Jonas reached for his mug of ale as Bearit watched him intently. He took a long gulp, finishing the drink, before setting the cup back down. “I will need to teach you how to use that axe.”
Bearit smiled as he released the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.
***
They both slept in later than usual, the fight, along with the late supper and bath wearing them out. After rousing themselves, Jonas left Bearit downstairs with breakfast and plenty of coffee, instructing him to stay there while he went out to get some healing supplies. He found an apothecary easy enough and bought some salves, herbs, and as luck would have it, two healing draughts the proprietor had hidden away for those who knew to ask. Jonas was aware they were hard to come by, the healing properties and magic required were beyond most people’s skill. They were very expensive, but luckily for Jonas, one of the many gifts Shyann gave him was a coin purse that was never empty. It made sense, after all, if he was to be her sword and uphold her principles of honor, courage, and most importantly, altruism, then he would need coin to do so, as proven by this very situation.
He made it back to the Wayward Lady, downing one potion along the way. By the time he arrived, his burn wounds were reduced to pink scars, and his eye and lip were no longer swollen. Bearit still sat at the table eating a second meal of warm oats and honey. Jonas paid the bill and motioned for Bearit to follow him.
“Thank you for the food,” Bearit said, keeping pace with Jonas and Tulari.
Jonas nodded. “You’ll need the energy.”
“What are we doing then,” Bearit asked, somewhat warily.
“Starting your training. But first,” Jonas continued, “tell me what happened to your family.”
As they made their way through the throng of people, many of them workers, traders, or locals going about their business as usual, Bearit gave Jonas an abridged version of his story. “I did not know my mother, she left when I was young. My father, he did work in the woods. A logger north of the lake. He died not long ago in a logging accident.” Bearit shrugged. “After that, work slowed. I am but eighteen summers and no one wanted to give me contracts. Once I could not pay taxes, the King’s men took my father’s land. I’ve been on the road since, only finding work here and there. Not long after I ended up where you found me.” Bearit finished with a despairing look on his face.
Jonas’s face was passive. It was a typical story, not that much different from his own. He felt sorry for the young man, but he had heard worse. “And that axe,” Jonas said, turning a questioning gaze towards the tool, “it was your father’s?”
“No. He gave it to me. It be the only thing I have left from him.”
“I see. The problem is that axe is not intended to be a weapon. The balance and weight is made to cut logs, not to fight.”
Bearit narrowed his eyes at the implication. “I will not get rid of it.”
“You don’t have to,” Jonas said. “But we need to get you an axe fit for a warrior.” Just then he glanced up and saw the sign he was looking for. “Follow me.”
Jonas entered a door on his right. Bearit glanced up and saw that the sign above read Lowle’s Armor and Blades.
Once inside Jonas looked around with purpose. The room was nearly as large as the Wayward Lady’s hearth room. The wall facing him was occupied by a counter that spanned the entire distance, another door behind the counter was the only other exit. That door was expertly made of thick boards interlaced with black steel. The lock was a heavy iron deadbolt. The door was clearly made to keep people out. The countertop was made of glass as well as the front of the counter that faced the customers. Inside, neatly placed on soft crimson fabric, were many smaller bladed weapons. The other walls were lined with weapons of various design, as well as suits of armor of different make, from leather to full plate mail. There were weapon racks placed throughout that made small walkways between them on the left and right, keeping the line of sight from the door to the counter unobstructed. Whoever Mr. Lowle was, he kept a tidy shop, and appeared to be doing quite well.
Bearit joined him as Jonas made his way to the counter where a burly man waited, watching them approach. “I have no money,” Bearit whispered. Jonas just smiled as he approached the counter, Tulari obediently as his side.
The man was polishing the glass and Jonas couldn’t help but notice his bare muscular arms. He must have been past fifty but still looked like he could wield any of the weapons he sold. And by the many scars across his arms, as well as a nasty one down the side of his face and neck, Jonas figured he had at one time used many of the weapons, and, perhaps, still did. His eyes were blue-gray and his enormous bald head made him look every bit the warrior. He seemed so stern looking that his wide bright smile threw Jonas off guard.
“Good evening gentleman, my name is Lowle and I am at your service. What can I do for you?” Then he noticed Tulari and his smile slipped somewhat, taking on a subtle worried expression. “Not to be rude, as your dog looks to be a fine specimen, but if any other customers come in and seem nervous, I will have to ask you to leave him,” he requested, “outside.”
“Her,” Jonas corrected. “And that is fair.”
“Ah, very good.” Lowle’s smile sprang back quickly. “Now what can I do for you?”
“I need to outfit my friend here. We will need an axe suitable for his size as well as armor. We do not have time to have anything custom fit or made for him, so I assume chainmail will be all you have.”
Lowle eyed Bearit appraisingly, and even with his height, he still had to look up at the young woodsman. “You assumed correctly. But I do have a well-made set of chainmail that I think will fit him, although it might be tight in the arms.”
“Very well,” Jonas replied, a business-like tone to his voice. “Can we see your axes?”
“Of course,” Lowle said, walking through the gap in the counter towards the wall on his right. There were eight different war axes hanging on various pegs.
Jonas stopped him quickly. “Not those weapons,” he said. “Those weapons,” he added, his eyes looking at the stout door behind the counter.
Lowle stopped and raised his eyes to match Jonas’ gaze. “And you can afford those weapons?”
“I can. And if your steel is good I will happily pay a fair price. I would also like you to store his axe, a contract seal written up of course, with proper compensation.”
Lowle glanced at the wood axe strapped around Bearit’s chest. He was visibly confused why he would want to spend money to store such a simple tool, but he didn’t argue. It was easy money. “Suit yourself. Please, follow me.”
They entered through the door into another room, this one much smaller but no less impressive. There was another man polishing weapons, and he looked up when they entered. Jonas guessed he was in his late twenties, close to his own age, and the spitting image of his father, except he had a wavy mop of dark brown hair, the top pulled into a topknot.
“Cayden, go watch the store while I see to these customers,” Lowle said.
Cayden rehung the sword he was polishing, glanced at Jonas and Bearit as if he was skeptical they could afford the weapons in the room, and walked out the door.
Jonas immediately went to a rack along one of the walls. There were four magnificent axes, all of various shapes and designs. Only two of them looked to be the right size and configuration for someone Bearit’s stature. He picked up a double bladed axe and turned to face Bearit. The twin blades were wide and polished silver, the center ending in a long spike. The handle was thick and strong, the wood stained black. The lower handle was wrapped in black leather. The center of the wood handle was encased in steel and Jonas quickly understood the purpose. If one were skilled enough and so inclined, he could hold the axe two handed, one hand under the blades, the other at the base, and use it like a staff, blocking blades along the steel wrapped around the center of the shaft. The handle ended in a metal ball as big as a fist with two smaller curved blades jutting out
in either direction, allowing damage to be done from all angles and ends of the axe. Despite Jonas’s strength, it was much too heavy for him to wield properly, although the balance felt good. On each wide blade were etched intricate flowing designs to give the axe an artistic flare. It was a beautiful weapon.
“You have good taste,” Lowle said. “That axe was forged by the best weapon smith this side of the Tundrens. He designed it for a lord in Osrigard but the man died before he could claim the weapon. It’s too big for most warriors, so it has sat here for some time.”
Jonas handed the axe to Bearit who held it before him, testing the weight. “I thought it would be heavier,” he said.
Jonas raised his eyebrows at that. It seemed quite heavy to him. There were few who looked as strong as the young man standing before him. Graggis, the famous axe man from Finarth, had no match, besides maybe the dwarves, in axe fighting. And his strength was legendary. Jonas didn’t think anyone could match the power of Graggis…that was until he had met King Kromm from Tarsis. The warrior king was a giant, and more fierce and powerful in battle than anyone Jonas had yet witnessed. Bearit looked as if he could easily wield the axe, perhaps in time even matching the ability and power of those great warriors. “It is a well-balanced weapon, so despite its weight, it won’t feel too heavy.” Then he looked at Lowle. “How much for the axe?”
Lowle rubbed his chin as if thinking of a price, though Jonas knew full well the price was in his head and he was just engaged in barter. “I can let you have it for fifty gold pieces.”
“And the chainmail?’
“Another thirty.”
“I’ll give you seventy for both, and that will include the first year of storage for his wood axe, or until he retrieves it.”
It was a fair price and Lowle knew it. “Deal. I will draw up the contract for storing the axe and get the chainmail so he can try it on. Do you have the coin with you?”
“I do not. I will need a money lender.”
“You’re in luck, there is one two stores down.”
The magical properties of Jonas’s coin purse was limited, allowing him to draw coins daily, but not enough to match the agreed upon price. It mattered little to him, however. One of the perks of being a friend to Kiln, the Lord of Finarth, the famous swordsman and commander, was that he was given a writ of purchase, allowing him to draw coins from the royal coffers in Finarth from any money lender east or west of the mountains. It would just be a matter of showing the writ, signing for the coins, and bringing the gold back to Lowle. Of course his signet ring would have to match the stamp on the writ, but Jonas knew that it did.
“I’ll be back before the midday meal,” Jonas said, nodding to Bearit for them to leave.
Bearit was standing there wide eyed, his mouth agape. He had never even had that much money let alone spent it on an axe and armor. Just the thought of spending that kind of coin shocked him. “I cannot let you buy those for me.”
“The deal’s done,” Jonas said amiably, looking back at Lowle. “While you draw up the contract, I would like to purchase new clothes for my friend. Could you recommend someone?”
Lowle nodded. “It’s a bit more expensive, but worth it. Jarl is honest and his product is of the highest quality. Just go down the street and turn right at the first alley. His shop is there on the right. You can’t miss it.”
Jonas reached out and shook Lowle’s hand in the warrior’s grip, hand to forearm. “I will be back soon.”
Lowle nodded and led them from the room.
After outfitting Bearit, collecting the coins and purchasing the axe and armor, they ate a quick meal at a local tavern before Jonas led him out of town. They left the city gates walking at a brisk pace.
“I do thank you again,” Bearit said for a third time. “I know not what more to say. Everything be so nice.” He was now wearing his chainmail over a new set of cotton underclothes. His feet bore supple leather boots laced up tight over gray wool trousers, well made for comfort as well as adverse weather. A forest green cotton tunic covered most of the chainmail and was cinched tight around his waist by a leather belt, a well-made hunting knife strapped to his side. To top off the ensemble, he wore a matching hooded gray cloak that draped his shoulders and was big enough to be pulled tight around his body in cold or rainy weather. His new axe rode easily upon his back, a nice leather strap securing it around his torso.
“You are welcome,” Jonas said again, with a slight smile.
They went about a half mile out of town before Jonas stopped in a clearing off the side of the main road. It looked as if it was a common campsite for travelers visiting the city. It was empty now and the flat grass and dirt would be perfect. Jonas stopped and faced Bearit, drawing both of his blades.
Bearit unconsciously stepped away from him, while unslinging his new axe at the same time. “Now,” Jonas began. “I cannot train you to be a competent warrior in just a day. But we can work on the basics, giving you things to practice on your own, which you must if you don’t want to die the first time you face a skilled adversary. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Good. One more thing before we begin.” Jonas’s tone turned serious, and he looked grave. Bearit picked up on it, his own reflection matching Jonas’s tone. “I have given you these weapons in good faith, but they do not come free.” Bearit shifted uncomfortably, not sure where he was going. “You must agree to uphold all that is good, to be an image of honor, kindness, and courage, as long as you use these weapons. Do you agree?”
Bearit nodded. “I do.”
“Good, now hold the handle of the axe with one arm and extend the weapon.”
Bearit gripped the lower handle with his right hand and extended the long weapon. He held the axe perpendicular, his strong forearms flexing as he fought against the weight of the twin blades. Jonas was impressed with his strength.
“Good, now slowly swing the weapon back and forth to get a feel for the weight.”
Bearit did as he was told. “It is much heavier than any axe I’ve ever used.”
“Yes it is, which is why it will do severe damage to an enemy. But the weight will be something you will have to get used to,” Jonas continued. “Now, grip the shaft with both hands and hold the weapon before you.” Bearit did as instructed. “When you use a wood axe, you swing with all your might to split the log. You will have to correct this habit if you want to survive.”
“You mean I shouldn’t use all my strength?”
“Partially,” Jonas continued. “You must learn to recognize when to use it, and when to withhold. You have great strength, and if you learn to harness it correctly, you may become a powerful warrior. One of the most dangerous axe men I know is strong like you, but what makes him so deadly is his ability to control the weapon that is so unwieldy for most people. You see, your strength, when used at the right moments, will make you a deadly adversary. Do you remember what happened when you swung your axe at that man that nearly killed you?”
“I do,” Bearit said, thinking back. “He dodged my swing and me axe hit the rock wall. It did knock me off balance.”
“That’s right. If you had controlled that swing, and missed, you would have been able to adjust and get your weapon back in time to block his next swing. And it’s not just adjusting your strength, but also your movements and body position.”
“I understand.”
“We’ll see,” Jonas said with a smile, holding both his blades out wide. “Now, swing the axe with both hands back and forth before you, stopping your swing just as the blade nears the tip of my swords. Start slow.”
Bearit braced his legs and swung the axe. Before the blade traveled a hand-span, Jonas snapped his foot forward, striking Bearit in the chest so hard that it knocked him to the ground. Bearit got up quickly, embarrassed and a little angry.
“What did you do wrong?” Jonas asked calmly.
Bearit thought for a moment, controlling his anger. “I was off balance.”
&n
bsp; “Why?”
“My legs?”
“Yes. Never stand flat footed with your legs side by side. Always stand with your body sideways, on your toes, with your feet front to back. You can adjust to attacks and counters much faster.” Jonas showed him and Bearit followed his lead. “Good, now try again.”
He swung the axe slowly as instructed, stopping the weapon at one sword tip before reversing direction and moving towards the other. He did it maybe ten times before Jonas said, “Now faster.” Bearit picked up the speed. “Remember, the faster you go, the more strength you will need to stop the momentum and reverse the direction. You will need to build up your core strength significantly.” They continued for quite some time, with Jonas lowering his sword tips and bringing them high, at head level, forcing Bearit to adjust his swings and increase the speed. Jonas was impressed with his strength and stamina. Clearly he was used to swinging an axe and working long hours. But he hadn’t swung an axe that heavy before and it wasn’t long before he was sweating and his movements began to slow. Finally Jonas stopped and stepped back. “You are strong, Bearit, there is no doubt. But work on your stamina. Practice those movements daily and you will be surprised how much your speed and endurance increases.”
“I will do as you say.”
Jonas smiled. “We are not done yet.” Bearit gritted his teeth and adjusted his grip on the deadly axe. Jonas liked his determination. “Now, what is the best way to block an attack?”
The Shadow Knight (A Shadow Knight Novel Book 1) Page 7