“We were on our way to see Kovos when I realized that it has been far too long since I’ve seen you,” Sasha said brightly.
“Yes it has, and unfortunately you have caught me at a bad time. I’ve been out hunting for the last few days and am behind on work.”
“Did you get anything?” Legon asked.
“Ah… no, I didn’t but it was nice to get out,” Arkin said. Legon detected a hint of apprehension in his voice.
Arkin said abruptly, “Will you come by later this week and have tea with me? Then we could catch up.”
“We would love to,” said Sasha, and Legon piped in, “Yeah we’ll catch you in a few days… see ya, Arkin”.
They walked out of the shop with a wave and continued to Kovos’. After they had walked a bit Legon leaned over to Sasha.
“Did something seem off to you with Arkin?” She tilted her head slightly to the side.
“I don’t know. He did seem a bit preoccupied, and he was a little vague about his hunting trip.”
“Yeah, and I’ve never known him not to bring a kill in for us to butcher. That must mean he didn’t get anything, which is odd for him.” As Legon spoke he looked at the ground and his voice was soft, almost like he was talking to himself.
“Oh well. There’s Kovos,” Sasha pointed out.
They had arrived at their friend’s house. To the right of it was a stone shop with smoke belching from a flue. They both went up to the door of the shop and walked in. They were met with a wall of heat. The one-room shop was large. Brack, Kovos’ father was by the wall on the right side of the building, standing in front of a large furnace that curved up from the ground like a teardrop. There was a long pipe that rose from the furnace to the ceiling. The furnace was made of some sort of clay, but it was impossible to distinguish from the black soot that covered it. Brack was working a billow with one hand and holding a metal rod in the other. The rod was deep in the fire; red was creeping up the rod toward Brack’s glove. He was also wearing soot-black pants and what had once been a white shirt with sleeves rolled up past his elbows. As he worked the billows, sparks and flame roared out from the opening of the furnace like some monster from a children’s story.
Benches and anvils were scattered throughout the room. It was lit only by the furnace’s glow which cast the room in a sharp contrast of dark and bloody hues of red and orange. In the center of the room was Kovos. Both he and his father were wearing thick aprons made in the fashion of leather armor. They were scorched and cut in places, signs of the hot iron’s angry touch. Kovos was wearing a thick pair of gloves and pounding on a piece of red-hot iron. Each time the hammer hit, sparks flew from it in protest. Kovos and his father were amazing to watch. They brought their hammers high in the air and then down with incredible force and precision.
Sasha was having a hard time hearing over the roar of the furnace. Legon had to shout over it. “Kovos! Kovos, pay attention to me you great buffoon!”
At this Kovos looked up, made a rude hand gesture at Legon, and continued to work. Legon and Sasha laughed. “Good to see you too.”
Kovos nodded to them, telling them to wait a minute. He raised the hammer high and brought it down with force on the rod, showering the floor with sparks. Sasha noticed the muscles on his bare arms ripple when the hammer reached its target. His stocky build was made for this work. Kovos was wearing the same black pants and blackened shirt as his father. He put down the hammer and walked over to them with the rod still in his hands. “Let me give this back to dad and we can go out back.” They nodded and walked to the back of the shop.
It felt good to get out of the heat and into the alleyway behind the shop. The spring air was cool and inviting. A moment later Kovos came walking out with a large cleaver of the type Legon had used the previous day to split a cow. He wasn’t wearing the apron anymore and looked happy to be out of the shop. He handed the cleaver to Legon, who began to inspect it. “Looks good, Kovos. Thanks.”
Kovos and his father were amazing smiths, or at least they were in Legon’s opinion. He hadn’t seen much of the work of other blacksmith’s since Salmont only needed one. Kovos was not as good as his dad, but despite his insistence that he was not very good, everyone in the town trusted him with any project. Kovos was a hard worker and a perfectionist. He was also incredibly loyal. Legon knew that Kovos would stand next to him no matter what. He also knew that Kovos feared Sasha but would still defend her with his life just because she was Legon’s sister. This was not a fact lost on Sasha, and though she knew that Kovos, like most of the town, feared her, she was grateful for him. He was nice to her, and if she was on her own and saw Kovos, he would talk to her and escort her wherever she was going. Barnin had been that way too. Both Kovos and Barnin, while flawed men, had incredible character.
“No problem. Thanks for killing and butchering that deer for me. It was great.” He looked at Sasha. “Hey Sash, how are you feeling today?”
“How… how did you know I had an episode?” she asked, amazed.
“Easy. Legon didn’t come by yesterday, and he would only miss out on a new cleaver if you weren’t well.”
“Oh. Thank you, Kovos. I’m feeling fine now.” As she said this she looked at Legon and smiled inwardly. She was so grateful to have him in her life, and she was sad to think about him leaving.
Kovos looked at the buckskin tubes that Legon was holding and frowned. “I don’t think dad will let me go shooting today…,” he paused, “Unless…” Kovos shot back into the shop and came out a minute later. “Great, I’ll get my bow. You talked me into it.”
Legon laughed. There was no talking Kovos into it, but rather talking his dad into letting him leave for a few hours. Legon wondered how he did it, but when Kovos rejoined them he knew how, and his heart sank a bit. Kovos brought with him a large boy with the same black hair, though matted, who was wearing a pair of blue pants and a stained green shirt. Keither.
Keither also had on a look of annoyance. The two brothers couldn’t have been more different. Kovos was short and stocky and Keither tall and rather large. Kovos was leading, or more like pulling, Keither from the house. It looked like someone trying to pull a dog away from chasing a deer or a small child from his favorite toy. When they came out Kovos had two bows; one was his combat bow and the other Keither’s hunting bow. Keither didn’t have a combat bow. His family wouldn’t let him get one until he could shoot his hunting bow with some degree of accuracy, which Keither had yet to do. The boy hated going outside and didn’t like to shoot, but it was important to learn, so whenever Kovos was having a hard time leaving the house he would tell his father or mother that he would bring Keither and try and work with him. Keither never wanted to go, but Kovos was much stronger so Keither didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Sasha attempted to greet Keither by waving at him, but the boy only returned her wave with a glare.
They walked down the alley and got back on the street they were on before. They continued on the street until they got to a large field at the edge of town. On one end of the field was a line of padded targets with little flags that marked distance. Red was for fifty yards, yellow for one hundred, green for one hundred and twenty five, purple for one hundred and fifty, and beyond that were black ones for two hundred yards. On the other side was a line of white flags that marked where to stand while shooting. They walked to the line of white flags. At the moment the four of them were the only ones there. Everyone except Keither strung their bow and prepared to begin. Kovos hit Keither in the arm and the boy began to string his bow.