“Maybeyou should just listen to what I’m telling you,” grunted Luc. “Use your wrist, not your shoulder. Focus on aim, not force.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rolan hefted the knife, drew his arm back, then hesitated. The side of the barn was easy enough to hit, but the letterALuc had drawn on the side of it, in black charcoal, was a different matter.
“Go on,” Luc encouraged. “Hit theA. And remember, when you throw—”
“Say the sound it makes,” Rolan droned. “I got it.Ahhhh.”
“Or?”
Rolan’s eyes flickered skyward.“Ayyyyy.”
“Good. Now throw.”
Rolan slung the knife. It wobbled through the air in a magnificent arc and disappeared into the grass to their left.
Luc blinked. “Well. I figured you’d miss the target, but theentire barn…?”
“Yeah, well.” Rolan started off in the direction of the knife. “I figured you’d be a better teacher!”
As Rolan hunted around for the blade, Luc seemed to ponder his words. Finally he called out, “In my defense, you’re the first person I’ve ever taught.”
Rolan gave a triumphant “Ha!” when he found the knife. Retrieving it, he returned to the Arcanist’s side, thumbing the spiraling mark near the hilt. He’d noticed that all Luc’s weapons sported the same symbol, but he still did not know what it was. “The duke said he’d been trying to get you to take an apprentice for years. Why didn’t you?”
Luc took so long to answer that Rolan nearly forgot the question. He slung the knife again. This time it clanged off the barn wall and rebounded into a haystack. Only when he’d dug it out and jogged back did the Arcanist reply.
“This life isn’t for everyone.”
“This life isn’t for everyone,”Rolan echoed, mimicking Luc’s growly voice. “I’m the scary Arcanist, more monster than man, and I’msogrumpy that I makestormslook friendly!”
Luc glowered. “Are you going to throw the knife, or are you going to carry on like a fool?”
Rolan threw the knife. It twirled neatly and buried itself point first into the barn wall. It was wildly off target, but still. It was an improvement.
“Maybe you’re not such a bad teacher after all.” Rolan patted the Arcanist’s arm. “There’s hope for you yet, old man.”
“Go get your knife,” Luc said. “And let’s work on the letterB, which stands forblasted, bull-headed boy.”
Rolan grinned.
But as he tugged his knife out of the barn’s plank wall, his smile dropped from his face.
Off to the east, where the forest rolled like a green sea, the trees weremoving.Wordlessly, he pointed, and Luc turned to look.
It was as if the wind were rolling through the forest canopy, but only in one spot. Moving in an erratic line, miles off.
“Cryptic?” asked Rolan.
Luc nodded, the worry line between eyebrows growing deeper.
“Big one?” asked Rolan.
“Big one.” Luc absently scrubbed at his beard with his huge hand, and Rolan saw his other hand move to his sword.
Rolan’s eyes flitted back to the trees, but they’d fallen still. “How far?”
Luc turned back around. “Far enough to be no bother to us…”
Yet.That’s the word he left hanging in the air between them, like an axe blade that could fall at any moment.
