One Eye Opens

by Justin Sargeant

As the two men entered the city gates of Camsbury, their attention turned to the commotion among the people. Men and women hustled about the streets carrying on from one important errand to the next. Some women huddled together with their children to gossip about the latest news from around the empire. Others bought from sellers, traded what they had for whatever they could get, then moved on to the next vendor. Men stood behind rough wooden tables and yelled to the passersby to entice them to buy from their stand instead of the man across the road.

  “Fresh meat! I cut ‘em, you eat ‘em!” one merchant said.

  “Fresh fruit picked straight from the trees! Get ‘em two for the price of one!” the seller across from him barked.

  “You there! Come on over and look at my assortment of rare valuables! They come from very distant lands and contain special powers!” a strange looking merchant said. He had wild hair and torn, dirty clothes. He leaned close to Landon as he and Mordecai passed by.

  These were not the people to buy from. Any of the sellers in the town marketplace could always be counted on to do one thing, exploit the consumer. To get anything at a reasonable price, Landon and Mordecai had to head closer to the town’s center where the shop owners lived and sold their goods.

  The town of Camsbury was shaped more or less like a square inlaid with circles of houses. Toward the outside lived the poorer individuals. Dilapidated houses set in an ordered arc, hung together by a few strands of straw stood against the city walls. These were situated adjacent to the street vendors. This part of town was known for it corrupt and wicked ways. A couple rows of houses inward lay the town center shaped very much like a pear. At the south end, the end from which Landon and his uncle rode, was the larger end. Four large, old, wooden buildings lay stretched out in an arc. The two in the center were bigger than the others and had dirty, black windows surrounding the top. They each had two large doors which swung outward inviting visitors into a cavernous shop inside. These were Godfrey’s blacksmith shop and the silversmith’s shop. On the outside of them lay two shorter buildings with one door and one window each. The doors were closed. These shops belonged to the butcher and Archer who sold the good Landon and Mordecai needed. Across a wide street on the opposite end of the center contained one small building with a small wooden door, the Apothecary’s shop and another long building bustling with people. This was Rowan’s Tavern. Situated just behind the town square to the northwest sat the monstrous cathedral which cast its enormous shadow on numerous abandoned buildings to the east.

  As Landon and Mordecai entered the town center, they turned their horses left and headed towards the first building which was Archer’s. Landon did not stop when Mordecai did. He instead continued forward towards the third building in the middle of the row where Godfrey’s shop lay. As Mordecai dismounted and flipped the reins around the post, he looked back as Landon carried on his way. He could see Godfrey’s wooden sign hanging over his door covered in dust with the word blacksmith and a symbol of an anvil. He stood in disbelief at the blatant disobedience from his nephew. He started to call out then stopped himself. He would deal with it later.

  As Landon approached Godfrey’s he saw the shop in its state is disrepair. The building was very old. The south side of its roof had a thatched spot where a hole had been repaired years ago, and on the west side, a new hole was forming. The shop had two large doors in the front that opened up revealing a wide array of anvils, kilns, and an assortment of weaponry hanging all around. Aside from the windows near the roof, the sides of the shop had one window each, which were covered in dust and slightly blackened from the smoke. Landon also noticed a few guards roaming the town center. He felt an uneasiness begin to creep up in his stomach. He stopped Aquila and dismounted her. Finding a post, he flung the reins around it, and was about to enter the doors when a voice stopped him.

  “I wouldn’t go that way. He’s not in right now.” Landon turned at the sound.

  “And where might he be?”

  “If it was your place to know, you would not need me to tell you,” the voice retorted.

  Landon strode towards the man he had been speaking with. He was a head taller than Landon, and his hair was speckled with the gray that comes from years of living. His brown tunic was strapped tightly about him allowing his muscles to bulge out from underneath. A sword was sheathed and hung at the man’s waist. The lines on the man’s face and the dark blue eyes that stared at Landon indicated more under the surface that only needed a reason to explode at any man’s peril.

  Landon stopped in front of the man, his nose inches away from his chin. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire town was frozen in suspense at who might make the first move. They received their answer when the tall man raised his right hand to the sky. As he did so, Landon stepped back waiting for the inevitable. The man’s arm came down around Landon’s shoulder and slapped him square on the back. Landon recoiled from the shock of the man’s burly hand. The huge man laughed.

  “It is good to see you young one!” Godfrey exclaimed.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” Landon said with a smile on his face. “Octavius broke his harness again.”

  “Then you will not be staying.”

  “Nay, though, he won’t be needing me at the moment.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Would you like to come in and have a seat? I was just returning from buying some shoes for my horse. You never know when you might have use of them.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Landon said with a wide smile stretched across his face.

  Godfrey was one of the few men still living in Camsbury who old enough to remember how the Realm had existed before the Treaty of the Lords. He was an odd old man who lived alone and made sure to keep it that way. He always kept to himself and depended upon selling armor and weapons to soldiers, knights, and anyone who might have a need for defense. Every year the harvest festival came to town and Godfrey set up shop. He never attempted to coerce people to enter his tent nor ever appeared in front of it. He always sat quietly inside sipping his tea, waiting for people to come to him; that was how he and Landon met.

  When Landon was ten years old, he and Mordecai went to the festival to sell some of their crops from that year’s harvest. Mordecai got lost in a conversation, and Landon decided to sneak away to visit the other tents. He knew Mordecai wouldn’t be happy if he got caught, but the excitement of discovery was more appealing at the time. Landon walked past every vendor who yelled or shook goods in his face until finally he came upon a tent with no one in front. The sign at the front read: Godfrey’s Weaponry. It was just enough to inspire the boy’s curiosity.

  He entered the tent and saw a man sitting at a table drinking from a cup. The tent was full of differing weapons of every shape and size. Along the left side of the tent stood an array of swords; some had curved blades, others had massive straight blades. Some were made of rare and precious metals while still others were made of simple iron and bronze. A collection of axes stood along the right side of the tent. Landon stared curiously at many that held one blade and some that held two. The blades varied from rounded to triangular to square. There was one in particular that caught Landon’s eye. It was about two feet long. At the base was a soft grip for the wielder and beneath it a long spike. Near the top two triangular blades spanned out from the long shaft in the midst of the weapon. In the soft candle light both blades glinted a deep sapphire color as if the blades were made out of the gem themselves. The metal itself shone brightly as though it were made from pure gold. At the back of the tent sat a long wooden table empty except for the man and his cup. Immediately Godfrey saw the boy and beckoned him to come closer. Landon, not sure what to do, stood frozen in place. Godfrey again called the boy over to him and asked, “What’s your name?” Landon told him trying to sound braver than he really felt.

  “Interesting,” was all the older man said when Mordecai burst into the tent, his eyes flaming with anger.

  “Godfrey! How dare you speak with my
nephew without my permission! He has work to do!” Mordecai blared.

  “My apologies, sir,” came the reply in a quiet voice.

  “But uncle, he didn’t–”

  “Enough! Landon you stay away from this crazy old man, you hear me?”

  “Yes sir,” Landon said sheepishly. That was the first and last time Landon had ever seen his uncle that upset. Since that day, as Landon grew older, Mordecai was more willing to allow Landon the freedom to visit Godfrey. He tended to visit Godfrey’s shop more often than he, and even Mordecai, realized.

  The two men walked back towards the dusty building. Godfrey was the first to enter. As he did, he set down his horseshoes and lit up a few candles near the doorway. He continued into the darkened room lighting up candle after candle as he went bringing a warm glow into the dark shop of metal. Finally, he returned, shoved some dust-covered books off of a chair and bade Landon sit down.

  Landon gladly obliged, and Godfrey headed towards a large hearth. Set inside was a fire burning steadily upon which rested a large iron kettle. “Care for some tea?” Godfrey said.

  Landon never liked the tea Godfrey always offered him, but he always accepted to placate the older gentleman. “I would indeed.”

  The old man grabbed two iron cylinders, poured the steaming liquid into them, and handed one to Landon. “It’s all I have,” apologized the old man. “I do not have many nice things these days.”

  “It’s quite alright,” Landon reassured him. He took a sip from the warm cylinder and flinched at the heat and strength of the tea. Godfrey took a seat across from where Landon was sitting. “I suppose you’ve come to hear a story?” he inquired. Landon nodded. Though Godfrey was known for his talents at the smith, he was also known to recount tales of long ago that had been handed down from generation to generation.

  “Well, it has been a while since anyone has come calling for tall tales. What would you like to hear . . . A story of true love? No, no, I think you are looking for a more epic story . . . how about one involving great battles and great deeds . . . come to think of it, I believe I have told you all of the great war stories I know. Would you like to hear them again?”

  “Well, I was actually hoping for new stories; if you don’t mind.”

  “Hmm . . .” he murmured as he searched the recesses of his memory. He kept his gaze upon the glowing embers beneath the tea trying desperately to remember a grand tale. Staring at the fire, his eyes lit up. “I cannot believe it had not occurred to me earlier! Speaking of great deeds, I do think I have one that may interest you. I suppose you are old enough now.” He paused for effect. “How much do you remember about your father?”

  “My father?” Landon said in a surprised voice. “Nothing really. Uncle hasn’t been too keen on sharing.”

  “Hmm . . .” was the reply from Godfrey as he took a long sip of his tea. He began slowly, pausing after every few words to give Landon time to absorb his words. “Suppose I told you he was a great man who accomplished a great deed. Would that interest you?”

  Landon stared blankly back at Godfrey. His head was swirling with a torrent of questions. How did he know my father? Who was my father? What great deed? Then, his dream from the previous night exploded into his mind. Could all that I saw have really been a vision into the past? He decided he would wait to hear Godfrey’s tale before he shared his dream.

  “I would be lying if I said it didn’t,” Landon said trying to sound calm and not betray the wave of emotions that was building up inside him.

  “As you know, before his death, your father worked the farm that now belongs to Mordecai. One day, while he was toiling away at plowing his fields, your father heard a commotion out on the road. Men were shouting and horses were neighing. Your father stopped his work to investigate the noise; his curiosity always was strong. He ventured towards the road to see four men on horses galloping at a lightning fast pace towards the house. They came upon the short, stone fence, which encircles your farm, and each in turn tried to jump it. The first three cleared it with little effort; however the fourth tripped on a loose stone and broke its leg. Jediael, seeing they were in trouble, offered assistance.

  “The men were reluctant at first to allow a stranger into their business. Eventually they decided that they could go no further with a lame horse. Your father then brought the men into the house and offered them shelter and food for the night. While at dinner Jediael asked why they were riding so hard and to where they were going. ‘We are on an important mission for the Sovereign,’ they said. ‘We cannot tell our mission to anyone.’ Appeased, your father did not inquire further. After dinner, Jediael showed them to their rooms and bade them a good evening.

  “Later that night, he awoke to hear them talking to each other. Your hut being very small it was easy to hear their conversation. They were deciding what to do about the horse.

  ‘The horse will not make it through the night. Best to end it now,’ a dark voice said.

  ‘Agreed, but that only leaves us with three horses for the four of us. We must get to the castle tomorrow by sundown if we are to complete our mission,’ another said. ‘The Sovereign will only be vulnerable for thirty minutes and we have to be in the capitol before he is.”

  “Another man chimed in, ‘How are we to kill the Sovereign with only three horses? We will never get there in time, and Reginald will kill us instead.’

  ‘We will ride at dawn. Arthur and I will ride ahead, while you two take the third horse. The plan only requires two anyway. You are simply our cover.’

  “Your father understood the Realm was in grave danger. He had to warn the Sovereign. Jediael waited for the strangers to finally sleep, then quietly awoke one of his farmhands. Knowing the assassins would inquire of him in the morning he gave orders to inform them that he had grave business to attend to in Ellington and wished them a speedy journey. He told your mother to serve them breakfast and assist them in all ways. At their peril he instructed them not to reveal knowledge of the assassination attempt. Then, he walked his horse to the edge of the farm keeping noise at a premium. Once he was safely away from earshot, he mounted his horse and rode hard toward the capitol. The next morning the servants and Catherine did their best to act casual and sent the strangers on their way.

  Since Jediael had ridden ahead, the Sovereign was alerted, and by the time the assassins arrived, they were taken into custody. The next day the four of them were hanged for their conspiracy, though their leader Reginald was never found. For his courageous act, the Sovereign called your father into his throne room to reward him.”

  “What reward did he receive?” Landon said leaning forward as close as he could to hear Godfrey’s every word.

  Refusing to answer the question Godfrey began another story.

  “I knew your father quite well, actually. He and I had a long friendship dating back to before your aunt’s death. Do you remember the night we first met?” Godfrey inquired.

  “How could I forget? I had never seen Uncle Mordecai so angry.” Landon said still wanting an answer to his question.

  “He had good reason to be, at least, he thinks so. It was soon after your Aunt Calliope’s death that everything began to change.

  The three of us had been as close as friends could be. After the accident, your uncle disappeared for many years. No one knew where. Your mother wanted to find him, but she couldn’t leave her parents who were still grieving from their loss. Eventually, we gave him up as dead too. A few years went by and your father married your mother, and your father assumed control of the farm in your uncle’s stead.”

  “You still have not told me how the Sovereign rewarded my father?” Landon interrupted.

  “Have patience. I am telling a story, so you must wait,” Godfrey said calmly. Landon leaned back in his chair annoyed at the suspense the smith was building in him.

  “Now, where was I? Oh yes . . . your mother was a strong influence on your father. He was intending to work for the church, but she convinced him
otherwise. She convinced him that his life would be better suited raising a family and having a son to carry on his legacy. A year later they became pregnant, and your uncle returned from wherever he had been.

  ‘He seemed changed somehow. He wasn’t as talkative as he used to be, and he had much more muscle on him than when he left. He did not like the fact that your father had married your mother. There was something about him that Mordecai did not like. Personally, I think he began to resent him for taking Catherine’s attention away from him. Anyway, after two years of marriage your father discovered that he was having a son.”

  “You mean me.” Landon clarified by interrupting again.

  “Yes, now hush . . . Anyway, once your father knew he was going to have you, he knew he wanted to give you a gift.” Becoming intrigued once more, Landon sat up straighter. Having never known his parents, he had always longed for some tangible piece of them. Now Godfrey had revealed that very possibility.

  “Do you know what he wanted to give me?”

  “This,” Godfrey said. “This is the very reward the Sovereign gave your father.” And as he spoke he pulled out from underneath him a piece of folded cloth. “Open it.”

  Landon took the cloth in his hands and immediately he could feel the weight of the object. He set it on the ground and slowly began to peel away the layers of sackcloth. First the left side, then the right side, finally he unfolded it towards the top, and sitting there before him on the floor in Godfrey’s dusty home was a ring of purest silver with the boldest, fiery, crimson stone inlaid into the top.

  “This is your inheritance.”

  Coming Soon:

  Make sure to keep an extra eye open for the rest of the story in The Awakening!

  About the Author:

  Justin Sargeant is a Kern County based English teacher, author and novelist. He received a Bachelor of Arts in History with a minor in English Literature from California State University of Bakersfield and a Master of Arts in Secondary English Education from Point Loma Nazarene University. His love of fantasy and knowledge of Medieval history combine is his first series The Stones of Revenge.

  Connect With Me Online:

  https://mastersarge.wordpress.com