Dark Shores of Salvation, page 31
part #3 of Travails of the Dark Mage Series
The summer after his arrival, the fruit trees yielded their best harvest in years and the University’s garden produced twice as much as the previous two years combined. Roland had discussed with him about being allowed to assume the role of Master of the Yield and Master Kermudge agreed, provided he’d be able to learn from others. They had worked out a deal where Master Kermudge could sit in on the various classes so long as he passed on his knowledge. It was a win-win from both view points. At this particular time, learning his letters had drawn his interest and so there he was.
All that, Jira cared little about. He was in the class with her, and sat on her left while Kenny was on the right.
“You are not doing your letters, Little Jira.”
“Rat poop!”
Master Kermudge’s chuckle was deep and rumbly like a far off thunderstorm. “It is worthwhile knowing,” he explained.
She wasn’t convinced.
“Well, I tell you what. If you do your letters as Master Ioni has instructed, I shall take you to where the blackberries grow especially thick and plentiful.”
When she still balked, he leaned close to her and whispered, “You know, the sooner you do your lesson the sooner you can get out of here.”
Not happy about it but able to see the wisdom of his words, she grudgingly picked up her stick of charcoal. Her eye caught sight of Kenny’s plank and saw how he had scribbled letters and parts of letters as well as a diagram of a dog with no rhyme or reason. Even now he was working on something that faintly resembled a rat having been run over by a cart.
Sighing, she looked up at the letters Master Ioni had drawn on a large board and did her best to recreate them on her plank. She took her time and formed each one carefully. As her father always said, “You gonna do something, do it right!”
Slowly her letters took shape and once she had three of each that were fairly close to those of Master Ioni, she sighed, set down her charcoal stick and leaned back in her chair.
“Well, what do you know?”
She cast a questioning glance to Master Kermudge. “What?”
“You didn’t die,” he replied with that smile that sets everything at ease.
Kenny laughed and she tried to fight the smile that fought for supremacy, and failed.
“Now, let’s do the next four, shall we?” Master Ioni asked.
Before she could stop herself, a groan of despair escaped her.
All eyes turned to her and Kenny started to giggle once again.
Master Ioni looked at her with patience. “Maybe you should do each ten times, Jira?”
“Not three?”
“Let’s do ten. Then we can call it a day.”
As she set charcoal to plank, she sighed once again. The class was only an hour a day, but it seemed like an eternity.
When the last letter had been scribed and they were free to go, Master Kermudge was as good as his word. After making sure that their mothers would not be missing them, he led them from The University compound toward the forest.
“Where are these berries?” Kenny asked.
“Not far, young Kenny.”
Master Kermudge made for a little used path and entered the forest. “There are times, young ones, when knowledge can mean the difference between life and death.”
“How can forming letters save my life? If someone is coming at me with a knife, knowing how to make an ‘a’ is not going to keep the blade from striking.”
“ALL knowledge is important. Never stop learning.”
“Is that why you are learning your letters?” Kenny asked.
“In part, yes. What if you are sent a message and no one is there to read it for you? What then shall you do? What if the message said your mother was sick and you needed to get a specific medicine to cure her? Wouldn’t it be helpful to have read that?”
“I’d just get a priest, like Brother Nick.”
Kenny nodded
Brother Nick was one of Miko’s priests that he had sent two years ago to build a small temple on the grounds and minister to those seeking knowledge. After all, Morcyth is the god of knowledge and his priests have ever been teachers.
“Jira, Jira, Jira,” Master Kermudge mused. “What am I to do with you?”
She eyed him curiously for she hadn’t a clue as how she should respond.
“There may well come a time when you will have no one to rely upon but yourself and you need to be up to the task.”
“I will be.”
He shook his head and gave a small smile. “We’ll see.”
The path led deeper into the woods until they reached a clearing nestled along a babbling brook. Growing along its bank were the promised blackberries.
Kenny gave out a squeal of delight and sprang forward.
Jira joined him.
The blackberries were every bit as good as Master Kermudge had promised.
“We should bring some home to Mother,” Kenny said through a mouthful of berries.
“Nothing to carry them with,” Jira said with regret. She, too, would have liked to have brought some home.
“Here,” Master Kermudge said as he pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket. “Use this.”
“Thank you,” Kenny said and snatched it from him. He began filling it with the fattest blackberries he could find.
“Save some for the animals,” Master Kermudge advised. “They deserve some too.”
Kenny paused in his picking, turned to the old man and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
In no time, he had his face, his hands and a goodly portion of Master Kermudge’s handkerchief stained with berry juice. He found that shoving berries into one’s mouth while at the same time holding an overflowing kerchief was a skill nearly beyond him. But he managed.
Jira had proceeded with more caution and care and had fared much better.
Master Kermudge enjoyed a few of the berries then went to sit beneath the shade of a nearby tree on a small rise next to the brook.
After eating her fill, Jira went to sit with him. He had his eyes closed and his head rested against the tree trunk.
“So peaceful,” he murmured.
“What?” she asked.
Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze toward where she sat. He gestured first to the water where it babbled as it made its way over the rock bed, then to the glade. He sighed.
“I suppose,” she replied impatiently.
Chuckling, he laid his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.
She eyed him a moment, then sat next to him. Mimicking his position, she too sat with back against the trunk, laid her head back and closed her eyes
A few moments passed as she listened to the world around her; the babbling brook, the wind rustling the leaves overhead, and Kenny fussing about having gotten his sleeve ensnared by a berry vine.
She found her mind wandering from one thought to another, never really latching on any train of thought, just letting her thoughts go where they may. When she heard a nearby rustle, she opened her eyes.
Standing not six feet away with most of its body hidden within a clump of bushes, stood a deer. It stared directly at her.
Kenny was still fussing with the vine and hadn’t noticed it yet.
“Go ahead.”
She glanced to Master Kermudge who looked to her through half-lidded eyes.
He nodded to the deer. “If you are cautious and take it slow…”
She grinned and slowly rose to her feet. It would be like sneaking up on an enemy.
Very carefully, she reached a standing position then froze.
The deer had taken a half-step backward. When it looked like it would not immediately flee, she slowly raised her foot and moved it inch by inch forward. Once it reached a goodly spot, she planted it and shifted weight to her other. Again, she crept forward.
Their eyes were locked, hers’ and the deer’s.
Step by step she worked her way forward, gaining a few inches here, a few more there; getting ever closer. Her excitement rose.
It’s going to let me touch it, she thought.
Another step and she froze as the deer moved another half-step back.
“It’s okay,” she said softly, soothingly, then moved her foot a little bit closer.
“Hey!”
Not now! She silently cried.
“A deer!” he cried and raced forward.
In a flash, the deer was gone.
“Kenny!” she scolded as he reached her. “You scared it away!”
His face once full of excitement and wonder transitioned to one of hurt and regret. Hanging his head, he lowered his stained hands clutching a berry-filled handkerchief. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Master Kermudge said as he came to them.
“No, it isn’t!” Jira said as she stomped her foot. “I wanted to pet it.”
Kenny’s hurt intensified.
Master Kermudge laid a hand on her shoulder.
She tilted her head up to peer into his eyes.
“It is a wild animal, young Jira. I do not believe that even had Kenny not scared it off, it would have allowed itself to be touched.”
Her face remained frozen in annoyance and no small amount of anger.
“It was remarkable that you were able to get as close as you had,” he said. “Very impressive.”
She merely stared at where the animal had stood, still wistfully wishing to have felt its soft coat.
He turned his attention to Kenny. “Well, look at the bounty you have.”
Hurt fled in the face of praise. Kenny grinned broadly.
“I think mama will like these.”
Patting him on the back, Master Kermudge replied, “I’m sure she will. We best be heading back.”
Jira sighed and turned her back on what might have been, then broke into a laugh. Standing before her Kenny was a sight. Berry juice had stained his face from his nose down and a goodly portion of his shirt. He had even managed to create a trail along his left brow line that reached all the way to his earlobe.
“You mad?” he asked her.
Shaking her head, she said “No.”
“Good.”
“Come along, children,” Master Kermudge. “I need to return you to your mothers.”
“Can we return tomorrow?”
Glancing to Kenny, Master Kermudge shrugged. “You never know, young Kenny. You never know.” With his charges in tow, he led them back.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The sun warmed the grassy area in which she stood. The wind blew ever so gently, just enough that she would need to account for it. She sighted her target, took a breath, held it, then loosed the bowstring. A now familiar whack against the bracer shielding her left arm and the arrow was on its way.
It arced across the intervening space, flew straight and sure to embed itself in the target. Not the center to be sure, but at least this time the arrow actually hit the target and stuck. Another inch to the right and it would have missed the target completely.
“Nicely done.”
Meliana turned a satisfied grin to Aleya who handed her another arrow.
“I think there was a gust there at the end,” Meliana said. Taking the arrow, she set the end against the bowstring and rested the shaft against where her other hand gripped the stock.
“There was,” Aleya agreed. “If not for that gust, you would have missed the target, again.”
Meliana’s grin faded for she had thought she had done better.
Her journey to become a bowman hadn’t proceeded very well. She didn’t really have the knack for it. She did well enough on closer targets; at fifty feet she could hit the target every time though only about one in ten came near the center. At the target sitting a hundred and fifty feet away, she was lucky to hit it one time in ten; not a one had come near to striking true.
“Still,” Aleya continued, “you are much better than you were and with continued practice, you will gain even better proficiency.”
Meliana knew she would never have the skill Aleya had. That woman shot like she had been born with a bow in her hand, which from what she had heard of her past, wasn’t far from the truth. Trouble sought James out far too often for her not to be able to help. She had felt helpless when their island had been attacked. She and her husband needed to fight side by side to defend their home and their child.
As if thought miraculously produced her son, Kenny and Jira appeared at a run around the corner of the small guest cottage where they stayed.
“Mama!” he hollered when he saw her and bounded her way.
“Stop!” Aleya bellowed and the two children came to a sudden halt. Turning back to Meliana, she said, “Now, one more time.”
Meliana eyed her child, held in the grin the sight of his berry-faced expression sought to elicit, then nodded.
Returning to the matter at hand, she turned back to her target. She brought up her bow, and pulled back the bowstring. Sighting down the shaft, she lined up the arrow for dead center. Since her previous shot would have gone to the right of the target if not for the gust of wind pushing it leftward, she shifted slightly to the left of center. Pulling back on the bowstring, she took a calming breath, then released.
The bowstring thrummed as it propelled the arrow forward.
Thwock!
Its feathered shaft protruded midway twixt dead center and the left side of the target.
“Yes!” she cried with jubilation.
Aleya gave her a hug. “Good job.” She then turned to the two children and waved them forward. “I guess we’ve done enough today.”
“Mama!” Kenny cried. “You did it!”
His berry-smeared face beamed happily as he raced forward. Master Kermudge’s kerchief was nearly unrecognizable as the white cloth it used to be, berry juice dripped from the bottom between his cupped hands that held it.
He tried to hug her but she held him at arm’s length.
“What happened to you?” she asked with a laugh.
“Got berries,” he replied. Beaming, he held them up.
They were the worse for the journey home, but still held some semblance of their former state.
“I see that.”
“Master Kermudge took us berry picking” Jira told her mother. “After class.”
Meliana’s amused expression quickly soured. She had taken an instant dislike for the man though she couldn’t say why. Maybe it was the way he mostly kept off to himself, or it could have been his unkempt appearance. Whatever it was, she didn’t like the idea of her son having been in his company; especially alone.
“Yes,” she said, “well, we’ll talk about it later. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“And make sugar-berried tarts?” he asked. “Uncle Miko would love that.”
Thoughts of Master Kermudge quickly went to her husband and the fact that he was fighting a war… again; far away from her… again. If not for Kenny, she would not have left his side. But he had been correct when he said their first priority had to be his safety. How she wished she knew how he fared, and where.
There had been no word, no rumor that the Dark Mage had resurfaced. That could be good, or bad. She placed her trust in him and if any group of people could take care of themselves, it was him and his circle of comrades.
She glanced up to the sky and wondered if he was checking on her. That he had before and would again until they reunited she had no doubt. She just wished she could do the same.
“Yes,” she replied with a glance to Aleya, “just like your Uncle likes.
She could see similar thoughts behind her eyes as well.
Aleya took the bow. “I’ll meet you inside,” she told her. Then with a glance to her daughter, she added, “Then you can show me what you learned.”
Jira groaned.
“Off with you,” she said.
Jira gave in to the inevitable and accompanied her aunt and cousin to the guest house.
There were still three arrows sticking up from the ground where she had placed them to be handy during Meliana’s lesson. Taking one, she took aim and released. No sooner had the first arrow left the bowstring than she had the second drawn. The third shot for the target a split second before the first one hit.
Thwock!
Thwock!
Thwock!
All three grouped around the one with which Meliana had scored. One to the left, the right and right above. All four shafts were grouped so tightly that not even a single finger width separated one from another. Yanking them out, she then went to collect the others that had gone astray, then headed for the guest house.
Next time, dear husband, I’ll be the one going on an adventure while you stay behind and worry!
Days passed at The Ranch with boring redundancy.
At first it had been an adventure. New places to explore; new people to see. Not to mention all the happenings going on. Two large buildings were under construction whose purpose Jira hadn’t learned nor really expressed any interest in learning. The fact that she wasn’t allowed near them was the only thing that made them interesting; and that had been short lived. After all, nail hammering and board lifting can only keep one’s interest so long, especially when that one wanted adventure.
Now though, she’d explored everywhere and nothing remained to pique her interest.
She had her letters in the morning. Afternoons were in the garden; then dinner in the common room. Afterward was the only real fun this place had to offer. Most nights someone would share a song or story, the second night after their arrival a bard performed and that had been fun.
Sometimes, she and Kenny managed to sneak out before being sent to the gardens. Figuring ways to get out of that duty was the most entertainment she had. Though even if she did manage to get out of gardening, there was still one little problem: Kenny.
She loved Kenny, and he was her friend and all, but, he simply was not the risk taker she was. He didn’t like to get into trouble and any time she proposed a course of action from which he believed he’d get into trouble, he would balk. No matter what, she had to take him with her. For if she ditched him and left him by himself, he would wander to his mother who would then comment to her mother that she had not been with him. Then that would lead to questions that were better left unasked like, ‘Why weren’t you in the garden?’
