As they went down the road, Jack thought about his mother’s life as a warrior and how hard it must’ve been for her, or for any warrior. Warriors lived short lives and those who survived often lived with permanent disabilities. Many of the traders and travelers who Jack knew were ex-soldiers who’d been injured. Many lost a limb, walked with a limp or had been disfigured in some way. Some of the children that Jack knew dreamed of growing up to be a warrior. Not Jack, he saw all those wounded vets and wanted nothing to do with war. Fighting with his fists was one thing, but weapons? That was asking for trouble.
“You ready to go in?” Ramy asked.
Jack looked up. He hadn’t even realized they already arrived at the little hamlet of Hampton. There wasn’t much to Hampton. There were a few farms nearby and a mine in the nearby hills, but Hampton itself was just a few homes and the inn, which catered to travelers and the workers from the mine.
“Shall I undo the horses?” Jack asked.
Ramy shook his head. “We’ll have a drink or two with Waldor, and a meal if we can still get it. Then we’ll travel a few more miles before bed. There’s a nice spot just up the road.”
It didn’t surprise Jack that they wouldn’t be staying long. They didn’t stay in inns and Ramy had hundreds of favorite spots where he liked to camp. They were always good spots, close to water, not far off the road and had good grass for the animals.
As they walked inside, Jack scanned the room. There were about a dozen patrons in the inn. Along the far wall, close to the fireplace, he spotted Waldor. “There he is,” Jack said as he pointed to the table.
Waldor spotted them and waved them over to the table. “Made it, did you? I was wondering how long it would take that healer to fix the boy up. But from the looks of it she did a good job.” Waldor smiled at Jack. “You’re already walking proper again. Got to love those magical healers. I don’t care what anyone says, magic healing is the best healing.”
Jack certainly didn’t disagree with that statement. He’d visited several healers over the years. He’d been in several fights, had been kicked in the hip by Hound, fallen off the wagon and broken his arm. He’d been to traditional healers and magic healers. There was no doubt a good magical healer could make the pain go away faster, and in general the wounds they tended healed faster.
“Yes, he’s healing up nicely. So nicely that we decided to take you up on your kind offer of drinks,” Ramy said. He then slightly turned his head and gave Jack a wink. They both knew what Waldor’s reaction would be.
Waldor’s smiled disappeared for a second as he recalled his offer. “Yes, yes I did say that, didn’t I? Well, come on, sit down. We’ll get you a nice ale.”
Jack held back a chuckle. Waldor was nothing if not predictable. He’d pay for a round of drinks to fulfill his obligement, but then he’d find an excuse to not buy any more. When Waldor offered to buy drinks he never expected to actually have to pay up, and when he did it was with one drink. Not that it mattered to Jack or Ramy, they were fine with paying for their own meals and drinks, it was just the amusement of watching Waldor squirm that made taking him up on his offers worthwhile.
A buxom brunette server with rosy cheeks and her hair in a messy bun came to the table and smiled at Jack and Ramy. “Evening, gents. What can I get ye?”
“Tammy, bring my friends two ales on me,” Waldor said.
Tammy gasped and raised a hand to her heart as if in shock. “Waldor buying ales for someone other than himself? My, oh my. You must be special.”
“Just a simple pair of tinkers, my fine lady,” Ramy said. “Weary travelers wanting for a wet beverage and a meal if one is to be had. Our fine friend Waldor has kindly offered to buy us drinks this fine evening, as we happened to be in the neighborhood of this lovely establishment.”
“Ha. I’ll bet this is the last place he expected to see you tonight, then,” Tammy said with a chuckle. “But I will bring you two tankards of ale, and I’ll see what’s left in the kitchen. There should still be some stew left.”
“Bring the lad a big bowl, Tammy, he had a long day. Had a run-in with some lads in Cottonridge, gave them what for, but they did a number on him,” Waldor said.
Tammy came closer to Jack. She reached over and gently touched his face. “Yes, they certainly did. Not a fan of Cottonridge myself, don’t like the attitudes when it comes to being inclusive. It isn’t just the lads that are jerks, let me tell you. I used to work in a pub in Cottonridge. Too many lewd comments and proposals for my liking. Traveling folk are generally more respectful. Even Waldor here looks like a first-rate gentleman in comparison,” Tammy said as she left the table.
Jack smiled as he watched Waldor’s face turn red. It seemed he was infatuated with the friendly server.
“Is it just me, or did she just use Waldor’s name and gentleman in the same sentence?” Ramy said while scratching his head.
“I heard it, Ramy. Maybe she bumped her head and is confused,” Jack said.
“Listen here, you two traveling mongrels. No man alive can say Waldor McGivern isn’t a gentleman when it comes to the ladies. I won’t have you two scoundrels besmirching my good name in this establishment.”
Jack gave his grandfather a puzzled look. “What does he mean besmirching? Is that like when you sneak up on a beehive and steal the honey?”
Ramy nodded. “Yes, it is. Except Waldor is the one trying to get the honey.”
“Oh, I get it now,” Jack said with a grin.
“You’ll get it right proper in a minute,” Waldor said as he stood up, shaking his fist at Jack and Ramy.
Tammy arrived back at the table with two large tankards of ale, a pair of bowls filled with stew and a plate with a loaf of bread. “Since Waldor is buying, I figured you lads would want the good stuff. And there’s plenty more stew, so don’t be shy.” She then turned and looked at Waldor. “Why you standing? Sit down and let your guests eat.”
“The good stuff, you say? Why, thank you, Waldor. That’s mighty generous of you,” Ramy said before taking a big gulp of his ale. He smacked his lips theatrically. “Mighty tasty.”
“No-good troublemaking tinkers,” Waldor grumbled under his breath.
“What was that?” Tammy asked.
“I believe he was considering ordering another round of drinks,” Ramy said.
Waldor glared at Ramy. “I was just saying that it was so nice of my friends to join me, but I’m not feeling well. I think I’ll retire to my room now. I’ll see you gents again sometime.”
“Ah, don’t be running off so soon, Waldor,” Ramy said. “The next round is on me. That tip you gave us to visit the elven healer was worth a round or two. Aside from a magical healing touch, she gave steady and sound counsel. That deserves a drink or two.”
Tammy shook her head. “No, if you’re not feeling well, you should head to bed.”
Waldor sat back down. “Well, it would be rude not to stay for another.”
Jack smiled at the predictability of Waldor’s response. He took a spoonful of his stew as Ramy and Waldor started talking about commodity prices and the weather in different parts of the empire. Talking about the weather and what to sell was a normal part of the life of a tinker, and normally Jack would be all ears, absorbing all the information around him, but tonight his thoughts were scattered; his mind drifted between thoughts of the fight in the alley and thoughts of his mother. Then Jack caught a bit of what Ramy and Waldor were talking about.
“How’s the road to Sunder these days? Ramy asked.
“Sunder? I thought you were heading towards the capital?” Waldor asked.
Jack raised his head and focused in on the conversation now. Were they not going to the capital?
“I’ve changed my mind,” Ramy said. “It has been too long since I’ve been home.”
Jack was curious now; this wasn’t one of the places they visited. It was in the far northwestern edges of the Westdrift Empire. “What’s Sunder like? I’ve never been there.”
&nb
sp; “Actually, you have been there,” Ramy said. “But not since you were a baby. You were born in Sunder.”
“Oh,” Jack said.
“Sunder itself is nice enough,” Waldor said. “A little dry for my liking but a profitable city to travel to. But be careful. The road to Sunder is long and dangerous. It is too close to the Ancient Lands, bandits everywhere.”
Jack gulped. The Ancient Lands were a vast track of lands that were once filled with thriving kingdoms. Now the lands were abandoned. It was said they were haunted by ghosts of the millions of fallen souls who fought in the Great War and all the wars before that. Jack wasn’t sure about that, but he did know that the Ancient Lands were filled with wild beasts, bandits and untold dangers. Only fools willingly went into the Ancient Lands. Just the idea of traveling near them made him nervous. Sure, there were treasures to be found there, but the risk simply wasn’t worth it.
“We’ll be fine,” Ramy said. “Besides, young Jack here likes danger. He goes looking for it in dark alleys all the time.”
“Ha,” Waldor said with a chuckle. “There’s a difference between a group of young hooligans like you’d find in Cottonridge and the trouble you find near the Ancient Lands.”
Ramy nodded. “That much is true.”
Tammy came back to the table. “You lads want another round?”
Ramy shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re going to take off. We’ve got a couple hours of travel left.”
“Tonight?” Tammy asked.
“Sure, why not,” Ramy said.
“Don’t worry about these two,” Waldor said. “Their wagon is a traveling fortress, and their horses can practically see in the dark. They’re just as safe traveling at night as you or I would be during the day.”
It wasn’t as safe as Waldor was leading Tammy to believe, but it was true. They often travelled at night, especially on sections of road that they were familiar with. To get to Sunder they’d be taking the north route, and that was an easy road to traverse at night as it was mostly a flat and straight road, and it was going to be a near-full moon tonight with clear skies.
Ramy put a couple of coins in Tammy’s hands. “For our dinner, and a few more drinks for Waldor. Make sure to keep some of it for yourself.”
Waldor raised his tankard of ale. “Best of luck in Sunder.”
As they left the inn and returned to the wagon, Jack asked Ramy about their destination. “Why’d you change your mind about going to the capital next?”
Ramy just grunted and got into the wagon.
Jack didn’t push. Ramy would answer soon enough, or he wouldn’t. It was that simple.
After a few long minutes, Ramy replied. “When your mother died, your grandmother and I were prominent citizens in Sunder and had thriving businesses. It gave us a certain prominence in the city. However, we had enemies, and raising a young boy in that environment was something your grandmother refused to do. She’d grown up a traveler and missed the lifestyle. I agreed with her and we started traveling. I took up being a tinker and your grandmother, well, she did whatever it is the witches do. Mostly she sold potions and such, but I never paid it much attention. She was a multi-talented woman and between caring for you and me, she still managed to create magical things. We talked about taking you back to Sunder once you got older, but when your grandmother passed away, I just kept wandering. It was easier than dealing with old wounds.”
“But why return now?”
“It is time to deal with the old wounds,” Ramy said. He then stared off into the night.
4
The next morning Jack woke up to Ramy poking him.
“Get up, it’s time to train.”
Jack rubbed his eyes. They’d only travelled a few hours after stopping at the inn, but Jack hadn’t slept well—his mind had been racing with all the new information he was trying to absorb. “What do you mean? The sun’s not even awake yet.”
Ramy smacked him with his stick. “The sun will be up soon enough, and you don’t need it to get some work in.”
Work? What exactly did Ramy have in mind?
Jack threw on his pants and shirt and climbed out from under the wagon. He pulled out his bedroll and tucked it away in the wagon. He then scratched his head and yawned as he waited for Ramy to give his instructions.
Ramy handed Jack the stick he’d been holding. It was about six feet long and as thick as Jack’s wrist. “Hold the stick above your head and then squat down as low as you can go.”
Jack frowned, but did as he was asked. When he hit the bottom of his squat, Ramy said, “Don’t move.”
Staying as still as he possibly could, Jack waited. After thirty seconds, Ramy said, “And up. Keep your back straight and your arms extended.”
When Jack rose back up, Ramy nodded. “Good. Do that again. Hold at the bottom for a count of thirty then rise up again.”
Jack repeated the squat.
“Do that fifty times,” Ramy said.
“What the heck does this have to do with magic?” Jack asked.
“Nothing,” Ramy said. “Keep your hands up. It has to do with you constantly getting into fights. If you can’t learn to turn the other cheek and walk away, you might as well learn how to defend yourself properly.”
“I’m going be win fights by squatting?”
“No, wiseass, you’re going to start building some muscle. You’re as soft as cheese on a hot day.”
Jack frowned. “I resent that comment.”
“Ha, I’d say you resemble it. Now, don’t stop squatting.”
Jack’s legs were starting to burn and it was getting harder to keep his hands over his head. The stick didn’t weigh much but it was enough to make his arms shake.
When Jack got to a count of forty-five, his legs were shaking so badly that he finally fell over.
“You can drop the stick now,” Ramy said. “But since you’re just flopping around on the ground, do fifty pushups.”
Jack’s eyes went wide. “Fifty?” His arms were already sore from holding the stick over his head.
“Would you rather do a hundred?”
“Fifty sounds good,” Jack said as he started lifting himself off the ground.
“Back straight, go down until your nose is two inches from the ground.”
Struggling with the strict form of pushups, Jack was only able to do ten before he flopped onto the ground. He took a small breather and then did another eight. He kept doing this until he reached fifty, collapsing once finished.
Jack stayed on the ground. “That was fun,” he said.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, that’s how you’re going to start every day from now on. That, and once we start moving you can run behind the wagon for the first couple miles.”
That doesn’t sound fun, not at all, Jack thought to himself as the wagon started moving.
An hour later, Jack was sweating and his side was starting to hurt.
“You look like you’re ready to fall over,” Ramy said from the wagon.
“I feel like I’m ready to fall over.”
Ramy looked around and then slowed the wagon to a stop on the side of the road. “This as good a spot as any.”
Jack went to climb onto the wagon.
“What are you doing?”
“Climbing on so we can get back to travelling,” Jack said.
Ramy shook his head. “No. I told you we’re training today. Here, take this.”
Jack took the large wooden knife. “A toy?”
“A training weapon. No point having you stab or cut yourself on the first day of training. We’ll wait until we’re in a town or village with a good healer before you use a real blade.”
“Or we could just not train with weapons…”
Ramy snorted. “Nice try. Now get ready to defend yourself.” Ramy then got off the wagon. In his hand he held a wooden sword.
“How come you get a sword and I only get a dagger?”
“Because I’m an old man, and I actually know how to hand
le a blade. You’re a lost puppy who thinks aggression wins fights.”
Jack had been in a lot of fights, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that striking first and being aggressive did win fights. “Aggression does win fights.”
Ramy chuckled. “So you’re the teacher now? OK, Instructor Vance, tell me why aggression wins fights.”
Jack frowned. The sarcasm was practically dripping from Ramy’s lips. “If I get into a fight and I hit the other guy first I have the advantage. If I keep attacking, I will win.”
“Rudimentary tactics that apply to street brawls. What works against untrained youths in a fist fight can get you killed against a skilled opponent. You need to start using your head as more than a target for prejudiced bullies’ fists.”
Jack sighed. “OK. But why a dagger? Why don’t I train with a sword? If I’m going to learn to use a weapon, shouldn’t it be a good one?”
“A dagger is a good weapon. It cuts and kills as good as any sword. And while a big sword might impress the ladies, it doesn’t make you a better fighter. Learn to use a small weapon, understand the value of footwork, balance and using your most valuable weapon, your brain. Then we’ll talk about what the best weapons are.”
Jack looked at the dagger in his hand. It was about a foot long and the blade was about three inches in width. “This is a weird-style dagger. I’ve not seen many like it.”
“It is based off the design of an ancient blade. It’s bigger and wider than most daggers you see today, but there was a reason for that. Most daggers aren’t actually meant for battle. They are a tool for everyday use, or for a last resort of protection. An actual fighting dagger is different. You hardly see them anymore. But for you, it is a good weapon to start learning with.”
“If you say so.” Jack wasn’t convinced that any dagger, even an ancient one, was a good fighting weapon.
Ramy laughed. “Still not convinced. Well, you’ll learn soon enough.”
Menacing Misfits: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Darkthorn Academy Book 1) Page 3