fourth stall, Tarias pushed a wheelbarrow full of dung-crusted hay toward the door. His boots were slick from equine refuse and he slipped, tipping the wheelbarrow sideways and spilling all the hay to the ground. He climbed to his feet, swearing.

"Nice going," Nerris said. "If you're going to be the one making the mess, Tarias, perhaps we can ask Lord Feigh to give you your own stall."

"Bugger your stalls," Tarias said. "This is disgusting. I was never made to stoop to such work at Murkwater."

Jhareth assumed that was where House Dinge resided. "That's sort of the idea. Every cadet swears allegiance to Gauntlet for the duration of their stay. Father Dearest can't save you right now."

"Shut up," Tarias said. "It's your fault we're here to begin with."

"How do you figure?"

"He's just a spoiled nobleman," Dist said. "They've all convinced themselves that their lies are the truth."

Tarias clenched his fists and stalked toward Jhareth.

Nerris sighed. "Come on, you two, do you want to be spending every morning in here? Dist and I are helping out right now, but I'll have had my fill of this place after today."

Another fight was just fine with Jhareth. They might as well finish what they started, with no instructor to interrupt. He crouched into the fighting stance Instructor Owen had shown him and waited. As fancies ran through his head of knocking Tarias into the dung pile he had just emptied, a flash of white moved past the stable window and caught his eye.

"What--" he said, standing.

Tarias saw his gaze drift past him and stopped also, wondering what was happening. He looked uncertainly between Jhareth and the stable doors.

"Did you see that?" Jhareth asked Nerris.

Nerris nodded. "It looked like someone with white hair. Let's have a look."

He, Nerris and Dist walked toward the door as Tarias's arms drooped. "It's probably just some guard," he said. They paid no heed as they headed out of the stables. Nerris grabbed a pitchfork leaning against the wall. "Come on," Tarias called. "We have to head back to Gauntlet soon. I'll... I'll tell Owen about Nerris and Dist helping."

They ignored his threat and continued on. After spending so much time in the castle, Jhareth knew most of the men who worked here by sight, if not by name. No one but guards were up at this hour, true, but something seemed off about what he had seen. Whoever it had been was not going on a casual stroll past the stables. The figure had been crouched, quick and moving with purpose. He had been taught to observe and trust his instincts from a young age, and something seemed out of place.

They looked around the yard, but didn't spot anyone, or their hair. "Maybe we just saw Dist's reflection," Nerris said. It was true, Dist's hair was so blond it could seem whiter in the dark.

Dist tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the wall of the keep. It took Jhareth a moment to notice, but he finally saw. It seemed as if part of the wall was moving... no, it wasn't the wall, but a cloak painted to look like the sectioned gray stones. Someone was scaling the keep.

"What is he doing?" Nerris asked.

"I don't know, but that's the part of the keep where the Feighs reside," Jhareth said. "Dist, go get one of the gate guards."

Dist ran off, and returned with a sentry a few moments later. The man looked severely annoyed. "What are you churls playing at?" he said. "This pudgy whelp is telling me there's someone climbing the walls."

Nerris pointed at the figure, who was now nearing halfway to the top. "There."

"Clystam have mercy." The guard ran to the bottom of the wall, Jhareth and the others at his heels. "You there! Stop where you are!" The climber stopped. "Men to the keep! The lord is in danger--"

The climber leapt backward, turning in midair and bearing straight at the guard. The man-at-arms yelled as the climber landed on top of him and took him to the ground. He punched a climbing spike attached to his palm through the guard's throat. The sentry screamed once, and then blood filled his mouth.

The climber stood as the guard writhed and died. His hood had fallen away, revealing a full head of white hair, though the man himself was quite young. He, Nerris and Dist instinctively backed up.

Nerris brandished his pitchfork. "Stop right there."

The albino smiled. "Or what, boy? You'll poke me with that toy?" He drew a curved blade from the inside of his shirt. Dist and Jhareth moved to surround him, but the albino lunged at Nerris before they could get in position. Nerris caught the blade between the prongs of the pitchfork, turning the blow like Rhodias had shown them with staves. Jhareth heard guards shouting in the distance, responding to the dead guard's yells.

The albino must have heard as well. He relaxed his grip and spun, closing the distance on Nerris and elbowing him in the face. His friend went down, and the albino jumped over him and ran for the west gate. Two guards blocked his path, but the albino leapt into the air, somersaulting over them and heading up the stairs to the parapet. A guard lunged at him with his spear, but the albino caught the shaft and pulled the man over the merlons. The sentry crashed to the ground with a loud crack and lay still. The albino leapt over the outer wall and vanished from sight.

© Copyright 2026 Nicholas Andrews. All rights reserved.