Forger chapter 1-3 - Jude Alquinto (books to read for 12 year olds TXT) 📗

of grey swimming around it.

“This is twice you’ve saved me.” Arza believed she would have been attacked had she been alone. “I will repay this debt.”

“Yes, yes, sure you will. Now get in so I can leave. Can’t have a filthy lad scattering shit all over your house now, can we?”

“You’re really going out in this dark?”

“Aye.” he said sharply. “What’s to take from me?” he held out his arms and smiled, “not a dab of wealth on my person.”

“You’re scared.” she said as her eyes scouted the nearby corners where something may skulk.

“No, I certainly am not.” The thumping inside his chest begged to differ.

“I can tell,” she said. Trust is a complicated thing and she would not let him in for safety. Two hours is too short a time to know a man.

After a quick exchange of farewells, Arza went in and Axev made to leave.

A clatter in the silent darkness leaves a mess for the imagination to arrange. Restlessness is a toothless rat that likes to nibble on one’s navel. No harm is done but it’s better to do something to make it stop. Feed it bread, dash it against a wall, tear it apart, slap it away, cut it to adorable little bloody pieces, anything.

Now, for her admirer, Axev told himself, a handful of iron grains at the ready underneath his cloak. Where’s that nibbling rat?

3. Curse upon Curse

Treading the empty streets, he scoured for a man whose only proof of existence was but a mundane sound. Under carts, behind corners, within bushes, nothing. But not long during his search, he heard, a sharp metal clang on stone from a few yards away. Axev rushed to it while keeping his steps to their lightest and senses to their keenest—especially his hearing. He circled around the tavern knowing the person would flee from the other side. He reached it in less time it would take for someone to get away.

There was no one.

Convincing himself it could be anything, from a stupid cat to a gust of wind, he turned to leave. Before he could turn, from behind, a gentle touch landed on his shoulder.

“It’s a bit late for someone to be takin’ a stroll.” There was no need to press a blade against Axev’s throat. Floating daggers were enough to tell him not to move.

Five short blades with deformed handles began circling around them like birds of prey. The weapons appeared melted and damaged, an obvious flaw of their forger.

“Quite a trick, eh?” the man said, one of his daggers tapped the wall six yards away—making the same sound Axev heard.

Knowing he’d be stabbed faster than he can forge, out of instinct, Axev raised his hands and yielded.

“I surrender, not that I have much of a choice with you being a forger and all,” he was planning for a quick escape all the while.

“It’s a rare sight, seeing you with a lass, Axev,” He started to sound familiar.

“My name’s a hard one to guess,” Axev said, stalling to have time to think, secretly looking for whatever he can use to flee, “if you want the girl, she’s all yours. She’s not dear to me in any way anyway.” It was then that the crude floating blades began to seem familiar—hideous imitations of knives that he admired so fondly from the past.

Then Axev turned his head slowly to see who it was. Looming behind him was a black-haired man who stood a hand taller than him. He wore a shirt filled with patches. Trousers torn then stitched. The man held a hearty grin that he seemed to have since the moment he approached.

Not finding it easy to believe the face he saw, he had to ask, “William?” followed by an exhale of relief. Then he whipped William’s chest with the back of his hand, cursing him as he did, “that was a stupid way to greet me.”

“I found it funny though.”

“That joke nearly cost you a limb,” Axev presented the sword under his cloak. Sharp and fresh.

“Take the damn things then. I don’t need ‘em,” he laughed heartily at Axev, holding out his arms as though he wanted them cut. Then he threw an arm across Axev’s shoulder. The circling blades around them dissolved into thick syrups of silver, dripping onto the ground until they were no more. “You’ve long surpassed me, Axev. That sword you have… didn’t even hear you make it. Yet still, you’re a bloody coward,” he raised his hands in mockery of Axev, “I surrender.”

“Because avoiding is an effective skill for survival.”

“Nay,” William replied, “hitting back is better.”

“I hit my enemies back a few times before. Done me no good.”

“You don’t hit hard enough, then,” said William. “When you hit ‘em in the face, make sure the whole head comes off.”

~~~

“You have time to talk, Axev? Somewhere quiet.”

“With me… a man… at a place quiet… I feel quite disturbed.”

“The brink… You remember the place, yes?”

“With a fair amount of dislike, aye.”

William led Axev across the city of Tardel to arrive at its border—a barrier of massive stone blocks assembled to hold fast against the most violent sieges. Dabs of grass lay quiet along the foot of the wall.

“Don’t go shittin’ your trousers now,” said William, making a blob of silver boil between his palms.

“Am I allowed to piss on it, at least?” Axev flicked his crossed fingers, grains of iron crumbled from his hands then slowly collected into a ball as he studied the height of the wall. “Did that thing grow a few yards? It’s higher than I remember.”

“Walls don’t grow. You’re just more scared than you was.”

William went first, assisted by four thin stakes. Two of which strapped themselves under his feet, the other two stayed taut in his grips, stabbing the crevices on the wall one after another as he went up.

“You’ve gotten slow at this, William,” said Axev, mounting the wall twice faster than his friend by clawing his way using gauntlets with hooks for nails. “You used to leap from knife to knife.”

“I must be getting too old for this,” said William with labouring breath, struggling halfway to the top of the wall.

“You’re twenty-four,” Axev replied, dust and grains sprinkled down wherever his feet pressed. “Perhaps you’re ill?”

“Ill? Why’d you think me—“ The stake on William’s right foot shattered, causing his leg to skid fifteen yards above ground, a dangerous height for a misstep. “Could be.”

Being the faster to reach the wall’s peak, Axev held out his hand to William and chains formed to fill the gap. William was not in the mood for help. “Just take the damn line, man,” Axev gave the chain a tug.

William gave no mind to the line dangling to his left. Instead, he held on to his pride. “I remember it was me givin’ you somethin’ to grab.” He made to finish his climb alone.

Finally at arm’s length, William took the helping hand.

“Damned wall did grow a few feet, I suppose.” Out of breath, he was hauled up by Axev. Heaving breaths and hands on knees, William stood at the edge of the wall to behold the cliff beyond it; at its distant bottom were endless pointed rocks and raging waters.

“Quite a long way down, ain’t it? A shame if some fool was to fall by accident,” William fearlessly stood at the wall—more at ease, hands together behind him, half of his right foot peeking beyond the edge.

Axev, being the weak-hearted man that he was, first lay flat on his chest before looking down the wall. “I concur.”

“Ever heard of the maiden’s curse, Axev? The bewitcher’s curse many call it.”

“Just rumours,” he answered, “I don’t like mulling over stories invented to make forgelings believe they’d fall under some curse if they toy with the power.”

“There is truth in every story,” William laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder—to which Axev winced noticeably. “You’re hurt?”

“A bit too severely, I believe. I was at the woods. I thought I finally found the wolf, that one-eared whelp. Tossed a blade at the bastard. Turns out, I came across a demon possessing a long-tail. I fought it… and lived.” Axev shook his head. “I didn’t believe in demons before.”

“Axev, that wolf has been a decade gone… it’s long dead by now.”

“Long-tail wolves can live to half a century. It’s alive.”

“Killing it won’t bring back our friends, Axev.”

“Sparing it would be spitting to their graves.”

Not a word passed between them for a few minutes. William sat along the wall’s edge, feet dangling far above the water. Axev took a step behind where it was flat and safe. The two enjoyed the nostalgic scene of an unseen horizon between a starry night sky and a boundless sea, hearing the crashing waves far below them while the wind whispered them songs. 

“When we were little pieces of shits, there used to be more of us sitting here,” said Axev, tapping his knees left and right.

“If killing that wolf would let us hear voices from under graves, I’d turn that whole forest to cinders. Make things quicker.”

“Now there’s a thought.” Axev’s lips curled an impish smile. “Arsony… why had it never crossed my mind?” He leered to William, waiting for how the man would react.

“Have you ever been in love, Axev?” he spoke, eyes set far into the distance.  Not the answer Axev was expecting. “That maddening crave for a woman that carves fools out of the wisest men.”

Axev answered with quizzical brows, “I’ve liked a few in the past,” nodding, “girls.”

“It’s a sad feeling, I tell you. Don’t you fall in love. Take my word for it.”

“You’re acting a bit strange.”

“Aye, that there’s the proper word. Strange,” William stretched his arms, “it’s this bewitcher’s curse. Limiting me to forging only those measly knives you saw earlier. It’s a bloody miracle I got this high up given my condition. All I forge easily break while my heart screams her name. For a long time, I’ve treaded a path of sanity… and I see that girl one step beyond its end.”

“The curse is real?”

“As real as the metal in our veins. Pain whenever you forge—a curse cast by the fairest woman you’ve beheld. When I start talking about her, I won’t run out of things to tell. That’s how fine a lass she is. Anita… oh damn, there, I said it. Ain’t Anita so pretty a name?” William eased on his back, feet still dangling down the wall. He held a smile painted with dreaming and joy, “do you think me deranged?”

“Just so you know, Will, you don’t look deranged… to me, at least… yet.”

“Your eyes betray you, my friend,” said William, staring blankly at the glowing moon. “I’ve already become so madly in love with her. Just weeks ago, there she was—troddin’ along Melic lane, all sedate and lady-like. Clean dress, clean face, clean all. I walked up to her, e’ery bit of courage with me… and I talked. Highborn as she were, Anita was kind enough to talk to people like us. I liked that about her. Adds colour to my day, talkin’ to her. Before we knew it, we were sittin’ on a fence… just talking. She looked so splendid that I can’t pull my eyes from her lips. I knew it was rude