Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [68]
The huge black stallion would have none of that however and had sawed through the bit with his teeth and chewed whatever ropes had barred his path. The gardener had nearly had a heart attack the next morning when the huge horse was found munching lazily on his prized asters.
The stablemaster had responded by using a length of chain for a choke collar and placing the stallion in a secluded stall at the rear of the stables where he had gone unnoticed by all but the stableboys for almost a week.
That had ended this afternoon when Bartholomew was found in the orchard this time, helping himself to a bushel of freshly picked apples. The chain was still around the horse's neck but the stall was in shambles from the stallion's ruthless kicks. The stablemaster was getting tired of this and started back to the stables with the horse in tow.
His mistake was that of grumbling something about geldings and castration. The next thing the man knew, his feet were tangled up in the chain and Bartholomew was dragging him towards the rose garden when the gardener came to the rescue.
The question Nicole now wondered was whether the gardener was rescuing his roses and not the stablemaster. It was strange how the huge horse was so badly tempered in the hands of his supposed masters and yet a perfect gentleman when she had arrived on the scene. Or maybe that was simply her biased opinion based upon the horse's proper owner.
She didn't particularly care and she doubted the gardener or stablemaster cared either for the Bartholomew's two-faced nature so long as Nicole returned the horse. The stablemaster had no objections to letting someone else handle the horse and Nicole wasn't about to take no for an answer since she had been waiting for a suitable excuse such as this.
As she approached the gates of the Academy, it occurred to her how dark and somber it looked. Foreboding, was a better word she decided. The two veterans she passed at the gate only waved briefly, never pausing in their card game as they traded old wat stories.
Autumn had set in a little later in here. There was no snow on the ground, just cold frozen leaves. It was odd that there was an inch of snow outside and yet none in here and she couldn't help but wonder what sort of magic was at work.
A livery boy approached her and took Bartholomew's reins. The huge horse snorted and shook his head vigorously before glaring down at the boy. The lad only firmed his jaw and tightened his grip. The mean stallion was known for his temper at the Academy's stables and wasn't about to be forgotten simply because he had been missing for quite awhile.
Nicole slid down off the saddle and patted the stallion's rump to soothe him. She hoped he wouldn't cause too much trouble. "Where's Pierce?" she asked and missed the horse's ears perking up attentively.
"In the basement. There's a door in the stables that leads down there."
The Academy's basement was a mess of old rooms filled with broken or disassembled catapults and other large military equipment. The land on which the Academy had been built on had originally been the city's old armoury and seige depot before it had been separated and moved to several different locations so it would be closer to the city walls. When the city had moved the stuff that was still good, they had left behind the broken parts as junk for whoever was brave enough to buy the land.
The foundations of the originally building had still been good and so Pierce had brought in a team of gnomes and dwarves and together they had renovated the foundation for the new building. The gnomes had insisted that they try and salvage the old seige weapons. The dwarves took one look at it and promptly locked away the larger pieces away for "safe keeping" and burnt the rest.
Five years later, the locks had rusted away and the doors opened easily under Nicole's gentle push. Shoving her torch into the darkness, she