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

by Kris Hiatt

  Exodin snorted but Treace saw a hint of a smile on the man’s lips.

  “I hate that man,” Exodin stated.

  “Not as much as I do,” Treace assured him. While he didn’t understand Wren’s point regarding him and his test, he knew well enough to know something would come of it. Looking back on it, had he known what Wren had in mind, he would have said something else, especially to Emiah.

  “You don’t have to train with him and be at his beck and call,” Exodin said morosely.

  “So our training has come to an end then?” Treace asked.

  “I’m sorry, my friend, but yes. The wretch has made it clear that if I train you I will be removed from the guards. If I get removed, I will never be accepted back in Haven or even in Kadenton. They won’t accept a guard that has been removed from service. Not even for militia work, and not even with my reputation. And I believe he would be spiteful enough to write a letter to both cities describing my impertinence,” Exodin said and sighed heavily.

  “Not even if I write to counter what Wren said?” Treace asked. He hoped Exodin wanted to fight it.

  “Not even, my friend. He’s the son of a constable. No offense intended, but you are the son of a waitress.”

  Treace was a little offended. The son of a constable or not, Wren was an ass and he had no right to speak to anyone that way. He couldn’t believe Exodin was just going to sit back and take it. He wasn’t even going to fight. He was going to sit there like a dog and do exactly as he was told.

  “You should have been more forceful with him,” Treace said.

  “You don’t understand the politics involved,” Exodin explained.

  “I think you were just too scared to stand up for what’s right.”

  Treace could see Exodin’s face harden again. He wondered if the man was thinking of how Wren screamed at him, or about what Treace just said to him.

  “I’ve got a splitting headache and I think I need to drink a keg of ale,” Exodin said after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

  “And you aren’t old enough, so no, you can’t join me,” Exodin said somewhat angrily.

  He gave Treace a hard look and then walked away.

  Treace walked slowly toward home, wanting time to think about what happened. It was hard for him to believe that Wren could get away with behaving the way that he did. Not only get away with it, but seemed to be rewarded for it. Wren ended up getting the training lessons that he wanted, in which Treace doubted he would take seriously. He thought Wren only pretended to want the sword lessons so he could have an excuse to be a bigger pain than he already was. That bothered him a lot, and so did the fact that Exodin didn’t stand up for himself sooner. Or strand up for Treace. He thought he might have been a little hard on Exodin, but not too much.

  What bothered him the most, however, wasn’t the loss of the sword lessons. It was the fact that Wren had been rewarded with Emiah’s affection. Treace wasn’t certain as to why he thought this was the bigger offense, but it was all the same. He tried to believe that it was because he had already spent nearly two years training with Exodin and had absorbed every bit of instruction the man had to offer. He tried to believe that was the reason, but he knew it was only a small part of it. He didn’t want to admit that he had feelings for the young lady, but he felt it to be true. It was the first time he had feelings for a lady other than his mother, but these feelings were only remotely the same. There was something else to it. Was it love? He wasn’t sure, since he had never been in love, and he thought he was too young to be in love. Besides, she was probably four or five years older than he was and was dating the son of a constable, who was much closer to her age. What did he have to offer that could match that? Being a smith wasn’t exactly what he thought women looked for. She had been kind to him and they shared some laughs, but he didn’t think there was any chance that she held the same feelings for him as he did for her.

  He opened the door to his house and found that his mother wasn’t home. He thought she was already done with her shift, but another server may have been ill so they needed her to stay late. He nibbled at an apple before tossing it out, deciding that he wasn’t hungry. He went to his bedroom and retrieved a few books so he could study for his entrance exams. He hoped the books would absorb him so he could get his mind off of recent events; he was in a sour mood and didn’t like the feel of it in his mind.

  “You’re home early,” his mother said a short while later.

  Treace sat at the kitchen table reading an exposition regarding rhetoric when she came through the door and was so involved that he didn’t hear the door creak open.

  “A little,” he said. “And you’re home late.”

  “Oh, I just stayed a little late. I helped out a little and chatted with some of the customers, that’s all,” she explained.

  “My training with Exodin has come to an end, Mother.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “It appears the constable’s son wished to learn how to swordfight as well. I guess he wanted the trainer all to himself,” Treace said. He knew he felt a little differently, but thought a generic answer would serve best.

  “Well, you can’t blame him for wanting to learn,” his mother said, rubbing the top of his head. “And from what you say of Exodin, he’s a great teacher. It makes sense for the constable’s kid to want to keep that knowledge to himself. Though I guess it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose,” Treace said. It did make sense, but he didn’t have to like it. There was also the part about how Wren seemed to treat Emiah like some kind of object, like she was a trophy to show off to his friends. He treated her horribly, but Treace didn’t want to involve his mother in that part of the situation.

  “I’m sorry, son. I know you enjoyed the training, and his companionship.”

  “I can’t believe he would abandon me like that,” Treace said. He knew he was just angry and lashing out, but he couldn’t help but think Exodin could have done more. He could have at least stood up to Wren sooner, and stronger.

  “I don’t think he did abandon you,” his mother said.

  “Well, he should have at least stood up for himself,” Treace said. He was still a little bitter.

  “He probably didn’t because he knows the pain it would cause him, or you, in the future.”

  “How can you know?” Treace said more forcefully than he wanted.

  “I know because I know,” she said. She looked like she wanted to say more but didn’t.

  “I’m glad one of us does,” Treace said. He knew he shouldn’t be so hard on his friend, but he couldn’t help but to wonder if Exodin helped make it happen. Treace was getting very close to beating him in combat. Exodin had told him that he hadn’t lost in over a decade. Maybe Exodin just wanted to keep his record untarnished.

  “Well I think he knew I would beat him, and he doesn’t like to lose.”

  “I think you are over-reacting.”

  Treace thought about it and knew his mother’s words to be true. It calmed him a little. He was blaming Exodin when the person he should be blaming was Wren.

  “I need to wash up and get dinner started,” his mother said. She kissed the top of his forehead and left the room.

  He sat there quietly until his mother was done washing up and started to cook dinner. He helped, once again just hoping it would pose as a distraction. He knew one thing for certain; he hated Wren more than anything.

  Treace thanked her for the meal, and although the potato soup and cornbread was very good, he didn’t each much of it. He decided to head to bed so he could get an early start on finishing the two swords. He didn’t have much else to occupy his time now, thanks to Wren, so he figured he could work extra hard ensuring the swords turned out perfectly. It took him some time to go to sleep. He thought about Wren’s comments regarding the entrance exams to the College. Why would he even care? He couldn’t think of a reason so he let it go. He did have dark thoughts of dueling Wren and bashing h
im repeatedly. While they were dark thoughts, they calmed him in an odd way and he fell asleep soon after.

  Chapter 7

  Jenna,

  My name is Exodin, a guard in the employ of the constable, and I knew your husband. I am very sorry for your loss and know that he is still missed here. I was proud to have known Orlin and called him a friend. I accompanied him often during his investigations.

  You may be wondering why your son has this letter, understandably so. I asked him to bring this to you. He asked me to train him how to use a sword, which I accepted under the condition that you know and approve of the training. He is very small and will only be training with wooden swords and only under my tutelage. I wish no harm to come to the boy and at first was going to say no, but I see his father in his eyes. I have seen that same determination many times and found myself saying yes instead.

  He has much to learn and it will be very difficult for him because of his size, but the training would give him some strength and improve his coordination which is useful for more than just wielding a sword.

  I wasn’t at the mill on the day your husband died, he went alone as I am sure you know. I wasn’t there to protect him that day and my helping your son will not, and cannot, change that, but it was my job to protect your husband and I failed. I know it was an accident but I can’t help but think things would have been different had I accompanied him. If you allow me to teach your son how to protect himself it will let me feel better about myself. I apologize for making this about me.

  Warm regards,

  Exodin

  As Treace finished the letter he knew why his mother went to her room clutching it to her chest crying that night. After she read it she went to her room and didn’t come out until morning. She didn’t like to talk about his father and he figured she didn’t like to read about him either. She had refused to let him read it at first and had also refused to let him train with Exodin. At the time he didn’t really care about the letter, but now that he had read it he wished he had. He had no idea Exodin knew his father, nor felt responsible for his father’s death. Treace didn’t want his friend to carry that burden, especially since there was no way he could have known what was going to happen. He felt bad about his previous thoughts regarding his friend. He misjudged him.

  “I just thought you should see the true character behind the man that treated you so well these past few years. The same man whose character you questioned.” his mother chastised.

  Treace felt his face go flush. He knew he had made a mistake. He questioned the integrity of one of the less than a handful of people that treated him with sincere respect instead of an odd curiosity. He wished she would have showed him sooner; he had been angry with his friend for over two weeks now.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. Thank you for showing me this.”

  “Well, you needed to see it.”

  “But Mother, I thought Father worked at the mill?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “According to this letter, Exodin knew him and said he wished he was with him for that investigation.”

  His mother sighed and looked down. Treace figured she would retreat to her room again.

  “Your father worked at the mill when he could, just to earn a few more pieces. But he worked full time for the constable as an investigator, like the one that visited you after your accident.”

  “I never knew that,” Treace said, wondering how he had missed it.

  “You were only seven, Treace, I wouldn’t have expected you to know exactly where your father worked. But, the last few months before he passed, he worked more and more at the mill.”

  “I’ve got to go,” Treace said. He stood up, kissed his mother briefly, and hurried out the door.

  He had so many questions he wanted to ask Exodin. He wanted to know about his father, who he was, what he was like. But he knew he needed to make amends first, and finishing the sword he promised would do just that.

  He had worked on the swords for the past three weeks and was only three or four days from completing them. The problem was, however, that Exodin was leaving for a week on a trip to the Lodestone Mine in two days. It was one of the few mining operations within a few days’ travel of Lake City. Rumor had it that someone had been murdered at the mine. Apparently a miner had been found stabbed in the back shortly after finding a very large chunk of gold. Murders were uncommon in these parts, so the constable wanted to show support for his people and was preparing to send his men to investigate. Exodin was the first to volunteer to go. Treace wondered if it was only to get away from Wren.

  He knew all of this because Jensen made a big deal about it, telling Treace he was being stubborn and too hard on the man that had become his friend. Treace wanted nothing to do with it at the time, not wanting to admit that he was wrong, but now that he admitted the truth, he knew he was going to have to work through the night and into the next day to finish the sword in time to give to Exodin. After being set aside in favor of Wren, Treace had decided he would still fulfill his promise of making Exodin’s sword, he was just going to have Jensen give it to him after he had left for College. He was leaving for the College in five days and Exodin was to leave in two days for the mine, meaning he would miss giving Exodin the sword personally – something he now intended to do – unless he could finish the work in less than two days.

  He arrived at the forge a short time later and found Jensen working on some horseshoes; something Treace hadn’t seen him do in over two years.

  “Horseshoes?” Treace asked.

  “Keeping my mind occupied. Besides, we’ll sell ‘em in Haven for a profit,” Jensen replied.

  “I need the forge, Jensen,” Treace said.

  “Later,” Jensen replied.

  Treace knew he was a little mad at him for ignoring his requests to go talk to Exodin. He thought Jensen’s use of the forge was just his way of punishing him. He kept hammering on a piece of iron that would soon become a horseshoe.

  “I was wrong, Jensen. I can’t talk about it now, but you were right about Exodin,” he said, hoping to draw Jensen’s attention. Jensen stopped hammering and looked at Treace with a raised eyebrow.

  “You were right and I was wrong. I need to get Exodin’s sword to him before he leaves, and in order to do that, I need the forge right now,” Treace said, hoping it would appease the smith.

  “About damned time you came to your senses,” the smith said, getting out of the way.

  “I know, I know,” Treace said. “Chastise me later, right now I need to get to work.”

  Jensen only smiled in return, though Treace didn’t see it because he was already adding more coal to the forge.

  “Oh, and Jensen,” Treace began.

  “I know, I know. You’d prefer to work alone without me over your shoulder.”

  Treace gave the smith what he hoped was his best disarming smile.

  “Alright,” the smith said, sighing. He shook his head and began taking off his smithing apron. “Though you would be wise to let me help, it’d get done sooner.”

  “I have the time,” Treace said, hoping he was right. He also knew he didn’t want Jensen there because the second sword he was making was for him.

  He finished tempering the sword blades in the small hours of the morning, happy for the small favor that Jensen’s forge was near the edge of town and well away from any of the houses. Otherwise Treace would surely have been interrupted by angry lumberjacks and fishermen who were trying to get their sleep.

  He had already completed rough versions of the hilts and pommels. The pommels needed to stay rough so he could grind away what he needed to balance the sword after it was assembled. The pommels were large circles over an inch thick. He would eventually grind one side flat to fit the handle, but that was after he fit the blade to the hilt and handle. The hilts he would work on after he visited Gilrend.

  Jensen used to contract out a person to sharpen all the blades, but Treace had become adept at it, so he did the work
himself. He ground at the edges and sharpened them many times before they met his satisfaction.

  By the time he was finished with that, the sun had already raised high in the sky and had begun its move toward the mountaintops to the west. He knew Mr. Lavare would be at the workshop so he hurried over to pick up the sword handles. He hoped they were complete and that Mr. Lavare hadn’t made any mistakes. The woodworker had told Treace he had never worked with ebony before. Knowing he couldn’t do anything about it, he pushed it from his mind.

  He picked up the handles, paying Mr. Lavare the onner and three pieces he requested, plus another four pieces as a tip. The woodworker declined, so Treace tossed them on the table as he left.

  The sword handles were perfect; they were exactly as Treace had imagined. Mr. Lavare had done the job perfectly. The middle of each handle was thicker than the ends, but the whole of each was sanded very smooth.

  Treace left the mill and went to Gilrend’s shop. A short while later he returned to the forge carrying a glass container the size of a mug of ale. He was exhausted and needed sleep, but pushed on, knowing he couldn’t sleep until he finished the swords.

  He moved a table several paces away from the forge and laid the sword blades flat on top of it. He applied beeswax to the center of each blade, careful to ensure each line was perfect. The laid the pommels flat next to them and he applied beeswax to them as well. He used a tiny knife that he borrowed from Gil and carefully carved a symbol in the beeswax on each pommel. There were three of them instead of two; he wanted a spare in case he messed up the grinding.

  He picked up the glass container he borrowed from Gil and gently poured it over each of the components. The acid hissed and bubbled as it began to eat away the metal. He held his breath so he wouldn’t breathe in the toxic fumes.

  With that done, he went back into the forge and began to do the finishing work on one of the two hilts. After the appropriate amount of time had passed, he went back outside to the table and poured a bucket of water over each of the components, careful not to splash any liquid on himself or his clothing.