Path of The Calm (Saga of The Wolf Book 1)

by Kris Hiatt

  Exodin was off balance, but he didn’t fight it like many novice fighters would, he went with it and let the momentum propel him into his own forward roll and came up behind his shield in a low crouch. The move required a lot of open space, so Exodin was several feet away. He didn’t move.

  Treace closed in on his mentor and brought his left sword arm up and around, turning the tip of the blade so it drove in at Exodin’s right shoulder.

  Exodin brought his sword up in time and deflected the sword so it missed its mark. He raised his shield slightly and Treace’s other blade was easily stopped.

  Treace knew he was much faster than Exodin, but at twice the age, Treace knew the older man had much more experience to rely upon. He trusted in his training though, so fought on.

  Exodin pressed forward and quickly thrust with his sword once, twice, and then three times in rapid succession.

  Treace was up to the challenge, though, and deflected each one; first with his left, then right, then his left sword again. He slashed in hard with his right just as his left parried the last blow. It connected hard with Exodin’s shield. He had hoped to tire the older man’s shield arm.

  Exodin accepted the blow and thrust out three times once again.

  Treace parried each in turn; left, right, left.

  Treace knew his move then. Exodin had shown him a weakness; one that he intended to exploit. He need only be patient and wait for it.

  Exodin brought his sword out wide and slashed in from Treace’s left.

  Treace stepped back and let the blade pass in front of him. He charged in just as the blade passed his body and he knew that his opponent was out of position. His right sword led the charge and he drove it in toward Exodin’s chest.

  Exodin had somehow managed to bring his sword back in line and Treace felt his sword get pushed wide at the last second and it sliced the air inches above Exodin’s right shoulder. He realized he was out of position; his right arm was far to his left, which left his right side exposed.

  Exodin brought his left arm up slightly and drove the right edge of his shield forward toward Treace’s right side with a punching motion. Treace knew it took a large amount of strength to complete that move properly, and Exodin had perfected it.

  Treace slid his right foot forward as fast as he could. He pivoted hard on that foot and brought his left shoulder around. He spun and put his back to the shield. He followed his left shoulder with his right and came around fully. He used the momentum to slash hard with his right sword toward Exodin’s side. He knew it was a dangerous move; exposing your back to your enemy was foolish, but Treace knew the shield was too heavy to move quickly and also knew it would be in the way of Exodin’s sword and would prevent him from having a proper path to attack from.

  Treace felt Exodin’s shield collide with his sword and couldn’t believe the man was able to get the shield around in time. He must have used every ounce of strength he had. The edge of the shield pushed against the blade of Treace’s sword and deflected it enough so it slid behind Exodin instead of landing a solid blow.

  Exodin pivoted away and crouched behind his shield.

  Treace knew his opportunity was about to present itself. Exodin had already used the same three-thrust maneuver twice before, right after he crouched behind his shield. Treace knew how to defeat it.

  Exodin’s sword thrust out quickly.

  Treace parried it with his left. He coiled his legs and was ready to spring.

  Exodin stabbed out a second time, just as Treace suspected. It was parried by Treace’s right sword.

  Treace released the tension in his legs and exploded forward and to the left, knowing that Exodin’s third strike would miss to his right. He brought his left arm up as he moved and aimed the tip of the blade toward Exodin’s throat. He knew he had victory at hand.

  He drove the sword forward and stopped it just short of his trainer’s throat. He gave Exodin a wide smile.

  “You’ll have to say goodbye to that horse of yours, my friend,” Treace said, and held still, not moving an inch.

  “Are you so certain?” Exodin asked with his brow raised, he also held in the same position.

  Treace felt pressure on his upper abdomen, and then as if to accentuate the point, Exodin pressed a little harder and returned Treace’s smile.

  “Impossible!” Treace said. There was no way he could have redirected that third strike so quickly, not even he was that fast.

  “You fell for it, not me,” Exodin said and made a non-committal expression with his face.

  “Nonsense,” Treace said. “My sword is at your throat. I claim victory.”

  “Hardly!” Exodin countered with a broad smile on his face. “My sword would pierce your heart. I claim victory.”

  “The blade may pierce, but my heart remains true!” Treace said, and smiled widely. “I am the victor!”

  “A draw then,” Exodin stated. Again he raised his eyebrow.

  “Fine, a draw,” Treace relented, disappointed, but he knew Exodin was right. Both men had landed mortal wounds on the other.

  They stood up and let their weapons fall to their side. Several sets of applause rang out from the crowd that had assembled near the stable. Treace looked at them and saw respect in many of the men’s eyes. A few gave him a deferential nod. Something drew his attention above their heads. It was the yellow dress Emiah wore. She was standing on the balcony with Wren and was clapping along with the men at the stable. She was a long way off, but he could tell she was smiling. Even from this distance he couldn’t miss the contemptuous glower that Wren was giving him. Wren grabbed her by the arm and ushered her through the door and followed her in.

  “You did make a mistake, though,” Exodin stated, which drew his attention.

  “Me? You’re the one who left your throat open.”

  “To complete your move correctly, you should have used the momentum of your body and used your right sword to make the killing blow. You didn’t have much power behind the left hand since you were moving to your left already. Your right hand should have been the attacking hand.”

  Treace thought about it for a second. While it sounded correct, he knew it wasn’t. Exodin’s shield was raised in defense of the right sword arm.

  “Had I struck with the right, it would have been stopped by your shield,” Treace half asked and half stated.

  “Correct.”

  “Then by attacking with my left, and securing a mortal wound mind you, and not attacking with the right, which would have been defended, I made a mistake?”

  “Technically speaking, yes,” Exodin said.

  Treace started to think about it and Exodin burst out laughing.

  “I’m kidding, my friend. Your routine was just short of brilliant. Most opponents would have never gotten close to my throat. It is only due to your unusual fighting style that you succeeded.”

  “I would have died, I wouldn’t call that success,” Treace said.

  “True, but I would have as well. Would it surprise you to know that I have not been beaten in one-on-one combat in nearly a decade?”

  Treace thought about how easily he had seen Exodin defeat members of his guard and confirmed to his friend that he was not surprised.

  “In all seriousness, your move was not the best choice. It was a gamble, for sure. One that might pay off on most opponents, but I am not most opponents,” Exodin stated.

  “What move do you think I should have used?” Treace asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “Think about it for a minute. Replay the fight in your head.”

  Treace did as he was asked. He replayed the scene several times before he thought he knew.

  “I should have moved to my right and used my left hand to push your shield to the left, thereby opening your left side for a killing blow.”

  Exodin nodded in agreement.

  “But,” Exodin said with an upraised finger. “In order to set that up properly you should move slightly to your left on the second use of my t
hree-thrust routine. It would make me prepare to move my sword or shield to my right. If you were to then feint to that side on the third or fourth use of my routine, you would have an easy time opening my defenses.”

  Treace thought about it for a minute and knew his mentor was right.

  “Don’t worry about it, you’ll have another chance soon enough,” Exodin said playfully.

  Treace vowed that he would not lose the next fight. Nor would he let it come to a draw.

  He would turn out to be correct, although it wasn’t quite what he had in mind.

  #

  He had made six rough blades of steel before accepting the quality of two. They were not complete; no one could complete six swords in the two days he had been working on them. He had what most people would have thought of as two long, thin, rectangular strips of steel. He thought of them as sword blades. It would take him many hours each day for the next few weeks to turn them into complete swords, but he finally had a plan in mind. He hadn’t seen anyone do what he wanted to with the swords, so he wasn’t certain how they would turn out. He was certain that he was following through with the plan, whether the swords turned out of not. He would need Gil’s help, for certain, but by then it didn’t matter what Gil knew. The project would be nearly complete and Treace thought he could make sure Gil stayed quiet for at least a day or two.

  Jensen wasn’t at the forge nearly as often these days, and Treace actually requested that he stay away for a few days. Jensen knew he was up to something, but Treace told him that he just wanted to make the first sword on his own without the older man looking over his shoulder critiquing him the entire time. It was partially true, so he didn’t feel too bad about the little lie he told. He really wanted to surprise Jensen with one of the swords, so he wanted him away from the forge. Jensen said he had some business to attend to anyway, in preparation for Treace going to the College. He gave very vague answers about the subject when Treace questioned him on it. He figured the smith was hiding something for the same reason Treace was, so he didn’t pry any further.

  He closed the airways to the forge just after lunch. His arms were slightly fatigued from working on the sword blades, so he wanted a few hours to relax and think about his sword routines before fighting Exodin again. He went through them numerous times in his head by the time he got ready to meet his mentor. He hoped he would finally win today and smiled at the thought.

  He checked the fires in the forge again and was confident they weren’t a hazard and left. It was a short walk from Jensen’s forge, so he took his time. He reflected upon the events of his life over the past few years and for the first time he thought he understood why some people talked softly about him when they didn’t think he could hear. Many of those usually said they just simply couldn’t believe he was only fourteen, there’s no way he can smith that well and swordfight that well at that age. Some used his command of the language as another reason he must be older than he said he was. He never let on that he heard, he simply stored their words to reflect upon later. He wasn’t a typical teenager. He didn’t think he was exceptional, but he knew he wasn’t typical. Not being typical was something he could live with.

  He walked around the last bend that led to the constable’s estate and as the trees cleared on the left, he could see Exodin standing in his usual spot next to the fence. He pictured Exodin standing in the same spot a month from then when Treace gave him his sword. Although he was still over a hundred yards away and knew his friend couldn’t see it, he smiled. He walked a little further and his smile faded. Standing in the shade near the guard barracks was Wren. Emiah stood beside him, a new dress the color of a plum hanging near to the ground. Even from this distance Treace could see her beauty. Exodin began pacing back and forth as if he were nervous. Wren wore an ugly smile that Treace couldn’t stand to look at, so he looked back at his friend and thought of something to say.

  “You sure you want witnesses to your first defeat in a decade?” Treace tried asking with humor. He must not have been successful because Exodin merely frowned and chewed his lip. Behind him twenty yards next to Wren stood Emiah and she wore a pained expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong, my friend?” Treace said with concern.

  Before Exodin could answer, Wren started to walk in their direction. To Treace it looked more like a strut.

  “Treace, Treace, Treace, so very good to see you!” Wren said with a sweet voice that was so thick with sarcasm Treace wondered how he could speak. He spoke as he walked closer to him. Emiah followed behind.

  Exodin rolled his eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly. Treace caught it, however, and waited for the ugly scene that was about to play out.

  “Have you come to train with our friend here?” he asked, placing his arm around Exodin and giving him a squeeze. Exodin looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin and pulled away from him.

  “Yes,” Treace said simply.

  “Excellent,” Wren said. “Aren’t you also going to take some sort of test to see if you can get into the College?”

  “I am,” Treace said, not certain of where this was going.

  “We really do hope you get in, don’t we dear?” Wren asked, patting Emiah’s arm.

  “Sure we do, I’m sure you’ll do great,” Emiah said.

  “Sad that means we won’t get to see you much, well, with you being there and all. We’ll miss you, won’t we dear?”

  “I will, actually,” Emiah said. Treace didn’t detect sarcasm in her voice and from the glare Wren was giving Treace, he guessed he didn’t either.

  “I have to pass the tests to get in. If I fail, then I’ll just come home. Then we can all be together again,” Treace said, hoping it would annoy Wren.

  “Well,” he said in his happy yet sickening tone. “We should let the boys get to it, shouldn’t we love?” He kept his eyes locked on Treace and although Wren wore a smile on his face, Treace could see the hate in his eyes. Wren lifted his hand toward Emiah in a clear indication he wanted her to take his hand. She obliged.

  That wasn’t nearly as bad as Treace thought it would be. Even though he had hate in his eyes, Wren had been perfectly reasonable. Treace wondered if he was trying to show Emiah that he could be a good guy.

  Wren began to walk away with Emiah in tow and Treace once again fixed his gaze upon his friend. Exodin remained still and his facial expression hadn’t changed.

  Treace wasn’t about to question his good fortune and was about to ask his friend what was wrong again when Wren whirled about. He had only made a few strides so he stood where he was when he spoke.

  “Wait,” he said, looking up pensively. “You can’t train with him anymore because I forbid it. Isn’t that right, Exodin?”

  Treace looked to his friend. Exodin’s shoulders sagged but he made no reply.

  “You see, I convinced my father that I should have lessons with the sword, and that I would only accept the best instructor we had. Considering what he did in training a puny whelp like you, I can’t wait to see what he can do with a proper student,” Wren said, still wearing his acidic smile.

  “Is it true?” Treace quietly asked his friend.

  Exodin didn’t answer.

  “Oh, come now, Exodin. Tell the boy the truth. Tell him that I now own you. You were a gift to me by my father. I can dismiss you from service any time I wish. As long as you stay employed by the Constable, my father, I own you.”

  The only reply Exodin gave was that his face started to turn a light red.

  “Tell him,” Wren said as he quickly walked next to Exodin. “I OWN YOU! TELL HIM!” he screamed in Exodin’s ear.

  Behind Wren, Treace saw that Emiah was startled by the scream and blinked in surprise. She looked like she wanted to say something but her mouth never opened to form the words.

  Treace wondered why Exodin would put up with the fool yelling at him. He thought for sure Exodin would have throttled the man by now. He thought about coming to his friend’s defense, bu
t he knew Exodin could more than handle himself. If he wanted to put a stop to this nonsense, he would. He must not want to stop it.

  Exodin’s face turned a deep red and he turned to face Wren.

  “You may control my job, but you speak to me in that fashion again and I will control your life,” Exodin said direly.

  At first Wren looked very confused and then burst into laughter. It was a loud and hitching laugh that reminded Treace of a horse.

  “Ha! I was only having some fun with you, that’s all,” Wren said. “Just playful banter between two training partners.”

  There was no doubt that everyone in attendance knew that to be a lie, but his words combined with the horse-laughter did start to lessen the tension. It was broken completely by a beautiful voice joining the conversation.

  “Oh, Wren, you sure do know how to play a practical joke!” Emiah said, and forced a laugh that Treace knew to be false. “You had me going, that’s for sure. And look at these guys, I mean, you had them going too.”

  Treace knew she was only trying to prevent the situation from becoming escalated beyond control, but it pained him to hear her siding with Wren. He didn’t hold it against her, though. By the look on Exodin’s face, the man was going to give in.

  “Sure, since it’s all a joke.” Exodin said and backed away. “But my promise still holds true,” he said and pointed at Wren, a little fire still remaining.

  Wren smiled a broad smile and brought his hands up, palms facing Exodin. “Sure thing, trainer.”

  Wren gave a disingenuous bow and went back to Emiah, took her hand and laughed.

  “Oh, and Treace, don’t fail the test. No one likes a failure,” Wren said after a quick look and a wink at Treace. He then walked off with Emiah on his arm.

  “Well, on the positive side,” Treace began. He wanted to lighten the mood. “You won’t have to lose to me today.” He was disappointed that his friend didn’t stand up for himself, but thought he would give him a chance to explain. He thought a joking Exodin was more likely to talk than a brooding one.