SeaJourney: Arken Freeth and the Adventure of the Neanderthals, #1

By Alex Paul

A young warrior stands at the precipice of war… To succeed he must find his courage and survive a treacherous journey across the sea.

Arken Freeth has always wanted to prove himself worthy of his king's appointment by becoming an officer in the Lantish Sea Service. Now the only thing standing in his way is his apprenticeship SeaJourney. But a peaceful training mission soon turns into a deadly struggle for survival as Arken's fleet must come to the aid of a princess fleeing capture by Tookan pirates. 

SeaJourney kicks off an epic and fantastical adventure that is a great read for all ages. 

* Start reading Alex Paul's adventure series today with Book 1, SeaJourney. You can also sign up for Alex's newsletter at his Arken Freeth website to hear the latest on forthcoming books in the series. *

SeaJourney has won First Place in the 2016 YA Fiction Dante Rossetti Awards!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AIS Limited.
• Release date: Oct 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519960610

Book preview

PRAISE FOR THE ARKEN FREETH SERIES

SeaJourney is now a First Place Winner in the 2016 YA Fiction Dante Rossetti Awards!

This is the next level adventure story you have been waiting for. Brash, rip-roaring, and stunningly original, it is unlike any young adult fiction you’ve ever read.

—Isaac Peterson

My name is Winslow and I am 9 years old. Why I think Alex Paul’s books are good: I think Alex Paul’s books are great. I have read two of them. I have three reasons why I think Alex Paul’s books are great. My first reason is because of the adventures the Toths, Tons, Swordtooths, and Smokers have. Such as when the Smoker attacked the burning ships. My second reason is because it was before the Great Flood many thousands of years ago. That means that weapons like the bow, sword, and spear were very new to civilization. My last reason is because the book is very detailed. I think he did a very good job describing the characters. For example, Arken Freeth is good with a bow, is a commoner, is a Neanderthal, is super strong, and is quite short. As you can see that is why Alex Paul’s books are great. I really hope he writes another book.

—Von Trullinger

If you’re ready for an adventure of epic proportions, read on in the Arken Freeth series!

—Cheri Lasota, Author of Echoes in the Glass

A vivid story of action and adventure intertwined with lessons of honor, humility and gracious values. It leaves you anticipating the next in the series in a fantastic manner!

—Giselle Minshull

SEAJOURNEY

Arken Freeth and the Adventure of the Neanderthals

Book One

by

Alex Paul

MAP OF THE CIRCLE SEA

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: The Rock Test

Chapter 2: Arken Spars Gart

Chapter 3: Yolanta Raids Baltak

Chapter 4: Ord’s Torment

Chapter 5: Torture and Betrayal

Chapter 6: Birthday Party

Chapter 7: The Tattooed Soothsayer

Chapter 8: Ord Recovers

Chapter 9: Grandfather’s Warning

Chapter 10: The Sea

Chapter 11: The Dragging

Chapter 12: Seasick Romance

Chapter 13: Mutiny!

Chapter 14: Fighting Turns to Fishing

Chapter 15: Ord the Runaway

Chapter 16: Asher’s True Identity

Chapter 17: Attack on the Golden Willow

Chapter 18: The Tookans Pursue

Chapter 19: Princess Sharmane Flees

Chapter 20: Death from the Sky

Chapter 21: Escape to Shore

Epilogue

Glossary

AUTHOR’S NOTE

You’ll find a glossary of foreign words in the novel’s back matter. Just click on any of the Lantish or Nander words underlined in blue and it will take you to the word in the glossary. If you click on the back button of your e-reader or e-reader app, you’ll go back to the page you were on. Enjoy!

INTRODUCTION

From The Earth’s Secret History: Arken Freeth Scrolls

by Arduel

I am Arduel, the last descendant of the Brotherhood of the Knowledge Keepers of Lanth. I now set down my words on this parchment before burying some of our surviving writings in an urn in the desert north of the Amarrats’ Great Pyramid.

I hide these writings because yesterday the agents of the Roman emperor burned the Library of Alexandria. I managed to escape and save these scrolls. I know that I will soon be caught and killed, but I will die in peace, knowing these writings are safe.

The scrolls of Antipolax are in this urn. He was a Knowledge Keeper who survived the Great Flood 9,000 years ago. Antipolax’s writings describe the scientific instruments that allowed my ancestors to see vast distances out into the stars. I wish that I could have seen these instruments, but sadly they were destroyed long ago and no one can make them today.

Antipolax witnessed a giant asteroid flying through space toward Earth. This asteroid, which they named Marduk, caused the destruction of the Great Flood.

Ever since the Great Flood, our Brotherhood has obeyed our sacred vow to preserve the knowledge of Lanth for the benefit of future men. We were forced into hiding long ago because Emperors and Pharaohs wished to kill us. They do not want the world to know that man once had a civilization more advanced than the Roman Empire of my time.

I also placed the Arken Freeth scrolls among Antipolax’s writings in the same urn. Arken Freeth lived 11,000 years before my time and 2,000 years before Marduk caused

the Great Flood, which brought the storms of winter

and the heat of summer to Earth. I wish I had lived then, because in Arken Freeth’s time, Earth truly was a paradise. Each day was fair and warm everywhere on the planet and only the poles were cold. There were no storms of rain or snow with high winds. Instead, gentle dew fell everywhere each night, nourishing all the plants. And during each day the sun shone across the Earth without fail, and the plants produced two bountiful crops a year.

In that paradise world of pleasant weather, lush plains, and fertile valleys, men built high-walled cities that kept the people safe from the great cats and giant bears. Men set forth in great ships from those cities and plied the seas with trade.

To protect their ships, the city-state of Lanth built a large navy and bred the world’s finest warriors. Of all those warriors, Arken Freeth was the greatest of all, for he saved Lanth from certain ruin. The scrolls in this urn tell his story. It is my hope that the mysterious forces that helped Arken defeat Lanth’s enemies will protect what I have buried and one day allow the truth of man’s history to be revealed. I hope those that read these scrolls are inspired with courage as they discover the story of Arken Freeth, the greatest warrior of Lanth.

Fear none in battle, nor death at sea,

Nor those who wish to torment thee.

With Kal in mind and sword held high,

Fight until you win or die.

—Lantish Warrior’s Creed

Inscription on the entry arch of the

Lantish Royal Military Academy

CHAPTER 1

THE ROCK TEST

Mother, I weep for you each night. Our enemy’s campfires seem to number more than the stars in the sky. Their soldiers drum and chant all night, tormenting our sleep. I fear the worst for my people, for I cannot read the Necklace of Tol to see the Time to Come.

—Diary of Princess Sharmane of Tolaria

The roar of a swordtooth echoed through the forest beyond the Academy's grounds, shocking the thirty boys who circled around Arken Freeth. Arken's neck hairs stood up as he and the boys turned as one to face the ominous sound.

Can we watch the guards kill it? their student leader, Salcon Gart, asked.

It's not close enough to the Academy yet from the sounds of it. We have time for Arken's rock test first, and then we'll go up on the north wall and watch them use the large crossbow to kill it, their instructor Lar promised.

The class groaned in frustration. It was a rare occurrence to have a large swordtooth this close to the Academy wall, and many in the class had never seen one. They were called swordtooth because of their long, sharp, canine teeth that they used to kill the massive toth and ton. And they were rarely seen because they usually roamed the plains further east of the city. Some of the boys kept their eyes on the guard station to see if the chariot was moving.

No complaining, or I won't let anyone watch, Lar ordered. Form a seated square around the post and stone.

Arken turned his attention to the rock on the ground before him. His task was simple: lift the heavy stone and leave it balanced and still on the post. But he had never lifted such a heavy stone before.

He watched his classmates take their places. Arken wore only his white, knee-length tunic and sandals for his test, while the rest of the class had bronze armor over their tunics. Bronze helmets shielded their heads from the blazing sun. They carried wooden sparring swords in their sword belts and carried round shields painted blue with the white harse head of Lanth. Their armor rang with the music of bronze as they joked around and took their places sitting cross-legged on the courtyard clay.

Don't take too long, Arken, one of the boys encouraged while the others laughed.

It was easy for Arken's classmates to laugh. Having already passed their tests, they were in a happy mood because their graduation was guaranteed, and they would soon be at sea.

Being the youngest in the class, Arken was the last to reach his fourteenth birthday and take the test. Arken stared at the heavy round stone lying on the red clay of the courtyard next to the post. If he passed the rock test, he would graduate from the Lantish Military Academy and join his class at sea for their moonth-long training mission.

If he failed the test, he would be held back and have to repeat this last year's training. He didn't want to be held back; he was ready to go to sea and begin his career as an officer.

Well, there is a way to graduate if I can't lift the rock, Arken thought, but that would be harder than lifting it. He could defeat Salcon Gart in a sparring match. This was nearly impossible, as Gart was a year older and a head taller than Arken, the shortest student in the class.

Arken, it's hot. Quit staring at the stone and lift it! Lar ordered. Then we can go watch.

Yes, sir. Arken stepped toward the rock as he scanned the second-story classrooms several hundred feet away across the courtyard. Girls in the Queen's Trackers often visited the Academy for training and, being scouts, they had good eyes. He didn't want them to see him fail.

But no girls watched from the openings in the gray stone walls. Even the tower guards weren't looking, probably because their midmeal had left them sleepy.

Arken turned toward Tok, the name given to the rock five hundred years earlier when the test began. Don't forget you have to say the warrior's creed first, Lar reminded him.

Sir! Arken stood at attention, and the class went completely silent.

"Fear none in battle, nor death at sea, nor those who wish to torment thee, with Kal in mind and sword held high, fight until you win or die." Arken looked at Lar. He knew he'd got it right.

Good! Now win your fight with that rock, Lar ordered.

Arken felt excited as he reached down and grabbed some of the red courtyard clay and rubbed it on his palms to improve his grip. Then he rose and stepped next to the rock. Waves of heat from the midday sun shimmered off its surface. It is going to be hot as well as heavy, Arken thought.

The swordtooth screamed. It was louder now, which meant it was creeping closer.

Remain calm, class, Lar ordered. That swordtooth is still far away. I promise, if it draws close enough for the guards to kill, we'll go up on the wall to watch.

The boys all whispered at once and seemed to forget about Arken. He wiped sweat from his face that had run down despite the gastag leather strap holding back his long, blonde hair. He felt grateful for the swordtooth because it bought time to get his nerves under control.

The cats grew to be twenty feet long and, though terrifying, they inspired him. They were proof of the vast, dangerous world beyond the city walls, a wilderness awaiting his exploration.

Quiet, class. Watch Arken; he's ready to begin, Lar ordered.

Fourteen . . . I'm old enough, Arken whispered to himself. He rubbed the loose clay from his hands and extended a hand from the top of the post to his chest, measuring the height. He'd have to lift Tok to his belly button. A slight depression in the top center of the post would hold the rock, but his biggest challenge would be lifting it and gently placing it on the post so it wouldn't roll off.

He'll never lift it, Gart whispered loud enough for all to hear. He's too small.

Silence, Gart! Lar entered the sparring square and strode toward him. You're a salcon! Friendly teasing is fine, but a class leader should never undermine his men. Lar jabbed his heavy walking stick into the back of Gart's calf where the armor didn't protect his legs, making the boy wince. A grimace crossed his face. Crying out during punishment lengthened the beating so Gart made no sound.

Yes, sir! Sorry, sir! Gart pulled his feet in tight under the skirt of his white tunic to avoid another poke of Lar's stick. His lower lip quivered slightly despite his stony face.

Arken, lift that stone now! Lar spun around, his long, white robe flowing and following his movement. The robe was a formal part of the rock test and was always worn by the class instructor.

Yes, sir, Arken said, but the swordtooth screamed again, drowning out his reply.

It's getting closer! Lar exclaimed. Arken. Hurry and lift. We want to see that swordtooth killed!

Yes, sir. Arken squatted, pressed his chest to the stone, and reached around with his arms so he could lock his fingers. He'd always thought his barrel chest was an advantage; it gave him more wind when he ran. But now his chest prevented his fingers from touching. Arken turned his head to the left, the hot rock stinging his right cheek as it touched the stone, and strained until he managed to connect his fingers. For once, his too-large hands were an advantage and not an embarrassment.

He held his cheek off the hot rock as he pushed with his legs. But the rock didn't budge. It felt alive, and its weight fought him. He struggled to breathe, his chest restricted by the rock's pressure.

He tipped back on his heels and the rock popped off the ground. A thrill ran through him. I'm going to do it! But when he strained to rise, nothing happened. Impossible. So heavy!

I can't disappoint Father. Dear God Kal, grant me a birthday wish, Arken prayed. Help me lift this rock.

He screamed, and it startled some of the boys. He didn't care; the scream gave him strength, and the rock edged higher. His inner elbows burned from the strain of the weight. They felt as if red-hot fire pokers were being thrust into them. His legs trembled. He simply had to endure the pain.

I am strong enough!

Almost there! Lar had stooped over to see the post's top.

Arken lurched forward with his right foot, but the rock thudded against the top of the post. He advanced his left leg, and then leaned back, trying to raise the rock the last little bit to clear the post.

Pain shot across his low back, and a wave of fear engulfed him as he recalled Lar's stories about boys breaking their spines by tipping backward too far.

One finger width higher! Lar yelled.

The pain straightened his spine against his will.

No, you're going lower. Lift it higher! Lar waved his hands as if he could somehow help Arken lift.

Arken strained his calf muscles, trying to lift his heels off the ground and raise the rock that way. He rose to his tiptoes.

You're clear. Lar stepped closer. Push it forward, Arken!

One final push. He could feel it! He strained to go forward, but suddenly, his calves gave way as if they belonged to someone else, no longer willing to do his bidding. He felt his heels strike the ground as the rock pushed them down.

Too low. Lar bent down. Can't you get it higher? You were close.

I'll try, Arken grunted. He strained to raise himself back on his toes, but nothing happened. He tried to pull with his arms, but the rock lodged against his chest and wouldn't budge. Suddenly everything started to go dark. He focused his eyes on some palm trees across the courtyard outside the main gate.

The green palms swayed in the light breeze as they receded down a long black tunnel. He blinked, but opened his eyes to only a pinhole of light.

Clear! His intended yell came out a whisper. He felt the stone slip from his grasp. A hand snatched his arm and pulled him back as he passed out.

Are you all right? Lar's voice echoed in Arken's ears as if his instructor were in a cave.

I think so. Arken opened his eyes. A seagull hovered in the blue sky high above Lar's bearded, hollow-cheeked face, and Arken realized he was lying flat on his back.

You're sure? Lar leaned in closer, blocking Arken's view of the gull.

Yes. Arken rose to his elbows. What am I doing on the ground?

You blacked out lifting the rock, Lar said.

I didn't pass the test? The memory came flooding back as he asked.

You will next year. Lar offered his hand. You're strong enough-just not tall enough.

I know. He felt proud he'd at least been strong enough to lift the rock.

Do you want to try your luck sparring with Gart today?

Yes, sir, I do. Arken surprised himself with his answer as Lar helped him to his feet. He didn't care if he lost, or even if he got hurt sparring Gart. He wanted so badly to go on SeaJourney. Life at sea called to him.

Good. I admire your spirit, Arken, though you'll probably lose. Lar chuckled and shook his head.

Maybe. Arken tried to brush the red clay from the back of his white tunic but with little success. Arlet, their Nander kitchen slave, would scold him tonight for the dirty uniform.

The swordtooth screamed, this time so loud it echoed around the courtyard.

It's close to the wall! The guards are going to kill it! Lar pointed to the guardhouse where soldiers were attaching harses to the two-man chariot that held the giant crossbow. Then Lar spoke to Gart. Arken will fight you, Gart, after we watch the guards kill the swordtooth. Lead your class to the top of the wall.

Yes, sir, I accept Arken's challenge. Cadets to me! Gart jumped up and sprinted for the wall.

The cadets saluted and were gone, like armored quails bursting from a tuft of grass in fear. Tanned legs carried lean bodies up the stairs toward the wall top.

Arken jogged two steps to Lar's one despite Lar running slowly with his ceremonial robe gathered in his hands to prevent tripping. Arken was grateful for some time to regain his strength before sparring with Gart. He had been so excited about beginning his officer's apprenticeship as a saldet, a junior officer. Only one thing stood in his way: Gart.

CHAPTER 2

ARKEN SPARS GART

We will lash our ships together tonight when we gather rinfall and rest the slaves. They rowed admirably today, and I ordered extra food and water rations for them. If we let them die, we will drift forever at sea. Tonight I will train with the necklace when the cool of rinfall allows concentration.

—Diary of Princess Sharmane of Tolaria

I did lift the rock, didn't I? Arken asked as he ran. His memory wasn't clear.

Yes, you did, you just weren't tall enough to lift it onto the post. Lar was agitated. Arken, we have to hurry, or we're going to miss the killing of the cat.

Yes, sir, I'm hurrying. Arken couldn't help but sound defeated and Lar noticed.

Don't worry about failing the rock test, Arken. Lar glanced over as they ran. You'll grow taller and easily lift Tok next year, and another year of training is guaranteed to make you an even better officer. Though Kal knows you've got the courage for it already. They began to climb the first flight of stairs that took them to the bridge over the buildings surrounding the courtyard. I admire you for wanting to spar with Gart today. You're in for a pounding, though. You realize that you can't win, don't you?

Yes, sir, probably so, Arken said. If Lar was trying to make him feel better, it wasn't working.

I'm just saying that if you lose, you'll have nothing to be ashamed of. Gart's much bigger and older than you.

Yes, sir. The smell of freshly baked cornbread reached them from the Academy's bakery below as they hurried across the bridge over the barracks and service buildings.

I'm being honest, Arken, Lar continued as they climbed the last few stairs, you're an excellent student with unusual skills; in fact, you're the only one in this class to pass the advanced archer's test. Most cadets can't draw the heavy bow until they're seventeen, yet you can do it already. That proves you're strong.

Thanks to my grandfather. We practice every other evening after school. Arken smiled at the memory of grandfather working with him since age six until shooting a longbow felt as natural as combing his hair. There's a technique to it as well as strength.

Oh, I know, but learning that technique is not easy. You will be able to help our other students next year.

I'd be happy to help. Arken felt upset that Lar was assuming he would lose to Gart. He had a chance; he'd been practicing swordwork with his father at home.

The swordtooth screamed as they reached the roadway that ran around the top of the wall. The cat's scream sounded like death come close, and Arken shivered as the hair on the back of his neck stood up once again.

Hurry, it's over this way. Just four hundred legs to go. Han, one of Arken's few friends, had waited for them at the top of the stairs. They ran alongside him, following the rest of the class that were now far ahead of them.

The leg was a unit of measurement created by Lantish scientists who had preserved, in bronze, the length of King Lanth's hands, fingers, feet, and legs during his reign. These became the standard units of measurement in Lanth. A leg had turned out to be exactly three of King Lanth's feet, and twenty-four finger thicknesses equaled a foot.

A two-person chariot exploded from the guardhouse behind them.

Get on the edge, Lar ordered.

The chariot driver whipped the two horses into a gallop. A crossbowman clung to an oversized crossbow mounted on a central swivel behind the driver. The chariot shot by them with barely any room to spare.

That was close, said Lar. They sprinted after the chariot as it left them behind.

Arken ran at an easy pace for him, but both Lar and Han were soon winded trying to keep up, so he slowed down so as not to embarrass them. He was easily the fastest runner of their class and had the best endurance. The others often hated him for it, so he had learned not to show off.

He looked around the Academy as he slowed his pace. The Academy was the main fort that guarded the city as well as their military training center. Two-story, white stucco buildings with red-tiled roofs rimmed the full length of the interior side of the fort's walls. The buildings served as barracks for the soldiers manning the fort as well as the Academy classrooms, storage, kitchens, armory, blacksmith shop, and horse stables for the King's Harsemen. The sea breeze mixed the cornbread scent with the musty odor of stable hay and harses.

It's been a year since they last killed a swordtooth, Lar said between gasping breaths when the chariot halted by the rest of the class.

Why do swordtooth come here? Arken asked Lar as they ran.

"They're old. They get driven from their hunting grounds by a healthier animal. The scent of easy prey over the walls draws them in, and then we have to kill them or they try to attack our harse patrols outside the walls."

It's there, sir. Gart pointed as they arrived. Stalking the chained goat.

The stench of damp, dead rotting leaves from eons past filled his nostrils as Arken leaned over the gray stone wall to see.

Water from last night's rinfall added to the moldy vegetation smell. The scent hovered in his nostrils like the foul poultice his mother used to cure his childhood illnesses.

They could easily see the huge, yellow-skinned cat as it crept through the high grass fifty feet below. Its tail twitched as it neared the goat, which caught wind of the cat's scent and began squealing and pulling at its leg chain.

The cat's long canine teeth glistened like curved executioner's swords at a public beheading. Arken realized his own forearms were shorter than one of the beast's long teeth, and he shuddered at the thought of being alone in the jungle with such a predator.

Johann, how long do you venture the swordtooth is? Lar asked a boy near him.

Twenty feet, sir, not including the tail, Johann said. Roughly seven legs, he added.

Good, I agree.

It's a beautiful animal, Johann volunteered. Sad it has to die.

Some of the cadets giggled at Johann's softness.

Death comes to all that live, Lar said. You should know that Johann . . . We're in the business of death.

Yes, sir. But the tone of Johann's voice didn't seem sincere to Arken. He, too, felt sympathy for the swordtooth because, despite its ferocity, it seemed the underdog in this unfair fight, and Arken could identify with the underdog.

The archer swiveled the enormous crossbow mounted on the chariot and took aim at the swordtooth. He had already cocked it by cranking on the double-handled winch. The three-foot-long crossbow bolt as thick as a spear lay ready to fly.

Fire when ready, an officer ordered.

The string of the giant crossbow slapped the air with an angry buzz while transforming the bolt into a blur. It struck the top of the swordtooth's back and then bounced high into the trees. The swordtooth screamed and bit where the bolt had hit its spine. A cadet found humor in the animal's pain, and his laughter followed the silence of the cat's scream.

The swordtooth's head swiveled around, its gaze following the sound. Then it screamed in the direction of the cadet as if to warn the boy not to laugh.

The harses reared and whinnied at the cat's menacing cry. Only the drivers' shouts and soldiers grabbing the tracings prevented a runaway.

The huge cat snorted, blowing up dust from the ground, and then sprinted into the jungle. Its tail disappeared as it plunged down the steep hill to the plains south of the city.

They missed! Lar yelled. Class, make note! Aim low when you're shooting downward. The archer shot the bolt so high it bounced off the cat's back.

Sir, the class responded. When Lar said to make note, they had learned to pay attention and be ready to answer questions later or punishment would follow.

War! a boy's voice squeaked. Arken and his classmates turned to see a young cadet about the age of eight running toward them.

What did you say, boy? Lar grabbed the boy's shoulder.

War! the boy gasped. "A ship has arrived. The Amarrats crossed into Tolaria a moonth ago to conquer the country. The Amarrat King wants the Necklace of Tol. The Tolarians refused to give it to him. The Alda summons all cadets to the Great Hall on the next clock turn."

We're allies with Tolaria! Lar clasped his hands to his head. Kal save us!

The messenger boy stepped back, frightened by Lar's reaction.

Seeing he had frightened the boy, Lar gained control and saluted, raising his left arm straight overhead while crashing his right arm into his chest. All Hail Lanth!

Hail Lanth! The cadets and nearby guards snapped to attention and saluted.

Never defeated! Lar added.

Never defeated! Arken shouted with the cadets and guards.

Arken felt proud. Though small, their city-state of half a million had never lost a war. But could they defeat the Amarrats, the pyramid builders from the east? Lar seemed so upset. Then Arken dismissed the thought. Of course they could. A single Lantish officer was worth any five Amarrat soldiers in combat.

If I defeat Gart today I can become an officer in this war. I can't wait a whole year to go to sea with a war starting!

Lar turned his gaze to the tall sandglass at the fort's entrance, which emptied and was turned each half-hour.

Rally to the courtyard and form a sparring square, class. There's time enough before we attend the Alda.

The class saluted Lar, and then jogged along the wall to the stairs.

Arken, come with me. You need armor. Lar headed for the armory and Arken followed.

Sir! The head armorer wiped sweat from his bald head with a cloth as he stepped from the armory into the sunlight. He was a short, bulky man with a mustache.

We need to fit the boy quickly with armor. He needs to spar, Lar said.

Right away, sir. Come this way.

Sparks showered from the forge as the armorer led Arken past a smith hammering on a breastplate. The smith used tongs to dip the plate in water, his bare arms bulging with muscles larger than Gart's thick legs. Arken hoped someday he would be that powerful.

Which rack? the head armorer asked.

Arken pointed to his armor, and the head armorer grabbed the pile of bronze Arken had carefully polished and wrapped after he'd last used it. They hurried to the staging area where a second armorer, this one as lean as the head armorer was thick, helped with the intricate task of armoring a soldier.

First came the breastplate, the front and back plate connected by gastag sidestraps with buckled cinches. Sweat dripped from the bulky head armorer's nose as he labored to fasten the shoulder pads, which extended from the breastplate on gastag straps for flexibility. The man's sweat splashed off Arken's shoulder pad and into his eye, but he didn't flinch from the salt sting.

Collars below the shoulder pads covered his biceps, elbows, forearms, and wrists. The thickset armorer tightened the leather straps that held the collars in place while the lean armorer attached the waist skirt as well as thigh, knee, and shin plates. The final pieces were the belt and short sword.

The thickset head armorer pulled the helmet strap tight, and then handed Arken his circular shield adorned with Lanth's national symbol, a white swordtooth's head on a blue background.

It fits you well, the head armorer said. He stepped back and twisted the end of his mustache as he appraised Arken's armor. Good luck!

I'll need it! Arken jogged toward the sparring square. His armor felt like a second skin because he had practiced in it so often. It was light armor, designed to stop a knife cut or sword thrust but not a bolt from a crossbow or longbow-no armor could stop that.

Take your mark, Lar said as Arken's clanking armor announced his arrival.

Yes, sir. Arken entered the sparring square marked by hand-width wooden beams inlaid flush into the courtyard clay. His classmates sat cross-legged on two sides of the thirty-by-thirty-foot square. Arken placed his toes on the sparring mark, which embarrassed him because standing at the line drew too much attention to his oversized feet. On the other hand, Gart stood at his mark ten feet away