Crown Seeker

Chapter 5: Rolind's Revenge

A loud laugh rang out from across the table, causing Oliver to look up. Rolind was half-standing, his haughty eyes glittering with amusement at Oliver as his pale lips pulled back in a sneer.

“Did I hear you right, farm boy?" he called. The other recruits at the table stopped talking immediately to turn and look at what was going on. Rolind noticed the attention. His smirk broadened and his voice grew louder.

“You believe in those fairy tales and legends? The One Sovereign!" He laughed loudly again. “Better do your chores, little Ollie, or the nasty Boggerlump will sneak into your room at night and plant mushrooms in your ears! Or didn't your mother ever tell you that one?"

The recruits near Rolind laughed, especially the bearded one who had run from the Colossi, who followed after Rolind like a puppy.

Oliver felt his face burn with anger and embarrassment. But underneath that, he was just shocked. Everyone in the Vale believed in the prophecies. They were as real to them as the sun or the sky. He had thought that everyone everywhere believed in them, too.

Kelley nudged his arm. “Hey," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the laughter, “don't let him get to you. He'll never leave you alone if he thinks he can."

Oliver nodded stiffly and turned away from Rolind. He wished he had saved a little stew so he could at least pretend to go back to eating. 'What did I ever do to him, anyway?' he wondered furiously.

But Rolind was not done. “So what other fairy tales do you live your life by?" the long-haired youth called over to Oliver. “Hey, Ollie, have you heard the one about the sun being the eye of the Apostle? Ah, I bet you have! No wonder you're so pale!"

He shook with pretend fear. "Oooh! Don't go outside or he'll see you, farm boy!"

This brought another roar of laughter from the recruits around Rolind. Aldric stood up, veins bulging in his arms, his features dark with anger. At the same time, Kelley leaned forward and opened his mouth to shout back.

But Oliver beat them both to it. “Shut your mouth," he said in a voice that carried easily over the laughter.

Everyone froze. Oliver could feel the tension thicken around the table. A few feet away, on either end, Crownseekers were laughing and talking happily. But at the recruits' table, it felt like a sheet of ice had settled over everything.

Rolind stepped over his bench and walked over to Oliver, deliberately slow. Then he leaned forward so that his face was only a few inches from Oliver's. “What did you say to me?" Rolind demanded quietly.

It was only right then, dwarfed in his shadow, that Oliver realized how much bigger Rolind was than him. Oliver might have been taller, but Rolind made up for it in bulk. The young man was probably a year older than Oliver, perhaps even two.

But looking at that weaselly face pushed nearly up against his, Oliver found he did not care about any of that. “I told you to shut your mouth," Oliver said just as softly as Rolind had. “You were quick to do it when Brother Crane told you to. Keep practicing and you might pick up a good habit."

Kelley let out a soft whistle. A few of the other recruits laughed nervously. But Oliver only kept his eyes on Rolind. The long-haired man was stiff, nearly shaking with fury. Oliver, on the other hand, felt calm. It was intensely satisfying to see Rolind reduced to speechlessness.

“Is that all?" Oliver asked. “Or can I get back to..."

Rolind's fist slammed into Oliver's jaw and sent him tumbling off the bench. He banged his arm hard against the table, sending wooden bowls clattering to the ground, and landed flat on his back.

The next instant, Rolind dived on top of him. The larger man's knees drove the wind out of Oliver as they pinned him deeper into the dirty floor. The sound of benches screeching as they were pushed back and shouting voices filled the air.

Rolind, a snarl on his face as he loomed over Oliver, drew back his fist. Oliver recovered from his surprise in a flash. Flinging his legs out, Oliver pushed off against one of the benches and lurched backward. Rolind, still sitting on his chest, was thrown off balance with him. He fell forward before he could catch himself and smashed his face against the edge of the table.

Howling, Rolind covered his face with both hands, momentarily seeming to forget about Oliver. But his knees were still planted firmly on Oliver's chest, keeping him from sitting up. A furious energy blasted through Oliver like a storm, something more primal than any anger he had felt before. The shouts washing over him, drowning everything out, only seemed to feed it.

Oliver twisted, freeing one of his arms from beneath Rolind, and threw a punch as hard as he could into Rolind's midriff. The long-haired recruit groaned and doubled over. Oliver drew back his arm to hit him again, but Rolind pinned it down with his left hand.

Oliver looked up to see Rolind's face hanging over him, his nose a bloody mess. Fury flew like fire from his eyes. With his free hand, he began to pound Oliver across the face. Stars burst in Oliver's eyes as Rolind cracked him across the jaw.

Then, suddenly, the weight was lifted from Oliver's chest. Rolind was being dragged upright, Aldric holding one arm and Kelley the other. They were both shouting something, but it was impossible to hear over the din. Rolind was pulling against them like a rabid dog on a leash, straining to get at Oliver again.

Only Oliver noticed the bearded young man coming. Rolind's toady had rushed up, unnoticed. He stepped toward Oliver and swung back his foot to give him a vicious kick in the side. Oliver rolled at the last moment into the kick, spoiling the bearded recruit's aim, then wrapped his arm around the young man's leg and twisted.

The bearded recruit fell heavily to the ground, cracking his head against the floorboards. He groaned softly, scrabbling at the bench to try and push himself upright. But Oliver shoved him right back down again and raised a fist to hit him full in the face.

The bearded recruit raised a hand weakly, his eyes unfocused. 'I still don't know his name," Oliver realized. The thought hit him like a splash of cold water. The furious anger vanished all at once.

He felt like he was witnessing himself from the outside, a mindless animal about to lay into a defenseless opponent. Oliver lowered his hand, feeling sick.

“Enough!" a voice roared over everything.

The shouting died down at once. In the ensuing silence, Oliver could have heard a pin drop. He looked up to see everyone standing straight-backed in a row, carefully keeping their eyes anywhere but on the white-cloaked man standing in front of them. Crane.

Oliver hurriedly jumped to his feet, fighting the wave of dizziness and pain that moving brought. Crane's eyes snapped to him and he froze. The only noise was a soft groan from the bearded recruit at Oliver's feet.

“Get him up," Crane snapped with a jerk of his head at the prone recruit. Oliver helped another Crownseeker haul the bearded young man to his feet. He did not feel victorious, as he expected to, after reducing Rolind's crony to this. He just felt sore. Sore and stupid.

“Sorry," he muttered as he helped the dazed recruit to a bench.

Crane locked eyes with each recruit in turn. Oliver noticed that the older Crownseekers were giving each other knowing looks. He gulped. Whatever was coming, he doubted it would be good.

“What did I tell all of you limp-brained fools today?" Crane demanded. “If you're to be a Crownseeker, you must depend upon your allies. Here, we treat each other as we would our most cherished siblings. Brawls and childish tantrums are not tolerated."

Oliver felt himself shrink with each word that Crane said. He felt like they were all directed at him. Daring a look, he saw the Crownseeker's eyes on him, and he knew it for certain.

“Master Trimble," Crane said. “Come with me."

Oliver opened his mouth to explain himself, but all his saliva had evaporated. He could only gape soundlessly.

“Sir, please," Kelley said. He had a large bruise over one eye which was swelling spectacularly. “It was Rolind, he..."

“Did I ask," Crane interrupted, his voice a hairs breadth away from a shout, “who was to blame for this, Master Kelley?" He stared the recruit down until he dropped his eyes. “No. I asked for Master Trimble to accompany me. Now!"

The last word snapped in the air and Oliver jumped to obey before he even knew what he was doing. Seeing he was following, Crane turned and walked silently out of the mess hall. Oliver tramped after, following in his footsteps, his face feeling like it had been smashed in by a hammer.

The other boys were watching him leave with pale faces. Then Rolind pushed his way to the front. He had a rag held up to his nose, which was already half-sodden with blood. But his eyes were blazing with triumph as he watched Oliver be escorted out by Crane.

Oliver had to blink back angry tears. Not even a full day had passed before he had managed to get himself expelled from the Crownseekers.

'What will everyone in the Vale say? They told me this was a fool's errand from the start. I suppose they were right, in the end.'

Miserably, Oliver followed Crane out into the starlit night.