The Apprentice by Alexander C. Hoffman Page A

could not take his eyes away from it. The trail before him was fresh and
new, but until the hills completely hid the village from sight, Rowan could
only look back. He wanted to make sure that he would never forget what his home
in the Vale was like. The smell of the trees and the sound of the woods. The
autumn winds brushing against his skin and sight of the hills rising up all
around him, enclosing him in a valley. He was finally leaving and it would be
behind him.
    With
Corrinth at their backs, the pair climbed down the hills and made their way
along a weather-beaten path to the trading route that led out of the Vale,
which traders and travelling caravans used when visiting the village. He often
wondered whether the road had been created for them or by them.
    Rowan
had seen the road before. He had even travelled it for a distance, just to see
what it was like. But the valleys and the hills and the forest stretched on far
and he had never seen where the road would take him, where it ended.
    “The
king’s road is so worn here that it has become little less than a dirt
pathway.” It was the first time the knight had spoken without any prompting
from Rowan.
    “The
kingsroad?”
    “The
king’s roads,” Baird said, pronouncing the words clearly, “are all of the roads
and highways throughout Atlea that are kept and maintained by King Alden. They
run throughout the land, connecting many of the major cities. I have seen
sections in disrepair, but it seems this northern road has been forgotten
entirely. Not more than two or three centuries past, the Vale was a prominent
area. Now it sits isolated and forgotten.”
    “Two
hundred years!” Rowan found it difficult to think of the land so many years
ago. He tried to think of how many generations that would be. Had his family
been living there for that long?
    Once on
the main roadway winding through the Vale, travelling became considerably
easier. It was little more than a widened path, but less brush grew where they
walked and it was not terribly rocky. Rowan was grateful for a beaten trail to
walk on. When walking the slopes of hills they did not need to worry as much
about their footing. The recent rains had been heavy and left everything damp
and muddy, but the road held firm. Baird the knight might have found travelling
on the road easier as well, but he gave no indication if he did. He travelled
in silence.
    The day
was good for travelling. The trees around them offered shade and the sky was
filled with clouds, none of which were dark and heavy with rain. The storm was
gone and the weather was fresh and cool.
    For
hours they walked, traversing the winding road through and over the hills. Off
to the side they passed areas where the hills opened into other valleys. There
were others living in the Vale, Rowan knew. The Corrinthian Valley, though
large, was but a small part of the whole. There were a few other farms and a
small village or two, but the land was not ideal for living. They saw only a
single farm off in the distance and though there were no people about, Rowan
could see signs that the area was lived in.
    As they
travelled, the landscape slowly began to change. It was subtle, only noticeable
to someone who was very observant or who had lived amongst the forested valleys
of the Vale. The trees, which had grown so thickly that Rowan could have stood
at any point and been within arm’s reach of multiple trunks, began to thin.
Brush covered the ground more thickly. It made Rowan even more grateful for the
road. The great path was covered in weeds and stones aplenty, and there were
often sections overgrown with brush, but the ground was even and solid.
    Rowan
struggled to keep pace with Baird, though the knight carried far more weight.
They took few breaks and Rowan grew tired and sore as the day wore on and the
sun began to fall. He was no stranger to labor, nor was he out of shape. He
worked hard on the farm and was used to standing for most of the day, every
day.