by Cox, Craig
Chapter I
Alexander.
The forge was sweltering, the crash of the hammer on iron, echoed around the room. Sparks flew and the intense heat caused beads of sweat to run across Alexander’s brow. As he worked, the bellows of the forge were pumping fresh air into the fire to melt the raw iron. As he pushed on through the heat his mind wondered to the cool stream just outside the village edge. He would play in the stream every day in the summer as a child and to this day dipped his head into the fresh water after a hard day’s work at the bellows. He could almost feel the cold rush flow across him as the water rushed over his entire body. Closing his eyes and allowing himself a smile for a split moment was enough of a mistake for a forceful blow to crash onto the back of his head.
“Wake up boy, more heat.”
His father glared down at him as he placed a large metal bar back into the fire. Uther was a beast of a man, not an ounce of fat on his body. A solid mass of muscle from head to toe. Wide set shoulders, a chest which the women in the tavern would compare to that of a demi-god and forearms that even the demi-god would be jealous of. Only the scars from the molten metal and sparks which had fought back against the smith tarnished his appearance.
“Yes Sir.” Alex moaned.
Alexander pushed harder and harder on the bellows as the flames leaped and the heat in the small open-sided hut rose again. The fires turned white as Uther let out a small smile of his own, he gestured over to Alexander to fetch his heavy hammer. Straightening his back Alexander was only half a head shorter than Uther which was a feat itself. The old smith was the tallest man in the village. He would have to duck under every doorway and even had to keep his back bent when he visited homes in the village for dinner. Alex's dark blonde hair was tied back into a short ponytail to keep it away from the fires, he kept his stubble short as his mother had told him that women preferred stubble to a full beard and he had taken it to heart ever since he could grow facial hair. The hardships of the forge had done Alexander’s figure a world of a good and he was becoming a match for Uther’s godly figure. He moved quickly to gather his heavy hammer before returning to his father's side.
Uther was staring into the flames, only pointing back to the bellows for more heat. Alexander wanted to shake his head but thought against it, he didn’t want to annoy a man who was about to be dealing with red hot metal.
“Lord Crane has commissioned swords from every smith in his lands, who know how to forge them." His father explained.
"I heard he was looking to recruit more men?" Alexander replied.
"Yes another fifty from what I was told. More heat."
He pulled back on the wooden handle sucking fresh air into the contraption before he pushed it into the flame increasing the temperature even further. Alexander had offered Uther three different contraptions of his own design which would improve the heat generated for the forge. Each had been shot down by Uther only halfway through his explanation, the drawings were still stuffed in his pocket. One had been rather radical, comprising of moving the forge to the edge of the town right next to the river and using the water’s power to turn a wheel which in turn would power the bellows. But this had only brought laughter to Uther’s lips not even a worded refusal. Perhaps Uther liked watching Alexander sweat profusely as he pumped the bellows each day.
“Stop!” He shouted.
Alexander stopped straight away, glad for the respite but he knew it would only be a short one. He moved over to the bench to both put distance between him and the inferno and to be close at hand for when his father needed him. Uther grabbed hold of a large metal tong, lowering it into the fire he pulled out a medium sized bar of glowing metal. Turning quickly to the anvil he left half of the bar hanging over one side and nodded to Alexander. Taking his hammer Alex struck down hard slowly, blow after blow he folded the metal down, first into a right angle then as his father turned the metal over back into the rectangle. This was the ninth time they had folded the metal that morning, luckily Alex knew it would be the last, nine was the lucky number and Uther never did it any other way. As he placed the metal bar back into the fire Uther turned to face him, a beaming smile on his face which Alexander returned.
“Alexander, well done. It needs time to reheat and I can begin the forming on my own. Go, your mother constantly complains that I have you in here too much of the time anyway.”
Alexander didn’t need another invitation to get away from the sweltering heat and back breaking conditions he was subject to under Uther’s tutelage. He walked over to a set of hooks on the far side of the building to the forge, removed the heavy leather apron and gloves, hanging them on their respective hooks before turning back to face Uther, who was still standing in the centre and bowed.
“Thanks Father, I will see you later.”
Alexander ducked out into the fresh air. It was a shock to the system as the cool breeze struck his skin, sending a small shiver down his spine as he took a deep breath in. He had become accustomed to the heat of the forge over the years but it still shocked him every time he walked out. He had been an apprentice for his father for six years and had been in the forge for four years before that with his mother, watching his father work. The small town of Farnshire was a hive of activity just before the harvest festival. The men were rushing back and forth between the fields and the town. One minute taking in the years harvest the next helping the local carpenter build the stage for the grand performance. This year it was ‘The Hero’s Labour’ the women’s favourite as whoever played the hero had to walk around in just a loin cloth for an hour, smiting foes and wooing the women in the crowd. Alexander was one of the men in the running for the title role before the High Lord’s son turned up at the village and had himself voted unanimously by the village elders as the Hero. Alexander smiled at the thought of the scrawny little Lord poncing around the stage, swinging an oversized wooden sword at dressed-up foes. The forge was on the other side of the town to the river; Alexander took a wide berth to the stage to make sure he would not be drawn into helping out for the day. Ducking behind the tavern to keep out of sight of the head carpenter. It took him ten minutes to get down to the river’s edge, it was already full of women washing clothes and young children playing in the fresh water. He had no wish to mess around with the little children who liked to swing off him like a tree. Instead Alex decided to head up to a hidden pool further north, it was further than the women would let their kids run from town unattended. Alexander walked back up the incline to the dirt path which followed the river from Farnshire up to Corshire and down to Bakershire, he turned left and headed up towards the hidden pool. Farnshire was on the inside corner of the river so Alexander could keep the village in sight as he followed its bank, the three towns made up what was commonly known as the Shires, the outlying villages of the local High Lord and the Kingdom of Arda itself. It took about fifteen minutes to find the small stream Alexander was looking for. It fed into the river from the other side so he was forced to wade across a little further up to avoid the stronger current. Once on the other bank Alexander headed back down until he met the stream again, following it to the source taking him up a small hill. He could already hear giggling as he neared the summit. The spring on the top of the hill was concealed from passers-by with low brush. Alexander crouched down as the laughing got louder, it was hard to keep his large frame from sight but as he got closer he could see two sets of clothing on the ground in the clearing and knew that he was in for a treat. The knot which held back his hair in the forge had untied itself as he had crawled through the brush. Running a hand through the blonde mess he calmed down any unruly strands which stood out in different directions before stepping out into the clearing. He was met by the sight of two girls
not much different in age to himself swimming in the spring alone, from the clothes at his feet he could tell that both were completely naked.
His view was slightly obscured by the tree which grew from the middle of the spring; Alexander stepped to one side into the view of one of the two girls.
“Hello ladies.”
The girl facing him smiled although the one facing away jumped slightly in the water and spun round quickly covering herself, smiling when she saw him. Alexander knew that he was well liked by the ladies in the village and smiled back.
“May I join you?”
They both giggled. The closer girl uncovering herself swimming backwards to sit next to her friend. She raised her hand up out of the water and gestured for him to join them. Alexander wasted no time pulling off his shirt.
Chapter II
Braden.
Braden's arm tensed under the strain, his muscles bulging as sweat dripped down from his body drenching his clothes. He reached around its neck, the weight of the blade felt natural in his hand. The squirming made him hesitate before he slid the edge back across the skin splitting it. Instantly, the hot rush of blood covered both hands his grip almost slipping. He wrapped his other arm around and held tight as the blood flowed. He closed his eyes waiting for the squirming to stop. A few seconds passed and finally the body went limp and Braden felt the near entire weight of the beast fall into his arms. Bending his knee he eased the dead carcass down onto the floor. Braden stood back up looking down on the pig. He had known the poor animal since it was a suckling. It wasn’t the first animal he had killed, neither was it the first he had known since it was born, but he had been taught to respect life by his mother. He placed a hand over the dead animal and tipped his head to the sky offering a silent prayer to Greain the God of Agriculture the harvest, growth and nourishment. He turned to face the young boy who had helped hold the pig whilst he slit it’s throat wiped his hands on the leather apron, before sheathing the knife and placing a hand on the young boys shoulder.
“Bring the pig inside and I will help you hang him to drain.”
Walking away from the boy he knew he would struggle with the weight of the body but it would make him strong. Braden had been given rougher treatment when he was his age and it had done him no harm. As he walked through the threshold into the back of the slaughterhouse the master butcher turned to face him. Braden stood just over six foot his body toned from hours of work and thanks to being a butcher’s assistant he ate well. His dark brown hair was cut short but it still was long enough to get in the way of his eyes.
He stood with one hand holding the small blade the other hung to one side. The butcher smiled at the young man, he was overweight, the excess cuts of meat he would roast regularly on the fire for constant grazing had spoiled his figure long ago. The bald head shone with sweat, Braden looked over to the table where a freshly skinned sheep lay ready to be carved and to be sold.
“Is Troy bringing it in?”
“Yes he is bringing the pig in now.”
Braden stepped to one side as the boy, struggling with the weight of the animal walked through the doorway, he looked at neither of the older men and moved straight towards the hooks to one side. The butcher stepped forward to help him but Braden raised his hand, a curious look on his face. The butcher stopped in his tracks, understanding. Troy twisted the pig round onto its front bear-hugging the carcass and lifting it up towards the hook. Braden felt a smile creep across his face as he looked at the boy. The determination was a defining feature of the lad ever since he had stumbled up the Silver Road a year ago all skin and bones, a few rags on his back. Braden had been the first to find him on the outskirts of town. He had taken him home, first tending his wounds and giving the boy some food. Braden was then able to secure the work with the butcher as an extra set of hands He himself had been the butcher’s apprentice for years and had all the skills to set out on his own if the need ever arise. He walked up beside the boy and gripped hold of the body just in front of the hind legs. Troy had most of the weight and had gotten it so close that all Braden needed to do was lift it an extra few inches and drop it down onto the hook attached to the wall. They both released the pig at the same time and Braden moved a bucket under the pig’s head to collect whatever blood was still falling from its open neck.
“Troy, come here.”
The butcher waved the boy over to the sheep carcass on the table positioning him to one side of the table before turning to Braden.
“You can head on, there is not enough room around the table plus I taught you this years ago. If you have forgotten already it would be a waste of time teaching you again.”
He smiled and give him a little wink before turning back to the sheep, he raised his tried and tested blade and began lecturing the young boy. Braden had no desire to stick around and listen to him rattle on, about not only butchery but his old life stories.
Braden was just finishing removing the last of the blood from his arms when he spotted Uther walking through the town towards his forge, Alexander was nowhere to be seen and Braden already had an idea of where he might be. Standing up from the bucket of water he caught the old blacksmiths eye, Uther responded by shrugging his shoulders and Braden’s theory was confirmed. He took off towards the edge of town to find the stream and the pool.
He still remembered when the two of them had first found the hidden pool. Alexander had nearly drowned when he had jumped into a part of the water that was a little too shallow and knocked himself senseless. Braden had to carry him all the way back to the village, luckily back then they had been nearly equal in height, he dreaded the thought of attempting the same feat now. He reached the river a little upstream from the shallows which were always full of children this time of day, crossed the river at his usual point. Braden noticed the wet footprints left by Alexander maybe only fifteen minutes ago. He followed the track along the edge of the stream up the hill. Well before the summit he could hear the deep laughter of his friend, breaking the silence all around, it was followed shortly by a woman’s laughter and a large amount of splashing. As he took the last few steps up the hill he spotted a couple of loose rocks which had been displaced over the years of visits by the local teenagers. Smiling to himself, he bent down to pick up the stone and began sneaking up to the edge of the pool. Peering through he could see his friend with two women, who from the looks of it were at least partially naked. Braden lent back against the ground and threw the rock into the pool, the splash was immediately met with the sound of his friend standing up and calling out to him.
“Who’s there?”
“We have you surrounded boy. Give Up.”
Braden had learned to throw his voice and used it to great effect, pulling pranks on Alexander and the rest of the townsfolk.
“Surrender, we just want the girls. You can go your own way, unless you have any coin, we will take that as well.”
Braden peered over to watch Alexander spin round to face the other voice.
“No. We kill him, then we have our way with the girls.”
“Alex?” The girls were now cowering behind the mountain of flesh and he wrapped his arms around the two of them.
“Come out! show yourself!”
“Why should we show ourselves to a massive oaf like you, those massive ears might blow us away.”
“Braden!” Alex screamed.
He couldn’t keep himself from laughing as his friend's scream echoed out over the hill, he stood up showing himself to the three of them. He was still laughing to himself, but was met with a venomous look from all three, though the girl to the right’s softened quickly when she realised it was him.
“I should kill you Braden. I was about to…”
“About to what Alex? You should have seen the look on your face.” He laughed.
Braden pushed his legs through the light bushes which lined the side of the pool, he smiled at all three, but only got one in return. He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his boots before he
waded out into the pool towards them.
“You’re not welcome Braden.”
“Come on Alex it was only a joke.”
“He is welcome Alex, don’t be jealous.” One of the girls replied.
The girl who had been smiling since she spotted Braden began to swim across to him leaving Alex and the other girl in the middle of the pool with Alexander. He caught a glimpse of the other girl’s arm move under the water which made his friend squirm slightly before turning away and pushing her into the far corner of the pool. Braden watched as the other women moved slowly closer to him. The water was getting shallower and in the crystal clear waters he could make out her full figure. He smiled and dived forward grabbing her around the waist pulling her back into the deeper water.
Chapter III
Braden.
Braden rested his back against the cold stone plinth which sat three quarters submerged in the water, the girl was resting her head on his chest her head only just above the water. The pool had once been a temple to a long lost deity, marble stones and columns littered the area. He could hear the whispers of Alex and the other girl off behind him, the stone hiding one friend from the other. They were close friends but Braden really didn’t want to see what is friend was up to. At first he was excited by the naked women next to him, but as soon as things began to get serious he had stopped pulling back at first the women had been upset but she had settled quickly understanding his circumstances. Braden looked up at the sky watching the few small clouds drift past. His thoughts drifted to his mother she was probably sitting on the porch of their little one-room house, watching the young ones for the other adults in the village. She had been crippled long ago, she had almost no use in her legs only enough to use them as a pivot point to fall into bed at the end of the day. Braden spent most mornings taking care of her before heading to the butchers to work. Alex, the great friend he was had built his mother a wooden wheelchair so that she could move about with ease. He had been indebted to his friend for giving his mother back some freedom. She was a bright women and had slowly turned into the village teacher over the past ten years.
