Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (18 page)

              “Wait!” I called out, taking a hesitant step forward. “What about my belongings?”

The elder stopped and stared at me in disbelif.

              “You’ll be getting new clothes. You’ll be getting new armor. On top of all that you’ll be getting your own books, sword, sheild, and sleeping area. What could you possibly want from that place?” he asked, spitting towards the direction of The Clog. “If anything, leaving all your old belongings is an act of charity to the Ickle-Bit taking your place.”

I sighed, and glanced desperately towards my old quarters off in the distance. Unfortunately though, I couldn’t deny that the elder was right. With some degree of resentment, I followed him into the large school building.

              The room that I stepped into rested at a temperature just a few logs too hot. I counted eight fireplaces which all stood equidistant from each other in the massive rectangular area. The walls were littered with the portraits of lazy faced Grimlars, who looked down at me with bored eyes. Below these paintings were dozens of sofas and tea tables that looked well cared for.

All chatter in the room stopped as I stepped in along with the pudgy elder. A crowd of trainees laughing loudly by one of the fires went quiet as they turned to look at me with sinister curiosity. As I walked past, they began to whisper furiously among themselves, even pointing fingers in my general direction. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

              A small trainee passing by with an armful of books stopped in his tracks to stare at me with wide eyes. Noticing the elder in front of me, he promptly swiveled on the spot and dashed away in the opposite direction. As corners were cut and turns were made, the elder quickly explained where everything was in this school. I knew I should have been paying better attention but I was too tired to really care either way.

              The elder lead me through another set of doors and into an undercrowded dining hall. A dangerous looking metal chandelier hung above the tables, with the sharpest ends pointed right where a person was meant to sit. Again, all chatter stopped as I entered the room. Trainees lounging by the tables cupped their hands as they whispered to one another. This time however I was able to catch a few sentences from their gossip.

              “This is the one that stopped Gregor from promoting?”

              “Apparently he went a night in the No Man’s Land and survived.”

              “What’s his name again?”

              I flinched terribly at these few sentences. It wasn’t even a day past the king’s exams and I was already being gossiped about like some strange new sickness. Was it because I had stopped Gregor from reading my mind? Was it because of the hole that I made through the silver plate?

              “They recognize my talent,” Umber boasted, floating slowly into view. “While it’s true they can’t see me, they definitely notice what I can do.”

              “Oh you’re a real charmer,” I growled irritably. “It’s a wonder that you didn’t die earlier with pride like that.”

              “You humans call it pride, I call it ‘knowing that I’m right’.”

              “Alright, If you’re so wise and powerful then what do we do about Gregor? He’s going to want me hurt after what happened to him!”

“Yes, he will want to hurt you,” Umber agreed after thinking about this for a moment. “I believe your professor is right though. As long as you’re in the school he won’t try to hurt you. Outside of the school however...” Umber trailed off as the chubby elder forcefully grabbed me by the arm and lead me down a set of stairs that went below ground. We eventually burst into a sweltering dungeon room, lit only by a heavy furnace in the back of the enclosure. In the corner, sat three of the largest men I had ever seen.

              Each of them looked like they hadn’t stepped into the sunlight for years. Their bald skulls were oddly pointed as if they had been specifically molded to the shape of a helmet. They each had a bulbous nose supported by a bushy moustache that suggested the three giants were brothers. The only major differences in their appearances were the scars on their faces.

“Jacob Ofpacis, I would like you to meet the Grimlar’s most senior masons, armor experts and smiths: Axel, Cudge and Gripper.” Each of the massive men gave a small salute at the sound of their names.

“Gods! He’s a tiny one!” Axel declared, strolling over to me.

“When we’d heard about this one we was expecting something a wee bit bigger,” Gripper agreed as he grabbed one of my elbows and gave it a shake.

“Grip, you were nearly three quarters his size when you was his age,” Cudge sniggered before standing up as well. Producing a well used tape measure from his coat pocket, he quickly began to take measurements.

“Shaddup you great pig!” Gripper shouted over his shoulder. “You know exactly what mam used to feed us: Oats on a good day, tree bark on a bad one.”

The three laughed uproariously at this.

“As if they feed the Ickle-Bits any better,” Gripper added, tapping me firmly on the gut.

“We got special orders for you.” Axel said mysteriously, as he quickly scratched my measurements on a piece of parchment.

“Oh?” I asked, trying not to sound disturbed by this.

“Orders from the Caterwaul in fact,” Axel added while strolling behind me. “We was told to make you your own sword and shield. Normally the Pronounced trainees just get rubbish hand-me-downs.” He shrugged his great shoulders. “I guess you’re pretty special then.”

I suddenly remembered the taborthodox agreement the Caterwaul had made and smiled slightly.

“Measurements are finished!” Cudge announced proudly.

“Don’t waste our time telling us that! Get the armour started!” Axel shouted back. “Stupid git,” he added quietly. “But yeah, normally it’s only the prefects and tier four Grimlars that get their own swords. Ever had any experience with weapons?” He asked while picking up the parchment filled with measurements.

“Very little.” I admitted bashfully. Axel nodded in understanding and made a small note.

“That means we shouldn’t be making anything too heavy for you. I’m guessing by the looks of you that you’re a righty?” He asked while looking down at my skinny twigs for arms.

“Umm... Yeah, how did you know?” This question was entirely ignored as he scribbled something else down.

“Now for naming the sword.” Axel announced grandly. “This part’s my favorite. “In the old days, it was customary to name the sword after the person it was for, or to not name the sword at all. We found out pretty quickly that caused a good bit of confusion.” He sighed, and placed a hand on the wall as if finding the memory extraordinarily painful. “Many people didn’t know which sword was which, and the swords that had names couldn’t be sold. Nobody wanted a blade that had someone else’s name on it.” Axel clasped his hands together and seemed to brighten slightly.

“Today however, we have the wielder name the sword. It saves confusion, and even gets the fighter a bit closer to his own weapon. Just tell us what you want to call it and we’ll engrave it.”

“Right now?” I asked, feeling suddenly uneasy.

“Well within the hour” Axel admitted, exhaling from his nostrils.

“It only takes you an hour to make a sword?” I wondered in amazement.

“Well, a lot of the prep work has already been done,” Axel admitted modestly. “Feel free to take a seat until we finish.”

I placed myself tenderly on a nearby wooden crate before lacing my fingers and looking up at Umber.

“Strange. You seem more focused on naming a stupid sword, then you were in naming me,” he said, silently fluttering closer.

I laughed coldly and swatted him away. “If you don’t have any suggestions, you should shut up,” I told him, bringing my pointer fingers to my temples.

Umber snorted at this suggestion. “Considering you named me, it seems fitting that I name your sword.”

I shrugged. “If you think of something good, I’ll consider it.”

The colour in Umber’s eyes grew more intense as he began to think. “How about Intrikill,” Umber opted while looking over at the smiths. I brought my lips to one side of my face.

              “Intricate and kill... That’s clever, but maybe not the direction I was going for. Umber’s eyes flashed with irritation.

              “We’re naming a weapon, not a child. There aren’t many directions you can take mortal,” he insisted fiercely. “Why, what were you thinking?” I opened my mouth ajar and scratched my chin, trying to get Umber to think that I was deep in thought

              “Ungula,” I said, looking back up to him.

Umber glared at me in disbelief. “
Ungula?
Is that even a word? You humans and your precious little language.”

I clenched my teeth tightly and nearly bit off my own tongue. “I read it in a book once,” I said, quietly trying to contain my anger. “I happen to like it.”

“Why name it something like that when there are so many great word plays you could make! ‘
Decappetite’
for instance, or ‘
F’anger the Beast.’
You could even go with contradictory names! Those are always fun to figure out!
Soundless scream
is an excellent one. Or how about,
The friendly foe
. Work with me here mortal! You’re giving me nothing!”

“Wait just a minute,” I demanded, cutting him off with my hand. “What was the second one you said?” I didn’t know why, but one of those names distinctly rang out in my head.

“Soundless Scream. Why?” Umber replied as he drew closer.

“No, one before that,” I said, drawing circles in the air for clarity.

“
F’anger the beast.
” Umber sighed as if he was greatly disappointed in me. “Jacob, you know that’s a rubbish name. I was just brainstorming.”

“Yeah but it’s still your suggestion,” I objected, feeling myself twist into a grin.

Umber considered me with a scowl.  “Why would you want a name like this?” Umber asked furiously

The Immage of Preston punching Gregor immediately leapt to my mind as I considered this. “
F’anger the beast
and you’ll get bit.” I responded with a slight chuckle.

Umber groaned in dismay and rolled his eyes so quickly it almost made me dizzy watching him. “That joke is dryer than any desert in the world. By carrying that name with you, you would have to live with it until you either lost the sword, sold it, or died. Are you
absolutely
sure you want that?” Umber asked, somewhat desperate to change my mind.

Unfortunately for him, my heart was set in stone. I tenderly approached Axel the smith and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.”

              “You decided then?” he asked, completely focused on his work.

              “Yes sir. I’d like to call it
F’anger the Beast.
”

              “Aye?” he asked, turning around to look at me. “I don’t get it.” He scratched his hairy whiskers, and looked over at his brothers. “Oy! You lot, drop what you’re doing and get over here.” Cudge and Gripper slowly made their way over, looking highly irritated.

              “What’s this about?” Cudge asked, rubbing the soot off of his forehead.

              “This kid wants to name his sword something weird and I don’t get it.”

              “Well what’s he want to call it?” Gripper asked before throwing down a metal poker. They all looked at me expectantly.

              “
F’anger the beast
...” I answered with considerably less confidence than the last time.