When John and Dingo Boy came into the common room Owen Jacobs was standing behind the bar polishing it. The dog trotted off to get attention from the young Seamstress. John glanced at the table with Joy and the hunting party at it. He knew that if he returned now, he’d have to answer the young woman’s question. “Hey Owen, the food here is delicious. Do you do the cooking yourself?”
A pleased smile spread across the Innkeeper’s face. “Ayuh, matter of fact I do. Most of it anyhow. Thanks f’ the compliment”
“Do you mind telling me how you make your berry jam?” asked the Warrior.
“Jest honey an’ berries, an’ a long simmer oveh low coals. Maybe a little watah if it thickens up too much. Ya cook?” Owen asked. “Most fellas know how to throw togethah a few basic things, course, but I neveh had one ask ’bout a recipe before.”
“I do!” said John, warming up to the subject. “It’s something we’ve always done in my family. My parents thought it was important that us kids know how to cook. They also felt that cooking together brought us closer to each other.”
“Ayuh, thet’s wise enough, so long as nobody buhns the soup!” laughed the Innkeeper.
John chuckled and an idea struck him. He thought of bar food and the first one that came to mind did not exist in the language they were speaking. “Hey Owen, mind if I share a recipe with you”
The Innkeeper raised his eyebrows, “Thet’d be fine. Go right ‘head.”
“Mind if I show you?” John asked. “It’s much better to make it and eat it than to explain how it’s made.”
“Ayuh, I got some time. Come right this way heah,” said the tall man as he headed for a doorway at the other end of the bar. John followed, running through the recipe in his head. He made a list of the ingredients he’d need as well as the required cookware and tools. He went through the process and mentally organized it into steps.
When John passed through the doorway he found a kitchen reminiscent of the one in Kiningdom Burruh except that it was bigger and the stove and oven combo was made of a grey brick instead of stone. “Do you have any ripe tomatoes?” he asked Owen.
“Got a few ripe ones, probably. Keep a gahden jest out back of the kitchen.” He grabbed a woven basket and opened a door in the back wall. Through it John saw a lush garden that he’d noticed when visiting the outhouses this morning. A cobblestone fence separated it from the yard with the long outbuilding in it. He followed the Innkeeper out of the door.
“We’ll need basil, oregano, thyme, and rosemary.” John said, looking around. He thought about how much his mother would love this garden. “Oh, and garlic.”
“What are ya puttin’ togethah, John?” Owen asked. “I was expectin’ somethin’ plain. Jest a fried egg, maybe, or bread toasted up in the oven.”
“It’s a dish from my homeland,” John said, “it’s called pizza.”
The men returned to the kitchen with the basket containing the fruit and herbs. There were many more than ‘a few ripe ones’. Lots of ripe tomatoes were left on the vine. John verified that there were coals in the firebox and added a couple of pieces of wood from the pile next to the brick appliance. He found a copper pot and filled it with water from the barrel in the corner. Then he removed one of the metal plates from the top of the stove and put the pot of water on the revealed opening to boil. He looked around and found a bowl and asked for a knife, a cutting board, and a spoon. Owen provided them and, while the water progressed toward a boil, John diced the garlic and herbs. The Innkeeper watched attentively and was clearly impressed by the knifework John demonstrated. Once the water was boiling John dropped the tomatoes into it and filled the bowl with cool water from the water barrel. He used the spoon to retrieve the tomatoes from the boiling water and dropped them into the bowl of cool water. He glanced at Owen who had raised eyebrows. John removed the pan from the stove and poured the hot water out, into the sink on the back wall of the kitchen. He pulled one of the tomatoes from the bowl of water and slid the skin off of it easily, dropping it into the empty pan.
“By Gorry,” breathed Owen, “now thet’s a trick worth knowin’ right theah.”
“Thanks, it’s a trick my mom taught me. Do you have any sausage?” John asked. The Innkeeper nodded and went to retrieve one from a cabinet in the corner.
“This do ya?” Owen asked. He held up a summer sausage, or perhaps a salami of sorts.
“That’s perfect!” John said. He peeled the rest of the tomatoes and put the pan containing them back on the stove. He used the spoon to mash them as they cooked and he added the garlic and herbs. “Sugar, I forgot sugar,” he said.
“Sugah’s runnin’ short. Honey do ya? We got plenty a thet still. Theah’s a fella who keeps bees jest outside town. Theah’s always more honey than sugar ’round Knollburah.”
“Honey will do just fine,” said John and when he was handed the jar he added it bit at a time and tasted the sauce as he did. Finally he gave it one last stir and handed the spoon to Owen who took a taste.
“When ya said ya wanted to show me some cookin’, I figuhed I’d be sayin’ nice things ’bout somethin’ simple. This heah’s really impressive work, John.” The Innkeeper had a wide grin on his face. “Wheah does the sausage come in? We put it in this sauce heah?”
“Marinara, the sauce is called marinara.” John had felt like he was imposing by asking for so many ingredients to make the sauce. Owen was clearly invested now so he had no reservations in asking for cheese and a slice of bread.
“Cheese is no trouble, but the bread f’ lunch ain’t cooked yet. Matter of fact, it ought t’ be goin’ inta the oven right now. Loaves are risen an’ ready to bake.”
“That’s even better!” John said with such enthusiasm that the Innkeeper found himself excited to provide a risen loaf for John to use in his dish. John missed the look of shock and regret on the other man’s face when he pulled half of the lovingly made loaf out of the pan. He started flattening and pulling at the bread.
“We need a flat pan that’s good for baking and round if you have it. Some cheese and sausage both sliced thin too.” Owen jumped to the tasks without question. He very much wanted to see where all this was going. He was slicing cheese when he glanced at John and almost cut himself as the other man tossed the flattened dough, spinning, into the air.
John eyed the provided pan and decided he could work with it. It was round and large enough but deeper than he’d expected. “Can you spread a bit of oil in the pan?” he asked.
“Sure ’bout all this, John?” Owen asked.
“It’s worth it, trust me.” Once the pan was prepared John laid the dough out in it. Then he spread sauce over the dough in a generous layer. Next he added the slices of cheese and topped them with slices of sausage. He looked over his work with a smile on his face and slid the pan into the oven. “Now we wait,” he said.
“This had betteh be good,” said the Innkeeper. “Lunch will be late today, the bread can’t go in till yar… what’d ya call thet thing again?”
“Pizza,” said John.
“Pizza,” Owen repeated the unfamiliar word, “the bread can’t be baked until yar pizza’s finished up theah.” As the smell of baking pizza filled the kitchen John could see anticipation settle over the Innkeeper. Finally it was time to remove the baked pie from the oven. Owen looked it over and said, “Awright, this mighta been worth the trouble.”
A few moments later both men held a plate with a slice of pizza on it. “Be careful,” warned John, “it’s going to be very hot.”
Owen took a careful bite from the tip of a slice and his eyes rolled up in bliss. “Ayuh, this is lunch right heah,” he proclaimed. “Mind givin’ me a hand with it?”
“I’d be happy to,” John said.
Tannyah came into the kitchen following the wonderful smell and eyed the creation on the counter. “Tanny! Come on, ya got to taste this!” said Owen. “This man’s a dang treasuhe, plain an’ simple.”
The Barmaid took the plate her father offered her and bit into the slice of pizza it held. Her reaction was identical to Owen’s. Her eyes rolled up and she chewed in bliss. The pizza was an instant hit. “Can ya put some vegetables on this too?” she asked John.
“You can put anything on it you want.” replied the Warrior.
By the time the first pizza was delivered to the table, Mayor Huewen had joined Joy and the hunting party. Everyone was surprised to see a new dish being served. Owen Jacobs was a good cook but his repertoire was limited and ‘new’ was not in it. They all stared at the greasy crisped sausage atop the sparsely browned cheese. The compelling smell washed over them and Joy inhaled deeply. Gregory slid a piece onto his plate with a smile creeping over his face. He took a bite and immediately slid a second piece on his plate. The pizza vanished in record time, Mayor Huewen barely got a piece as the younger people at the table staked slices onto their plates. For a while the only sound at the table was a chorus of appreciative eating sounds.
“Oh my,” said the Mayor, “thet’s excellent, really excellent. Wondeh wheah Owen came up with the idea f’ this fine creation.”
“John, I bet ya,” said Joy.
Sebastian nodded. “Ayuh, I think ya’re right theah, Joy. Man comes to town one day, next day we got new grub on the plate. Odd fella an’ odd food too. Most likely somethin’ he brought from back home.”
“Odd food or not, I’d eat more of thet. Wheah do ya figuhe his home place is cousin?” asked Timmon.
“I don’t know, Tim. Raif says when he got heah he told Jeffrey he came from the south. Thet’s true ‘nough. The road he came in on comes from thet way. ‘South’ ain’t a place though.”
“Ayuh, an’ last night he didn’t give Tim no straight answeh when he asked wheah he came from,” said Gregory.
“Didn’t give me an answeh,” Timmon corrected Gregory.
“No he didn’t, Tim,” said the Tracker.
“He gave an answeh,” said Mayor Srives.
“Ayuh, it wasn’t a straight answer at all though,” Joy said, “an’ today when I asked ’bout wheah he was from, he took thet dog out to the yahd. Didn’t show up again.”
“John’s givin’ my dad a hand in the kitchen,” said Tannyah as she collected the empty platter the pizza had been served on.
“See now? I was right,” said Joy, “John did show Uncle Owen thet new dish. Ya owe me a pint, Tim.”
“I neveh bet ya!” the Packer said, shocked.
“But I said ‘I bet’ an’ I was right.”
“Theah’s no wageh between us, Joy.” Timmon protested.
“Ale would go really good with this new dish,” said Mayor Huewen. “It’s a shame this is lunch an’ not suppah.”
“Pizza,” said Tannyah, “John says it’s called pizza.”
“Peculiah,” said Sebastian.
“What are ya chargin’ f’ anotheh, Tanny?” asked Gregory.
“Depends on what ya want on it.”
“We could have somethin’ otheh than cheese an’ sausage?” asked the Tracker
“It’s five dukes f’ a pizza with jest sauce an’ cheese, an’ five earls f’ each… what did John call them? …toppin’s? Ayuh, toppin’s. Sausage, mushrooms, anythin’ like thet ya add is five earls more f’ each one.”
“What can we add to it?” asked Gregory, entranced.
“Whateveh ya like. Ya folk talk it oveh an’ I’ll swing back by to see what ya want on the next one. If yar wantin’ anotheh of course.”
“We’re wantin’ anotheh,” Gregory said definitively.
Blood trailed across the throne room and pooled under the throne that held the hobgoblin King. He was pale and his lips were tinged a greyish hue. The corpse of a hobgoblin guard with a knife in the base of his skull lay in front of the door to the right of the King and his throne. Through that door were his private chambers and his harem. He’d thrown the knife that killed the guard with the last real bit of strength he had.
After the foul man had forced him to kill his Cook and wounded him with the terrible thunder he held in his hand the King had gone looking for more guards. He found a patrol not far from the tables room and he returned with them to kill the man and the dog but they were gone. They had even stolen the body of his Cook. It was his and they had stolen it!
The patrol escorted him back to the throne room and helped him on to his throne. The three goblins who had brought him news of the missing rats early that day followed them. He realized that the man and his dog must have come from the walled town beyond the farms that his tribe had raided in the winter. He told the patrol to collect a force of goblins and go after the man and the dog and to drag them back, alive. The King would eat the man’s dog in front of him and then eat him alive, screaming. Ragglenash then sent the three goblins to find his Healer.
The Healer had slowed his bleeding but could not stop it. She tried many of her cures. Poultices and tinctures failed. Stuffing the wound with strips of cloth dampened with a foul smelling brew seemed like it worked at first. It hurt horrifically and he’d threatened to kill the Healer. He moved to do so and blacked out. When he came back around he saw that drops of blood had started to run down his side right through the linen. The Healer was gone and the goblins who had gotten her said she was getting more medicine. She had never come back.
When the patrol he’d sent after the man and his dog did not return he devised another plan. A plan to get the intruder and infiltrate the tall walls of the humans’ fortified town. The humans sent hunting parties into the forest during the day. A patrol of hobgoblins would take one of those parties hostage and use them to force the humans to turn over the man. When they opened the gates to send him out a large force of goblins would rush in. They would destroy the locks that secured the gates. The town would fall and everything in those tall walls would be the spoils of the Stone Halls tribe.
He waited for the man to be brought to him. In time, the next shift of throne room guards had come on duty. They guarded the door and stole glances at him. As their ruler’s condition worsened they began to plot against him. They argued about who among them would be the next King. Finally one of them had strode boldly toward the door to Ragglenash’s private quarters intent upon taking what was beyond it for his own. The King had killed the traitorous hobgoblin with an expertly thrown knife and the other guards had ceased their bickering. The show of force brought them back under control.
Without a leader a goblin tribe was a chaotic mob that rarely reached more than a few dozen members. Tribes would often mix then separate after new children were conceived. Occasionally a hobgoblin would rise and bring together a few tribes then rule over them. Ragglenash had gathered many, many tribes. He’d established the breeding pits in the tribe’s original cave home. Access to them was restricted by the King. Only privileged hobgoblins were allowed to use them and so his subordinates competed for his favor. Then the migration to their current home came. What started in tragedy and loss became a true windfall. The game in the surrounding forest and the plentiful rats coupled with the safety of this place allowed their numbers to swell.
Movement to his right caught his attention and, with great effort, he turned his head and looked to the door with the dead hobgoblin in front of it. The rest of the hobgoblins who had been guarding the door to the throne room were entering his private chambers. The screams from beyond that door were the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness.
A joint of pain brought him to a halflife of wakefulness. Three goblins had climbed into his lap. They were stabbing him over and over again. Two groups of hobgoblins were brutally fighting in the throne room. Many green bodies lay in pools of blood on the ground. Several of them were once members of his harem. His head lolled forward. He could no longer lift it. He could no longer feel the stabbing knives of the goblins. One of them saw him looking down at them and jammed his knife into the King’s throat.
John walked down a cobblestone street enjoying the early afternoon sun. A guardsman with long blonde hair walked on his right and another with long dark hair walked on his left. Dingo Boy trotted behind them and a shrunken down, astrally projected Nath-esh rode on his back. The Angelic Shard thought it would take some convincing to get the dog to let him ride but it was relatively easy. All he had to do was point out how regal and majestic horses were and expound on what a shame it was that dogs were too small to carry a rider. He was having a great time! He spread out his wings and imagined how they would feel if they could fill with air as the dog trotted along. Then it happened. He felt the slighted pressure build in them. He’d been assuming that he couldn’t interact with the world around him, that he was a spirit in the material world, that his anchor and the ammo he reloaded was the only bit of matter he could touch. He considered the times he’d walked along next to John and realized that the ground supported him, he didn’t fall through it. Even riding on Dingo Boy’s back required him to interact with the dog or his harness at least. He’d been touching things all along and never even noticed. With his wings still spread he simply took it for granted that they would catch the air and he was tugged right off the back of the Heeler. He stood in shock in the middle of the road. He looked around for something to try to pick up and found a small rock at his feet. He focused and tried to pick it up but his hand passed right through it. He tried again and, instead of thinking about picking up the rock he simply expected to be able to. It worked! He had the little stone in his hand! At that moment John took a step beyond Nath-esh’s astral projection range and he dematerialized, returning to his anchor. The small rock dropped to the ground.
“Why do you want me to learn to fight with a sword? You know I have a gun right?” John asked Raif.
“Thet what ya call yar weapon, is it?” asked Griffon.
“A gun is the kind of weapon he is, I call him something else.”
“He?” asked Raif.
“Yeah,” said John, a little embarrassed.
Griffon drew his sword, “This heah’s Kiera!” he said. “She’s a real beauty ain’t she? Kinda strange thinkin’ of a weapon as male, ain’t it?”
“Kinda strange namin’ a weapon at all, let alone figuhen’ it’s male or female like thet,” Raif said.
Griffon ignored him and asked, “What’s his name, yar…”
“Gun,” provided John.
“yar gun, what’s his name?”
“I call him Nash,” said John.
“I got an Uncle Nash,” said Raif. “He lives oveh theah in Fenburah.”
“Fenburah?” asked John, “Where’s that?”
“Go out the north gate, follow the road a few days, an’ ya’re theah.” said Griffon.
“Knollburah, Fenburah, are the towns related somehow?”
“Only in thet they’re towns,” Raif smiled, “Burah jest means town. Knollburah’s ‘Hill Town’, Fenburah’s ‘Mahsh Town’. Fenburah sits right in some really wet lands theah.”
“Is their main export mosquitos?” asked John.
“Ayuh, might as well be!” Raif laughed and clapped John on the back.
They passed a butcher’s shop and, on the next block, there was a tailor’s shop. Next came a candy shop and across the street from it was a bakery. Beside many homes John noticed small chicken coups and it was common to see the birds walking about town. Dingo Boy side-eyed some of them but didn’t chase them. “There’s a lot of chickens, everyone seems to have a coup next to their house,” he said.
“Thet’s the Mayah’s notion,” said Griffon. “When the fahms got hit we lost a heap of animals. In the days afteh, us gahds were sent out to round up what we could. Jest ‘bout all we were able to bring back was chickens. The Mayah called a big town meetin’ an’ talked everybody inta keepin’ an’ raise them.”
Raif added, “He got folk plantin’ vegetable an’ herb gahdens out back of their houses an’ shops too.”
“That was smart.” said John.
“Ayuh, be in a much worse fix without Mayah Huewen Srives, thet’s f’ sure,” said Raif. “Nearly every buildin’ ’round heah has a gahden behind it ‘xcept our headquartehs. Need a spot for trainin’, don’t we? Speakin’ o’ thet, heah we are.”
They were in front of a large two story building. The sign above the door read ‘Town Guard’. Griffon opened the door and Dingo Boy trotted in ahead of everyone.
The main room of the town guard headquarters smelled like metal, leather, and oil. There were a few oval tables and Dingo Boy could smell a kitchen through a door to the right. There were a few men and a woman sitting at the tables in the room. They all looked surprised to see him in their midst. The surprised looks quickly changed to smiles and offers to pet him. He made the rounds and smelled everyone. John, Raif, and Griffon followed him into the room and Raif started introducing John to the other guards.
“This heah’s Turin,” said Raif and the man stood up and came over to shake John’s hand.
“Turin Herm,” said the blonde haired man as they shook hands. He was strong but skinny and reminded John of someone.
“John Lawson,” said John.
The other three guards in the room stood and came over to meet the Warrior. A woman about John’s height with red curly hair and green eyes shook his hand next and said, “Tianna heah.”
“John,” he said, “you wouldn’t happen to have a daughter named Joy?”
“She’s my sisteh Raylynn’s,” Tianna said. “Tannyah’s mine. Mine an’ Owen’s, of course.”
“Mrs. Jacobs then?” he asked.
“Ayuh, thet’s me.”
“I see where she gets it,” John said with a grin.
“Get’s what John?” she asked with a searching look in her eyes.
“You know she killed a goblin with a gate crank today, don’t you?”
“She what?!?!”
“Know ’bout the trouble at the gates today?” asked Griffon.
“Ayuh, hobgoblins an’ goblins an’ the huntin’ boys captuhed. What’s thet business got to do with my Tannyah??”
“Well now,” said Griffon, “she came down t’ the south gates with Joy theah. When the gates swung open an’ them goblins come runnin’, them two grabbed the cranks right outta the spools an’ commenced t’ swingin’.”
The Guardswoman looked proud and angry in equal parts. “When were ya gonna tell me ‘bout thet, Raif?” she asked.
“Wasn’t plannin’ to. Figuhed Owen or Tannyah herself could take care of thet part.”
“When I see that girl!” Tianna left the threat undefined.
Another guard stepped forward and reached out for John’s hand, “Name’s Srives, Robin Srives. Ayuh, the Mayah’s my dad,” he said as they shook.
“John, but I suppose you heard. Nice to meet you.”
The last guard in the room stepped up and said, “So ya’re the man with thundeh in yar hand, eh? Name’s Jeffery Effron. Was up on the wall when ya come t’ town last night. Good t’ meet ya propehly. Mind steppin’ out inta the trainin’ yahd an’ showin’ us thet weapon of yars?”
“Nash,” said Griffon, “He’s called Nash and he’s a… he.”
“Oh Gorry! Not anotheh one namin’ his swohd… thet ain’t a swohd now, is it?” asked Tianna.
“It’s a gun,” said Griffon.
The training yard was divided into two distinct areas. On one side was an archery range and on the other was a wide open space. John and the guards went to the side with the archery range. The firing line and the targets were about a hundred and fifty feet apart. That was a very long shot with a revolver. About double the distance John usually shot at when training.
“What’s on the other side of the targets?” he asked.
“Back of the targets theah is cleah. No need t’ worry, arruhs don’t punch through. Them tahgets got a tight weave. They’re really solid. We keep the ground cleah oveh theah anyhow, jest so if someone shoots wide theah’s no trouble.” said Jeffery, directing the last part at Griffon.
“Just to be safe, can we put five hay bales behind the target? A buddy of mine has a range on his property and five bales is what he uses as a backstop for his hunting rifles. I’m sure five will be enough to stop a bullet from my gun.”
“Five!” said Turin, “ya’re braggin’ f’ sure, John.”
“Don’t believe it? Ya can be the one stackin’ the bales, Turin. Seen thet weapon work an’ if John says five bales, we stack five bales, ayuh,” said Raif.
“I’ll give you a hand,” John offered.
The two men walked off to stack the hay bales behind the target and Dingo Boy walked into the midst of the guards. He sat down at Tianna’s feet and stared up at her. She looked down at him, then looked away. Under his piercing stare she looked back at him. “Well, what is it ya want?” she asked, then smiled despite herself. He bent around, reached into his pouch, and came back with his red ball. He tossed his head and threw it up to her. The Guardswoman had very good reflexes and she caught it handily. “Thet was a dandy! Owen said ya’re a shahp one. Want me t’ chuck this f’ ya?” He locked onto it with ‘Ball is Life’ focus and barked. She launched it into the clearing next to the archery range. The Heeler raced after it and the game of fetch had officially begun.
A little while later John was back on the firing line. He drew Nath-esh and everyone wanted to take a look. He opened the cylinder, removed the rounds, and closed it again. Then handed it to each guard in turn. No one dared to pull the trigger or cock the hammer. When they were done looking he held up a round and said, “This is a round of ammunition. The top part fires from the gun and the bottom part stays behind to be reloaded.”
“Wait jest a minute. It loads itself?!?” asked Jeffery.
“This is a very special gun.” replied John.
“You’ll make me blush!” Nath-esh said in his head.
He reloaded the rounds into the cylinder, closed it, aimed down range at the target, and pulled the trigger. The ‘boom’ of the gunshot echoed off the building behind them and rolled through the open space. It made everyone jump. When John looked around at them he saw that they were all doing some variation of putting a finger in an ear, shaking a head, working a jaw, or pulling at an earlobe. His ears rang briefly but his accelerated healing cleared them up very quickly.
“Wheah’d ya hit?” asked Griffon far too loudly.
“I’m not sure,” said John. He started walking toward the target and everyone followed him. When they reached it he saw a hole in the woven straw that was slightly different from the arrow holes around it. He checked the back of the target and saw that the straw was shredded where the round had passed through. He’d missed the center and hit low and to the left by a handspan.
“I can do betteh than thet with a bow,” said Griffon.
“No ya can’t!” said Tianna flatly, “but I can.”
“Why did I miss?” John thought to Nath-esh.
“Did you activate your Marksman skill?
“Haven’t I been doing that this whole time?” John asked, perplexed.
“I don’t know. Has shooting felt different than it did before you died?” the gun asked.
“Nope. Same as always.”
“You haven’t been using your skill,” Nath-esh said definitively.
“I think I know the problem,” John said to the guards.
“Is it the same problem Griffon runs inta when he tries t’ hit the mahk?” asked Tianna. Griffon shook his head and shot her a put upon look.
They returned to the firing line and the guards plugged their ears with their fingers. John drew his revolver and aimed. He thought about how he activated his Alchemical Naturopath skill. Didn’t it just happen? He didn’t trigger it, or did he? The moment before the flood of information hit him that first time he had felt something. There was some inner switch he flipped each time he used the skill. As he was aiming he searched his consciousness for a similar inner switch, one that was associated with the process of aiming. He found something, something that hadn’t been there before. He pushed at it and everything subtly changed. The world seemed to slow. A slight tunnel vision formed between him and the target. He squeezed the trigger. The revolver’s report echoed off of the walls behind them again and rolled through the open space. John knew, without a doubt, that he had hit the target right in the center. A chime, deeper than any he’d heard before, rang out.
They all walked down the range as a group. When they reached the target they found a bullet hole right in the center of it. Several hands clapped his back. He felt very good. That was a seriously respectable shot considering the distance and the firearm he’d used to make it.
He crouched down and said, “Hey Dingo Boy.” The Cattle Dog trotted over and he reached into one of the pouches attached to the dog’s harness. His hand came out empty. He tried the other one and found what he was looking for. He withdrew a single, not quite ripe, blackberry.
“Gonna try t’ hit thet?” asked Robin.
“I’m not going to try, I’m going to hit it for sure.” John said with complete confidence. “In fact, I’ll bet a round at the Wolf’s Head that I do.”
“From who?” asked Tianna, intrigued.
“Whoever takes me up on the bet,” he said smiling.
“Done!” they all said, some in chorus and some lagging just behind the rest.
John placed the unripe, red blackberry in the bullet hole in the center of the target and walked back to the firing line. They followed him with a new level of energy and excitement among them. It was contagious and John couldn’t help but wear a wide grin as he took aim. He activated his Marksman skill and the hyper focus settled over him. The gun barked, and he knew, with complete confidence, that he’d hit the berry. He holstered Nath-esh and before his ears stopped ringing Griffon was trotting down range to check the target.
“By Gorry, he hit it!” The Guardsman called back to them. Good-natured groans erupted all around John but they were followed by another round of back claps. Griffon trotted back to them wearing a big smile. “I told ya Turin, he’s a wondeh.”
“Maybe his luck is a wondeh, Griff. Thought of thet?” asked Turin.
“You got a coin on you, Turin?” John asked.
“I do.”
“Flip it as far as you can toward the target.”
“All I got with me is a prince! What if it goes missin’ in the grass!” he protested.
“I got a baron heah, ayuh.” Jeffery offered, then handed a coin to Turin. It was made of copper and was about the size of a nickel.
“Flip it towahd the tahget now?” Turin asked.
“Give me a second,” said John. He settled his balance and held the revolver with a slightly cocked arm, pointing at the sky. He took a deep breath and said, “Now.” The coin flipped through the air and he extended his arm, tracking it. As it started to descend in line with the target he activated his skill. Hyper focus extended his senses. The flipping slowed and John could see detail in the coin as it rotated, moving away from him. He aimed at it and when it was even with the target he fired. Thunder rolled and the coin shot away from them.
“Hey Dingo Boy, go find it?” John said to the dog. He trotted down range and they all followed him. After a moment of sniffing he stopped on a spot. He sniffed the ground there a couple more times and barked, then backed away watching expectantly. Griffon knelt down and picked up the small coin. With a low whistle he held it up. Dead center in the middle of it was a clean hole.
Tianna headed off to the Wolf’s Head Inn. Robin left for the north gate, Turin, and Jeffrey for the south gate, they had duty. John stood in the practice yard with a wooden sword in his hand.
He’d spent a lot of time in various dojos and had trained with the weapon before but he preferred open hand fighting. His natural stance was left foot forward giving him a left jab and a right cross. Like any good martial artist he could fight goofy foot but didn’t prefer it. He took the right foot forward stance that Griffon was using and they exchanged a few moderate speed strikes and blocks.
“Not the first time ya held a swohd, is it, John?” Raif asked as he watched from a small distance away.
“I’ve trained a little but it’s not my preferred weapon.” he said back.
“Let’s pick this up a mite, ayuh.” said Griffon. John nodded and the guard moved in with a flurry of strikes. He stopped the first three but the last two landed. One took him on the leg and another took him in the side. “Keep yar head cleah an’ watch my body for hints. Ya’ll see what I’m fixin’ t’ do.” The flurry of strikes came again but this time John only stopped the first two.
“Easy now, go a touch slowah, let him learn the blocks then speed up a bit, Griffon,” said Raif.
They moved through the sequence slower and John focused on learning the blocks. This was fun, he loved to spar, but they’d be heading out to Kiningdom Burruh soon. He didn’t have time to knock the dust off of old techniques as well as learn new ones. He wasn’t planning on fighting with a sword anyway. Then he remembered the rat attacking him when Nath-esh was out of ammo. He remembered the hobgoblin shattering his chest. He remembered his revolver flying from his hand outside the gates. There were times that having a back-up weapon might make the difference. Griffon’s wooden sword came down on the hand that was holding his practice sword and he dropped it with a yelp.
“Let’s try a different approach,” said John. “You two go through all of your forms while I watch.”
“Forms?” asked Griffon, “What’s thet?”
“Just go through every block and strike you know for me,” he said as he picked up the practice sword he’d dropped.
“Every single one?” asked Raif. “What good is watchin’ them gonna do? It’s in the doin’ thet a fightin’ man learns.”
“Ayuh, he’s got the right of it. Ya learn by gettin’ in theah an’ doin’,” Griffon said, resting his wooden sword on his shoulder.
“There’s something I want to try,” John told them.
“Awright, we’ll give it a go yar way if ya want, but ya gotta call off them rounds we owe ya,” said Raif, reaching out to take the wooden sword from him with a grin.
“Alright,” said John, grinning back.
The two men faced off and he searched his mind for the same kind of mental switch he’d used to activate his Marksman skill. As he focused on the Guardsmen and making their moves his own he found it. They began their first exchange and he pushed. His Mimic skill activated. The sensation that followed was familiar. He associated it with many moments of epiphanic learning he’d had in his life. Breaking the code that made algebraic equations easy to rearrange. Realising that any food with sugar in it could be carmelized. Discovering that questions are more complimentary than compliments to most people. It was a warm, drifty feeling. As he watched the guards run through every block and strike, repose, faint, and foil he felt that drifty feeling. When they were done he deactivated his skill and the sensation ended.
“Okay. I’m ready, let’s give this another shot.” he told Griffon. They took up their positions again and the guard launched into the same flurry of attacks as before. This time John blocked every single one. He had perfect muscle memory. He didn’t have to think to know what to do next, his body virtually moved of its own accord. It was as if he’d spent a thousand hours practicing the blocks he was using.
Raif watched with raised eyebrows. “Ain’t funnin’ us now, are ya John?” he asked.
“I’m not. Everyone learns differently and this is just one of the best ways I can learn,” he said truthfully.
“Awright, show us what ya picked up then,” Griffon said. He came at John and every attack was met with a block. “Good, now ya go on the attack theah,” Griffon invited.
John ran through his new knowledge pressing the attack on the guard. Griffon was able to keep up and blocked every incoming blow. When they were done John stepped back and bowed to the Guardsman. Griffon returned the bow awkwardly, then gave a slight shrug to Raif.
“Mind if I give it a go?” Raif asked.
“Sure,” said John. “Want to make it interesting?”
“What do ya have in mind, John?”
“If I can land a blow on you then both you and Griffon owe me those rounds again.”
“Awright,” said Raif, “but if I land a hit on ya, then I get t’ try thet gun of yars.”
“Agreed,” John said, smiling fiendishly.
Both Griffon and Nath-esh said, “Hey!” at the same time.
The exchange between John and Raif was very different from the training John and Griffon had done. This was an open spar and they were moving at their top speeds. Every blow was met with a block, the ‘clacking’ of the practice swords was constant, almost frantic. Sweat began to drip down John’s back. He was every bit as fast as Raif but the Guardsman was stronger and he had better endurance. John was wearing out. Just after blocking a flurry of blows from Raif he countered with the right-handed attacks of Heaven Six Sinawali. The unfamiliar kali stick fighting technique broke Raif’s defense and he took a blow to the ribs.
“I’m sorry!” John said immediately.
“Naw, naw, it’s fine, real good moves ya pulled,” said Raif, holding his side. The blow had stung but didn’t do any lasting damage. “What was thet?”
“It was part of Heaven Six Sinawali. It’s usually done with a fighting stick in each hand. That was the right hand portion.”
“Fightin’ sticks?” asked Griffon.
“Yeah, they’re like short staffs about this long,” he held his hands about two and half feet apart.
“Mind showin’ us how thet goes with a pair a swohds heah” asked Raif.
John took Raif’s wooden sword in his left hand and ran through the full drill armed with both practice weapons. He alternated between chamber and flow. Griffon let out a low whistle and Dingo Boy barked. At the insistence of both men John taught them the technique.
“Ayuh, ya’ve earned them pints an’ then some,” said Griffon, clapping the Warrior on the back and shaking his hand.
When John and Dingo Boy entered the Wolf’s Head Inn it was late afternoon. The common room was empty save for Tannyah who was sweeping the floors. The Heeler walked over and sniffed at the pile she had swept up. He let out a great sneeze followed by two smaller ones. “Scat! Get outta theah! Get outta my sweepin’s. Got kids runnin’ ’round the back yahd. Go play with them. Go on now.” she said to him. He licked her shin a couple of times to apologize then headed for the backdoor. She followed and let him out.
The promised children were there playing a game with a large ball. It was too big for a proper game of fetch. He sat and watched them. They had two upturned buckets at one end of the yard. A pack of them tried to get the ball through the space between those buckets while it was being guarded by two boys. It was a new game and they were calling it ‘Goblins at the Gates’. The ‘guards’ were the two largest children in the yard and the rest of them, some just out of their toddling years, were the goblins. Hands were not allowed and occasionally a careless kick set one of the kids to tears but the crying was short lived.
“Easy theah, William! Charles is jest a little fella!” called an older girl.
“Sorry ’bout thet, Daisy. Didn’t mean t’, honest,” said a boy the Heeler guessed was William.
He watched the game for a little while resisting his herding instinct until he just couldn’t resist it anymore. He shot into the frenzied pack and came out nosing the ball along at breakneck speed. When he emerged from the shocked and laughing children he realized he was on the wrong side of the yard, heading away from the ‘gates’. He nosed the ball in a wide arc, slowing as he did, and the pack of children gained on him.
“Wolf! Wolf has the ball!” yelled a younger girl and the rest of the pack took up the call of, “Wolf! Wolf!”
He got oriented on the goal and raced across the yard. The two ‘guards’ at the ‘gates’ readied themselves to thwart him. He gave the ball a quick set of nudges and avoided their attempts to kick it away. The ball rolled through the ‘gates’ and there was laughing and cheering. The game went on for a long while with occasional breaks for the children to pet and scratch him.