Chapter 7: At the Meeting of Two Rivers

Even from this distance, the pounding of water-powered hammers could be heard echoing across the river, managing to make itself known even over the rapids. Despite being so far from the nearest city Harport was one of the Empire’s key strongholds, with the confluence of two mighty rivers powering numerous forges and smithies. Its proximity to the vast mountain range provided raw ore and fuel, and what it turned out included swords, spears, arrowheads, and even fire-locks. It was, as Clara had recommended, the ideal place to buy a weapon. That is, if I actually needed one.

I had made fair progress on transcribing the grimoire, learning spells related to fire and as well as water. I wasn’t able to test it out, since unlike the water spell it would not likely go unnoticed. But I felt I had a grasp on it and may eventually be able to use it on-command. I had to break from working on the spell-book for lunch and dinner. Since we were between towns that night, we moored along the canal side, with the mule tied to a tree. Clara and the boatmen took turns keeping watch, as having the mule get eaten by wolves or stolen by bandits would be a disaster.

I didn’t to any transcription the following morning. We were close enough to the town that by the time I got into the rhythm of the task we would have already arrived. So instead I drank my coffee, listening to the sounds of the hammers slowly get louder as the mule plodded along the towpath, bringing the boat towards the first major stop of the trip.

The boat was carrying iron, big metal pigs of it up from a coastal furnace. While much of the cargo was intended for the end destination of Alliand, about two tons of the cargo was intended for a client here, a finery forge specializing in wrought iron. As the unloading and transport would take a while, it would be the perfect time for me and Clara to shop for a weapon.

Eventually, a shout rang out outside the boat’s cabin, and the canal boat stopped. Putting down my tin cup, I grabbed my pack and stepped out on to the deck. Even if I was just going shopping, Clara had told me yesterday at dinner, it was always a good idea to bring your gear as you never knew what might happen. And it helped build muscle as well, she also said. Better to improve my physical shape now, rather than in the wilderness.

I blinked, momentarily blinded by the sunlight. Above the boat towered a massive cliff, looming over the meeting of the two rivers. An ancient bridge, with heavy stone piers, crossed over the river to the town proper, which extended up the mountain side. Smoke billowed from workshops, fueled by south-bond canal boats bringing firewood and coal from the west. All around, there were mountains which, despite the town’s insatiable need for firewood, were forested with the reds, oranges and browns of autumn.

I approached Clara, who was talking with the boat captain. I had gotten a bit more used to her since the first night we met, to the point where I could talk with her even without the help of whiskey. At least, I could somewhat. Things are never that simple.

“Ah, lass, Clara here was just telling me you’re going shopping for a weapon.” I nodded, and he laughed.

“Still shy, I see. We’ll get you talking soon enough.”

“Now, Steven, don’t pressure her. She’ll get used to you in her own time.” Clara meanwhile was already on a first name basis with the captain.

“Aye, aye. With you taking her under your wing, I’m sure she will.” Despite me being right there, they continued to talk about me. It was rather embarrassing, and I struggled not to immediately throw my hood over my head. The air was crisp, but it wasn’t chilly enough to justify burying my face deep in the wool of my cloak. My best way towards survival was to not act like I had something to hide.

“Well, lass, as I told Clara earlier, you should try visiting the Jones’ Smithy. Tell them Captain Clark sent ya, and I’m sure he’ll hook you up.” I jumped down onto the canal’s shore, following after Clara. The captain waved farewell. We waved back.

Despite everything that had happened, and despite my own issues with normal interaction, I lucked on on the people I met since fleeing. Even though I was clearly fleeing something, the captain offered me passage, and seemed to be doing his best to look out for me in his own way. And Clara… Well, she was nosy. Very nosy. But she was also helping to show me the ropes on exploration. In many ways she was my opposite, but even so she still was showing me kindness I didn’t feel I deserved.

The town itself was noisy, with the sounds of hammers mingling with people shouting, horses trotting, and wagon wheels rolling over the cobblestones of the street. It was crowded, and despite being used to the crowded streets of my home city of Cambian it was all the more terrifying facing it head-on rather than with my face comfortably hidden away from the prying, judging eyes of the populace.

Except they weren’t judging. Most didn’t even give me a second glance. I had noticed it in the last town as well, but walking around without people looking in horror was weirdly satisfying. Not satisfying enough to overcome the fear of interacting with them, but it was a start.

“Let’s grab lunch first.” Clara pulled me out of my revery. She dragged me to a pub, and ordered a hearty stew for the both of us. I, of course, also ordered a whiskey. We were going to buy something, and facing that head-on so soon after the last shopping trip was asking too much of me.

The meal finished, we soon located the smithy the captain mentioned. It was near the bank of the south river, and a mill-race ran behind the line of workshops placed on this flat section of land. The shops risked flooding in high-water, but I suppose that was the price to pay for convenient power. Clara knocked on the door.

“Is this the Jones’ Forge? Captain Clark said this would be a good place to pick up a weapon for my friend here.” She called me a friend? I didn’t know how to react to that. We did take out two thieves, but is that all it takes to make a friend?

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Came the muffled shout from the interior of the shop. The door swung open. “My, two pretty things like you asking after weapons? Well, you do look like you know how to use one.” His eyes darted down to the sheath peaking out from beneath her cloak. “Her, though… Well, I’ve got something for everyone. Come in.”

We followed him into what appeared to be a showroom. Knives, swords and daggers hung from pegs on the wall, and racks in the middle of the floor held all manner of pole-arms. He first went to one of the walls.

“You don’t have a knife, do you?” He asked. I began to stutter, before reaching for my hip and pulling out a flask. I took a quick shot of it before answering.

“I-i have a penknife.”

“Not something like that, I mean a proper knife.”

“N-no.”

“Well then.” He turned from me. “Miss…”

“Clara.”

“Miss Clara. If you don’t mind me asking, what situations do the two of you imagine her using a weapon for?” A fair question.

“Despite the impression she gives off, she’s a researcher who’s interested in finding lost texts in the wilderness. Yes, she needs a knife, but she also needs something with a bit more reach.” She looked at the racks of spears and halberds.

“Reach, huh? Well, we should get the knife sorted out first.” He looked at the selection on his wall, before grabbing one and pulling it out of the sheath.

“Here, it’s one of my most popular models. Single-edged, and useful for all sorts of tasks in the wilderness. That said, the clipped point helps if you need to use it more offensively. Or defensively. The guard should be useful for that. It may not be at outwardly fancy as the sort of thing you might be used to, but it’s made from good steel. I stake my reputation on it. Now, that’s your side-arm done, time for the main attraction.”

He wandered the racks, finally stopping and grabbing a spear. It had a long, triangular blade, sharpened on both edges. Beneath the blade was two prongs sticking out perpendicular to the long socket. At the butt end was another metallic socket with a spike.

“Now this, this is a spontoon. Do you know anything about spears?” Jones asked. I assumed his name was Jones.

“No.”

“Well, there’s a lot of different kinds of spears. Everything from lances to a hunters boar-spear. This, not to put down my own work, is in a way like a fancy boar spear, except it’s not technically meant for game. I actually make these for the military. Foot-soldier officers and Sergeants carry these. They’re a bit fancier, and a bit shorter, than the common foot-soldiers pole-arm.” He handed it over to me. It was a bit over half a foot taller than me, and heavier than I initially though. I loved it.

“Well, she seems pleased. Now, the payment…” He spoke to Clara.

“I-I’ll pay.” I pulled out my purse to settle the bill, pun not intended, and moments later was walking down the street with Lara and my shiny new weapons. I felt happier than I though I would upon fleeing my hometown. But something soon brought my mood back down to size.

“Evelyn!” I hear someone shout. I cringed. Why would someone ruin such a good day by calling out to me.

“Evelyn!” They called again, and I cringed further, fighting the urge to throw my hood over my head. Someone having to call out to me in public. Then it hit me. They were calling out to me, using not the new name I adopted, but the one I had left behind with what little reputation I had and my noble family. The name on the wanted posters.

“Evelyn you disgusting witch, face me!”

I slowly turned. There, on horseback, lance resting on his stirrup and burnished cuirass blazing in the midday sun, sat my brother.