Children of the Fountain Read online

  But then Father James’s words in the carriage came back to him. Training children as soldiers? Was that what the monk had said? Matthias must have misheard. He was tired and had been half asleep during the journey.

  He took off his clothes and placed them carefully in the trunk; all the while at the back of his mind he retained the thought of needing them in case things didn’t work out. The abbey was all he had ever known and somehow putting his shirt and pants at the bottom of the trunk filled him with sorrow. He knew he could never go back. He finished putting on the black tabard and noted the coat of arms in silver thread sewn into the chest of the clothing. Three swords over a fountain, surrounded by a shield.

  Chapter 4

  Dressed in his new black livery Matthias entered the mustering hall and took in the scene he hadn’t had a chance to fully examine when he was last hurried through. The duke’s shield hung on each corner of the large stone room, which had no windows but was lit by a giant chandelier hung from the ceiling. Four long tables dominated; each with benches running along its sides and children sat in groups talking or playing games. For a moment several pairs of eyes flicked upwards to look at him, but then each returned to whatever was occupying them before. Nobody, it seemed, wanted to even acknowledge he had entered the room.

  Closest to him, reading on his own, was Harry. Further along the table sat a young girl also reading and at the other end a group of boys who looked like they were examining some tools in a box. A few younger children entered and left; all wearing the same black tabards and all ignoring Matthias. Some exchanged pleasantries with each other, but that was it. Gone was the ‘chitter-chatter’ of the abbey. No songs or laughter here. All the children seemed eerily quiet, almost as if Sister Helena was watching them. It was uncomfortable and Matthias decided to try and strike up a conversation when he sat down next to Harry.

  “How long have you been here?” he asked.

  Harry stared at the small book before him and, without looking away from the pages replied, “About a month.”

  “What kind of work do you do?” continued Matthias, relieved he had even got a response.

  “Work?” he scoffed. “We don’t work here. We learn.”

  “I see,” responded Matthias, “so you’re training. Is that what you’re reading?”

  “It’s what I’m trying to read.”

  “I’d leave Harry alone if I were you”, said another, softer, voice.

  Matthias looked up to see the girl opposite had put down her book and was addressing him.

  “He’s got to learn the name of every organ in the human body by supper and he’s struggling.”

  Harry scoffed again, but the girl continued. “Harry can be a real bore sometimes. My name is Sophie.”

  “Matthias.” As he spoke he looked at her face. It was soft and slender; her eyes, although dark, shone like morning dew. Her straight black hair fell over her livery and blended in with the soft velvet. She stood up and walked over to him to shake hands; she was a little shorter than Matthias but seemed around the same age.

  “Welcome. Have you just got here?”

  “Yes,” he replied, “I lost my home. Alonso and Mr Hardy brought me here.”

  “So you were asked to come here? You were not sent by your parents or guardians?”

  “No,” said Matthias, “I came from an abbey. We were all orphans. Why? How did you get here?”

  The girl tilted her head, “My family organised it. For them, it is the greatest honour to have me accepted. This place is a school. We learn so we can enter the duke’s service.”

  “Learn what though? Reading? Why do we need to read if we are to be soldiers?”

  “Soldiers? Whatever gave you that idea?” asked Sophie, with curiosity.

  “I thought that’s what this place was. Aren’t we to be trained as an army?”

  Again Sophie laughed and her eyes lit up her face.

  “Why would my family pay for me to be trained as a soldier?”

  Her chuckles had attracted the attention of the group of boys across the room. They began to walk around the table to stand the other side of Matthias. One of them, the tallest asked, “What’s the joke, Sophie?”

  She looked up and, for a split second, her laughter stopped and was replaced by a scowl. Only Matthias noticed when the smile instantly returned but somehow it seemed forced.

  “He thinks he’s being trained to be a soldier.”

  The boy smirked, which was unpleasant to say the least. He was older and bigger than Matthias and looked mean. His face was pale but strong and he had short dark cropped hair. When he spoke, it was with disdain and disgust.

  “Then he must be some sort of fool.” His accent was aristocratic and his tone resonated menace. As Matthias turned to look at him he noticed a dagger sitting in the boy’s belt, just like Alonso had worn, the handle glimmering savagely in the candlelight.

  “What did you say?” Matthias asked, lifting his eyes.

  The boy smiled, and then leaned down so his face was inches away. Nose to nose the boy hissed heavily and slowly, “I said you were a fool.”

  Matthias stared back at him, his eyes glaring but calm. Then suddenly, from nowhere, came a voice.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Gerard.” Both boys turned to look. Standing in the doorway of the mustering hall was the owner of the thickly accented voice that had spoken. Alonso, stood next to Mr Hardy, who was looking faintly amused. Alonso himself, however, seemed most sombre.

  “He’s quick. Quicker than you I dare say. I wouldn’t agitate him. He’s confused and he is probably slightly frightened; which makes him dangerous. I would say he could take your blade and strike you down before you could blink.”

  Gerard stepped back from Matthias, looking suddenly alarmed. But just as quickly he regained his composure and gave a snort of distaste.

  “Oh, you can scoff away, but I assure you he speaks the truth.” Mr Hardy’s eloquent voice continued. “In fact, Matthias, I’m sure we’d all love to see just how quick you are.”

  Blood rushed through Matthias and he felt a pulse of fear and excitement surge though his arms and legs. His eyes returned to Gerard’s. There was the merest hint of uncertainty in them now and Matthias stared intently whilst calculating the distance of the knife from the corner of his own eye.

  “He doesn’t look quick to me,” said Gerard.

  Matthias felt like he was going to burst. He wanted to grab the knife and teach the boy a lesson. Something inside of him told him to wait. This was not right, not with all these people watching. An inner battle raged within as he resisted the temptation not to attack.

  But then, and it all happened so quickly, he found himself holding the knife to the boy’s throat. Had he just grabbed it whilst the lad struggled to step back? Had he pulled it up with one swift motion? Was it now held tightly against Gerard’s skin, a small droplet of blood making its way along the edge of the blade to the hilt?

  Gerard’s mouth was open and his face was white. He had barely enough time to take a breath and was clearly stunned by Matthias’s speed and reflexes. He looked Matthias dead in the eye before his own eyes started to frantically search the room, looking for help or a way out of the situation. There was none.

  All the children sat in silence, watching. Mr Hardy’s wry smirk had gone, only leaving traces of his bemusement. All the while next to him Alonso looked on, the single eye taking in every minute detail of the scene.

  “Who’s the fool now?” Matthias asked, through gritted teeth.

  Gerard looked back with horror. “Who are you?”

  “No one to be trifled with,” said Matthias, in a soft whisper. “You had best remember that.”

  “That’s enough now, Matthias,” said Alonso. The words were spoken softly, but the voice commanded respect. He slipped the knife away from Gerard’s neck, wiped the blood on his sleeve and then offered it back, handle first.

  “Now,” continued Alonso, “I think you had best
come with Mr Hardy and me so we can have a talk and explain a little bit about where you are.”

  Matthias turned and walked toward the door. All the children sat, open mouthed, watching him as he left; some shuffled awkwardly in their seats as he walked past. Harry put down his book with a smirk whilst Sophie regarded him with fascination. She smiled her dazzling smile and caught his eye as he left to follow Alonso and Hardy.

  Chapter 5

  The lamp in the corner of the room lit Mr Hardy and Alonso from behind, casting their faces in shadow, and Matthias struggled to see their expressions as first Mr Hardy spoke.

  “You see, Matthias,” he began, “you can be trained here. As a member of the Guard you will take up arms in our war which is now, sadly, yours too.”

  The gentleman leaned forward, his elegant cuffs brushing the desk. “Everyone here in this castle serves the duke and his cause. Some have served for many years, and plenty have given their lives. We ask you to join us.”

  “Why me?” he asked.

  ”You are special,” Alonso said. “In all my journeys around the empires I search for special children; gifted children. You are such a child. Your particular gift is your speed. You are probably the quickest child I have ever seen.

  “Others have different gifts. Mr Hardy, for example, can pick off a butterfly’s wing with a rifle from over three hundred yards. His sight is extraordinary, and matched with his aim gives him his ‘gift’. Some of the children here can scale fortress walls, throw a man twice their size to the other side of the room, or creep up and slit your throat whilst you were standing in broad daylight.

  “This is a school to focus those skills, learn others and from others. You will become a devastating weapon to help fight against a great evil that has plagued this land for too long. You will learn to kill.”

  Matthias looked at the lamp in the corner of the room. Watched it flicker from yellow to orange and then back.

  Mr Hardy spoke again. “I realise this is all a lot to take in. Normally we take children who have been brought up by parents aligned to the duke. They send their sons and daughters to us to train and stand beside them. Your case is unusual, but not unheard of.”

  “They all have chosen to come here?” said Matthias.

  “Yes,” said Mr Hardy. “Whereas you were…found.”

  “You must understand it was no coincidence I was at the abbey,” said Alonso. “As a mystic, my visions take me many places in search of individuals such as you. I am often disappointed, but not always. Shortly before you I found one other child this way. His name is Harry.”

  “I’ve met him.”

  “Harry is finding it all a little difficult too,” said Mr Hardy. “Alonso discovered him in a village in the north. He had become quite a local legend with his hunting skills.

  “Harry was able to creep up on game until he was literally on top of it,” said the mystic. “It is possible to approach a man without him being aware, but to get that close to deer or boar was unheard of.”

  He toyed with the knife on his belt absentmindedly. Just for a brief second the light from the lamp caught the silver and it flashed. The large oak chair creaked as he leaned on it and spoke softly. “Harry could have crept into this room behind you right now and you wouldn’t have heard him.”

  Matthias turned around but there was only the solid wooden door with the iron key inside. The trembling light cast the silhouettes of Mr Hardy and Alonso onto the wood and he swallowed hard before turning to face them.

  Mr Hardy sighed. “Local rumour, gossip in the village; people with your gifts do not stay anonymous for long. Your sister possessed a very special gift. Without our help she couldn’t learn to control it and so...”

  Their help? Could they have helped? If Rebecca had been able to control her gift, disguise it, maybe the Legion wouldn’t have found her. Perhaps she would still be alive. If they had taught her, turned her power into something she could have used to defend herself. A look flashed across his face as he thought how this could so easily of been the case. But his uncle had kept him and his sister away from this world. Away from a world of war and murder. But it had hunted them down.

  And now he wanted to turn and hunt the hunter. Find this man Nunez and kill him. But where and how he had no idea. Was this castle the place to start? Or should he just leave and go find him on his own. He was certain he would recognise the man if he saw him again. The eyes; pale blue, bright but somehow lifeless.

  Matthias’s own eyes glistened before he turned away to look at the floor. “What if I don’t want to fight in your war?”

  Mr Hardy smiled in a charming but ever so slightly sinister way. “My boy, a most poignant question. Why should you indeed take up arms or even lay down your life for this cause?”

  “Why indeed,” said Alonso. He stood up and made his way to the fire burning on the other side of the room. He placed one great hand on the mantelpiece as he leaned down to stoke it. As the flames picked up the room seemed to be illuminated with slithering fingers making their way down from the ceiling. The smell of burning coal flowed into Matthias’s nostrils and the mystic turned to face him.

  “You can walk away from the fight. From the people who killed your sister. But the Legion will have won. There’s no way you’d ever find Balthazar Nunez and certainly, without proper training, no way you could best him. But, you can walk away. Or you can stay. Learn. Prepare.” The two men looked at each other and gave Matthias time to consider.

  He already knew this was the answer. Now he had found a path to his revenge. One that would lead him to the man who killed Rebecca.

  “I want to learn to fight,” he said, “I want to join you.”

  “Yes,” said Mr Hardy in a soft voice, “I believe you do. I also know how much you must be hurting at this moment. But I need you to understand something. The decision you now take upon yourself shouldn’t be taken lightly. The road ahead of you is long and hard; most difficult.”

  “I understand,” said Matthias, “but this is all there is for me now.”

  “Not so,” replied Mr Hardy, “there are other places you could go. We could ensure your safety. Maybe even find a family who would take you in.”

  He thought about the offer. A family. But then his thoughts turned to his sister. His sister who would never know a family; who would never again run or play; who would never laugh, nor cry, nor sing, nor dance.

  “Rebecca and the children at the abbey never received such an offer. It is in their name I must decline it.”

  Mr Hardy looked at Matthias once more with those big gentle eyes. A small smile creased the corner of his mouth.

  “Very well,” he said. “Report to the mustering hall at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. You can start basic hand to hand combat training. We’ll see how you go from there. Mr O’Grady will be your instructor. Be courteous at all times and treat him with the utmost respect…if you want to end the day in one piece.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “One more thing. We do not use surnames here you will be known only as Matthias. Is that clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “People have to earn their family names, whatever it is.” The smile had gone.

  Matthias got up to leave but paused. “My grandfather,” he asked, “will I get to meet him?”

  “All in good time,” said Mr Hardy, returning to his notes. As Matthias made his way slowly back to his room he found himself wondering what he had let himself in for.

  Chapter 6

  When Matthias awoke the next day Harry was already up and sitting on the end of his own bed reading a book. He was used to sharing a dorm with ten or twelve others, so to have just one companion was a first. The boy turned and looked at Matthias as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  “You’re awake then?” he said, in a jolly voice.

  Matthias yawned and scratched his head. With so much going through his mind and his body shaking with cold he couldn’t really focus on early morning conversation.
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  Harry stood up. “I said, ‘You’re awake then?’” His voice was accented and more common than the other children he had heard around the castle.

  “I’d say so,” said Matthias. He got up and hopped barefoot across the cold stone to the trunk at the end of his bed and started to dress. He took off his nightgown and placed it inside where the clothes he had arrived in lay. They looked sad, discarded at the bottom of the trunk. After changing into his new livery he took one last look at the white shirt and brown breeches before closing the lid.

  “Are you to train with us then?” said Harry, starting to get ready himself. Matthias looked him squarely in the eye. The boy grinned back.

  “Yes,” said Matthias, “I am to learn to fight.”

  “Great,” said Harry. “Who have they started you with? O'Grady I expect?”

  Matthias nodded, whilst adjusting his new clothes. They fitted well and were thick and hard wearing. The fine materials clung to his frame tightly and the duke’s emblem shone on his chest. At his side he hung a small dagger which had been provided with the garments.

  “He's a tough one; be warned,” continued Harry. “He'll start you off slow, but as soon as he sees that look in your eyes he'll want to find out what you're made of.”

  Matthias finished buckling his belt, “What look?”

  Harry turned to face him fastening on a sword belt that held a foil neatly in place at his side. “Why, the look you're giving me right now. It may make you feel a bit stronger and give the world the impression you are trouble, but in here it'll just make people think you're scared. Some of the young ‘uns try it. I hear they don't last long.”

  Harry took a step closer and whispered in his ear, “A word of advice. If you want to last, don't try and act as a hero. You won't fool anyone and you'll probably get your neck snapped.”