Read Online Thornbear (Book 1) by Michael G. Manning - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael G. Manning
Ads: Link
testing me, and Moira thinks I just got overloaded with magic… or something.” He knew she had said ‘aythar’, but he wasn’t sure if that was a term for energy, or magic, or both, so he stuck with ‘magic’.
Cyhan gave him a look that seemed to pierce straight through him. In some ways it reminded him of his mother’s gaze, for he could tell the warrior knew much more about him than would ordinarily be assumed from just a short glance, yet it felt different. His mother’s eyes dissected the world, and though he knew she loved him, there was always something disconcerting about the knowledge she gleaned. Cyhan’s eyes held something different; a quiet stillness, and a deep knowledge that coexisted with an overwhelming sense of confident masculinity.
Just a look, and Gram knew that the other man understood him, not because of any clever deductions, but rather because the old warrior knew men, he knew soldiers, and he had trained countless young men to be warriors. Cyhan had been a boy on the cusp of manhood once, and even more important, he had been much like Gram.
“I don’t know much about magic,” said Cyhan, “but I can help you.”
“They said this was just temporary,” explained Gram. “It probably won’t last more than a day or two.”
The big man gave an almost inaudible grunt.
“So, it would probably be a waste of your time,” continued the teen.
Cyhan raised one eyebrow, silently challenging Gram’s statement.
He knew then—Cyhan was offering something far greater than just a bit of advice. The realization washed over him like a cool wave, calming his spirit. The frustration that had burned within him for so long bubbled up for a moment, threatening to overwhelm him and making his eyes water, and then it passed. “Are you offering to train me?” The question felt stupid for some reason, but he had to be sure.
“Yeah—I suppose I am,” said the older man, with no hint of a smile.
“What about my mother?”
“I’m not offering to train her,” said Cyhan flatly.
“She’s made it clear to everyone that she doesn’t want me trained as a knight,” clarified Gram.
Cyhan chuffed, “I’ve sworn no oath to your mother.”
“What about the Count?”
“He’s given me leave to use my own judgment, and he’s never given any command where you’re concerned anyway. You should be more worried about what the training will be like,” said the older man.
Gram hesitated a second, but only to formulate his response, his resolve was already set, “Can we start now?”
Too young to know fear, thought Cyhan. “Follow me. From now on, while you are training, you will only speak when I give you permission or in response to a direct question. You will call me ‘Zaihair’ or ‘Sir’. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” responded Gram immediately.
They walked a short distance, heading toward the outer wall of Washbrook. Gram assumed it was because Cyhan intended to lead him back to the woods outside the small town. After a time, he posed a question to his new teacher, “What does the term Zaihair mea…”
He never finished the question. Cyhan’s eyes flashed a warning that rendered him mute.
“I’m not your friend any longer, boy,” said the big man with a warning growl. “You speak only when I permit it, forget again and I’ll reinforce the message with pain.” He stopped there, watching the younger man.
Gram almost answered, instinctively feeling the need to say ‘yes sir’, but he held himself back, sensing the warning in Cyhan’s eyes.
The older man waited, and then smiled faintly, “Good. You aren’t stupid enough to mistake a pause for a question. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
They walked on until they had left the town far behind. They stopped short of the forest itself as Cyhan indicated a smooth grassy area in the clearing that served as a border between a farmer’s field and the start of the woods. “Sit,” he commanded.
Gram did so, and
Cyhan gave him a look that seemed to pierce straight through him. In some ways it reminded him of his mother’s gaze, for he could tell the warrior knew much more about him than would ordinarily be assumed from just a short glance, yet it felt different. His mother’s eyes dissected the world, and though he knew she loved him, there was always something disconcerting about the knowledge she gleaned. Cyhan’s eyes held something different; a quiet stillness, and a deep knowledge that coexisted with an overwhelming sense of confident masculinity.
Just a look, and Gram knew that the other man understood him, not because of any clever deductions, but rather because the old warrior knew men, he knew soldiers, and he had trained countless young men to be warriors. Cyhan had been a boy on the cusp of manhood once, and even more important, he had been much like Gram.
“I don’t know much about magic,” said Cyhan, “but I can help you.”
“They said this was just temporary,” explained Gram. “It probably won’t last more than a day or two.”
The big man gave an almost inaudible grunt.
“So, it would probably be a waste of your time,” continued the teen.
Cyhan raised one eyebrow, silently challenging Gram’s statement.
He knew then—Cyhan was offering something far greater than just a bit of advice. The realization washed over him like a cool wave, calming his spirit. The frustration that had burned within him for so long bubbled up for a moment, threatening to overwhelm him and making his eyes water, and then it passed. “Are you offering to train me?” The question felt stupid for some reason, but he had to be sure.
“Yeah—I suppose I am,” said the older man, with no hint of a smile.
“What about my mother?”
“I’m not offering to train her,” said Cyhan flatly.
“She’s made it clear to everyone that she doesn’t want me trained as a knight,” clarified Gram.
Cyhan chuffed, “I’ve sworn no oath to your mother.”
“What about the Count?”
“He’s given me leave to use my own judgment, and he’s never given any command where you’re concerned anyway. You should be more worried about what the training will be like,” said the older man.
Gram hesitated a second, but only to formulate his response, his resolve was already set, “Can we start now?”
Too young to know fear, thought Cyhan. “Follow me. From now on, while you are training, you will only speak when I give you permission or in response to a direct question. You will call me ‘Zaihair’ or ‘Sir’. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” responded Gram immediately.
They walked a short distance, heading toward the outer wall of Washbrook. Gram assumed it was because Cyhan intended to lead him back to the woods outside the small town. After a time, he posed a question to his new teacher, “What does the term Zaihair mea…”
He never finished the question. Cyhan’s eyes flashed a warning that rendered him mute.
“I’m not your friend any longer, boy,” said the big man with a warning growl. “You speak only when I permit it, forget again and I’ll reinforce the message with pain.” He stopped there, watching the younger man.
Gram almost answered, instinctively feeling the need to say ‘yes sir’, but he held himself back, sensing the warning in Cyhan’s eyes.
The older man waited, and then smiled faintly, “Good. You aren’t stupid enough to mistake a pause for a question. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
They walked on until they had left the town far behind. They stopped short of the forest itself as Cyhan indicated a smooth grassy area in the clearing that served as a border between a farmer’s field and the start of the woods. “Sit,” he commanded.
Gram did so, and
Similar Books
