Master of Sorrows (The Silent Gods #1)

It was all the advantage Annev needed. He stepped in with his hip and reached over his own shoulder, grabbing the haft of Janson’s axe. Still holding the rope tight, Annev pulled the axe forward over his head towards the ground. Janson held tight to his weapon, but the hemp buckled his knees and Annev levered his body in a smooth throw. In a blink, Janson was rolling over Annev’s back and smacked into the stone roof, a whump knocking the air from his lungs.


Annev pulled on the axe, expecting it to come free, but Janson held on, gasping for air. Annev pulled again then cursed and kicked the boy in the arm and shoulder. Janson only released his grip when Annev’s booted foot aimed for his face. Instead of kicking, Annev placed his foot on the avatar’s neck and lifted the weapon over his head.

‘Master Edra!’ Annev yelled, not taking his eyes off his opponent.

Annev waited while Janson struggled beneath his boot, trying to lift Annev’s foot from his throat. Annev pressed harder, and when that failed, he rapped Janson’s fingers with the blunt side of the axe.

‘Master Edra!’ he shouted again.

‘Let him go,’ Edra shouted back. ‘Janson, you’re out. Annev, join the others.’

Annev lifted his foot, his pulse still racing, but as he turned to go Janson grabbed his ankle and yanked, dropping Annev to his stomach. He flipped onto his back, blood thumping in his ears, but the avatar didn’t try anything else.

‘You got lucky,’ Janson said, untangling the rope around his legs. ‘You surprised me.’

Annev wanted to snap back that it was skill, not luck, but he was still winded from hitting the ground. Instead, he got to his feet.

‘Thanks for the axe.’

He walked towards Edra and the other boys then spotted Lemwich sparring with a freckle-faced acolyte named Alisander. The smaller boy carried a shard of dead wood – the remnant of a pine bough he’d been using as a crude club. From what Annev could tell, Alisander had used his stick to block Lemwich’s opening salvo, but the force of the chainmail gauntlet had shattered the dried wood.

By the time Annev reached Edra the fight was over.

‘Let him go, Lem! Alisander, you’re out.’ Edra looked down at Annev. ‘Annev, you can face Lemwich next. Southern terrace.’

Annev’s stomach flipped as he walked towards the acolyte he’d been helping just a few minutes ago. He stopped a dozen paces away and Lemwich smiled at him.

‘Worked pretty well,’ Lemwich said, drawing in the rope and gauntlet. ‘Scared the tar out of Ali, anyway. What happened to yours?’

‘My rope-weight?’ Annev asked. ‘I left it. Thought the axe was an upgrade until I knew I’d be facing you. No reach to it.’

‘Mm. Not much left of Ali’s branch, so I guess I’m still using this.’ Lemwich coiled the rope, letting the chain glove slither across the rooftop. ‘It’ll be a shame when I beat you with it.’ Before Annev could manage a retort, the rope-weight shot out and the chainmail gauntlet flew for Annev’s face. Annev raised his axe, holding it tight with both hands, and ducked.

The weapon crashed into the axe handle, its momentum spinning the hemp rope and chain glove tight around the haft. Annev tensed, keeping a firm grip on the axe, then felt Lem haul on the other end of the rope. Annev’s shoulders jerked and he braced against another, stronger tug that almost had him off his feet. He yanked back, off balance, as Lem hauled him closer. Annev pulled yet harder, trying to break the rope he’d half severed moments before, but it didn’t give way. Lem grinned, dragging Annev towards him. Annev was just about to lose their tug-of-war when the rope finally snapped. The braided cord flew away leaving the mail glove wrapped around Annev’s axe. A half-dozen feet off, Lemwich barely managed to stay on his feet. He paused then stared stupidly at the limp coil of rope in his hands.

Annev didn’t hesitate. He launched himself at Lemwich, taking advantage of his opponent’s shock. The boy’s hands came up reflexively, the frayed hemp still clutched in his meaty fingers, only Annev ignored the boy’s fists and ducked low, using the axe to hook Lem’s leg. At the same time, he ploughed his shoulder into the larger boy’s gut, throwing him off balance. Lemwich hopped backward, trying to regain his footing, and Annev continued to press him, unrelenting, forcing Lemwich further back.

Lemwich had to fall. Annev would make him fall.

Annev threw his weight into the big acolyte again – the largest and strongest in his reap – and forced him backward. Lemwich tried to brace himself then grunted, suddenly stopping, his hands grabbing Annev’s tunic.

No! Annev’s mind roared. If the larger boy got a solid hold he was done for.

Annev jumped back, yanking his tunic free and hauling upwards on his axe, lifting Lemwich’s leg out from under him. With a furious final push, Annev toppled him.

Lemwich fell, flipping onto the edge of the parapet. Annev saw in a moment that that was how Lem had managed to come to a stop – braced against the parapet until Annev had downed him. Lem’s eyes widened as his massive frame teetered on the brink of the Academy wall. He squirmed like an overturned turtle, only to slip further towards the edge.

‘No!’ Annev shouted, lunging for the other student.

And then the boy was gone, toppling over the edge, the coil of rope snaking over the parapet behind him. Annev dropped his axe and grabbed the rope, throwing a loop of hemp around the nearest merlon before the former snapped tight. He heard Lemwich yelp and felt the rope sliding through his fingers. Annev swore and spun, wrapping the hemp around his hips and bracing his legs against the two nearest merlons.

‘Help!’ Annev shouted. ‘Master Edra! Help!’

There was nothing but him and the rope, his legs straining against the merlons, holding Lem’s weight for an eternity. The sounds of the other boys fighting were distant as the rope crushed around him. Annev yelled again. And again. The rope continued to slide through his hands, burning his palms and dragging its rough threads across his body. Annev tried to hold tighter but his grip was failing. His feet shifted against the wall, accidentally dislodging the hemp he’d looped around the nearest merlon. Lemwich lurched, dropping another few feet, and the weight spun Annev around, tugging the hemp from his hips. He screamed as more rope slid through his fingers – Lem was simply too heavy to hold. He felt the last foot of braided hemp slide through his hands and—

‘Gods!’ Edra swore, grabbing the rope before the last inches could fly free. He hauled on it, pulling the rope back over the rooftop. Annev grabbed the hemp once again, adding his weight to Edra’s strength, and together they pulled the rope another foot. Others arrived, attracted by their shouts, and the mob slowly pulled the dangling acolyte back towards the terrace. Lemwich’s clenched fingers appeared above the battlements followed by his broad, bloodless face. With a final massive effort, the acolyte was pulled back over the wall to safety.

Annev dropped the hemp rope and slumped to the ground. He looked over at Lemwich and the boy gave him a long, slow nod of thanks. Annev nodded in turn, then looked up to see the Master of Arms glowering at him.

‘An accident?’

Annev nodded. ‘I tried …’

‘You tried to save him,’ Edra said. ‘I know. I saw, but I didn’t see how he came to fall over that ledge.’

Justin Call's books