He sat bolt upright in his bed, covered in cold sweat from head to foot. He could almost hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He was trembling almost uncontrollably and his breathing was heavy and labored. The dream was slipping through his memory like sand. Soon he remembered none of it and began to calm down. “It was just a dream, nothing more,” he said in a whisper. “You’re fine. Go back to sleep”.
He lay back down, more tired than he had been when he went to bed. His legs ached as if he’d been running. The room was dark. He felt himself drifting again. He soon fell asleep and by morning would not remember even waking up in the night.
* * * * *
Legon woke to the warmth of the sun’s rays on his face. He slowly sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms above his head. “Hmm, I feel tired still. I must not have slept well,” he thought with a yawn. He lay back down and considered going to sleep again, but an image of Sasha and a bucket popped in his head. “Maybe I should get up,” he said aloud to himself.
He got out of bed, walked over to the dresser, and pulled out a blue shirt and brown pants. He pulled on some socks and boots and walked out of his room into the hall. Sasha’s door was open and he could hear her downstairs. When he got downstairs he could see her flitting around the kitchen, making breakfast and humming to herself. Her red dress spun as she turned to smile up at him. He could tell that she hadn’t slept well last night either, though it didn’t seem to slow her down. Maybe I was snoring really loud last night and kept us both from a good sleep, he thought.
He walked in front of the mirror for his normal pre-day inspection. There was a dark spot on his chin, and for a moment his insides squirmed with excitement. He reached up to feel the stubble… and his fingers slid across his smooth face and smudged a spot of dirt. Feeling stupid, he looked at Sasha in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t seen his mistake. She was too busy scooping eggs onto plates. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“You look tired this morning. I didn’t keep you up snoring, did I?”
She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed in thought, and said, as if she was having a hard time remembering, “No, I just had a hard time falling asleep. You weren’t snoring… although I kept hearing you say something like ‘Sasha is the most beautiful girl in Airmelia and so smart and funny and…’ oh, I can’t remember the rest.”
Legon shook his head. “No wonder I’m so tired - I was delirious last night.”
Sasha laughed and said curtly to him, “Rude!”
They sat down and Legon ate his eggs. They were good, but not as good as Sasha’s pies were. After they ate Sasha washed the dishes and took off her apron, then went upstairs to get her money pouch. Legon walked to the space under the stairs to get their bows. Kovos was always up for shooting, and they hadn’t gotten the chance yesterday. Legon grabbed Sasha’s hunting bow and his combat bow.
Legon, like most of the men in town, had two bows, one that was for hunting and the other for combat. A hunting bow usually had a fifty to sixty pound draw weight on them, perfect for bringing down all but the largest animals but underpowered against armored targets. Chain mail was expensive, so very few people had it, but bandits and soldiers that didn’t have chain mail wore a thick doublet that was made of layered cloth and leather. The doublet would not be able to stop an arrow cold at close range, but it could from a distance. For a hunting bow to penetrate the armor at close range the shooter had to be about ten feet away. It was for this reason that combat bows were significantly stronger.
The average man had a bow with a draw weight of one hundred and sixty to one hundred and eighty pounds, which gave it an effective range of about two hundred yards and the power to go through leather armor and punch through chain male from about eighty yards away. Combat bows were too over-powered for hunting but were a necessary precaution. With them, most men got to the point where they could fire between ten and twenty arrows a minute.
Legon, however, was unusually strong, and his bow had a two hundred pound draw weight. A beautiful weapon, it was made of yew and as was as tall as him. He could hit a head-size target nine times out of ten from one hundred and eighty yards away and could fire eighteen arrows a minute. Only two other men in town, Brack and Arkin, could fire such a bow, but neither could claim Legon’s accuracy.
Legon walked over to the door and waited for Sasha. She came down the steps and they walked outside. The town was alive at this time in the morning, and people were moving in all directions in the streets. They began to walk in the direction of Kovos’ house. They waved and said hello to townspeople as they passed, and soon they were walking by the town carpenter’s house and shop. As they passed, Sasha touched Legon’s arm. “Let’s go say hello to Arkin. I haven’t seen him in awhile.” Sasha liked Arkin. He was the only one in the town that was truly kind to her, and Legon liked him too. He had always been a good family friend.
“Ok, that sounds good.” They walked up to the door of the shop and walked in.
As Legon opened the door their noses were filled with the scent of oak, cherry, pine, and other kinds of wood. They skirted around the counter and headed into the open work area. Sasha walked to the center of the room and ran her hand over a large table.
“He’s inlayed a checkered pattern on this. What do you think—cherry and oak?” she asked, inspecting the unfinished wood.
Legon glanced at it. “Yup, looks like it, and big too. I’d say for a family of eight. Looks like he’s got the chairs in that corner. It doesn’t look like he’s here, though. His tools are on the wall.” Way too many tools.
“You’re right. The back door is closed, and there isn’t even any dust in the air. Odd. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place like this. Do you think he’s in today?”
She was right. Normally dust motes filled the air, swirling up to the skylight high above them. Lighting a place like this was difficult. Fire was an obvious liability with everything being made of wood, and more important the air usually being filled with sawdust. It was rare but not unheard of for a carpenter’s shop to burn down from a fire stated by stray sawdust. Arkin’s shop was well lit with the two skylights and large windows on either side of the door.
A smooth, warm voice greeted them. “Sasha, Legon, how good to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Arkin said, stepping into the room.
He was tall and of a medium build, with long blond hair and hazel eyes, a thin jaw line, and a small nose. He was wearing a white shirt and brown pants, over which he had on a leather apron with three pockets built into the waist. He walked with a smooth gait and perfect posture. He was not what you would envision a carpenter to be; he was refined and confident, qualities that shined through not only in his countenance but also his work. He was not an arrogant man, however. He was kind and fair, slow to anger and had a balance of sternness and patience. Legon and Sasha had always liked him and had gotten along with him well. There was a smile on his face that revealed straight white teeth.
“We were on our way to see Kovos when I realized that it has been far too long since I’ve seen you,” Sasha said brightly.
“Yes it has, and unfortunately you have caught me at a bad time. I’ve been out hunting for the last few days and am behind on work.”
“Did you get anything?” Legon asked.
“Ah … no, I didn’t but it was nice to get out,” Arkin said. Legon detected a hint of apprehension in his voice.
Arkin said abruptly, “Will you come by later this week and have tea with me? Then we could catch up.”
“We would love to,” said Sasha, and Legon piped in, “Yeah we’ll catch you in a few days… see ya, Arkin”.
They walked out of the shop with a wave and continued to Kovos’. After they had walked a bit Legon leaned over to Sasha.
“Did something seem off to you with Arkin?” She tilted her head slightly to the side.
“I don’t know. He did seem a bit preoccupied, and he was a little vague about his hunti
ng trip.”
“Yeah, and I’ve never known him not to bring a kill in for us to butcher. That must mean he didn’t get anything, which is odd for him.” As Legon spoke he looked at the ground and his voice was soft, almost like he was talking to himself.
“Oh well. There’s Kovos,” Sasha pointed out.
They had arrived at their friend’s house. To the right of it was a stone shop with smoke belching from a flue. They both went up to the door of the shop and walked in. They were met with a wall of heat. The one-room shop was large. Brack, Kovos’ father was by the wall on the right side of the building, standing in front of a large furnace that curved up from the ground like a teardrop. There was a long pipe that rose from the furnace to the ceiling. The furnace was made of some sort of clay, but it was impossible to distinguish from the black soot that covered it. Brack was working a billow with one hand and holding a metal rod in the other. The rod was deep in the fire; red was creeping up the rod toward Brack’s glove. He was also wearing soot-black pants and what had once been a white shirt with sleeves rolled up past his elbows. As he worked the billows, sparks and flame roared out from the opening of the furnace like some monster from a children’s story.
Benches and anvils were scattered throughout the room. It was lit only by the furnace’s glow which cast the room in a sharp contrast of dark and bloody hues of red and orange. In the center of the room was Kovos. Both he and his father were wearing thick aprons made in the fashion of leather armor. They were scorched and cut in places, signs of the hot iron’s angry touch. Kovos was wearing a thick pair of gloves and pounding on a piece of red-hot iron. Each time the hammer hit, sparks flew from it in protest. Kovos and his father were amazing to watch. They brought their hammers high in the air and then down with incredible force and precision.
* * * * *
Sasha was having a hard time hearing over the roar of the furnace. Legon had to shout over it. “Kovos! Kovos, pay attention to me you great buffoon!”
At this Kovos looked up, made a rude hand gesture at Legon, and continued to work. Legon and Sasha laughed. “Good to see you too.”
Kovos nodded to them, telling them to wait a minute. He raised the hammer high and brought it down with force on the rod, showering the floor with sparks. Sasha noticed the muscles on his bare arms ripple when the hammer reached its target. His stocky build was made for this work. Kovos was wearing the same black pants and blackened shirt as his father. He put down the hammer and walked over to them with the rod still in his hands. “Let me give this back to dad and we can go out back.” They nodded and walked to the back of the shop.
It felt good to get out of the heat and into the alleyway behind the shop. The spring air was cool and inviting. A moment later Kovos came walking out with a large cleaver of the type Legon had used the previous day to split a cow. He wasn’t wearing the apron anymore and looked happy to be out of the shop. He handed the cleaver to Legon, who began to inspect it. “Looks good, Kovos. Thanks.”
Kovos and his father were amazing smiths, or at least they were in Legon’s opinion. He hadn’t seen much of the work of other blacksmith’s since Salmont only needed one. Kovos was not as good as his dad, but despite his insistence that he was not very good, everyone in the town trusted him with any project. Kovos was a hard worker and a perfectionist. He was also incredibly loyal. Legon knew that Kovos would stand next to him no matter what. He also knew that Kovos feared Sasha but would still defend her with his life just because she was Legon’s sister. This was not a fact lost on Sasha, and though she knew that Kovos, like most of the town, feared her, she was grateful for him. He was nice to her, and if she was on her own and saw Kovos, he would talk to her and escort her wherever she was going. Barnin had been that way too. Both Kovos and Barnin, while flawed men, had incredible character.
“No problem. Thanks for killing and butchering that deer for me. It was great.” He looked at Sasha. “Hey Sash, how are you feeling today?”
“How… how did you know I had an episode?” she asked, amazed.
“Easy. Legon didn’t come by yesterday, and he would only miss out on a new cleaver if you weren’t well.”
“Oh. Thank you, Kovos. I’m feeling fine now.” As she said this she looked at Legon and smiled inwardly. She was so grateful to have him in her life, and she was sad to think about him leaving.
Kovos looked at the buckskin tubes that Legon was holding and frowned. “I don’t think dad will let me go shooting today…,” he paused, “Unless….” Kovos shot back into the shop and came out a minute later. “Great, I’ll get my bow. You talked me into it.”
* * * * *
Legon laughed. There was no talking Kovos into it, but rather talking his dad into letting him leave for a few hours. Legon wondered how he did it, but when Kovos rejoined them he knew how, and his heart sank a bit. Kovos brought with him a large boy with the same black hair, though matted, who was wearing a pair of blue pants and a stained green shirt. Keither.
Keither also had on a look of annoyance. The two brothers couldn’t have been more different. Kovos was short and stocky and Keither tall and rather large. Kovos was leading, or more like pulling, Keither from the house. It looked like someone trying to pull a dog away from chasing a deer or a small child from his favorite toy. When they came out Kovos had two bows; one was his combat bow and the other Keither’s hunting bow. Keither didn’t have a combat bow. His family wouldn’t let him get one until he could shoot his hunting bow with some degree of accuracy, which Keither had yet to do. The boy hated going outside and didn’t like to shoot, but it was important to learn, so whenever Kovos was having a hard time leaving the house he would tell his father or mother that he would bring Keither and try and work with him. Keither never wanted to go, but Kovos was much stronger so Keither didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Sasha attempted to greet Keither by waving at him, but the boy only returned her wave with a glare.
They walked down the alley and got back on the street they were on before. They continued on the street until they got to a large field at the edge of town. On one end of the field was a line of padded targets with little flags that marked distance. Red was for fifty yards, yellow for one hundred, green for one hundred and twenty five, purple for one hundred and fifty, and beyond that were black ones for two hundred yards. On the other side was a line of white flags that marked where to stand while shooting. They walked to the line of white flags. At the moment the four of them were the only ones there. Everyone except Keither strung their bow and prepared to begin. Kovos hit Keither in the arm and the boy began to string his bow.
“Let’s just fire a warm up volley and then we can move two of the targets further back,” said Kovos to the others. They nodded their agreement and all knocked an arrow, pulled back, took aim, and fired.
The air hissed with the sound of the flying arrows and strings twanged. The arrows flew down the field and hit the targets with a thump—all but Keither’s.
Sasha looked around. “Why didn’t you fire?”
“I did,” said Keither with a bit of irritation.
“You… oh I’m sor… sorry about that, Keither.” Sasha’s face turned red. She looked away from him and began to fidget with her bow.
Kovos broke in. “Well, where did it go, then?” he asked, looking hard down the field.
“How am I supposed to know?” Keither said.
“Um, I don’t know, maybe because you shot it?” Kovos said sarcastically, holding his arms out in front of him with his palms up.
“Well, we’ve got lots of arrows, and I’m sure we can find that one. It couldn’t have gotten far,” said Sasha, trying to redeem herself. Then, in a hurry she continued, “Not that I’m saying you can’t shoot far. I mean… um, well you know that you probably only missed by an inch or so…” she sputtered.
Legon and Kovos laughed. “If we’re lucky we may find it later. Come on, Legon, let’s move the targets,” Kovos said. They walked to the targets and began to move
them down the field. As soon as they were out of earshot, Kovos said, “Sasha is going to make a good wife, buddy. I’m happy for you, but it’s a little sick you went for your sister….”
He was cut off by Legon. “What are you talking about?” Then Kovos’ comment clicked in Legon’s mind. He reached out and punched Kovos in the arm. “Shut up, that’s sick.”
“What, you mean you’re not? Oh, I’m sorry man, I just thought with you two being so close and you being adopted…” Kovos was smiling. Legon hit him again.
“Ow! What? Stop hitting me! I mean, she’s a good-looking girl, and hey, beggars can’t be choosers. Ow!”
“You’re sick. I don’t know how your family is, but I’m not into my sister. You’re right though, she is good looking, but she would look better by your side.”
Kovos laughed. “Hey, I would, but I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder for you my whole life.”
“Shut up and move the target.”
They made it to the targets and began to move them across the field. Kovos loved to give Legon a hard time about his relationship with Sasha. He knew that they were close as brother and sister, but that was it. Legon had to admit that they were unusually close; he suspected that it had to do with their situation growing up. They had supported each other, and at times they were almost like one person instead of two. Emotionally, there were no real boundaries between them. He knew that there was something odd about the relationship though; he didn’t know of anyone in town who needed to be with one particular person the way that he felt he needed to be with Sasha. Or anyone who had a strange sixth sense as they seemed to have with each other. Sometimes it almost seemed like he could predict what she would say or do. But never once had he had an inappropriate thought about her, and he knew it was the same for her.
His attention came back to Kovos, who was walking next to him hefting his own target. Kovos was still smiling but his voice was serious now. “Honestly, I think you’re going to need to take her with you. There’s no way you’ll be able to make the money for the taxes and get it here in time.” Legon began to open his mouth but Kovos cut him off. “It can’t be done, and don’t tell me otherwise. Take her with you. You can live in the same house and fall under the two adults rule for taxes. There’s a lot of people that do it.” His face darkened. “And I also don’t think she will be safe here when you’re gone. People worry about Edis but they’re terrified of you, and…”