by Kris Hiatt
He turned and saw Exodin standing behind him with his arms folded across his chest.
“Well, pick it up,” he said as he nodded toward the sword.
Treace smiled at the sight of his friend. Was he a friend? Treace decided that he was and picked up the sword. Implications of what it meant ran through his head. Was his mother really giving him permission to train with Exodin?
“Now take a look at it,” Exodin said.
Treace turned the practice sword over in his hand and looked the blade up and down. It looked like one of the practice swords he already used but this one was too new to be one of those. He inspected the hilt a little closer and noticed something was burned into the dark wood. It was his name. Someone had burned his name into the hilt.
“Mr. Lavare created that,” Exodin stated. “All of it, including the wood burning.”
“Mother, does this mean…”
“Yes,” she interrupted.
“But I thought you said…”
“I did,” she interrupted again. “But I changed my mind. Exodin seemed very concerned for your health, so I decided to let you train with him.”
Treace looked to Jensen hoping he would explain it in more detail, but instead he motioned in Exodin’s direction, who had moved up to stand between Jensen and Treace.
He had seen Exodin a few times since his accident, but never trained with him without his mother’s approval.
“You were so excited when you asked and I saw the determination in your eyes.”
“I was and still am,” Treace interjected.
“Good to hear,” he said.
“Sorry to interrupt, please continue.”
“So I nicked my sword last month and decided to see a professional instead of doing the repair myself. I came here and expected to see you. Jensen was the only one attending the forge.”
“A bit more than nicked, actually,” Jensen said. “It’s a miracle I saved the sword.”
“Probably true,” Exodin admitted. “But, when he told me what happened to you, I was a little concerned, that’s all.”
“A bit more than that, actually,” Jensen corrected.
“Well, perhaps,” Exodin agreed. “I had heard about a young boy that got a pretty good bump on the head, but never knew the boy was you. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that your mother agreed to your training. We start tomorrow,” Exodin said.
He nodded at Treace’s mother and turned and walked away.
Exodin only went a short distance before he turned with a smile and said, “Happy birthday, Treace. Don’t forget to bring the sword.”
Treace couldn’t believe what had just happened. First he was told he was going to get a chance to attend the College and then he was told he could train to sword fight. He didn’t think the day could get any better.
“Let’s go get some breakfast,” Jenna said. “I know this place where the waitress is fantastic.”
The three of them exchanged knowing looks and burst out laughing. His mother was in a very good mood.
After arriving at the Lumber Inn, the three of them quickly got a table and ordered breakfast. Treace couldn’t wait for his pancakes and bacon. He didn’t get a chance to eat away from home very often, so when he did, he considered it a treat.
They finished up their meal and his mother told them she had to stay for work. Jensen also told them he needed to return to the forge and that he had a lot of work to catch up on. He said he didn’t need Treace’s help today, but he should come back tomorrow morning to help out.
That left Treace to either wander about town for a while or head home. He decided to head home and try to find any other books on the subject of the Onneron Brotherhood or the College.
He spent the rest of the summer day perusing the books in his father’s library looking for information on the College or the brothers. He found only scraps here and there, and really nothing he didn’t already know.
His mind was exhausted from all the bookwork, so he decided to head to bed early, even before his mother returned home from her shift at the inn.
Chapter 4
“Let’s go over it again, I want to make sure I have this right,” Treace told Jensen.
“I’ve told you virtually everything I know already,” Jensen protested.
“I know, but you said that the tests are going to be difficult and I want to be as prepared as I can. There might be something I missed.”
“Alright, alright,” Jensen said. “You start with what you know and I’ll add to it.”
“The petition must be turned in by the year ending the applicant’s twelfth birthday,” Treace started.
“And what must be included along with that petition?” Jensen asked.
“A letter of recommendation from someone in the community who knows the applicant, which is then signed by the presiding constable,” Treace responded.
“Correct, and then what happens?”
“The applications are amassed and reviewed by the College, then worthy candidates are notified by courier to travel to the College to take exams that span three days.”
“What subjects are covered?”
“Arithmetic, reading, writing, history, and geography.”
“When does that happen?”
“At age fourteen,” Treace said, which he now was.
“Yes, but when exactly are the tests?”
“In October, according to the courier that brought the letter,” Treace said. The courier arrived from Haven and went directly to the constable’s manor. The constable then sent one of his men to notify the accepted participants from the area in which he presided.
“They do it then so families can make it there and back before the snow starts to fall,” Jensen explained, which made perfect sense to Treace.
“And how many will be accepted?” Jensen asked.
“Only thirty.” That was the difficult thing to believe. Lake City may only have six-thousand or so people, but both Kadenton and Haven had at least ten times that amount of people. There were rumors that Constable Wren signed three other petitions that were accepted this year. If that were the case, and given the size of the two larger cities and factoring in the other towns and cities as well, Treace figured he would be one of at least two hundred, if not more, applicants who were going to take the exams. He wondered how many tried to apply.
“You’ll be one of them,” Jensen assured him.
“I hope so.” He wasn’t as confident as Jensen seemed to be, but he appreciated the support.
“Me too,” he said and gave Treace a sincere look.
He wondered if that was the kind of look his father would have given him if he were still alive. He thought it probably was. He was thankful for Jensen in many ways. He was thankful for the tutelage in smithing, for the kindness he had shown him from the beginning, and he for his help in getting Treace a signed letter of support from Constable Wren.
“Have you gotten started on that sword for Exodin yet?”
“I have ideas, but I haven’t gotten started yet,” he admitted.
He wanted the blade to be perfect, and while Treace had become very good at making sword blades, he didn’t have experience in what he was thinking about doing. He thought about asking Jensen for help, but he had never seen the smith do what he had in mind either. Also, Exodin asked him to make the sword he didn’t think he should ask Jensen to do it, he wanted to make the sword himself.
“You really only have a little over a month to complete it,” Jensen reminded him.
It was true. He had spent the better part of the last two years preparing for his entrance exams, spending a good portion of his free time at the forge, and spending as much time as he could with Exodin. At least half the time he spent at the forge was completing work for the constable. It was part of the agreement to get the constable to sign off on Treace’s letter. Jensen agreed to perform all smith work for free for the next two years. The only thing the constable had to pay for was the iron. All t
he labor costs were free, and Treace did all the labor himself. That part of the deal had thankfully ended a few months ago. Treace didn’t know the cost that Jensen was absorbing, but he figured the smith had lost out on at least a full kaden. It cost money to heat the forge and it cost Jensen money for the downtime.
He would have to start his journey to the College in a little over a month to make sure he wasn’t late for his exams, so he didn’t have much time left to make the swords. He was planning on making two swords instead of just one, but he didn’t include Jensen in on that. It was his secret for now.
“The blade is the most important piece, take your time on it,” Jensen said.
He had yet to start on the blade that he promised him because he wanted it to be as close to perfect as possible. That was only part of it, he supposed. He knew his interest in the forge and all the things he could make was starting to wane. He was enjoying his sword training with Exodin much more, even though he had never seen anyone do what he had in mind for the swords.
“Speaking of Exodin and the sword,” Treace said and pulled himself to his feet. “I should get going now. I have to stop by the mill and see Mr. Lavare. He has a special order for me.”
“I don’t remember a special order. What kind of special order?”
“You don’t remember because I didn’t tell you,” Treace said. He could tell by the smith’s face that he was hurt, but only slightly. “I didn’t tell you because I want the finished product to be a surprise, not because I don’t trust you. You should know better than that.”
“I wasn’t offended, just surprised, that’s all,” Jensen said.
Treace didn’t believe him and gave him a look that said as much.
“I’m serious, it’s the truth,” Jensen said.
“Uh, huh,” Treace said in a tone that clearly indicated he still didn’t believe him.
“Oh, get out of here you troublesome runt,” Jensen instructed colorfully and waved him away.
Treace wasn’t mad at either the playful dismissal or at being called a runt. He was still slightly short for his age, but as it turns out, his mother was right; he did finally have his growth. He was no longer mistaken for someone under his age. Most of it was due to the size of his shoulders and arms. All the hard work at the forge and all the training with Exodin combined to make his shoulders well-muscled. He no longer got picked on by anyone, not even Wren. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his size or if Wren got bored of doing it. Maybe he finally grew up and realized how stupid he was being. Treace thought the last one was a bit of a stretch.
“Yes, sir,” Treace said. And then added as an afterthought, “you going to join us for dinner tonight?” Jensen had been joining them for dinner a couple times a week. Treace knew that he was only part of the reason. Jensen also enjoyed his mother’s company, which was fine with Treace. His mother didn’t talk about Jensen too often, but it was clear she enjoyed his company as well.
“If’n you two don’t mind, I’d be glad to.”
“See you there,” Treace said as he walked away.
He walked slowly, thinking that he was going to miss both his mother and Jensen terribly if he were to be accepted into the College.
Things had been nearly perfect in Treace’s life in the past year. His mother seemed to adore him and Jensen thought of him as a son. He knew the latter not because of anything Jensen had said, but rather because he simply felt it in his heart. And that was more important to him than words. But as much as he knew he would miss them, he also knew that he couldn’t let them down. They had put a lot of time and effort into ensuring that he at least got a chance to take the entrance exams. He wanted to do well. Not as much for himself, but more for them, even if that meant he would have to be away from his family.
He looked into the window of Gil’s Jewelry shop as he walked by. He wasn’t really looking for anything, just seeing if he could see Gil in there with a customer since he didn’t see him in his usual spot leaning on the doorjamb. He couldn’t see anyone, however, because of the reflections of the sun made it nearly impossible to see through the window.
He decided he would step in and, if Gil wasn’t too busy, ask him a few questions.
He opened the door and peered inside. A bell hung over the door rang as the door opened. He saw one large U-shaped counter that covered all three walls the entrance was not located on. The back part of the U had a small cut in it that served as a walkway from the main viewing area to get behind the counter. Hundreds of different pieces were on display on the walls behind the counter. There were pendants of silver and gold dangling from necklaces that were hanging from wooden posts stuck in holes drilled into a large piece of oak attached to the wall. It was quite an ingenious design, Treace thought; one could move the showpieces around simply by adjusting the height and location of the peg it was hung on. Various jewels were set in many of the pieces and some were set aside in their own case hung on the wall.
There weren’t any customers in the shop and he didn’t see Gil either.
After a few short moments a smiling Gil entered the room from a door in the back left corner of the room inspecting a knife as he walked.
“Hello there, Treace,” Gil said. “Dropping off another order for me?”
“Actually, no, I just thought I would see what you were working on and possibly get your thoughts on something, if you weren’t too busy that is.”
“Not so busy that I don’t have time for you, come on back,” he said and motioned for Treace to join him behind the counter.
“So what are you working on?”
“Ever the curious one aren’t you?”
“Always.”
“Well, currently I am testing a new shipment of gold I received from the big city.”
Treace knew he was referring to Haven, the largest city downriver from Lake City. There were several mining towns that Treace had heard about, but he wondered if it was possible that the iron he received was from the same mine that Gil got his gold and silver from. He doubted it.
“How do you test it?”
“When gold is subjected to acid, all impurities are melted away.”
He was about to respond that he found that subject interesting when Treace noticed the knife in Gil’s hands. The blade had several blackened spots all over it and the edge of the knife appeared to be nicked in many places. The smith in him took over.
“Gil, you need a new blade, that one is pitted and nicked severely. It must be ancient. I can make you a new one if you like.”
“It’s not ancient,” Gil said defiantly, as if he were standing up for his trusty knife. “I’m just not as steady as I used to be and I spilled acid on the blade yesterday.”
“Be careful with acid, Gil, you could get hurt. You should get an apprentice to teach your craft to and let them work with the acid.”
“I am careful,” he said. “And there aren’t many folk around here decent enough that I want to teach them something. Besides, I’m not a good teacher.”
Treace looked at the knife again and an idea started to form in his head.
“Gil, do you have any more of that acid?”
“Of course I do, why?”
“Would you mind if I borrowed some?”
“I suspect it wouldn’t hurt, you’re a smart one. Just don’t get any on you.”
“Thanks,” Treace said and walked toward the door to leave.
“I thought you said you had some things to run by me?” Gil called after him.
“I did. You’re such a good teacher you don’t even know when you answer someone’s questions,” Treace said as he neared the door. “Bye, Gil.”
Treace went outside and started to close the door. Gil was still standing in the same place with a confused look spread across his face. Treace gave him a large, toothy smile and finished closing the door.
He knew he probably could have explained what his intent was to Gil, but he wanted the finished products to be a secret and Gil wasn’t the type
to keep one. He wasn’t exactly the town gossip hound, but Treace still thought it best Gil didn’t know all the details. With that part of the plan now in motion he decided to move on to the next part and head to the mill.
He made his way through town and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic as he walked. This summer had been a pretty hot one, at least for this area, and the sun was hot on his skin.
It wasn’t long before he came to the Spiral Bridge and the sound of the Coldwater River suddenly sounded very tempting.
He crossed the bridge and went to the river’s edge on the lake side of the bridge and removed his boots and sat on the bank for a little while with his feet in the water.
He decided that wasn’t good enough so he took his shirt off and got on all fours and knelt low on the bank of the river, being careful not to fall in. The bank was fairly steep but he managed to get what he thought was a good hold.
He took a deep breath and then submerged his head in the water. It was cold, but also very refreshing. He kept his head under the water for as long as he could hold his breath. After what seemed like a minute, he pulled his head from the water.
“You were under for so long I thought you were going to drown,” a voice called from the bridge.
The sound of someone’s voice startled him and he jerked his head toward the sound of the speaker trying to see who it was. His hand slipped on the muddy bank and he lost his balance. He tried to find purchase but it happened too quickly and he tumbled into the water.
As the water rushed up to meet him, he got just a slight glance at the speaker. She looked familiar to him. She had lovely blonde hair with blue-green eyes. He had time to see a look of surprise on her face as his hit the water.
The cold water took his breath away as he righted himself and came to the surface. He tried to take a deep breath but it turned out to be a gasp because of how cold the water was.
The current of the river wasn’t strong this time of year, which he was thankful for, so when he surfaced he hadn’t been carried very far and was under the bridge. While he lived near a lake, he didn’t swim that often, but he could swim. Since he barely felt the river bottom under his feet, he half walked and half swam toward the bank on the same side of the river that he entered, but opposite side of the bridge.
