by Kris Hiatt
Treace recalled the fight from the previous night. Although the shield counter, as he later learned it was called, was the primary attack used by Exodin, he did parry a couple of the attacks with his sword. He tried to picture the movement of the sword and it’s user as the moves were being made, but it was sort of a blur and he couldn’t picture it perfectly.
He raised his sword as best he could to match the height and location he remembered Exodin using from the previous night and got an appreciative nod from his instructor.
“Begin!” Exodin shouted and brought his sword up high and swung it down upon the wooden sword Treace held in his hands.
The strength of the blow yanked the sword from his hands and it fell to the ground. As he watched it fall he felt an intense stinging in his hand from the vibration. He also felt the tip of Exodin’s wooden sword against his throat.
Exodin lowered his sword, frowned, then picked up Treace’s sword and handed it back to him.
“A swordsman without a sword is as good as dead. Keep your sword.”
Treace tried.
He failed nearly every time, but Exodin seemed to be pleased after an hour of slapping the sword out of his hands. Treace felt a little disheartened and wondered if he could ever hope to be any good at this. Exodin must have seen the look on his face.
“I outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds and have been swinging a sword for many years. Don’t worry if you can’t keep your sword after one of my blows. You will, eventually. You just have to practice, get your growth, and become stronger.”
Treace tried to believe in what Exodin was trying to say, but still didn’t. He was too small, wasn’t strong enough, and barely deflected any of his blows. If it were a real fight, he’d be dead. He decided that if his mother let him come back, he’d do better.
“Give this to your mother,” Exodin said and handed Treace a folded letter.
“Now, that letter is for your mother, not you, but if she says you can read it, that’s fine as long as it’s after she reads it. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Treace replied with what sounded to him as a hollow voice.
“Good. It’s sealed, so she’ll know if you open it.”
Treace nodded his understanding.
“Now head on home, Treace, and I hope we can continue our training.”
Treace turned and started to head back to the fence still looking and the folded paper in his hand.
“Treace,” Exodin said.
“Yes?” he replied, looking back at Exodin.
“Leave the sword.”
He looked at his left hand and found the sword was still there.
He walked over to the sack and stuck the sword back in it.
He turned and headed toward the fence and only waved back as Exodin said goodbye. He was excited, but was nervous as well. What if his mother said no to this? He wondered what was in the letter. He could remove the seal completely before giving it to his mother and Exodin would never know. He quickly dismissed the idea; he didn’t want to lie to either of them.
#
After Treace gave the letter to his mother she went to her room and quietly closed the door. As the door closed he could see that she was crying. He knew immediately that his training with Exodin had come to an end; she was going to say no. He didn’t think it was going to affect her so badly but he figured the idea of her son swinging a sword didn’t sit well with her.
He ate some bread and jerky while he worked at his schooling that his mother had set aside for him before she read the letter. She was going easy on him tonight. It was only some arithmetic and some geography. He finished both subjects before he finished his bread.
He read his father’s favorite story and then went to bed after an hour or so, noting that his mother did not come out of her room.
#
He dreamed he was the hero swinging the sword to save the damsel in distress. At least that’s what it felt like even though he didn’t see the damsel, only his sword as it flashed in and out of the darkness. His sword was shining a bright white light and whoever he was fighting couldn’t be seen because the light was so bright. He could feel their sword dart in from all angles and he parried them all, creating a dazzling light show with his sword as it swished impossibly fast to intercept.
Dawn had already crept into his room when he awoke. His dream flitted in and out of his memory as he opened his eyes and looked right into a beam of light that was shining into the window of his room. His room was a bit chilly; spring nights were still cool in this part of the world.
He dressed quickly with images from his dreams flicking out and being replaced with reality. He opened the door to his bedroom and his nose told him that his mother was awake. He could smell bacon and all thoughts of his dream fled his mind as his stomach grumbled in response.
“Good morning, mother,” Treace said as he walked into the kitchen.
“Morning, son,” she replied. She was facing the stove finishing up the bacon. “Careful, the stove is hot.”
“I know mother,” he said in an automated response. “I’m sorry the letter upset you.”
He could see her briefly tense at his statement and then simply continued cooking the bacon for a few seconds before she finally replied.
“It’s not your fault, so don’t apologize.”
“Okay, mother,” he said.
He noticed the edge in her voice so he let it go. He didn’t want her to retreat to her room again, but he had to ask if he could train with Exodin.
“Can I train with Exodin?”
She picked the last piece of bacon out of the pan and turned to face him.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re so small and still a bit young to swing a sword.”
“I make them at Jensen’s, mother. I’m not that young, I’m almost twelve and most boys start learning at thirteen or fourteen,” he countered.
“You are probably right, but you are not thirteen or fourteen. You aren’t even twelve.”
“I will be in a few months.”
“The answer is no. No arguing either,” she said as Treace started to open his mouth to protest.
They ate their breakfast in silence and Treace washed the dishes in similar silence as his mother kissed the top of his head and left for work at the Lumber Inn.
He left a short while later to begin his day at the smith.
He was thinking about how he could convince his mother to let him train with Exodin. He found that for some reason he wanted to learn to train with him more today than he did yesterday. He wasn’t sure why, he just knew he wanted to learn how to sword fight. Even if he did have to endure getting a sword smacked out of his hands thousands of times first, he thought it would be worth it.
He thought of how the wooden sword felt in his hand. He thought of how Exodin’s sword crashed in and ripped the sword from his grasp. He even raised his arm in mock parries from different angles as he walked.
He was about to parry another of Exodin’s swings; the third in a row, when pain exploded above his right eye. Something connected hard with his forehead and his vision was first blurred and then obscured by something warm and wet that ran over his eye. He reached a hand up to touch his forehead where the pain seemed to be coming from. He brought it in front of the one eye he could see out of and saw blood.
Just past his hand in the distance he saw Wren getting a high five from one of his friends while the others looked on.
They all wore a surprised yet stupid expression on their face. His vision focused on them for only an instant before everything started to whirl about him. He tried to focus on his bloody hand and found it to be a very difficult task. The world swam about in front of him and the trees and buildings in the distance were virtually impossible to make out.
He tried to focus on them and they started to tilt to the left a little bit, then further, then finally he thought they were close to parallel with the ground and he felt the right side of his body grow cold and d
amp as his eye focused on an object a little smaller than his fist. His vision returned for a split second and he could see a rock sitting several inches from his face. He was on his side, lying on the ground. He realized he was wet because the ground was still covered with dew. He saw Wren and his friends run off through the trees toward town.
Then everything went dark.
#
He opened his eyes, or tried to, but only his left would heed his command. Something seemed to be keeping his right eye from opening.
He was on his right side with his head down and his face was in the dirt. He picked his head up and rolled it to the left so that his forehead wasn’t on the ground anymore. His head was pounding and when he reached up to touch it he felt something tacky and gritty over his right eye.
He sat up and he felt his stomach lurch and his vision swam once again.
He brought himself to all fours and he purged his breakfast with one violent heave. He felt some splatter on his arms, which he ignored. He felt something in his mouth and spit out a piece of partially-chewed bacon. He gave another heave and it felt like last night’s dinner came out as well.
Once he thought he was finished feeding the animals, he rolled onto his back again and closed his eye. His head throbbed even worse after throwing up.
He reached up to see what was keeping his right eye closed and realized that it was dried blood. He scraped it off as best he could without digging too deeply into his eye and at last he could open it. He could see spots in his vision where the dried blood stubbornly stuck to some of his eyelashes.
He tried to remember what happened, but couldn’t. He remembered leaving the house and he knew he was on the way to the smith. He vaguely remembered something about Exodin. Exodin’s sword was slashing in from his left to right and Treace was bringing up his sword to parry. Was he there? Did Exodin attack him? No, that didn’t seem right.
After sitting up, he looked but didn’t see a sword anywhere nearby. He just saw his donated food covering a rock in the narrow road.
He waited a few more minutes to ensure his nausea was gone for good and pulled himself off the ground. His head hurt so badly he thought he knew how the iron felt when he struck it with his hammer. That made him think of Jensen and the forge and decided that’s where he should go. Jensen would help him get cleaned up and then Treace could get to work.
He was a bit wobbly at first, but he kept concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and it wasn’t too long before he entered town.
He noticed the looks of everyone he walked by. They weren’t pleasant. He was used to them looking at him differently than they looked at other kids, but he hadn’t seen these looks before.
They looked at him with pity.
The first couple he passed on the road stopped and asked if he needed help.
“Nope, work I’m going,” he said and kept walking.
His words didn’t sound right, but it was close enough.
He continued to focus on getting to the smith, but couldn’t remember exactly where it was so he thought he would ask the next person that stopped to ask if he was okay.
A pretty young lady with blue-green eyes visibly gasped and rushed over to check on him. Her blonde hair bounced around her face and shoulders as she ran.
“Oh my, you look terrible, are you okay? You should go to the medical.”
“Hurts head, but okay other,” he said.
He knew his words were mixed up but she seemed to be somewhat satisfied because she simply stood there with her mouth open and watched him walk away.
He remembered that he was going to ask her something but couldn’t remember what it was. She was very pretty, though, he knew that. But that didn’t matter because he needed to get to work at the forge for Jimson. Jimson wasn’t right, but the name was close and didn’t matter.
Now if he could only remember where the forge was.
He kept walking and another group of people stopped to check on him.
He waved them away and wouldn’t answer their questions and kept going.
“Treace? Is that you, boy?” A thin man asked as he limped in his direction with the aid of a walking stick.
He looked familiar to Treace but the man’s name escaped him. He did remember that he was on his way to the forge, however, so he decided to ask thinking that this man might know where it was.
“Hullo, sire, do know where forge Jimson?” Treace asked in what he hoped was a conversational voice. It was difficult due to how profoundly his head hurt. He didn’t remember hurting his head, but it was throbbing.
He reached up to touch his forehead where it hurt and some gritty yet tacky substance was stuck on his head. He was about to rub at it when the old man brought up his walking stick and stopped his hand.
“Good Gods boy, don’t touch that! You don’t remember me do you?” The man said in what Treace thought were very concerned tones for someone he didn’t know, even if he did look somewhat familiar.
“Famlier,” he said and nodded as if were explanation enough.
His mouth suddenly started to water and he began to sweat. His stomach twisted and he threw up all over the man’s shoes. He wiped his mouth.
“Sarry, mean didn’t, Jimson’s going forge.”
If the older guy was mad at him for vomiting on his shoes he didn’t show it. Instead he hunched over, reached in and grabbed Treace under his right arm and Treace suddenly felt very light, like he was floating on a cloud. Then he saw the world spin and a pretty young lady came bouncing up to him, only she was upside down. He wondered how she could do that. It was amazing! Upside down? She had to teach him how to go upside down.
“Purty, downside you go me!” he exclaimed.
He wasn’t sure why she was embarrassed by her trick or his request to teach him, but her face turned very red and she gave him a fierce look.
He heard the old guy tell the pretty young lady to go to the Lumber Inn and tell Jenna to meet him at the medical. He didn’t know who Jenna was, but she must be important because he told the girl to run as fast as she could. He didn’t know where the guy was, but he could see his legs and his walking stick, but they were also upside down! Did everyone know this amazing trick but him? Was it real magic? He wanted to ask but his head was pounding harder than it was before and he was feeling dizzy.
Just before everything went black he heard the old guy ask someone to take the boy.
What boy?
#
His eyes opened again and he saw flickering candle-light coming from a nearby table. His head ached but it wasn’t throbbing now.
He reached up and felt fabric at his touch. Someone had bandaged the wound on his head. He remained silent and tried to sort out how he got here, wherever here was. It didn’t look familiar to him.
He remembered walking through town to get to the forge, but why was he by Gil the jeweler? He remembered throwing up on his shoes and felt ashamed. He hoped Gil wouldn’t be too mad at him.
How did he get the wound?
He didn’t remember that either.
He heard voices, first barely more than a whisper, getting louder as they got closer to him and then becoming normal speaking voices as the door to the room he was in opened and a pair of white robed individuals walked into the room.
“…really happened, it isn’t clear. What is clear by Mr. Gilrend’s account is that he was speaking in a jumbled up mess when…” the speaker stopped after opening the door and seeing that Treace was awake.
“Well hello there, young man, do you know where you are?” asked the man that was previously speaking.
“Medical guessing,” Treace said.
He knew what he wanted to say, but it came out wrong. He guessed he was at medical since they were wearing white robes. He figured they were healers. The one was an older man who looked like he ate more than three meals a day and enjoyed them very much. That was the first speaker. The so-far-silent healer was several years younger but still probably well over
forty and in much better physical condition. After Treace spoke they exchanged glances.
“Do you know who you are?” the older of the two asked.
“Treace.”
The younger of the two nodded at his response.
“Do you know how you injured your head?” the younger asked.
“No.”
“You don’t remember anything about it?” the oldest healer asked.
“No, told didn’t I?”
He was trying to say, No, I told you didn’t I, but it came out wrong. It was starting to annoy him.
“Remain calm, young man. Getting angry will not help,” the younger stated.
The older healer gave a slight head-shake to the younger one and stepped forward.
“You had a very nasty gash on your forehead that required stitches,” he began and moved a bit closer to Treace. “Four of them in fact. You were quite lucky the bleeding stopped before you arrived here. There was quite a bit of dirt mixed with the blood which must have helped to stop the bleeding.”
“We have put a salve on your wound that will aid in the healing process and we will give your mother some medicine to help you sleep and to help with the pain.”
Treace thought about his mother and concentrated hard on his words.
“See her? Here?”
He was pleased the words formed correctly. Now he just needed to work on forming the sentences properly.
“She is home right now, resting. She was here for most of the day and night.”
Treace was a little confused but then recalled the candle. He concentrated on his word usage again.
“How long been?”
It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t horrible either.
It was very frustrating already and he hoped this was a temporary side-effect of his injury. He still couldn’t remember what had happened.
“It is just before dawn. You’ve been asleep for nearly a full day,” the younger stated.
“I home?” Treace asked before he could wrap his head around forming the sentence correctly.
The younger shook his head immediately and said, “No, you’re in the medical.”
