Along the Forest Road: Chapter 7, part 2
And here's the rest of the chapter.
“The hard part,” said Kit, “is getting it to break into the right size pieces. Usually I just get chips.”
Not far from the mill, the rock that lay beneath the gently rolling countryside stood exposed. There was no solid outcropping, but a bank of jumbled boulders that began above the riverbed and extended across the water. Most of the riverbank on this side was very rocky, which is why the wood had never been cleared for farmland, and the natural dam formed here made this the ideal location for the mill.
We’d brought no one with us except Crispian. Kit had no desire to frighten anyone, and he was afraid this might. He stood before a boulder about as big across as I am tall, feeling carefully along its face and wearing his thousand-mile stare. Every so often he tapped it with a finger. He still looked uncertain when he drew his fist back, and with no further preparation drove it into the rock.
There was a blast like a thunderclap. Crispian and I both averted our faces reflexively, so I heard Kit swearing before I saw why. Where there had been a smooth stone surface, there was now a gouge the size of a large shield, but the boulder was otherwise intact. Small bits of stone littered the ground around it.
“What happened?” I said.
“It’s not so easy to tell how the force is going to run through the stone,” Kit replied. “I have to hit it just right to make it fall apart like we want.” He was searching the rock again as he spoke and found another place to try. “All right, once more.”
This time when he drew back his fist I glimpsed something like a faint shimmer in the air surrounding it. But only for an instant, because he struck the rock almost immediately. Another thunderclap sounded. This time the entire boulder fractured into smaller stones each about the size of a man’s head.
“Will this do?”
For a moment Crispian was at a loss for words. When he collected himself, he said, “Yeah, looks good. You can do that a few more times, right?”
“I’ll try.”
A half hour later we headed back toward the main part of the village, leaving behind several piles of good sized stones for wall-building.
“So why do you call that a ‘Whirlwind’, anyway?” I said. “It doesn’t look anything like one.”
“It has to do with the arrangement of energy you use to make it happen,” Kit replied. “You see, you need rising warm qi from the center and descending...”
I was spared the technical discussion. From the tall grass between us and the mill there sounded a quiet rustle and then up popped Jonn. Crispian eyed him with irritation.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I was,” he said. “But my ma sent me out here to see what all the racket was.”
“Now that you’ve seen, you’ll keep your mouth shut about it,” Crispian growled. “There’s a reason no one else is here.”
Jonn ignored him, and turned to Kit. “That was awesome! How’d you do that?”
“It’s complicated,” said Kit. “I was just explaining―”
“Please don’t,” I said quietly.
Kit shot me an annoyed look, but Jonn ploughed on. “Show me how.”
“Not everyone can,” said Kit.
“Who says I can’t?”
“Well...” Kit looked Jonn over with his thousand-mile gaze. “Maybe. But there’s a lot to learn first. It takes years, and I won’t be here that long.”
“I want to try anyway.”
Kit folded his arms and looked him in the eye. Jonn held his gaze for a while, then looked down.
“Please.”
“All right. Be at the inn at sunrise.”
Jonn smiled, flashed a thumbs-up, and dashed away toward the mill. Crispian shook his head grumbling something about rotten kids destroying the landscape and continued on toward the inn.
“You really going to show him?” I asked Kit once Jonn was out of earshot.
“It’s a pretty advanced technique and I’d be surprised if he ever got there. But I can give him something to do that’ll start him in the right direction.”
“I guess he has something I don’t?” I tried to keep my voice level, but wasn’t entirely successful.
Kit drew in his breath as if startled, and then reached up to stroke my face. “Not at all. It’s that you have something he doesn’t. Besides me, I mean.”
“If you’re talking about that madness―”
“You have a fully developed style. You know your strengths and how to use them, for the most part. And you’re damn good, you know.”
“Next to you I move like a slug.”
“Don’t compare yourself to me. I do things differently. Listen, I’ve sparred with some of the best, and you could stand up to any of them, easily. I can’t give you my style. It’d wreck yours if I tried. But Jonn has practically nothing. He’s a blank slate. So maybe I can help him a little.”
● ● ●
As the days passed I shifted the focus of the archery practice from accuracy to rate of fire. I wasn’t going to make any marksmen here in the time we had, but a thick flight of arrows can make up for other shortcomings.
Ammunition was an issue too. I spent a lot of time making arrows. Once the blacksmith finished with the pike heads he switched to arrow points, turning them out almost as quickly as I could fletch. After a few days I had a good stockpile to add to those I’d retrieved from the camp.
That’s usually what I was up to when Kit did his morning exercises. Just as he was told, Jonn showed up every morning although he was far from happy about it when I overheard them a couple of days later.
“Watch your breathing,” said Kit. “It’s as important as any other part of the exercise.”
“I don’t wanna breathe, I wanna punch!” said Jonn. “What’s this got to do with it?”
“It’s like the footwork in sword fighting, but more basic. Kind of like how you do chin-ups to get your arms stronger.”
“That’d have a lot more to do with punching hard than this.”
“Jonn, do you really think you can shatter rocks by punching hard and nothing else? It’s a different kind of strength. You have to understand it and build it up before you can start to use it. Now, let’s start again.”
I heard nothing more until they finished a quarter of an hour later. Kit had just sent Jonn off when another voice broke in. “Hi, Jonny...” It was quiet, shy, and female.
“Oh! Um. Becka. Hi!” Jonn sounded thoroughly flustered.
Kit sidled in just then wearing a puckish grin. “Take a look. This is cute,” he whispered.
I tilted my chair back so I could see out the door. Becka was a willowy blond girl about Jonn’s age. She wouldn’t have been called pretty in the city. She was far too sturdy for that. Obviously a farmer’s daughter, she was tanned from outdoor work and had no artifice about her appearance. But she stood with averted eyes, for the moment as fluttery as any city-bred flirt. On the other hand, Jonn’s face was beet-red, and didn’t seem to be able to look directly at her either. He had his hands behind his back and was shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“I liked watching you do that, Jonny.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh. It... it made you look real good.”
“Thanks, Becka. I like looking at you... pretty much any time, you know.”
I returned to my work to let them build up the nerve to look at each other without an audience, although I couldn’t keep a silly grin off my face.
Over the past few days a few more volunteers had shown up. After thinking it over and seeing their fellow villagers so determined to deal with the brigands, they’d changed their minds about helping out. That gave us more pikemen. We ended up with more than twenty all told. I’d seen better, but what they lacked in experience they made up in ardor. I was beginning to feel we had a chance.
“The hard part,” said Kit, “is getting it to break into the right size pieces. Usually I just get chips.”
Not far from the mill, the rock that lay beneath the gently rolling countryside stood exposed. There was no solid outcropping, but a bank of jumbled boulders that began above the riverbed and extended across the water. Most of the riverbank on this side was very rocky, which is why the wood had never been cleared for farmland, and the natural dam formed here made this the ideal location for the mill.
We’d brought no one with us except Crispian. Kit had no desire to frighten anyone, and he was afraid this might. He stood before a boulder about as big across as I am tall, feeling carefully along its face and wearing his thousand-mile stare. Every so often he tapped it with a finger. He still looked uncertain when he drew his fist back, and with no further preparation drove it into the rock.
There was a blast like a thunderclap. Crispian and I both averted our faces reflexively, so I heard Kit swearing before I saw why. Where there had been a smooth stone surface, there was now a gouge the size of a large shield, but the boulder was otherwise intact. Small bits of stone littered the ground around it.
“What happened?” I said.
“It’s not so easy to tell how the force is going to run through the stone,” Kit replied. “I have to hit it just right to make it fall apart like we want.” He was searching the rock again as he spoke and found another place to try. “All right, once more.”
This time when he drew back his fist I glimpsed something like a faint shimmer in the air surrounding it. But only for an instant, because he struck the rock almost immediately. Another thunderclap sounded. This time the entire boulder fractured into smaller stones each about the size of a man’s head.
“Will this do?”
For a moment Crispian was at a loss for words. When he collected himself, he said, “Yeah, looks good. You can do that a few more times, right?”
“I’ll try.”
A half hour later we headed back toward the main part of the village, leaving behind several piles of good sized stones for wall-building.
“So why do you call that a ‘Whirlwind’, anyway?” I said. “It doesn’t look anything like one.”
“It has to do with the arrangement of energy you use to make it happen,” Kit replied. “You see, you need rising warm qi from the center and descending...”
I was spared the technical discussion. From the tall grass between us and the mill there sounded a quiet rustle and then up popped Jonn. Crispian eyed him with irritation.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I was,” he said. “But my ma sent me out here to see what all the racket was.”
“Now that you’ve seen, you’ll keep your mouth shut about it,” Crispian growled. “There’s a reason no one else is here.”
Jonn ignored him, and turned to Kit. “That was awesome! How’d you do that?”
“It’s complicated,” said Kit. “I was just explaining―”
“Please don’t,” I said quietly.
Kit shot me an annoyed look, but Jonn ploughed on. “Show me how.”
“Not everyone can,” said Kit.
“Who says I can’t?”
“Well...” Kit looked Jonn over with his thousand-mile gaze. “Maybe. But there’s a lot to learn first. It takes years, and I won’t be here that long.”
“I want to try anyway.”
Kit folded his arms and looked him in the eye. Jonn held his gaze for a while, then looked down.
“Please.”
“All right. Be at the inn at sunrise.”
Jonn smiled, flashed a thumbs-up, and dashed away toward the mill. Crispian shook his head grumbling something about rotten kids destroying the landscape and continued on toward the inn.
“You really going to show him?” I asked Kit once Jonn was out of earshot.
“It’s a pretty advanced technique and I’d be surprised if he ever got there. But I can give him something to do that’ll start him in the right direction.”
“I guess he has something I don’t?” I tried to keep my voice level, but wasn’t entirely successful.
Kit drew in his breath as if startled, and then reached up to stroke my face. “Not at all. It’s that you have something he doesn’t. Besides me, I mean.”
“If you’re talking about that madness―”
“You have a fully developed style. You know your strengths and how to use them, for the most part. And you’re damn good, you know.”
“Next to you I move like a slug.”
“Don’t compare yourself to me. I do things differently. Listen, I’ve sparred with some of the best, and you could stand up to any of them, easily. I can’t give you my style. It’d wreck yours if I tried. But Jonn has practically nothing. He’s a blank slate. So maybe I can help him a little.”
● ● ●
As the days passed I shifted the focus of the archery practice from accuracy to rate of fire. I wasn’t going to make any marksmen here in the time we had, but a thick flight of arrows can make up for other shortcomings.
Ammunition was an issue too. I spent a lot of time making arrows. Once the blacksmith finished with the pike heads he switched to arrow points, turning them out almost as quickly as I could fletch. After a few days I had a good stockpile to add to those I’d retrieved from the camp.
That’s usually what I was up to when Kit did his morning exercises. Just as he was told, Jonn showed up every morning although he was far from happy about it when I overheard them a couple of days later.
“Watch your breathing,” said Kit. “It’s as important as any other part of the exercise.”
“I don’t wanna breathe, I wanna punch!” said Jonn. “What’s this got to do with it?”
“It’s like the footwork in sword fighting, but more basic. Kind of like how you do chin-ups to get your arms stronger.”
“That’d have a lot more to do with punching hard than this.”
“Jonn, do you really think you can shatter rocks by punching hard and nothing else? It’s a different kind of strength. You have to understand it and build it up before you can start to use it. Now, let’s start again.”
I heard nothing more until they finished a quarter of an hour later. Kit had just sent Jonn off when another voice broke in. “Hi, Jonny...” It was quiet, shy, and female.
“Oh! Um. Becka. Hi!” Jonn sounded thoroughly flustered.
Kit sidled in just then wearing a puckish grin. “Take a look. This is cute,” he whispered.
I tilted my chair back so I could see out the door. Becka was a willowy blond girl about Jonn’s age. She wouldn’t have been called pretty in the city. She was far too sturdy for that. Obviously a farmer’s daughter, she was tanned from outdoor work and had no artifice about her appearance. But she stood with averted eyes, for the moment as fluttery as any city-bred flirt. On the other hand, Jonn’s face was beet-red, and didn’t seem to be able to look directly at her either. He had his hands behind his back and was shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“I liked watching you do that, Jonny.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh. It... it made you look real good.”
“Thanks, Becka. I like looking at you... pretty much any time, you know.”
I returned to my work to let them build up the nerve to look at each other without an audience, although I couldn’t keep a silly grin off my face.
Over the past few days a few more volunteers had shown up. After thinking it over and seeing their fellow villagers so determined to deal with the brigands, they’d changed their minds about helping out. That gave us more pikemen. We ended up with more than twenty all told. I’d seen better, but what they lacked in experience they made up in ardor. I was beginning to feel we had a chance.