Reciprocity : Volume 1 of The Fledgegate Cycle

by Zachary Smith

  As he menaced forward around the fire, his rusty blade waved back and forth between the girls. Rues grabbed for her belt knife. It was an inadequate weapon against the sword, but her iron determination to make their cost as high as possible to him rendered her fierce.

  "Don't come any closer!" Rues shouted at the squalid man as Alyra hid behind her and whimpered into her shoulder.

  "Lea… Leave ‘lone!" Glem mumbled in his waking stupor. He tried to lever himself up to a sitting position leaning against the rocks, waving a weak hand at the putrid man, "Leave."

  Mort swung his sword over to point at Glem.

  "Lay down, before you drop dead." The monster turned back to the girls. "Time to choose." He came around the fire and reached out his left hand for Rues. "Put the knife down before you hurt yourself." He raised the rusted sword to backhand Rues.

  "NOOO!" rasped Glem as he reached out to the would-be rapist.

  Red fire suddenly began to wriggle around his forearm to pour from his hand like bloody lightning at the disgusting intruder. Greasy, dirty clothes caught fire and flared up like old thatch and instantly, Mort screamed in pain and fear.

  He turned and threw away his sword as he hurtled toward the stream and into the woods.

  Rues and Alyra screamed at the sight of the fire as Glem collapsed hard to the ground and passed out, his breathing raspy and shallow. But Alyra’s fear of the brigand gave way to her fear for her grandfather. She rushed past Rues to him.

  Glem took a few more raspy breaths, then he sighed heavily as he began to breathe easier. He quickly fell into a heavy slumber. The girls curled up to sleep next to him, protectively. They were finally able to fall asleep sometime late into the night.

  Chapter 6

  Alyra woke to the soft sounds of birds and a crackling fire. She reached out for her grandfather too, and found Rues curled against her instead. She looked to the fire where her grandfather quietly hummed to himself while he skinned a fresh rabbit.

  Where did he get a rabbit? Alyra wondered. The sudden realization drug Alyra to her feet; at the same time, she awoke Rues with her sudden movement.

  "Grunfh... You look better this morning, Glem. Slightly less dead than we worried you would be," Rues said sleepily.

  "Ha girl, you didn't expect me to die from a little cold, did you? Besides, you girls took such good care of me I feel better than I have in years," Glem said. "Chest’s a lot better, thanks to you, although at one point I wondered if you planned on smoking me to death.”

  He laughed but the girls lacked the humor. Keeping a fire going had taken all their effort and strength, and now they were dead beat despite some sleep.

  “What happened last night?” asked Glem. “I don't remember much. I do know there was a man, his coat was on fire, and he dropped this."

  Glem held up the sword from the night before in a remarkably steady hand.

  Then he listened to a careful recitation of the previous evening’s events by the girls and asked a few questions. He said, "I need to think about this. I do believe you are telling me what you saw, but I don't understand it. We can stay here another night and move on tomorrow. I saw fish in the stream this morning. Maybe we can tickle some out for dinner."

  “Grandpa, do you think he will come back? He ran off but I don’t know if he lived. I’m afraid. What are we going to do if he shows up again?”

  “Well, if he comes back, it is going to be without his sword,” Glem pointed out, still holding the blade and eyeing it as the sun’s rays glinted off the occasional patch of clean steel among the rust and dirt. “I really don’t think he’ll be back. From what you said, he is hurt. He may just crawl into a hole and die. So no point worrying yourselves silly over it.”

  The sun streamed into the small clearing between the creek and the stones, radiating its golden warmth, seeming to hold the promise of the days to come. Glem felt better than he had in years and playfully drug the girls to the edge of the creek.

  He stared down into the lazy water, looking for the overhangs that shadowed the surface, with grass hanging down to just touch the water. Once he found a place that looked promising, he peeled off his shirt and threw it down at the edge of the bank.

  After Glem flopped down, he very slowly began to ease his hands down into the water, spreading his giant palms wide apart as he cast a careful eye about him.

  Brilliant colored streaks moved back and forth from the shadows to the sun, and he slowly brought his hands together as he waited for just the right moment.

  Glem’s hands were nearly touching one another, a tickle on his palms the only sign of the fish that moved slowly between them. One smooth, quick motion and the iridescent streaked fish was flopping around on the bank. "Ha girls, that's how it's done," Glem said. He turned back to the water and eased back down. "Quick now, grab it and run some twine through the gills and get it back into the water before it dies or flops back in itself."

  Half a dozen fish later, Glem pushed back from the bank.

  "That should get breakfast and maybe lunch out of the way," Glem grunted as he stood and pulled back on his shirt. When he turned toward the camp, he saw three of the cleaned fish roasting on an improvised spit above the fire.

  "We found some wild lemongrass and thyme while you were fishing, so we stuffed the fish with it," Rue said.

  Alyra wandered around the small campsite picking up twigs and small bits of wood. "Once those have finished roasting, we can smoke the rest, so they'll keep for longer. Glem, do you think you can get some more in the afternoon for dinner?"

  "I can, but we may have to go upstream a bit. I think my little eddy is about fished out already. It's not much of a stream," Glem replied. Chuckling, he added, "How about if you two fish and I will hunt for spices to go with them this time?"

  "Grandpa… I am not getting wet!"

  Still laughing, Glem said, "Just push up your sleeves, and try not to fall in. What about you, Rues? You, afraid of a little water like my granddaughter here?"

  Shaking her head, "Of course not old man, I can out fish you and her together."

  "Big words from a little mouse, and you will get your chance to prove it later."

  "Rues, now look what your big mouth has gotten us into. I am going to get wet, sick, and die," Alyra said with a dramatic swoon.

  They laughed loudly while they all settled around the fire to break their fast.

  The delicate aroma of the herb-stuffed fish caused their mouths to water, the combination of food and laughter working to raise their spirits after the long night.

  Glem glanced at the cart, and the oilcloth-wrapped bundles inside drug him from the levity. Their oppressive weight reminded Glem of the life he had left behind; his mood darkened at the thought. "I thought I was done with you," Glem whispered to himself.

  "Alyra, Rues, why don't you head upstream and see if Rues’ skill fishing matches her talk? I'll see what I can find to go with them."

  "Ok, Grandpa."

  "Ok, Glem."

  Glem strolled around the campsite as the girls left to go fishing. He moved slowly into the surrounding forest on the hunt for the rest of dinner; along the edge of the camp, he found some wild onions with their soft purple flowers in bloom, and farther on, resplendent in a patch of sun, he discovered some mint thriving. The small game trail near the mint led him quickly to another small field with a considerable raspberry bramble running down one side.

  After he filled a small sack from his belt with the early season black raspberries, he headed back to the campsite. Glem looked pensively at the wagon and around the still empty camp as he crouched and gently laid down his new provisions near the stones behind the fire.

  Then, he rose again and returned to the wagon, sighing heavily as he began to pull the large bundles out and spread them next to the cart. It was quite a stash.

  "I thought I was done with you," Glem muttered again, as he unwrapped and carefully set aside each of the pieces. He opened the first bundle and removed the heavy b
ut very finely wrought steel chainmail shirt, looking it over. He felt the rings and rivets, smoothing a finger over them as if enjoying the craftsmanship, then held the chainmail piece to the sky.

  His arms visibly trembled under the weight, and it shone in the light.

  Each of the rings that made it up had been carefully formed and riveted after being laced through the others. This shirt had a value higher than most men could dream of making in a lifetime. Carefully examining the rings again and running his hands over the weaving, the steel seemed oddly soft and familiar to his touch. The heavily padded shirt in with the mail, the gambeson that was to be worn underneath, still appeared stained with slight rust, sweat, and—in places—blood now of a reddish-brown hue rather than blood red.

  The shirt set to the side, he moved to the next bundle, opening just the end of the wrapping and sliding out a long smooth blade which he laid on the cloth. Again, he went gently about each movement as if partaking in some sort of ceremony at which he was the only attendee.

  He treated the items with such obvious reverence in their unwrapping and in how he caressed, smoothed and admired each piece as it emerged.

  The texture of the blade steel was like glass and the blade almost translucent as the light reflected off it, its edge still clean and sharp.

  A long dagger, a match to the bigger blade, followed it to the cloth and was laid next to the mail shirt. Last, he took the heavy signet from his pocket and set it down with the rest. He took his time to gently position the ring among the larger pieces, as if creating a display.

  "An old life put away is taken out again," Glem muttered to himself. "It cannot be helped."

  The decision made, Glem moved without hesitation to complete his task. He slipped into the thick gambeson, the sweltering padding feeling like a familiar old blanket, and the crafted mail shirt followed it onto his frame with a well-practiced ease.

  He stood and swung his arms to settle the shirts and to see where they might rub and chafe.

  The answer was that they might rub and chafe everywhere, for the mail pinned down the cloth and pushed it into every small fold of his skin. "This thing is heavier than I remember."

  He breathed heavily under the exertion of even putting the garments on.

  Next, Glem knelt near to the blades and ring, speaking into the air although there was no one else to hear. "You’ll have to do something about these, Glem. There are still too many people that will recognize them." He turned and stroked each one lovingly.

  Glem had now unwrapped his bundles completely, and now he took the knife and smoothly sliced a piece of the oilcloth down its length. A stretch of the cord that had held the bundle was tied around the cloth and the sheath, so he relaced it down the length and tied it neatly at the bottom. After he had carefully covered the pommel and grip of the sword, he tightly wrapped the hilt with the string, successfully obscuring the sign on the pommel. Once the dagger had received the same treatment, he stopped to examine his handiwork.

  "Not great, but it will hopefully be enough to disguise me from casual notice," he said to himself, sighing and wrinkling his nose. "The years under the floor certainly didn't help with the smell of this damned shirt. I’m surprised it’s in one piece with a stink like that."

  Glem picked up the signet now. "This, at least, is easy to hide for the moment," he said as he laced it onto a thong and dropped it into the open neck of his shirt.

  The sword and dagger, in turn, had also just settled onto their heavy belt.

  "Grandpa?"

  "We got fish," Rues said enthusiastically as she followed Alyra into the campsite. "Not as many as you caught but mine are bigger." No response. Rues looked up from her stringer of fish and spotted Glem looking quite fine, adorned in all his unusual finery.

  “Whoo, Glem!”

  Glem turned to face the girls, ignoring their shock. "I wasn't sure it would still fit. I've gotten old and fat," he replied.

  I'm kind of surprised that it fits as well as it does, he thought.

  Glem picked up the rusty sword dropped by the would-be murderer the night before. "I'm going to go down to the creek for some sand to clean this piece of junk up. While I’m down there, why don't you get started on some dinner? I found some onions and mint, also some more early blackberries that should make a nice treat later."

  "Ooh, I still can't believe any are ripe yet!" exclaimed Alyra.

  "Ok, but I have questions," Rues stated firmly.

  "Leave off girl, you both know I am an old soldier."

  "I know you were an old soldier, but I was an apprentice blacksmith, and I know what your mail shirt is."

  "Huh, I don't understand. What is so special about an old chainmail shirt?"

  "That's not regular chainmail."

  "Hush girl, we'll talk later."

  "I still don't understand… Someone explain what is going on?"

  "Later!" Glem said as he turned to walk toward the creek to look for sand.

  A short way down along the edge of the creek, Glem found a low spot and eased down onto a large rock in the middle of a sandbank.

  Using a piece of cast-off oilcloth, he scooped a big handful of the fine wet sand into it and began to work it softly, up and down the length of the blade. It could take hours to buff the old and neglected blade fully, but for now, seeing shining patches being born would be a pleasure.

  "Fool girl. Needs to learn to keep her mouth shut," he muttered to himself.

  He worked the sand up and down the blade and quickly fell into old habits. The blade slowly began to show through the rust that had marred it for so long and to Glem’s surprise, the blade that emerged was better quality than he had first presumed. It appeared rust free.

  He looked up and realized that the sun had moved farther across the sky than he thought. Quickly, he rinsed the blade in the creek and checked the wide, now clean blade as it emerged from the water. "The steel might have been good once, and there is certainly enough of it. I wonder if Rues can do something with the edge?" Glem said aloud as he grabbed a large piece of the fine-grained limestone nearby.

  ✽✽✽

  "We were beginning to wonder if we should go look for you," Alyra said to Glem as he walked back into the camp.

  "The food smells good," Glem replied. "Sorry about being such an old grump earlier. Rues, can you take a look at this for me?" He held out the recently cleaned blade. "I think it's salvageable, and the edge isn't too damaged. It looks like it saw a lot of abuse. I know you used to clean and repair tools with your father. What do you think?"

  When Glem saw the reaction on Rues’ face at the mention of her father, he winced.

  "I'm sorry, Rues. I shouldn’t have said… Anyway, he was a good man."

  Rues held her hand out and took the sword carefully from Glem, silent and sad.

  She moved off into the brightest patch of sun in their camp as she scrutinized the sword. She began to tap the hilt of her belt knife against the blade as she worked meticulously, listening to the sound change as she moved up and down the sword's length.

  "This was never more than passable work, not great, but maybe reparable. I can certainly fix the worst with a stone and rewrap the hilt tonight. By tomorrow, it will be a sword again."

  She took a deep breath. "Yes, he was a good man, and he would be ashamed of me if I couldn't make something usable out of this old mess," Rues said.

  She set aside the blade and moved quietly about the camp, with purpose.

  Her eyes scrutinized everything, seeking out a stone flat enough to do what she wanted.

  Rues retrieved her hammer from the cart, and a rapidly built simple bellow created from some cloth and a reed stoked the remains of the cooking fire.

  After she buried the blade deep in the fire, she said softly, "Glem, I can repair most of it here but tempering it will have to wait until we get to a town big enough to have a forge."

  Glem watched her and thought that her movements were studied and workmanlike.

 
This is a girl that knows her craft. She was a joy to watch.

  Glem sat back to eat with Alyra by his side; in silence, they continued to watch Rues working diligently on the blade, breathing new life into the old.

  She seemed completely engrossed in it, as if she and the blade had almost become one.

  Rues heated and then gently worked the edge with her hammer over and over, slowly drawing the edge of the blade back into shape, meticulous and unforgiving.

  The night was already coming on before she was satisfied with her work.

  "That will have to be enough for now. I'll finish the job when we get to town."

  Rues stood and stretched, still eyeing the sword as if it might speak back.

  She drove her fists into her lower back to knead the muscles, sore from being hunched over her anvil stone on the ground. She handed the blade to Glem. "I'll stone the edge in the morning. There are some soft spots, but I was able to hold the heat mostly to the damaged areas. It will need to be fully annealed and then re-hardened and tempered. Now, I'm hungry, Alyra. Did you save me some food?"

  "Yeah, Rues, Come sit. I'll bring it to you."

  Glem studied the blade carefully, the repaired areas invisible despite the rough working conditions. "This is good work, Rues. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would have thought this was a different blade. Really good work."

  "I know," Rues said. She caught Glem’s eye and stuck her tongue out at him.

  Glem laughed loudly. "We could have used you when I was in the army years ago."

  "Ha, you mean before I was born, old man. My work is good, but crude compared to my father’s. He was a master and anything I can do, I owe to him and his patience and skill."

  Rues settled in to eat her dinner, leaned up against the cool stones after the heat of the fire. She fell asleep almost before she’d finished eating.

  "Alyra, I'll keep watch tonight. You get some sleep."

  After he broke down the cart and used the remains to build up the fire for the evening, Glem quietly took stock of their few remaining provisions. The rest of the oilcloth, leather, and enough food for a couple of meals if their luck held for foraging.