Chapter 16 – Animus

“Up, boy.”

Animus opened his eyes. His father stood over him in the twilight of the coming day. Dressed in a rustic leather set of armor, a dented helm and scabbard was tied at his belt, a small buckler strapped to his left forearm.

“Papa, what—?”

His fingers crossed his lips as he leaned closer to whisper in Animus’s ear. “Get dressed. I’ve lain out what I expect you to wear. Quiet. Quick. No questions. Not till we’re far from the town.”

Animus started to ask another question, but a low growl from his father hushed him. Why so secretive? Where are we going? But there was no asking questions, so Animus swung his legs from the bed, wiggling his toes against the cold stone floor of his room. He flexed his fingers, relieved that there was only minor aching in them. Zalarius said the soreness would last for months.

It had been two months already. Still, the soreness lingered. Yet where at first every joint in his body ached, for the last few weeks it was only his fingers. If the aches completely disappear, I’m free of Stiggler’s. For good.

It was his first week where he was permitted to sleep at home. It had become a quiet house, slept in only by him and his father, who barely spoke to Animus. If he did it was a command to do chores or to go to bed. Since Animus’s strength was slow to return, father hadn’t let him work at the smithy in the mornings, instead insisting he sleep. Which was a good thing, for Animus still felt fatigued, often sleeping from dusk until mid-day.

Always mother sent a servant to summon him to the temple. He’d study there every night, with mother or another mentor that she has summoned to the temple from some far-off town or village. Each tested him differently. Every night, he came home utterly exhausted, some nights barely able to eat before collapsing back to bed.

Animus was curious why father picked that particular morning to get him up early. And it was that curiosity that gave him an unusual burst of energy. Quickly he dressed, then followed father out of the cabin’s back door into the pre-dawn light.

In the yard two horses were saddled, heads lowered and nibbling at the thick grass. Father called his mount Fire which seemed a fitting name. It was a tall, black steed with a red and white-peppered mane. The horse always nipped at him, more than once leaving painful marks that never broke skin. That bedeviled horse hates me.

Next to Fire was a docile mare name Lilith. The horse loved everyone, letting even the smallest of children ride it. Smooth and slow, Lilith gave rides to children in the village at Festival time. Which I missed thanks to Stiggler’s Fever. Animus realized his father picked the docile horse for him. Not that I can blame him. I spend more time asleep than awake.

Father mounted, motioning Animus to do the same. With little effort Animus climbed atop the horse’s back. Animus pulled himself straight into the saddle, feeling strong. The cool morning air tingled against his exposed skin, yet felt great. Where is he taking me, I wonder?

Kas rode towards the woods just beyond the clear green field that was their back yard. Father weaved his horse onto a barely noticeable game path that wove deeper into the forest. Animus knew the path led to the family cabin. He’d been there with father many times, carrying food or wine casks or other household items back and forth. Something was different this trip. Because father wore armor. He only wears that when he’s training the older boys how to fight.

Fifteen minutes later found them on their third small game trail. Had someone been looking for their cabin and couldn’t track, they would have found it difficult. After weaving onto a fourth trail, they arrived at the cabin.

Father dismounted and went inside the cabin. Animus followed. Once inside, he felt welcomed by the familiar surroundings. The fireplace dominated the far wall, fresh wood in the hearth unlit. There was a time long ago when all four of them used to spend days at a time there. Good time. I didn’t even hate Yayisha then.

“Eat,” father said.

Animus turned his attention to the wooden table at the other end of the main room. There he found two bowls of porridge, a loaf of bread and a small mound of butter.

Kas sat at the table, motioning Animus to the opposite bench. “Sit and eat your fill. The sun may fall before we eat again.”

“Where are we going?”

“First, we eat. We’ll talk as father and son should. Afterward, I tell you. Fair enough?”

He’s speaking to me like he used to. Before Yayisha ruined my life.

His father took the bread and dipped it into the porridge, then dolloped half the butter into the bowl. With the wooden spoon he mixed it all together. He said, “Baizee’s been asking about you.”

More than asking. She’s walked me to the temple three days in a row, always asking if I will go swimming. But Animus didn’t mention that. He said, “Her father doesn’t like me.”

Father grinned. “Baizee does. She’s offered to make you breakfast or lunch before you go to the temple every day this week, you know that? Been by the smithy so often I almost put her to work.”

Animus ate two big scoops of his oatmeal, then two more, hoping to give himself time to come up with an excuse not to answer.

“Woman acting like that wants more than breakfast,” Kas said.

Animus felt himself getting warm. “I don’t like her, I—“

“Hogs balls. What’s not to like? She’s an attractive young woman. Those big—“

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

Kas shrugged, smiling “Suit yourself. So you know, there’s a leaf you’ll need to chew. Makes it near impossible for you to seed her.”

Seed? “Are you talking about…?

“Aye, boy. Sex. You’re at the age. Taller than most. Once we put muscle on you, many women will take notice. You’ll catch their eyes on you as you walk by. And if you’re working, it’s even worse. Women love to see a man working. Quickest way under a woman’s skirt.”

“Can we just eat, please?” Animus asked. “Please?”

His father laughed. “Just chew the leaf, eh? Your mother won’t appreciate any unexpected grandchildren. Not that I wouldn’t pay all the gold in the bottom of the Pearl Ocean to see her face if you….” His laugh faded and his eyes sobered. “You seed a girl, it would make her a fast enemy of your mother.”

Animus swallowed, mortified. The thought of mother’s wrath if he and Baizee… “Where is this leaf?”

“Grows wild all around Haver. I’ll show it to you on our trip. Fair enough? Won’t even ask about Baizee or any other woman, eh?”

Animus nodded. “Deal.”

They finished eating. Then they were on their way.

Father led him through several more game paths for several hours, weaving their horses into gullies, up small hills, and through streams Animus did not recognize. This is the farthest I’ve been from Haver.

After several hours, father’s horse eclipsed a tall hill and stopped, waiving Animus forward. As he pulled next to father, he gasped. Ahead of them in the valley below was a small village. Plumes of smoke wound from cottages chimneys. A brown-painted temple dominated the middle of town, a statue of some sort erected in the stone marketplace just in front of the temple.

“What is this place?” Animus asked.

“Woplin. Started as a lumberjack camp and grew. Peaceful place until the priests showed up with their petty god.” Kas pointed to the temple. “Bear worshippers. It’s the second village in these mountains to have such a temple. Whole town’s changed since that temple was built.”

“Doesn’t Leir worship the bears?”

“He did.”

“Did?”

“Died early this morning, boy. Worms burrowed out of his skull in the middle of the night.”

The thought of that terrified Animus. “How—papa I just saw him last week sitting up in bed. Sterl was visiting him. Leir was smiling, papa,” Animus said.

His father grunted. “Thought he might make it myself. But he didn’t. It’s part of why we’re here.”

A sadness enveloped Animus. Sterl’s just lost his cousin. Animus pulled himself together and asked, “Papa. Why’re we here?”

“Dalpa wanted his kin put to rest by a Bear Priest. This was the closest one. I’ve come to request the priest travel back with us.”

“Shouldn’t Dalpa have made this journey as kin to Leir?”

Kas nodded. “Your mother’s taught you well. But Dalpa requested I come in his stead. As part of our agreement.”

“I don’t understand,” Animus said.

“Dalpa blames your mother for Leir’s illness. And you and Yayisha for Sterl’s injury. He’s assured me all will be forgiven if I bring back the priest to lay Leir to rest.”

“What did mother say about that?” Animus asked.

His father took a deep breath and shrugged. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“She doesn’t know?”

Kas shook his head.

Uh-oh.¬ “Won’t she be angry?”

“Aye.”

“Did you tell her you were bringing me?” Animus asked.

“Didn’t want to get in the middle of it, did you?”

Animus shook his head.

“Too long you’ve been sheltered. Well, no longer. You’ll accompany me on all trips I take from the village. Time for you to see a bit of the world.”

That sounds great. If I didn’t know that mother will be furious. She’d made it clear his magical training with her was paramount to anything else in his life. He knew this decision by father would be yet another source of angst between his parents. He felt caught in the middle of their angry web.

Father ruffled the tangled ropes of Animus’s black hair. “I’ll handle your mother. Now, stick close, eh?”

Animus nodded.

“Animus,” Kas said.

He looked to his father, who was reaching into his saddlebag. When father’s hand emerged, it held an arming sword in a plain leather scabbard laced through a weapons belt. “Take it. It’s yours.”

My own sword? Animus reached for the blade. Once he had a grip, he gripped the pommel.

“Go ahead. Draw it.”

Animus knew little about swords. His father rarely carried one, though travelers through town wore them on their belts or across their backs. He’d hefted several in the alley of the inn, bringing laughter and recommendations from the fellows that had let him appreciate their blades. Most seemed unwieldy to him, too heavy for his smaller frame. A few he could barely hold two-handed.

He drew the blade. It’s amazing. Two feet long, it was lighter than any he’d held. Though plain looking, his time working in his father’s forge allowed him to recognize the craftsmanship. The double-edged sword lacked the nicks he’d seen on those of lesser-quality. Its handle seemed a natural fit for his hand. On the bottom of the pommel was the symbol of a split anvil.

I know that sigil. Every blacksmith alive knows it. “Papa is that…?”

“Aye. That’s a Steel-Maker blade. Near priceless in the North. Less known the farther south you go.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Wars bring booty, boy. That’s all you need to know.”

“But—.”

“Enough. Do you want the blade?”

Animus nodded. “Thank you.”

“Mother won’t be pleased. You realize this, yes?”

Animus nodded.

“Are you willing to face her ire?”

No. But he nodded again. “Yes. Will you teach me to use it?”

Kas nodded. “Once you recover your strength, I’ll see to your training several mornings a week.”

He planned this from the beginning. “I can train with the older boys?”

Kas shook his head. “First, you train with Sterl. I’ve agreed to see him trained.”

“Papa, he won’t speak to me.”

“He’ll have no choice now, will he?”

Animus shrugged. “Guess not.”

Kas reached over and clapped him on the back, then handed him a small piece of leather. “Put this over that symbol.”

Animus covered the pommel. “Thank you, Papa.”

His father nodded and whistled. Fire started down the hill on the path toward the village. Once in front of Animus, Kas drew his horse across the path. “One more thing. Keep your hand off that weapon while we're in the village, understand?”

Animus nodded. Why is he telling me that? Excited to see another village, Animus followed his father into the village.