Roots - Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four: Down to Business

Sweat beaded on Aldon’s brow and slid down his neck, chilling his back as it ran down his spine. Shuddering, Aldon wiped it from his eyes and focused on the task at hand. A small stone, no larger than a grape, hung on a piece of string before him. It swayed side to side and back and forth with the wind, riding the currents like a spider web. Aldon watched its’ movements then nodded. Briar came from behind and blindfolded him immediately.
Aldon hefted the wooden stave over his shoulder and gripped it tightly. He pictured the stone swaying on the breeze, memorizing its pattern as he played it over and over in his head. His mind’s eye pictured its ruby red color and smooth facets. It reminded him of the stones he used to skip on the pond back home when he was a boy in Town. Muren would take him there in the summers.
He swung and gritted his teeth as he saw it still hanging, blindfold thrown to the floor.
“You’re not concentrating. Clear your mind, Aldon, picture only the stone.” Briar repeated. “Forget everything else around you.”
“Kind of hard when they keep talking to you.” Aldon grumbled. Briar raised his hands and backed away smirking.
Aldon let out a deep breath and stared at the stone a bit longer before hiding his eyes again. He pictured the stone’s weight giving it momentum as it swung on the string. He imagined how it would feel; cold and hard, and how it would hurt to be struck by it. The image of the rock zoomed out to reveal it among numerous others underwater. The river was rushing by fast and scintillatingly in the sunlight. He leaned in closer to the water and saw his reflection staring back at him so vividly it was as if he was there. He laughed and choked as water filled his lungs and swept him downstream losing consciousness.
“Ooh, another swing and a miss!” Briar announced. “What happened there, boy, eh? Too much noise about you out here in the silence of Aldon’s awesome fighting prowess?” Briar teased and mocked a bow. Aldon threw down the stave and kicked it against the wall. “Oh come now, don’t be such a sourpuss. It’s simple, watch.”
Briar laced the blindfold over his eyes and flicked his knife out of its sheath deftly. Aldon leaned in closely as he watched Briar’s foot tap slowly to some tempo on the wooden floor. Thump thump, thump thump, thum-clang!
Aldon looked up from Briar’s foot to see the stone spinning on the string in a wide swinging arc. Briar turned around slowly and dropped the blindfold to the floor. His knife slid back into place and disappeared from view.
“Just remember the pattern it makes and focus on it.”
Aldon swept up the stave and shook his head as he watched its pace. Swaying to the left, then the right, back and forth repeatedly with little twirls in between as the breeze buffeted it. It flicked back and forth like a clock’s pendulum, keeping time with a slow and steady beat.
Aldon tapped his foot and wrapped his eyes. Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump. His heart began to beat to the same pounding drive. Thump thump, thump thump. His lungs began to breathe slowly in and out with an even pace. Thump thump, thump thump. His grip on the stave tightened until his knuckled turned white. Thump thump, thump thump, thump thum-whack!
Aldon opened his eyes to see the stone hit the ceiling then fall to the floor, the snapped string swaying in the breeze idly. Aldon smiled inwardly and tried to keep it hidden. Briar strode over to the stone and picked it up slowly. He held it out in his palm, flat against his calloused hand.
“Good. Now strike it again.” He said simply and stood straight with his arm held out. Aldon froze and looked at him. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go, knock it out. You’re not scared are you?” He teased.
“You’d best hope I don’t miss on purpose.” Aldon retorted and held the stave aloft. He shifted its weight in his hands until he felt it was balanced correctly and changed his grip a few times. Briar stared at him passively as if he were waiting in line for something. Aldon ignored him and focused on his stance.
Feet shoulder width apart, hands gripped with thumbs out, handle turned beneath the crease of my fingers..
Aldon sucked in a breath and swung as everything slowed to a crawl. The stave drove through the air bluntly with a hum, wind whistling against its rough surface. A fly buzzed past with a snail’s pace, barely faster than Briar’s nonchalant blink that closed his eyelids as if a great portcullis. Aldon pushed forward as the stave carried itself on the momentum until it reached Briar’s hand. It hovered close, close enough to skim the skin, until the rock made contact and flew across the room, twirling in slow motion.
Suddenly everything returned to Aldon in a rush of sound. Everything that had happened silently passed its missed sound effects onto him at once. The buzzing of the fly’s wing, the howling of the roughly hewn stave and the dull thwack of the rock against wood. Aldon breathed out slowly and shook his head.
“How was that?”
Briar shrugged and picked at his hand. “May have gotten a splinter or two, but all in all you’ve done fine.” He walked off into the other room and returned with another wooden object.
“Is that a chair leg?” Aldon asked as he eyed the faded and chipped paint.
“Not anymore. Right now, it is my instrument in which to teach you a valuable lesson.”
“And what lesson is that?”
Briar struck forward suddenly, forcing the air from Aldon’s lungs and before he could recover, planted a firm grasp on Aldon’s shoulder and threw him to the ground. Aldon landed with a hard thud on his shoulder and leg and lost his stave in the process.
“Be prepared.”
Aldon rolled to his feet and threw up his weapon, caught it, and brought it down hard against Briar’s block. The wood bounced off one another with loud a loud knock and threw Aldon’s arms back. Briar took this opportunity to come in low and swipe at Aldon’s exposed belly but missed as the agile elf ducked backwards and struck high at an angle.
Briar parried the blow and twirled his weapon about, spinning on his heel, and rapped Aldon across the knees. Then, before Aldon could stand, he kicked the stave from his hand and stood on his wrist.
“What would you do now?” He asked gruffly. His eyes were focused on Aldon’s frozen face with a ferocity Aldon hadn’t expected here. “You would die, that’s what. Have you forgotten about your knife?” He pushed away and strode across the room before taking up his stance once again. “Again!”
This time, Aldon stood slowly and looked about the room. It was completely empty aside from an old throw rug and about twelve feet wide on all sides. He had about ten feet of space between himself and Briar with a stave maybe four feet long.
“Begin!” Briar commanded and charged forward. He lashed out at Aldon repeatedly in varying strokes and speeds, some slow and others capable of breaking bone. Aldon let him come then in mid-swing of Briar’s chair leg, stepped forward and blocked it with his left hand before reaching around Briar and twisting him with the other.
Briar grabbed Aldon by the elbow pulled him off, brandishing his stave over Aldon’s head.
“What have you to say for yourself this time?” Briar demanded. His face was grim and scruffy. He appeared to have died long ago and merely walk by day before returning by night.
“Have you forgotten your knife?”
Briar looked down to see his sheath empty, Aldon’s hand holding the knifepoint against Briar’s side. Aldon lowered the knife and handed it back to Briar. The old Ranger smiled and hugged Aldon roughly.
“You’re a good student, Aldon. A damn good student.” He said and stepped outside. Aldon sighed and leaned against the wall, his muscles aching and burning like fire. Every step he took was like wading through mud and throbbed his tender arms.
“Agh, my back is killing me. How does he do this for so long at that age?”
“Lot’s and lot’s of practice.” Briar interjected and stepped back in. “Again!”