by Halie Fewkes
“Well, thanks,” I said, a bit taken aback. Sometimes it was nice to have a friend who hadn’t known the old me. “What are you, a mind reader?” I added.
Archie laughed and replied, “Naw, but I hear you’re looking for one. I’m just here to help you sign up for chores tomorrow. The sheet is here on the wall.”
A massive chart of chores, weekdays, and names covered a sheet so large I could barely reach the top rows. People had signed up for a chore every day, and I scrawled my name in tomorrow’s box for the hatchery, where Liz was also scheduled to work. I saw to my disappointment, “The slots to work with the combat dragons are full for the next five days.”
Archie pulled the quill from my hand. “You should come help me out then, so I don’t have to be the only clueless one showing up to these things.”
Archie scribbled my name next to shipment receiving and chopping firewood. “You signed up for all the awful ones,” I protested as my name also landed next to wreck cleaning and daily cooking. “Why don’t you just add our names next to paper making and blanket weaving while you’re at it?”
I snatched the quill back to scratch my name next to combat dragons on the first day it was available, at a time when Archie was signed up to be shadowing and learning from the mages in the woods.
“You call that handwriting?” Archie asked. Even with a task as mundane as signing up for chores, he was able to put a smile on my face.
“I’m sorry,” I grinned, “I didn’t realize I needed to be a calligrapher to sign up.”
“You at least need to know which end of the quill to use! Let’s pretend that never happened.” He tore a neat little hole in the paper and essentially removed my name from existence, then rewrote it beneath.
I laughed when he finished. “Mine was at least legible! Whoever reads that is going to think a bear stumbled in and tried to sign up.”
“It clearly says Allie. You poor girl, can’t write or read, can you?”
“Must have lost the ability with the rest of my memory.” I took myself by surprise, joking about the loss of my past. Up until now, it had been a serious matter.
Archie studied me for a hesitant second. “I’ve… heard a bit about your incident from other people, but I know you probably tell it best. Can I ask what happened?”
“Actually, you can,” I replied. I felt comfortable telling him what I knew, but I left out the part about the Escalis. I knew I shouldn’t worry, but the thought of scaring him off bothered me. As I wrapped up what was a fairly short explanation, Liz found us and squinted skeptically between us. “Allie, how do you know somebody I don’t?”
“I’m new here,” Archie offered.
“Oh! I’ve heard about you,” she said, turning big I-told-you-so eyes toward me. “You know, you and Allie are going to get along great, getting to know everything and such. Come on, West and I can show you guys how to play chips.”
We followed Liz back to her group at the game table and sat down to a conversation already in progress. I studied several games until I felt that I knew how to play; I listened intently to every joke and piece of information spoken throughout the evening; and Liz and West introduced us to about fifty mages-in-training. I would be lucky to remember half their names by morning, but it was important to try. The key to my past could be hidden anywhere, and I needed as much knowledge as I could get.
“My friends and I were idiots, thinking we could steal firehoney,” Archie said later in the evening as he walked me back to my room. Something about his random stories gave me a sense of comfort, like a short break from the pressing need to recover my secrets. “Two of the farmers were on the porch talking to each other when we realized we had found the dog-pen instead of the firebees. The dogs, of course, went ballistic when they heard us, so we tried to escape through the grass fields, and go figure, that was where we found the firebee hives. The bees lit up and attacked us, and as soon as we got away from the light of one nest, the next one would swarm us, showing the entire world our failed escape attempt. We ended up with a few hundred stings and didn’t get to try a lick of firehoney.”
I found myself laughing, realizing how refreshing his stories were after so many great legends and world concepts. “I wish I had stories to share,” I said. “I’ll bet I had some good ones.”
“I’m sure you’ll remember them someday,” he said, stopping next to a wooden door. “Well, thanks for walking me home,” he teased, and I stopped as well.
“So this is your room?” I asked. “Let’s see it then.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, setting his hand on the brass knob.
“Are you serious? What are you trying to hide in there?” I tried to give him an intensive stare, but I tainted it with a smirk I couldn’t keep under wraps.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, holding his hands out like I might run at him without warning. “Give me ten seconds. I’ll be right back.” He cracked the door to his room open and slipped inside, shutting it before I could get so much as a peek.
I stared at the wooden door, bewildered, and realized how much I needed him to reemerge. Everything in me started to ache again as my chronic fear of uncertainty crept back in. The possibility of not remembering myself, of living empty and alone, didn’t plague me when I had Archie’s distraction. Something about him made me feel safer.
He barely nudged the door open to come back out, and carried two broadswords with him, one of which he held out to me. I took it uncertainly as he said, “Here’s the deal. If you can get past me, you can come in. What’s it worth to you?”
“Not my life!” I exclaimed, holding up the metal blade. “Are you here to assassinate me?”
“No. They aren’t sharpened. And what’s this sudden worry with being careful? Careful is for beginners.” He ran his hand down the side of the blade to prove it was dull.
I held the heavy sword up, and the weight in my hands felt good rather than awkward, though it was much bigger than my usual short swords.
He said, “I know you usually carry short swords, but they’re not to your advantage unless you’re faster than your opponent.”
“I doubt you’re faster than me,” I said, challenging him with a squint and wondering vaguely how he knew I was thinking about my short swords. Did he know me so well already?
“Alright, hang on,” he said, stepping back into his room. He emerged this time with three wooden sparring swords. A long one for him, two shorts for me.
“Archie, I do want to warn you. I’m pretty good,” I said as I swung both arms out in a quick stretch and flipped both blades around my hands.
“Well, I’m decent too, so don’t go too easy on me.”
He looked like he had the potential to be fast, but he held his sword in nothing more than a casual stance, making me wonder if he even knew how to use it.
“It’s your job to get to the door,” he reminded me.
“Thanks.” I struck at him, and he swiftly parried, almost too fast to see.
I went for him again, but he simply leapt back without the slightest effort, still blocking my way to the door. I tried striking with both swords, aiming for his legs, lunging then disengaging, feigning then striking — I tried getting the upper hand any way I could, but nothing worked.
“You’re not fighting back!” I barked through my rising irritation.
He went on the offensive like a striking snake, throwing attacks in such rapid succession that I could barely get my blades up to defend myself, let alone strike back. He was able to spin around, kick at my feet, and take them out from beneath me, knocking me flat on my back.
I gasped and then stood back up to gape at him in furious disbelief.
Archie opened his mouth to say something but I flung a finger up to point at him, cutting him off. “Again.” I threw down my wooden weapons and picked up one of the metal broadswords.
“Ok,” he agreed, surprised. I didn’t even wait for him to pick the second sword up. As soon as he touched it, I lunged
straight for him and swung downward with everything I had. He crouched and held his sword up, brushing mine to the side. Before the clang of colliding metal even reached my ears, he rolled past me and onto his feet, his sword pressed to my back. I threw my blade down and spun around to confront him.
“How are you doing that?” I snarled with a piercing glare. My reaction had him laughing lightly to himself. I had yet to catch my breath, but he still looked as calm and relaxed as before we started.
“I told you I was good. I don’t think you’re supposed to hate me for that.”
“No, you said you were decent!”
I glanced quickly around to find where my surroundings might give me an advantage over my admittedly superior opponent. Our cave was only separated from the next tunnel over by a rock wall about twice my height.
“And I don’t hate you,” I said, rather unkindly.
He tossed his sword from one hand to the other. “Then what do you call that look you’re shooting me? Friendship?”
I lunged unexpectedly at Archie as I got an idea. The flick of his wrist caused our blades to collide with a resounding clang as I turned around, got a running start, and jumped up to grab the narrow crest of the cave wall. I pulled myself up until the ground was far beneath me, and I was standing on a jagged balance beam of rock, no wider than my hand.
Archie took a few suspicious paces toward me, studying the situation silently from the ground.
“I’m just wondering how good your balance is,” I said innocently, testing my weight on precariously poised feet.
“Alright then,” he said.
He leapt up to take hold of the rock wall with both hands, and had only pulled himself halfway up when I went on the offensive — a dirty tactic I was willing to stoop to. I tried to knock him off the wall before he got any bearing, but was forced to jump as he looped an arm over the rocky edge and swung at my feet with his blade.
As soon as my feet touched back down, he knocked my legs out from under me with the arm still holding the sword. I landed on the cave’s rocky teeth with a yelp as Archie pulled himself up onto the wall, his eyes suddenly wide with concern.
Still on the ground, I growled as I gripped my sword with both hands and swung to hit him in the ankle, feeling the brutal thud of my blade making contact. I was instantly terrified I may have done real damage, but it wasn’t so bad that Archie was willing to end the duel over it.
It took him a second to process what had happened, but even as he recoiled onto his good foot, he lunged forward and flung me over the side of the wall. I shrieked and had to drop my sword in order to reach up and grab the edge, dangling over the side with my feet still far from the ground.
He crouched to tilt his head and give me a this-is-your-own-fault squint. “Now are we done?” he asked as I held on.
“Yeah, I think I’m good.” He reached down and grabbed one of my hands to pull me up. Before I had half my body on the wall, I asked, “Is your ankle alright.”
“Of course, it’s fine.” He was, however, very careful not to stand on it.
I sat on a smooth section of the stone feeling rather guilty, but I shifted my eyes up and admitted, “That was kind of fun,” concealing a grin until I knew how he would react.
“Of course it was,” Archie replied, sitting next to me, his smirk returning. “It’s sparring.” I leaned over to look at the sword I had dropped as Archie pulled his ankle in to examine it. “I might be done for the night though.”
“Right… I’m really sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”
“Naw, it’s fine. I’ll be ok in a few minutes.” I still felt bad, regardless. I hadn’t held anything back. His ankle had to be broken. “Next time though, you’re dead,” he added.
I was about to reply that I was ready to go now, but I shook my head instead, smiling at the thought of beating him another day — when he wasn’t handicapped.
“I guess these swords can cause damage when they aren’t sharp, can’t they?” I said. I wished he wasn’t wearing boots so I could see how ugly of a mark I had left. That wasn’t wrong of me, was it?
“They’re just as good as any sharpened swords when it comes to Escalis,” Archie said, twisting his foot in a circle. “Once Escalis become adults, you can’t cut through their skin with anything.”
“I’ve been wondering about that,” I said, looking at the blunt blade. “Why do we use swords then? Is the point just to hit them hard enough to cripple them?”
“Well, King Kelian reasons that if the Escalis find us, we’re dead no matter what weapon we have. So he was going to ban weapons on our continent altogether, but ended up being gracious enough to allow us swords in case of animal attacks. Of course, the rest of the continent doesn’t care what he decrees and trains with weapons that can harm Escalis, but it’s all technically illegal.”
“Well, you sure got good with a sword,” I said. “Where did you learn to be so quick?”
“I used to spar with my friends all the time,” he replied.
“Where did you guys live?” I asked. “And what did you do before you came here?”
“Actually, I used to live on the outskirts of the Daarago.”
“The what?”
“It’s the giant Escali forest, east of here. That’s where their capitol city is.”
“Why were you living out there?” I asked, swinging my legs in the air as he thought about his answer. “There must have been Escalis everywhere.”
“There were. Their royal family even lived out there. But, I don’t know, we just… had to live somewhere, I guess.”
I could tell he had no interest in discussing the details, which was fine. If we were going to be friends, he would tell me eventually.
“Have you heard about Prince Avalask?” he asked me.
“Yes. He’s one person I’ve been educated about.”
“What are you two doing?” West had clearly sprinted to reach us, and bent forward to catch his breath.
“We were just—” I stammered as Liz caught up to him and sucked in the stale cave air as well, resting an arm on his shoulder to recover as she saw we weren’t being killed.
West shook his head and gaped at us like we were unbelievable. “How did you even get up there?”
Archie and I exchanged puzzled glances. “We jumped?” Archie offered. I glanced at the ground. It wasn’t that far.
“Were you two sparring?” Liz demanded. “In the middle of the night? You have chores in the morning!”
I burst into laughter, because she was scolding me over chorework. “Alright, and do tell, Liz, why are the two of you up so late?”
Liz glared coldly in response, and I locked eyes with her until the edges of her lips twitched into a sly grin.
“Let’s all get some sleep,” I said, jumping off the wall and bending my knees to absorb the impact of hitting the ground. I threw an arm around Liz’s shoulders as Archie landed behind me, and I whispered, “Thanks for coming to save me,” as we started walking. Just before we rounded the corner, when Archie thought I wasn’t looking, I threw a glance back and saw him exchanging quiet remarks with West, but he didn’t show a hint of a limp in his stride.
His ankle should be broken. Something was wrong.
Chapter Nine
Sparring flew by every morning because Liz and West began practicing together to make a formidable team, almost a challenge to fight, and the mages made incredible matches. When I faced Terry, the rough-around-the-edges girl who could jump, I had to be constantly ready for her to reappear right behind me. With super-speed Michael, I just had to accept that he was undefeated and too fast to compete with. I was secretly waiting for the day when Archie had to face Michael, because I needed to see him lose, and he hadn’t so far.
Unlike Archie, I could only hold my own against a few of the mages. I just couldn’t get used to lifting my sword for a parry and watching my opponents’ blade pass straight through it, or sometimes even melt it. My mo
rnings were never boring when I was blasted across a field or nearly lit on fire, and after sparring, Archie kept even the most miserable of chores entertaining with his love for competition, a trait I shared despite my losing streak.
When we had to haul carts of disgusting dragon food up hills, Archie would say, “Race you to the top?” and even after I faked disinterest and jumped ahead of him, he would reach the hillcrest first. When we competed to see who could chop the most firewood, he could get an extra twenty logs split per my one hundred. When we had to cook food in the Wreck, he distracted me on purpose so my venison came out charred. I don’t know what witchcraft he used to keep my bread from rising too, but I felt entirely comfortable blaming him for sabotage, which he protested with a grin.
Today I would be handling the combat dragons without him, but the best of our chore-times still had me smiling as I sat on the sidelines of morning sparring, watching the battles and reliving how we cleaned the entire wreck in the dead of the night.
Everybody had gone to bed and Archie had stolen wooden swords from the supply shed. We made a competition of picking up fallen and forgotten food in the midst of lunges, parries, and foul play, and we fought each other between the chairs and on top of the tables as we picked up the day’s filth. Of course, Archie ended up picking up more than I did.
My ideas about him were ludicrous, but it was the most ludicrous of them all that I came back to every night before I fell asleep.
Could he possibly be the new Epic?
Archie faked a limp over the next few days, but I knew if he took his boots off, there would be no swelling or bruising to justify it. He also rarely talked about his life. Archie would tell me stories of his friends’ adventures, but he never mentioned his childhood or his parents, even when I asked. I knew strange little things about him, like his fighting tendencies and his favorite part of the duskflyer song, since he would occasionally whistle it when he thought nobody else was around, but I knew nothing of his past.