01 - The Price of Talent

by Peter Whittlesey

  “See, you’re getting it,” said Devlin. “If you run and hop around on uncertain footing you are much more likely to slip and fall. Even a small slip will get you out of position and can prove fatal.”

  “Yeah, even with your warning me ahead of time, it was harder than I thought to get used to the footing,” I said.

  “Once you get used to doing something, you tend to keep doing it,” said Devlin. “A sword fight is not a place to be rethinking strategy. It’s why we practice so much. You have to get used to differing conditions and differing strategies. Otherwise, small changes in environment can fatally throw off your game.”

  “My new set of bruises certainly proves that,” I said with a grimace.

  “Bah, I never clipped you that hard,” said Devlin. “These padded practice swords are nothing. Try taking a hit with a mace wearing chainmail. Now that hurts.”

  “Uh, isn’t that fatal?” I asked.

  “Depends on where they hit you,” said Devlin with a smile. “But let’s call it a day for now. Given how the winter went, it looks like, despite being the spring Equinox, there will be a few weeks more of this sloppy wintery garbage to deal with before spring truly arrives.”

  “Yeah, just let me put this stuff away and then I’ll join you inside,” I said.

  “Don’t spend too much time staring at puddles Tyr, I believe there is a birthday dinner planned,” said Devlin.

  On my walk to the shed, I decided not to spend too much time ‘staring at puddles’. I put the swords and pads in their places and quickly snuck behind the shed to practice melting snow. Since my break through, every attempt had been getting easier. This time I was able to quickly melt the ice on a puddle. So, building on my success, I found a larger target, a large snow pile created by snow falling off the roof of the shed. Unlike the puddle, this much larger target resisted my initial efforts. Meeting a worthy foe in this snow bank, I refocused and put out an even greater effort. This time I succeeded in dimpling the surface of the pile that was closest to me. This was progress, but not as much as I was hoping.

  I was a little frustrated by this. My success with icy puddles had made me a little over confident. With my birthday party waiting for me, I wasn’t willing to spend too much time with this. I didn’t want my dinner to get cold, or worse, get eaten by someone else while I was dallying behind the shed. Taking a steadying breath, I drew on my most painful memories of the night the inquisitors came to my parents’ farm. I reached out further with my mind and allowed it to draw out these memories. As I reached out I suddenly felt energy all around me, energy I grabbed and focused into the thoughts of that night. This caused my head to begin pounding, like the headaches I used to get. When the pain became large, I focused it on the snow bank and released the energy.

  There was a large sound. Somewhere between a ‘foomph’ and a ‘wumph’. Internally it felt like the tension from inside my head and body just drained away. With my headache suddenly gone, I refocused on the snow pile, or where I expected there to be a snow pile. Instead of the pile, there was a great furrow in the snow. The furrow spread out in a ‘V’ shape from me heading into the woods. The trees on the edge of the woods were covered in snow and shaking like a great wind had been blowing. I was both impressed and disappointed. I was impressed that I removed the snow bank, but disappointed I gave into frustration and obliterated it, instead of merely melting it.

  Clearly more practice was in order, I just wasn’t going to get it in tonight. I had other things to think about, namely my birthday party. Confident that the continuing sleet would hide the evidence of my practice, I headed back inside to change and celebrate my birthday.

  Upon entering the longhouse and walking through the kitchen area on the way to my room, I ran into Devlin.

  “Ah, there you are Tyr. Get lost on the way in?”

  “Oh please, it’s like ten minutes since you got in and I had to put away the equipment,” I replied.

  “So, you spent ten minutes alone in the shed eh?” He said. “Working on your wrist strength were you?”

  “Oh, hah, hah!” I replied, still heading back to my room.

  Upon getting to my room I hung up my snowy gear to drip dry and stowed the rest. I then changed into more comfortable clothes.

  Spending time alone in the wood shed eh? HAH!

  So you heard that?

  Obviously. Clearly it’s not just sword work and archery that is strengthening your arm.

  As I said to Devlin, Hah, hah!

  Oooh sarcasm. The refuge of those too dense to come up with a better comeback.

  Any reason you’re piling on?

  Just boredom.

  Listen we have been over this. It’s too dangerous to spar with real swords. You’re just going to have to wait till I am doing highway work. Then you can come with me.

  Easy for you to say. You aren’t stuck in a corner all day collecting dust.

  True, but what I am doing is work. First chores, then archery, then sword practice. It’s not really all fun and games.

  More fun than doing nothing.

  True, but in a few more weeks, you won’t have to stay inside.

  When I got out to the kitchen area again, everyone had gathered there. I wish it was all for me, but really, after months cooped up indoors, everyone was looking for a way to cut loose for a while. Even Moira was back from her latest hunting trip. This worked out well because it meant we had some fresh meat for dinner.

  The evening went well, with inconsequential conversation and lots of food. The fresh venison was especially appreciated, you can only have so much dried, salted or cured meat before it becomes wearying. At the end of the meal, Jarvis disappeared briefly and reappeared carrying something behind his back.

  “Ah, here it comes!” Said Devlin with a smile.

  “Here what comes?” I asked lamely

  “Why, your present of course!” Said Devlin, again smiling.

  With that Jarvis handed over to me what looked like a large bow with accompanying quiver and arrows.

  “We figured that, since you would be joining us for some road work, that you should be properly equipped.” Said Jarvis, also smiling. “Since you already have a sword, we figured a proper bow would be a good idea.”

  The bow I was presented with was much larger than the shorter yew variety we used for target practice. It had a tapered grip made of leather and curved smoothly out from the handle. It was made of a slightly darker color wood that was stained and lacquered a rich brown color.

  “That’s a hickory longbow, kid,” said Devlin. “You’re going to find that it takes more effort to pull and fires a whole lot harder than the short target bows you have been using. From now on, I want you to practice with this one so you get the feel for it. It should also help with your accuracy at 100 yards given it has a harder pull.”

  “Wow…” I said, looking it over. “It looks really nice.”

  “It should, I made it,” said Jarvis. “I hand carved and treated that wood for a long time. It took some effort, as the forest is mostly just pine trees this close to the mountains. But fortunately, I saw some quality wood while out on the road, and harvested some just for this purpose.”

  “Thanks! All that effort just for me?” I asked.

  “Well, not just for you,” said Jarvis. “But your need was the greatest as you didn’t have a proper bow for road work. I still have more wood curing and tempering for new bows in case someone breaks their current one.”

  “Do they break frequently?” I asked.

  “Not this one. This winter I had time to properly treat the wood so it should last quite some time. Just be careful to keep it as dry as you can and keep the bow string out of the damp. The better you treat it, the longer it will last.”

  “These don’t look like the same type of arrows I’ve been using either.” I said, pulling one from the quiver.

  “Yeah, for practice we just put pointed metal caps on the arrows,” said Jarvis. “But that won’t do much
against an armored guard. We use much longer pointed heads to better pierce chain mail and metal plate.”

  “But Moira uses triangular arrow heads for hunting,” I said.

  “Yeah, because deer don’t wear armor,” said Moira laughing.

  “Arrowheads are shaped differently based on their purpose,” said Devlin. “Moira’s arrows are designed to kill animals and not fall out if she has to track one that doesn’t die after the first shot.”

  “Not that I usually need to track it,” said Moira. “I rarely need more than one shot.”

  “Yes, but for archers not as skilled as Moira, they often need to shoot deer quite a few times before it falls,” said Devlin. “The flathead arrows she uses are unlikely to fall out while the animal runs, this makes it easier for her to recover them later.”

  “Yeah, forging arrowheads takes more time than you would think,” said Bevan. “And since I’m the one who makes them, I appreciate it when you don’t lose them.”

  “But, when shooting at an armored opponent, it is more valuable to promote penetrative power, so we use the longer pointed heads called bobkins,” said Devlin. “The long pointed head is less likely to get caught on armor and chain mail. Plus because it has such a small point, it penetrates armor better.”

  “Huh. Interesting,” I said.

  “Yeah, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t lose any of these.” Said Bevan.

  “Well, thanks guys!” I said. “I’m kind of excited about trying this out tomorrow.”

  “Not till you take care of your chores first,” said Moira.

  “Enough worrying about chores for the day, I think,” said Devlin. “Better by far if we enjoy ourselves. This is a happy occasion after all.”

  And enjoy ourselves we did. Lots of mead and beer was drunk that night. It was good Moira had made a fresh kill because we all kind of overdid it on the food. Still, it was a good evening and lots of stories were told and general frivolity ensued. I must admit I don’t remember much of the details of this evening, as Devlin and Bevan convinced me to match them drink for drink on the mead. You could say the evening kind of flowed by me. By the end of the night, I was very lucky to be able to find my way to my room at all.

  Chapter 12.

  I woke up, the day after my birthday, with a massive hangover. It was a new experience for me. The headache seemed oddly familiar, but the nausea, sound and light sensitivity were new experiences. All together I wanted to crawl back into my bed and die. Unfortunately, that was not on the agenda for the day. Instead I needed to start clearing the fields, spreading manure and generally start getting the farm ready for planting.

  GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE! FEELING A LITTLE UNDER THE WEATHER?!

  Oh god, please, could you not say that quite so loud?

  Kid, need I remind you that doesn’t make any sense?

  Huh?

  I don’t make noises drunky pants, I speak directly to your mind.

  Oh, yeah…

  AND HOW FORCEFULLY I DO SO ISN’T REALLY UP TO YOU!

  Please, take pity on me. The room spins enough as it is without you making it worse.

  Pity? After I have been replaced by an inexpertly carved hunk of wood?

  What?

  Your birthday present insults me! You need no other weapon than myself, and you barely know how to handle me as it is.

  Hey, I do all right.

  I bet you’re just dying to finger that bow string. Feel the sweet pull of the taught limbs as you gently, yet firmly pull them towards your face.

  You’re jealous of my new bow?

  Jealous of a dead tree? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just giving you a hard time, drunky pants…

  At least by this point I managed to get myself into a sitting position. Every movement getting ready that morning was done carefully and with a wince on my face. Getting dressed and ready for the day had never been so difficult. I was amazed that people were willing to put up with this feeling just to drink alcohol.

  By the time I had hauled myself in for breakfast everyone was already there or gone for the day. Moira being out was no surprise, but that Bevan and Devlin were up and finishing breakfast was shocking.

  “Ooh, look, someone is green around the gills,” said Bevan.

  “Hah! Want some porridge Tyr? Or how about some runny eggs?” Said Devlin with a smile.

  I almost rewarded them by projectile vomiting on them. But managed to keep everything down. Barely.

  “Uh… No… I think I will just get on with my chores…” I mumbled as I shuffled by.

  This set off a round of chuckles at my expense.

  “Well, have at it then. See you at lunch, assuming you don’t just keel over out there,” said Bevan.

  “Thanks,” I managed in reply as I stumped my way to the entrance.

  When I opened the door to the outside it squealed a little. It was like frozen razors across my brain. I shuddered and again had to fight the urge to vomit. But it was nothing compared to when I looked outside. The sun had come up and was just glistening off the snow and ice from yesterday’s sleet. Every ray was an arrow aimed right at my eyes. I think I may have said something rather indelicate.

  “Now, now, no need for that,” said Sapphire with a smile as she came up behind me. “It’s not the sun’s fault you were dumb enough to drink with Devlin and Bevan.”

  I may have uttered something even more indelicate in response.

  Stumping my way over to the barn to pick up some equipment I needed was truly torture. I could barely open my eyes, which meant I could barely see where I was going. This made the journey take twice as long, meaning I was out in the snow for twice as long. Once in the barn, I started feeling a little better. Unfortunately, it didn’t take me long to get everything I needed for my chores and I had to go brave the sunshine once again. Fortunately, I was starting to recover, so the sun was not quite as blinding on my second trip outside.

  The morning passed as slowly as any morning I could ever imagine. I managed to keep from throwing up on myself, but that was the best I could say for it. I did, however, manage to do a halfway decent job clearing the field. Well, partially clearing the field anyway. Still, working seemed to help. I sweated a lot more than I was accustomed to, but the more I sweated, the more the poison seemed to leave my system. By the time lunch came around, I was actually hungry.

  Devlin was apparently impressed by my efforts.

  “Last night I would have bet you wouldn’t even get out of bed this morning,” he said. “And here you are, out working and able to eat lunch. Not bad, Tyr.”

  “Thanks… I think.” I said.

  Lunch for me was mostly bread and water. I could still not stomach the idea of greasy cured meats or stinky old cheeses. But bread, butter and honey I could manage. Once I had my fill, I cleaned up my plates and then headed back outside to finish clearing the field.

  I managed to finish my work about my usual time. I made better progress in the afternoon, making up for my lack of productivity in the morning. Likely this was because I was able to keep down lunch. This meant I had time to come in, grab my new bow and practice with it before it got dark. The first thing that struck me about it was how much harder it was to string. The target bows didn’t take that much effort and I could get them bent for the string one handed. This new bow required both hands and most of my strength to wrestle everything into place. I had to hold the string in my teeth, which is a terrible idea, but I had few other options. Once set, I experimented with the draw on the short distance targets. I found that, if I aimed at the same spot I usually did, that I would hit above the bulls eye. I needed to readjust downward because the arrows flew so much faster. Once I got the hang of one distance, I moved to the next. Perhaps because of the harder draw, the farther targets were easier to be consistent on, once I had my sighting squared away. Up till this point, I had not realized how much using quality equipment mattered. It’s safe to say that I was impressed with the new bow, even if it was bigger and harder t
o pull than I was used to.

  “Nice shooting Tyr,” said Devlin approaching the range. “You got used to that new pull faster than I would have thought.”

  “It’s great!” I said. “It’s much more accurate at longer distances. I don’t need to adjust my aim nearly as much.”

  “If it’s in the air half as long, it won’t drop nearly as much,” said Devlin. “Also, the extra draw strength means the arrow is traveling much faster. The more air over the feathers, the less random the flight path, unless the arrow is warped or the feathers are bad. But enough with archery for the day. You and I have sword lessons to attend to.”