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Irwin's Journey chapter 48: Grappling Gauntlets
🕑 Added 2023-01-14 17:35:35 +0000 UTCIrwin woke to shouting, and the first thing he felt was pain. His lower arms and legs were cramping up, while his back felt like he'd had a beating the day before. He groaned and rolled over, hearing the shouting intensify.
I should have drank before sleeping, he thought. His mouth was dry as sand, and his lips cracked.
"-get him! You are not allowed to just-"
The door to his room slammed open, and Irwin shot up, causing his muscle pain to increase. Daubutim stood at the door opening, looking around until his eyes fell on Irwin. They widened, and Irwin saw surprise, anger, then fear in his friend's eyes.
"Orwin, are you alright?" Daubutim said as he rushed forward.
"Yes, yes," Irwin said, surprised at how ragged his voice sounded.
Daubutim knelt next to him and inspected him. Slowly the anger and fear faded.
"Why did you stay here?" he asked, a slight accusation in his voice.
"It was too cold to go back yesterday," Irwin said as he forced himself upright, propping his back against the wall. "So, Trimdir was nice enough to let me sleep here."
"As I told you," an angry voice came from the door.
Irwin looked up to see Trimdir standing there, glaring at Daubutim. The noble boy looked up and met the gaze with what Irwin thought was surprising calm.
"Yes, you did. But my father told me never to trust people you don't know if lives are on the line," Daubutim stated calmly.
The smith snorted, but Irwin saw a momentarily pained look in his eyes before his face returned to its usual look.
"Next time, you better not barge in here," he said. "Orwin, come to the smithing area. I've got breakfast."
Irwin nodded.
A minute later, he walked into the smithy, wondering if this was how old people felt. He could barely walk, every inch of his body sore. Still, as he walked closer to the still-burning forges, the heat seeped into his body, and he felt the soreness dissipate a fraction.
A table he hadn't noticed before was pulled from the side, and a pitcher, some cups, and a basket filled with steaming bread stood atop. As soon as his eyes fell on the food and drink, Irwin felt his stomach clench and his thirst grow. Ignoring the pain in his body, he walked towards the table, sat down, and poured himself a drink, downed it, poured another, and continued until he heard a loud cough.
Looking up from drinking another cup of water, he saw Trimdir looking at him.
"You need to make sure you drink water while working today, or you will get into trouble," the smith said. "That-" and he motioned at the cup, "- isn't normal."
"It is for Orwin," Daubutim said calmly. Irwin looked up to see him stand to the side of the table. "He can drink more water than anybody I know."
Trimdir barked a laugh while Irwin ignored them and took one of the pieces of freshly baked bread. Dark, heavy, and with bits on top, he inspected it for a mere second before biting down.
"Hey, careful they are…"
Trimdir's shouted warning faded as Irwin chewed the surprisingly sweet bread, swallowed, and took another bite.
"You must have a body made of metal," Trimdir muttered.
Irwin almost choked on the next bite, quickly draining another cup before looking at Daubutim.
"How did you find me?"
"Lord Bron had you followed when you left, and the guard told me where you were."
"Followed?" Irwin asked incredulously.
Daubutim nodded. "When you weren't back yesterday, I was surprised. Then when you weren't back when I was awake this morning, I was worried."
Irwin stared at the boy as a happy feeling crept up on him. He'd never had someone worried about him except for his family. And Greldo! The thought of his friend made his happy mood drain away.
"Thanks for looking for me," he said, taking another piece of bread and staring at it. He wanted to ask Daubutim about it. He glanced at Trimdir, who was blowing on a piece of bread, nibbling carefully. After a second, he decided it didn't really matter. There wasn't anything secret or weird about what he wanted to know. "Do you think we can find out if Greldo made it to Esterdron?"
Daubutim frowned, then shook his head. "No. There is no communication with Esterdon, and they have no teleporters here."
Irwin sighed and nodded.
"You lost a friend?" Trimdir asked.
"Yes. We lost one of our party in the forests beyond Wignut," Irwin said.
Trimdir grimaced. "Did you try asking some of the traders? I know a few came from that area. They might have seen him. Did he have anything special that could make him stand out?"
Irwin thought for a moment, then nodded. "He has a very big hound with him. Black with glowing red eyes."
Trimdir whistled. "Yes. That would stand out. I've got to speak to a few traders later today. I'll ask them about it."
"Thank you!" Irwin said.
They continued eating in silence, and when the water and bread were gone, Trimdir rose.
"Now, you have a little while before we begin again. I expect you to-"
"No," Daubutim said as he shook his head. "Lord Bron said Orwin needs to train with the rest of us."
Trimdir's eyebrows lowered, and Irwin swallowed as he saw the smith glare at Daubutim and then at him.
Irwin quickly turned to Daubutim. "I need to learn this first," he said. "It's important."
Daubutim frowned, and Irwin saw a confused look in his eyes. After a moment, the larger youth sighed and shook his head. "Lord Bron won't accept that. He will expect us to help close portals, and for that, you need to learn how to fight and use your cards."
Right, the portals, Irwin thought as he shivered.
"Insanity," Trimdir snapped. "Sending youths into the portals, it is the ridiculous thing I've ever heard. They should let the guards and rangers take care of it!"
"There aren't enough," Daubutim stated.
Trimdir snorted, got up, and moved from the table.
"Decide what you will do, boy. But you owe me breakfast."
Irwin stared after the smith who walked through the door that led into his office, closing the door. Then he turned to Daubutim.
"I need to do this," he said. "Remember what he told us?" he said, tapping the pocket Ambraz was inside.
Daubutim remained quiet.
"Can't I… do both? Train in the morning and smith in the afternoon?" Irwin finally asked.
"We would have to ask," Daubutim answered.
After thinking about it for a while, Irwin nodded as he made up his mind. He walked to the office and knocked.
"Come."
Pushing the door open, Irwin hoped he could somehow convince Trimdir. He wanted -no, needed- to learn Cardsmithing. If he failed at this first step, how would ever get beyond it?
--
An hour after talking with Trimdir, Irwin was standing in front of Hutch, still shivering from his trek through the snow-covered town. The blanket he'd been allowed to borrow barely helped.
"So, let me get this straight," Hutch said, staring at him. "You want to train in the morning, then work at Trimdir's during the afternoon?"
"Yes," Irwin said.
"And it's because your card becomes stronger because of it?"
Irwin barely held back a flinch.
"Yes," he lied.
"Fine," Hutch said.
Irwin stared at the bare-armed guard in surprise. He'd expected a long talk, like with Trimdir, to convince him. Instead, it was fine?
"Don't look so surprised," Hutch snapped as he rose and walked to the door, beckoning them to follow. "What we need are strong carded to close portals. If your strength increases more from learning to smith, that is fine."
Irwin flinched as his sore legs tried to keep up with the much taller man. He managed to suppress a moan, wondering if he could get the rest of the day off. Staring at the bare-armed guard, he decided not to risk it.
As he tried to force his pained body to follow the others, he wondered what the training entailed.
--
As the dim sun peered through the gray sky and snow drifted down over the city, Irwin walked towards Trimdir's smithy. He was bruised and battered and wondered if he could even carry two clumps of raw ore.
Battle training… more like running, he thought as he dragged his foot up through the snow. He felt like metal was weighing down his boots.
Tugging the thick, furred coat Daubutim had somehow managed to find him closer around himself, he shivered. It held back the cold, but not enough to make it anywhere close to comfortable.
More wooden huts stood leaning against the larger buildings, sometimes almost blocking alleyways. He got curious looks from a pair of older women, who stared at his face, probably wondering about the bruises and scratches.
Irwin thought back to the training. The running had been the worst, though swinging around a sword for hours on end had been a close second. Still, the training Daubutim had given him in the Galub world-shard had helped as atleast he had some idea what to do. Without it, he would probably have been even more miserable.
As he moved onto the square, he saw a group of youths standing there, probably hoping to be chosen again. There was no one inspecting them, though, and as Irwin moved toward the smithy, he heard them whisper amongst themselves.
Staring at the door, Irwin steeled himself. He knew if he hadn't seen all the things he had and knew the world would shatter, he might not have been able to go through the door to another day of pain. As it was, he clenched his jaw and moved through.
The first week passed in a blur of days of constant movement, weariness, then falling unconscious on his bed. He nearly gave up on numerous occasions, but the image of his mother and brother kept him going, as did the memory of the shattered moon in the shardworld.
It was only halfway through the second week that he began noticing a change. In the evenings, when he dropped into bed, he had just enough energy to think a bit and reflect on the day. Then, when he woke, he didn't feel like he'd been beaten to death… merely to the brink of it.
At Trimdir's smithy, he noticed his arms shaking less as he carried the ore, going from a half-filled basket to one three-quarter full. During battle practice, he could stay with the rest during running instead of trailing far behind.
Still, time went by in a blur, and he didn't even get a chance to work on combining his cards to become a true full-hand. All he could think of was getting to the end of the two weeks and starting to learn purifying.
When he woke on the last day of the second week, he was tired but excited and quickly got dressed. Daubutim was already sitting at the table, ready to go.
"Do you think he will teach you today?"
"Yes. I asked him a few times last week if he was satisfied, and he said that he was," Irwin replied.
"Alright. Remember, there are less than two weeks of training left before you and the others without weapon cards are supposed to pick your final weapon. Have you decided yet?"
Irwin sat down, thinking about how to answer. He'd thought about it a few times but didn't really know yet. Trying to delay answering, he grabbed some dried jerky from the bowl, then poured himself a cup of water.
"Orwin?"
"I don't know," Irwin finally said with a sigh. "I'm best with the short sword, but even with them, I can't beat any of the others."
"Not a fair comparison. Most have had years of training," Daubutim said.
"Do you have any advice?" Irwin asked, not for the first time.
"Choosing a weapon is a personal thing. My father-"
"I know, I know," Irwin uninterrupted him, not interested in another fatherly wisdom. "I'll think about it more this week."
"Make sure you do. It's already the end of the week. I think Hutch has his own ideas for you if you don't."
Irwin shivered. Hutch and a dozen other guards used sets of metal gauntlets and wrestling techniques. They specialized in closing certain uncommon portals, but when they returned, they were almost always bruised and battered. The only weapons they brought were daggers.
"I'll probably use a sword," Irwin said hastily.
"I think Hutch will not agree to that unless you become a lot better," Daubutim said.
"But you said it's my choice!"
"If we were at my father's home. Lord Bron thinks differently about these things," Daubutim said.
Irwin sighed as he imagined having nothing but wrestling and barehanded practice. Seeing Daubutim begin to voice his opinion, he quickly got up. He knew Daubutim thought he'd make a great pugilist, whatever that was, and he had no interest in it.
"Right, let's head out to training," he said.
Daubutim opened and closed his mouth, then nodded.
When they reached the training room, they heard a soft swishing sound.
"Pytin's early today," Irwin muttered.
"Yes. I presume he wants to be completely ready for the challenge," Daubutim said.
Irwin stumbled. "The challenge? That's not today, right? That's next week!" He instantly knew he was wrong when he saw Daubutim's lips turn into a frown.
"You really forget a lot," Daubutim said.
By Gelwin's beard, Irwin thought as he stopped before the room, wondering if he couldn't just head to Trimdir's. He had no desire to do the challenge. He barely remembered anything from the previous time, which had been a week ago, but what he did remember involved pain.
"Come, Hutch will find you and drag you here if you try to get out from under it," Daubutim said. "They are having more and more trouble closing the portals, and they need more teams."
Irwin licked his lips, then followed the noble youth into the training hall. The entire left side was made up of square wooden platforms with training dummies, while the shooting targets stood on the far end. A twirling figure in green leather armor was moving through motions at a speed Irwin knew he couldn't match. Neither could Daubutim, to his friend's annoyance. Pytin was good enough that Hutch had him train the least talented, meaning Irwin and Jousithr.
They walked closer and watched quietly as Pytin sliced his sword through the air, decapitating some imaginary foe. Then he made a flourish, bowed, and sheeted his sword on his hip scabbard before turning to them.
"You are early," he said, grinning at them happily. "Orwin, I think we should practice a few movements before the others come. It will help you during the challenge!"
Irwin wanted to groan at the others' enthusiasm but instead moved to the rack that held the wooden practice swords. He took two, a shorter, heavier one for himself and a longer one for Pytin. He'd practiced with him enough that he knew the other youths' preferences.
After handing it over, he stood before the tall, lanky boy in one of the sparring corners.
"Alright. Let's practice your defensive movements," Pytin said, swinging the sword up and down. "I'll come for your leg, then your arm. Use what I taught you and try to do a single retaliation, after which I'll attack again."
Irwin quickly raised his sword, barely in time to step back and block a parry for his leg. Pytin grinned and nodded.
"Nice!"
Yeah, and you should really give people time to get ready after you stop talking, Irwin thought, but he didn't say anything. Pytin would probably say it wasn't good practice if he did.
He blocked the next attack, knowing Pytin was moving slower than he could then retaliated by swinging at the other boy's sword arm. Pytin's sword moved out of the way, swirled around, and struck for his leg again. Irwin had expected as much, blocked it, then barely managed to block the attack on his other arm. He stumbled, and something slammed into his leg, causing him to trip and fall.
"Footwork, footwork!" Pytin said while Daubutim was muttering something similar from the side.
"What did I tell you?"
Irwin held back a glare, and sighed. "Feet first, then sword," he said.
"Indeed! If you fall-"
"You are dead, but one attack to the arm won't kill me," Irwin quickly said. "I know, but you're just much faster than me."
"Perhaps," Pytin said. "But you are getting faster. Still, I would advise you to focus on your speed when you combine your cards."
Irwin nodded, getting ready for the next attack.
They trained for half an hour, and when they stopped, two dozen youths were in the training hall, practicing with swords, spears, and axes. Hutch stood to the side, inspecting them. Behind him stood a stout woman with a long dark braid, looking annoyed. Irwin recognized her instantly as one of the few carded healers in the keep. He didn't know her name, though Daubutim undoubtedly did.
"Good, good! It warms my heart to see you all here before me," Hutch finally shouted. "Now, line up! You know what day it is," he said, staring at them and wiggling his eyebrows.
"You're favorite day," a few of the youths chanted.
"Exactly!" Hutch shouted. "Now! I'm going to have you all fight twice, and depending on that, we can see your progression. Fight one is with normal weapons and no cards! Return the practice weapons you have because I'll be deciding what you fight with today."
Oh no, Irwin thought as he saw Hutch's wide grin.
"To get this out of the way, Daubutim and Pytin. Both bring a bastard sword and come up. You are first to show how it's done."
Irwin sighed as he dropped off his wooden shortsword and stood with the others around the center training field. Daubutim and Pytin were walking there, each with a long sword. Daubutim had a calm, dull look on his face, but Irwin saw the gleam in his eyes. Pytin was grinning almost as wide as Hutch.
Battle maniacs, Irwin thought.
"Alright, show me what you have," Hutch said as he slapped his hands together, signaling the start of the training bout.
Pytin danced forward, the sword in two hands as he moved through steps too fast for Irwin to comprehend. Daubutim moved less gracefully but with a snappy smoothness that was no less compelling, and their blades tapped each other low to the ground before turning into a blur of movement. Within moments it was obvious that Daubutim had the reach and power, while Pytin was faster and more agile.
Loud discussions began among the others, and Irwin couldn't blame them as he stared at the two fighters twirling their blades around.
"Who do you think will win?" a soft voice asked him.
Irwin didn't look, knowing it was Jousithr. The lordling was an oddity, more interested in books and alchemy than in fighting or cards. Even though he had a full-hand, combined and all, none of them seemed suited for combat. He was the only one worse at fighting than Irwin, though he was taller.
"I don't know," Irwin said. He hoped it would be Daubutim, but the two had been equal, each winning multiple training matches since they got here.
A loud thwack and cracking were followed by a muted shout as Pytin's practice sword splintered where Daubutim had struck it.
"Hold!" Hutch shouted as he walked forward.
Daubutim was staring at the broken sword with as much surprise and annoyance as Pytin, but Hutch was just grinning.
"I call it a draw," the guard said. "Now, go rest. You will fight each other again later, and at that time, you may use cards!"
There was a sharp intake of surprise, but Hutch seemed to ignore it. He turned to the others and stared pointedly at Irwin.
"Next matchup, Orwin versus Sebastian! Grappling Gauntlets!"
Comments
Stephen Pearson
Thanks for the chapter! :-)
