by Ian Newton
Chapter 13
Shadow Talk
Connor’s horse lazily clip-clopped along the old dirt road as the sun threw its last rays into the billowing clouds overhead. Pink and purple fanned out in all directions until they melted into a brilliant orange along the horizon.
Ravi and Tarquin were sitting on the front steps of the old stone house when they heard Connor yell out, “Did you find everything all right?”
Looking up from their conversation, they watched him arrive.
“The real question is, did you find everything all right?” Ravi asked, from his perch on the steps.
Tarquin ravenously eyed the long loaves of bread sticking out of the over-stuffed, leather saddlebags. He watched Connor take extra care not to hit their contents with his leg or foot when he dismounted.
Jumping down from the saddle, his new boots sunk into the thin layer of mud.
“I did!” Connor said, taking out a long loaf of bread.
He broke it in half, handing the pieces to Ravi and Tarquin.
They both thanked him, and Tarquin yelled over his shoulder, “Hey Ross!” not noticing the door behind him had swung open.
Ross bent down and whispered in Tarquin’s ear, “Yes Tarquin?”
“Ahhh!” Tarquin squealed, dropping his bread on the wooden step and scooching off to one side.
Ravi and Connor laughed as Ross bent down, picked up the bread and started eating it.
“Hey?!” Tarquin objected.
“Tarquin,” Connor said.
“What? But he has my…”
“Tarquin,” Connor said again.
Tarquin turned away from Ross and looked at Connor, who was pointing another long loaf of bread at him like a sword.
“Oh, thank you,” he said, sounding a little too desperate.
This time, everyone laughed. Connor lifted the fat saddlebags from the dappled mustang and flopped them over the railing on the porch.
Looking up at Ross, he said, “Smoked fish, fresh vegetables, fruit, sausages, a pheasant, and some potatoes. It’s all in here.” He patted the bulging leather pouches. “Help yourselves. I’m going to go take care of this handsome animal, then I’ll be back.”
Ross nodded approvingly, and all three of them thanked Connor.
Leading Shaker’s prized stallion casually toward the barn, he called back, “There’s a pot of honey in there, and a pound of butter. It’s delicious on that bread.”
That evening, after Ravi and Tarquin had fallen asleep upstairs, Ross and Connor sat alone in the main room just off the kitchen. They had their bare feet up on a large, shared ottoman and the coals of the evening fire burned low.
“There’s a bit of a contest going on in town amongst all the Smiths,” Connor said casually, trying not to sound enthusiastic.
Ross sipped at his mug of hot water and honey. “Contest?” he asked, taking another sip. “What’s the prize?”
Connor waited patiently, then casually answered, “Any single request.”
Ross wrapped his hands around the unglazed mug. He breathed out like an exhausted parent at the end of a long day. “That leaves a lot to the imagination.”
Connor watched as the steam from Ross’ cup wafted across his face. The candlelight bounced off the vapors, reflecting back onto Ross’ face, making him look pale and ethereal.
“I want to be a Blacksmith, and I think this is the fastest way.”
Ross set the mug down and pushed himself up in his chair. He leaned forward, looked at Connor, and asked, “Is that any way to earn yourself a place in that guild?”
“I think it’s a way,” Connor said flatly. “I didn’t say anything about ideal situations.”
Ross fell back in his chair.
“I’m supposed to try and have a life, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
“You’re supposed to help me reintegrate into this world, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You wish I weren't like this, don’t you?”
“It’s not that, Connor. You just seem to challenge everything I’ve been taught.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re here.”
“Maybe,” Ross said, sounding tired. “Maybe.”
“Maybe you could help me?”
“I’m afraid to even ask.”
“Don’t be like that Ross. I really need your help.”
“What are you going to ask for if you win?”
“I told you. I just want to be a Blacksmith. If I can do this, I would ask to be a Blacksmith and to be in the guild.”
“Are you gonna ask for a Smithy too?”
“No, I sorta have one of those already?”
Ross sat up again, looked at Connor, and asked, “You have a workshop? You own a Smithy already.”
Connor shrugged his shoulders looking innocent of whatever crime Ross was imagining. “It’s the barn out back,” he confessed. “There’s a forge hidden under the bales of hay. It wasn’t legal for my father or Mr. Miller to have it. But if I could make it legal, then I could use it and make this place my home. Besides, all my old tools are down in the basement.”
Ross’ hand smacked against his forehead, knocking him back into his chair.
“It’s either that or some humiliating apprenticeship. But with a name like Duncan I don’t think that’s very likely. Do you?”
“What’s the contest?”
“Pridarius is dead.”
“The King is dead?”
“He died when the waves of Light knocked down the ceiling of his throne room. I guess it fell on his head.”
“Then they’ll be crowning his son.”
“I think they already did,” Connor said. “It’s his son who’s holding the contest. He wants a funerary sword made for his father.”
“When does it need to be presented?”
“In three days.”
Ross picked up his mug and took a sip.
“You don’t need my help, you need a miracle.”
“Or maybe just a clever plan,” Connor suggested.
“I’m listening,” Ross whispered into his cup.
“I’m going to make the Crystal Sword.”
Ross choked on his drink until little dribbles of it came out his nose. His whole body shook with wet, coughing gasps. Desperately slamming the mug down on the table, he stood up. The candle stub flickered as he bent over and coughed up the last of his drink.
“I need to get some air,” Ross managed to say, and with a final sputter, the candle went out.
He stumbled down the dark hallway to the front door and went outside.
“He took it better than I thought,” Connor whispered to himself.
Without reaching for a wall, Connor navigated through the dark room, down the hallway and out into the night air.
On the porch, Ross was bent over, holding onto the railing.
“Are you all right?”
“I just need a minute,” he said, waving his hand in the air.
“I know,” Connor said, sitting down on the steps and looking up at the stars. “Take your time. I didn’t come out here to pester you.”
Ross took several deep breaths, put his hand on Connor’s shoulder and eased himself down next to him.
To the north, a ribbon of Light trailed up into the night sky.
“How long did you say it would be like that?” Connor asked.
“Five hundred years.”
“So does any of this matter right now? I mean who’s to say any of this will matter in a few thousand years.”
“It’s times like this that matter the most,” Ross said.
Connor knew if he could get Ross talking and more importantly get him teaching, he stood a chance.
“So entering this
contest, making the sword from the Kingdom, you think all that’s going to change the world?”
“That’s not what worries me, Connor. I think it will change you, and I think you, just like any of us, can change the world.”
“So you don’t want me to change the world?”
“I’m not going to bite on that hook. We’re leaving for the Kingdom tomorrow after the supplies arrive. I think your reintroduction is complete.”
“But I still need your help to make the sword.”
“You don’t need my help.”
“Yes, I do. I don’t know how to make the basket go around the hilt. Without that, it won’t be right.”
“I saw the list of supplies you ordered from the Chandlery. Tomorrow you’ll have the materials to make it.”
“That doesn’t mean I can make it. Honestly, Ross, I need your help now more than ever.”
“What did you learn in the Empire this afternoon?”
“I learned you were right about what was in there.”
“Pretty disgusting, isn’t it?”
“It’s worse than disgusting. Seeing how those people live and how they take advantage of each other, it made me ashamed of humanity. I used to think it was such a better place, but now I think I might have been one of the lucky ones growing up the way I did. Why do we treat each other that way? Why are we like that?”
Ross looked at Connor, who was looking up at the stars.
“Say that again.”
“Say what again?” Connor asked.
“The part where you were lucky.”
“Oh, I think I was lucky to grow up outside of the city, outside of Pridarius’ walls.”
“That’s an odd thing to hear you say.”
“I’m actually surprised I said it myself.”
“What about the little boy who was abandoned at the orphanage?”
“I think you already know, but if I had been left here instead of there, I could have turned out much worse than I am now…much worse.”
“Do you think Jacob knew that?”
“I know he did because I do, and I only spent an afternoon in there.”
“So what happens if you get the reward you’re looking for?”
“I don’t really know,” Connor said, standing up. He stepped out in front of the house where the moon threw his murky shadow against the ground.
“Look at your shadow,” Ross said.
Connor turned his back to the moon and looked down at his shadow. He waved to himself.
“Maybe that’s the future you, you’re waving to.”
“What?”
“It’s a thing we do in the village. It’s probably going to feel silly for you, but do me a favor and just play along.”
“All right.”
“Repeat after me.”
Connor nodded.
“The moon is full just once a month, and it always shines on me. When I look upon the ground, I see the me I’ll be.”
Connor repeated the verse.
“If I wander from my path, I would tell myself these words. I say them now so I can hear them when they sound absurd.”
Again, Connor repeated Ross’ words. Looking over at Ross, he asked, “You really do this?”
“We do. You don’t have to say it out loud, but most of us do.”
“What do I do next?” Connor asked.
“Give your future-self some advice, but don’t tell yourself what not to do; tell yourself what you’re going to do. It can be a little difficult when someone else is watching. I’m going to go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ross stood up, stretched his arms wide and yawned, pawing at the air.
“Ross?”
“Yeah, Connor.”
“What do you call this?”
“We call it Shadow Talk,” he said, stepping up to the front door.
“Does it work?”
“It’s just like everything else Connor, it only works if you want it to.”
“Good night, Ross.”
“Good night, Connor,” he said, gently closing the front door.
Connor stared down at his shadow for a few minutes feeling silly and thinking about what Ross had said. The chirping of the crickets and the wind filled his ears as he pictured the ax hanging in the barn.
“They’re not leaving with that gold,” he whispered to his shadow, wondering what tomorrow might bring.
“I’m excited for you, I really am,” Connor said to Tarquin. “I’m sure I’ll see you there soon enough, but it’s something I have to earn, something I have to become.”
Ross shifted the pack on his back and wrestled with himself for the hundredth time. Everyone had said their goodbyes and Ravi was practically dancing in place. Finally, Ross stepped behind him and opened the main pouch on Ravi’s pack.
“What are you doing Ross?” Ravi asked, trying to turn his head and see.
“I’m just going to lighten our load a bit.”
As Ross lifted, Ravi’s back straightened, and the smile on his face grew even larger.
“I told you he would,” Tarquin said to Ravi. Both of them were now beaming with excitement.
Ross cradled the thirty-pound leather sack in one arm as he pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket.
Stepping out from behind Ravi, Ross moved in front of Connor and held out the piece of paper.
“What’s this?” Connor asked, taking the folded square from between Ross’ fingers.
“Directions on how to make things using the technique of Lost Wax.”
“For the sword?” Connor asked excitedly.
“It doesn’t matter what you make with it, just know that we,” he said, motioning to Ravi and Tarquin, “trust you to do the right thing.”
“Thank you,” Connor said, acknowledging all three of his Caretakers. “This means everything to me.”
“I’m not sure what you told yourself last night in your Shadow Talk, but I would like to give you one last piece of advice.”
“All right,” Connor said, thinking about the ax he had placed next to the side of the house.
“You can’t fight the fire while you’re feeding the flames.”
Connor thought about the statement and nodded in agreement. “I don’t want to become what they are in there, but I’m still not sure how to avoid playing by their rules.”
Ross smiled, and Connor knew his prize was almost in hand.
“I will miss these moments,” Ross said, handing Connor the sack of golden coins.
Connor’s mouth fell open.
Ross smacked Connor on the arm, and said, “Promise me if you become a Blacksmith, you’ll never charge for your services.”
Connor thought it might come with some strings attached and he’d already done the math. Knowing the bag of coins was worth a lifetime of backbreaking labor, he said exactly what Ross wanted to hear, “You can’t fight the fire while you’re feeding the flames.”
One by one, they shook his hand for the fourth or fifth time. As Connor stood in front of the old stone house, Ross, Ravi, and Tarquin walked around the corner of the road and disappeared.
