Daxton - Episode 36
The 5th Compass | Tales of Stonehaven [1,773 words]
Daxton is the first book in the 6-book series, The 5th Compass, which takes place in Stonehaven. Released in serial form, two episodes each week on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The audio version is coming in the future for paid subscribers only. Visit the table of contents for a list of previously published and upcoming episodes.
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The blacksmith’s shop was cold and dark as they entered. Daxton and Barton huddled closer together the further inside the walked. There was a sky roof which was nearly covered completely with black smoke. Through it were tiny streams of light they used to try and see what lay ahead of them.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” Daxton asked. He stepped forwards and screamed out in pain as his knee collided with something hard and metal protruding from the ground. He took a step back and his eyes fixed upon a large bucket made of wood with a metal rim that held several dozen swords not yet affixed with handles. He giggled to himself and for Barton’s benefit who looked just about ready to turn and run out of the shop. “Shh, listen.”
As they both attempted to calm their heavy breathing, they heard in the distance a metal clanging. Every few seconds that metal clanging echoed from a distant room. From the outside the shop did not look as long as it actually was. Daxton side-stepped the barrel of sword hilts and following the sound found himself soon standing opposite a large fire pit in the center of small room. Standing over the pit, wearing a large black apron and gloves over both of his hands was a man of considerable age. His thinning grey hair shone by the light of the fire pit which licked sparks of flames up in the air so close it looked like a stray strand would catch. In one hand, he held a mallet while the other held down a sword nestled within the flames.
Daxton and Barton continued to go unnoticed as the blacksmith brought the hammer down onto the sword with one careful strike after another. They could tell this was a difficult task and did not dare to interrupt him while he was hard at work. Instead, they slowly backed out of the room to leave him to finish his work.
“Let’s look for the bloody compass. As long as he’s hammering how can he stop us if we see it and make a run for it?” Barton suggested. To his own surprise, Daxton agreed with his best friend’s plan. There was something about the way the blacksmith was deep in concentration hammering life into the sword that made him feel uneasy, with a sudden urge to leave this place.
They walked back towards the entrance, listening for the sound of the metal clanging as they searched. Their eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness now and they split up to cover more ground faster. Barton kept bumping into things as he searched, and Daxton tried fruitlessly to silence him until he saw it. The compass hung from a hook nailed into the wall not a few feet in front of him. His eyes scanned the area around him as he waved his arms about to get Barton’s attention. It looked to be hanging just behind a makeshift counter, probably where the blacksmith attended to any customers, although Daxton doubted anyone came into this scary place. Even in the morning with the sun full up in the sky this shop was much too dark for anyone to see clearly.
Barton came up behind Daxton, startling him. “Well, go on and get it.” Daxton walked up to it and knew instantly it was much too high for even him to reach and he stood more than six feet in height. He looked over at Barton but remembered he was nearly a foot shorter. “Hold on,” he said, crouching down to look for something to stand on. “Ah!” he shouted much too loudly as he reached for a stool located under the counter. It was heavier than it looked, and he found it rather difficult to lift so he had to drag it across the floor. Each time he pulled it made an awful sound that nearly stopped Daxton’s heart. Once it was in place, he took one step on the stool then stopped. “What are you waiting for, hurry up already?”
“Listen, do you hear the hammering anymore?” Barton cocked his head to the side as he listened closely into the silence and realized his friend was right. The hammering had ceased but for how long? They were so busy trying to find the compass and once they did, a way to get it down, that they forgot to listen for the sound of the blacksmith. Daxton removed his foot from the stool. “Let’s get out of here.”
Barton turned to leave when he saw the glow of a torch light levitating before him. He knew that was not right and stopped where he was, Daxton bumping into him. The light then backed away from them until it revealed the face of the blacksmith, grimacing at them.
“Who are you two? What do you want?” They backed away from him and were thankful to discover the counter was free standing, giving them a means to get around it at the other end. The blacksmith stayed rooted where he was, only moving the light he held in his hand to follow the direction they moved in.
“We’re terribly sorry, sir. We were looking for the blacksmith. Might you be him, sir? We were told you might be looking for some assistance.” The blacksmith scoffed at Daxton’s quick response.
“Assistance? From you two? you are nothing but boys, what do you know of swordsmanship? I’ll bet you have never even killed a man or beast before?”
Barton took offense to this man suggesting they were mere children. “That is untrue, sir. My friend here has killed many a wild beast before. Tell him, Daxton.” Barton shoved his friend forwards and received a cold stare for it.
“My friend here speaks the truth, but whether we have killed before or not should not call into question our ability to learn. I am sure a master blacksmith such as yourself would find it no trouble at all to teach us?” Daxton could tell the way to this man was to appeal to his better nature and that seemed to be the art of swords.
The blacksmith took in the words of these strangers very carefully. He looked at their attire and could tell they were not accustomed to wearing such clothing by the way they carried themselves. They had no money hanging from their persons that he could see, but what interested him most was the swords they carried. They were clearly royal army issued weaponry. Did they think him foolish enough not to recognize the distinctive mark they carried upon them? It would be their folly as he spotted them quicker than he has other men who’ve crossed this threshold in the past. He smiled at them in what he considered to be a friendly manner. He knew what must be done and did not wish to let them escape from him to warn the king of his whereabouts. He had to dispose of them quickly and their pretense in looking for a job would be the way.
“You test my resolve, Daxton, is it? Well, I call your challenge and wish to take you up on it. I think I could make fairly decent makers of swords yet. Would I be so bold as to ask if two strangers in this village have found accommodations for the night?”
His sudden change of demeanor towards them scared Daxton who found it rather strange. He heard the voice of Wendynn in the back of his mind warning of the Blacksmiths paranoia and wondered if this was the first sign of an ever-present danger?
“That is kind of you to ask blacksmith—.”
“Please, call me Traix. I admit I do not have many friends here who call me anything other than blacksmith but if you are to work under me and if I am able to coax you into staying in my humble home, then I think first names are in order, do not you agree?” He turned now towards Barton who showed his fear much more openly than Daxton. He had forgotten his own name and turned to his friend for assistance.
“This here is Barton; he doesn’t look it but he’s actually a far better swordsman than me.”
“I doubt that is saying much?” Traix winked at them and although Daxton knew there was a game being played here, he thought it safer to laugh at the joke. He nudged Barton who knew not what afoot but laughed as his friend did, only with a look of terror in his eyes. “I take it this means you two will at least consider dining with my daughter and I at least tonight? I would consider it in poor taste that you may accept my tutelage and my money, but not my hospitality?”
Daxton knew he was cornered. This man would serve to be much more cunning than he had anticipated. He made the mistake of glancing over at the compass, which Traix noticed immediately. “We accept your gracious offer,” Daxton replied quickly, hoping his acceptance would distract Traix from inquiring as to his interest in the compass he kept hanging in his workshop.
“Most excellent,” he said, a grin creeping across his face as he maneuvered about his workshop igniting several torches he had along the way. Before long he had enough light shining for the entire shop to be seen. “I’ll expect you before the sun sets. Are you familiar with the place known as Reapers Walk?”
Daxton and Barton both looked as if ready to lose the meal they ate previously as the mention of Reapers Walk and they clutched their stomachs in phantom pain. “Yes, we are familiar with it.”
“Good, I see that you are. My house is just beyond it. Do not worry. If you wish to avoid having to walk through it, which would save you crossing paths with Azric’s gang, you can indeed walk around.”
“We are familiar with Azric, he will cause us no trouble. We will be there.” Daxton and Barton returned a grin to Traix before walking quickly out of the shop. Once across the street they both let out a heavy sigh of relief they were holding the entire time they spent meeting Traix, the blacksmith.
“The damn Reapers Walk. I thought we’d never have to go near that place again,” Barton complained. Suddenly, the smell of food wafting from the carts around them was making him more nauseous than hungry, as they walked past them towards the exit of the market, to find Nelle and Wendynn.