The Legend - Chris Wilson (web based ebook reader TXT) 📗

The Legend

My name is Crafty.

They call me that because I attempt to be skilled in many ways, whereas the average person specializes on a certain craft. At my village, our learning place takes up most of the buildings and space. I am an adolescent, and must spend all day and night at the learning place until I can pass the Tasks. The Tasks are a series of challenges issued by the leaders for each craft, one Task per leader. I sleep and eat at the learning place with boys of a similar age, varying from the newbies to the ones soon to take the Tasks. I am past the newbie stage, and though it seems so far away I know I will take the Tasks before next Chill.
I begin the day at sunrise, where I go to the fighter section of the learning place. There I learn the basic skills of swordfighting, and I have already earned my wooden sword. One earns his wooden sword by killing one of the Great Beasts that live in the river near our village. They have sharp teeth and green scaly skin, and they don’t hesitate to kill anyone unwise enough to venture near them without a weapon. The lesson generally takes half-hunt long.
I go to the archery section after we finish our fighting lesson. I am learning how to use a bow and a crossbow well. It is considered unusual to learn both methods, but I am intelligent and learn quickly. I can hit a hive in two shots with a bow, which is good but weak in comparison to those who can hit a Puff Flower in one shot. With a crossbow, I can hit a Puff Flower in three hits, impressing the newbies who witness it.
After about half-hunt of archery, I go into the blacksmithing structure, which is a stone building with a smoke-hole and too much heat. My physical strength allows me to work for long periods of time over an anvil. I become more precise with each swing of my hammer, more accurate in timing with the cooling of the blade, more knowledgeable of which types of stone merge and which ones heat quicker than the rest with each experiment. There’s something about the heat of the room and the fury of each strike that fills me with the need to improve, and I take pleasure in seeing my progress.
I linger in the blacksmithing structure for about two hunts long, and come out sweaty, thirsty, and hungry. I meet at the Big Tree in the center of the learning place with a group of other boys and a couple of girls. I guess you could say it’s tradition; we’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember. We go to the woods and split up, the girls go to one section of the forest with a couple of boys to protect them, and the rest of the boys travel to the mountainside forest section. The girls know the areas with plentiful berry bushes and fruit-giving trees, even the location of a small spring. The boys go to the mountainside section because it’s where game is most common.
I have my javelins in an expanded arrow casing on my back. I crafted this javelin storage using my weaving and blacksmithing skills, weaving the original outline and filling it in with Light Metal. Light Metal is a surprisingly weightless metal found among the rocky cliffs near mountainside, Light Metal takes a while to heat, but is efficient to carry non-heavy objects over long distances. Anyway, as we traveled through our regular hunting route, we picked up three red tusks that were trapped in the nets we set up. Red tusks are animals that can grow from the size of a hand to the size of a full-grown man, they are mean and stupid and have large fangs called tusks protruding from their jaw.
One of the boys used his expanded bow (it was much longer than the average) to attack a flock of flight creatures. Several of his shots hit, but many more missed. We collected the corpses of the flight creatures and stuffed them into one boy’s collection sack. Our hands and bags and sacks full of flesh, we headed back home, merging into the girl’s group on the way. They hadn’t had as much success as us; their baskets were only half-filled. By the time we got back, roasted the meat over the Main Fire, and ate it, a hunt had passed. I recalled learning that we measured the progress of the day by the amount of time it would take to do a hunt, and the measurements seemed fairly accurate.
We didn’t hang around to long to eat; you never have enough sunlight to accomplish as much as you want to. I head to the crafts section of the learning place, where multiple classes could be taken in the same general area. In the crafts section, you can study weaving, pottery, jewelry-making, mining, medicine, and construction. I go first to the construction corner, where I build the specified object to the best of my ability with the increasingly limited tools. You see, occasionally caravans with items of small to great value come along quite often, usually about once a week. The last few weeks we have heard no sign from them, so our stock of supplies is dwindling quickly.
Anyway, I spend half-hunt in construction, learning something new each time I go, from a new tool to a new method. After construction, I head towards weaving, the only other crafting section place of interest for me. Well, I admit I have some interest in learning the other crafts, but I simply do not have enough daylight hours, and must learn what I enjoy or feel is necessary. In weaving, I learn a new design, tool, or method. I spend a half-hunt at weaving and then move on to a different section of the learning place.
At this time of day, when the Red God looks down at us from nearly its highest point, when all the boys and girls who live and learn in the learning place meet at a single location. We gather around the Ring, an area encircled by red and black colored-flags, the color fading from age and weather. In the Ring, our Instructors gather. They talk amongst themselves for a small amount of time, and we use this time to talk amongst ourselves.
A rumor was rapidly spreading through our side, one the Instructors would be keen to avoid. One of the boys a bit older then me nudged me painfully in the side. “The City has been destroyed! No more caravans! No more supplies!” I wasn’t surprised, only a little shocked on why it took the rumor so long to form. Any time anyone makes a mistake or something even the slightest abnormal happens, someone thinks up some reason and spreads it around until everyone believes it. They can be believable reason occasionally, but most of the time they were laughingly stupid.
I considered the truth value in this rumor. The caravans hadn’t visited our town since last section, four weeks ago. But assuming that the City was destroyed was being a bit overdramatic to me. The City likely had a food shortage or drought, maybe even a recent battle lowered the amounts of crafts to go around. But to think that the City was actually destroyed? Highly unlikely. I had heard tales of the City’s extreme defence, towers full of archers and massive legions of men armed with long pointed sticks, much longer then our spears.
It took a bit longer then usual for the Instructors to finish their talk. When they did, they stood in a Fang Formation and waited for us to quiet down with unease on their faces. It was only as the Archery Instructor stepped forward and spoke with a loud voice that I realized that the Fighter Instructor was not present. I only caught snatches of what the Archer Instructor said as I peered around, wondering where the Fighter Instructor was. I noticed several other kids doing the same. Finally, I caught the words “fight” and “lost” and began to pay more attention to the Archer Instructor. “…And so, we sent the Fighter Instructor to assess what had happened. He has not returned, as several of you have already noticed. We must assume the worst. A select few of you will be chosen to lead another search party.” The noise level rose dramatically as he said this. The Blacksmithing Instructor banged his hammer upon a sheet of metal. Slowly, the gathered students quieted down. The Archer Instructor cleared his throat, and then continued. “We will accept none besides those we choose. If you are chosen, you do not have to go, but it would be an honor if you do. This gathering has ended.”
I was fairly surprised. Those who would be able to do well in a fight were few in this village, and they were nearing the Tasks. Then, they would be gone, and we would hear no more of them. I pondered on whether I would be one of the ‘select few’. Though I considered myself decently talented, many look down on me because I learn a large variety of subjects. I’ve always been more of a loner though, so I’m used to it. Don’t get me wrong, I have my friends. I have my group of misfits, each with some odd talent.
The time after the gathering at the Ring was considered ‘training time’, Many used it as a time to slack off, have fun, or catch some extra sleep. I preferred to actually train during these hours, mainly because they were pretty empty. Also, it was always good to get some tips and tricks from one-on-one training with the Instructors. I had learned that going to Blacksmithing first was unwise, as it was usually pretty crowded. So I headed off to Archery, with good spirits.
It took the Archer Instructor a while to return, so I began practicing a bit with no one around. It was fun; I got to choose the best bows, arrows, targets, etc. When the Archer Instructor finally arrived, he seemed surprised to see me. I continued to fire, and got every shot with the bulls-eye, like usual. He watched me for a bit, and then looked around quickly before speaking. “You are one of the chosen. Will you go?” He said in a low, strangely quiet tone. I was so surprised, I did poorly on my next shot.
“Sure, I’ll go. However, I have a question. Why me? There are several others here that are much more experienced and advanced than I.” I said slowly. He paused in thought for a moment before speaking.
“You are… gifted. We will need someone with a broader knowledge to be with us.” He paused again. “I’m not sure if I should tell you this but… It’s bad. The Instructors are reluctant to go, for they know how many have died before them.”
“How many?” I asked slowly.
“Too many. Hundreds. Thousands. We know not what we are up against, but I can tell you few fight against them and win.”
“Wait… I thought this was a ‘scouting’ party. You act as if we’re leading an attack.”
“If only we could afford a scouting party. We hunt to kill. We must avenge those who have fallen before us, or die in the attempt.” The Instructor said gravely.
“When do we leave?”
“In a week. We must supply ourselves. As we speak, three Instructors are heading down the path that goes through our village. They hope to find the