Ignite (Phoenix Chronicles Book 1)

Chapter 24: Everybody's Bearings

Maverick glanced around the city of Shoma, trying to ignore the feeling that small town living hadn't prepared him for anything. Unlike Achal, which Maverick had avoided by traveling north, Shoma wasn't gated or unfriendly. Finny had expressly told him of Achal's loyalty to the crown, and he had no doubt Eric would travel through that city.

What most people didn't realize, however, was that you could shave off several days' travel just by going north to Shoma. One wouldn't think it possible by glancing at a map, but if you knew how to read them right and could allow for the map's distorting the land, you'd realize a straight line wasn't always the fastest. 

Maverick arrived late at night after only a day's travel with the tricks Finny had written on the maps. Ancient pathways unknown to modern travelers sped him up for the first half of his journey. He wouldn't be so lucky once he reached the pass.

Tranchet's Pass was a maze of mountains and caves. One wrong move and you'd sooner end up in Myrzel than you would eastern Braskey. But until then, Maverick had comfort in knowing his travel would be easy.

After a restless night at an inn where he spent most of the twilight hours feeling guilty over leaving his sister, Maverick dragged himself out of bed and headed out in search of a blacksmith.

His father had been the best. Better than any other. People would come from Shoma or Achal to acquire his work. Norman had made Maverick many swords during his training, but the latest had been the greatest.

"A sword fit for a king," Norman had said.

Using it in training and becoming comfortable with it had dulled it. Norman said he would sharpen it, but--Maverick pushed the thought away. He could sharpen it himself with the right tools.

He needed a trustworthy blacksmith who could sell him a few stones. He'd forgotten his when he left, being in such a rush to get out of there before Laina or Finny woke. 

His heart ached to leave his sister behind, but the thought of losing her was too much to bear. She had her responsibilities, but he wasn't one of them, he wouldn't be one of them. Not if it meant she'd die for him the way so many like her had died for Tarvril. Or Bainon. Or whomever it was they died for. He wouldn't lose her.

Deep down, he knew she'd forgive him. Part of him figured she'd have eventually done the same thing to him if she'd thought about it long enough. But mad and alive was better than happy and dead. Their parents had been happy, content, ready for their fate.

Why? Why hadn't they fought back? Or left sooner? Why allow themselves to die?

Maverick didn't get the question answered before he reached the blacksmith. He wandered into the shop, memories flooding him at the smell of the fires and the heat pressing through the room. 

"Can I help you?" A giant of a young man with a massive mane of curly blond hair, atop which set his smith's mask, approached Maverick.

"I'm looking for sharpening stones, hoping I could buy from you?"

The man glanced down at the sword sheathed at Maverick's side. "I could sharpen a sword requiring attention."

"No, I'd rather not." Maverick placed his hand against the hilt. It appeared plain when sheathed, but the steal had three gemstones inlaid in the base--a technique mastered by Maverick's father.

"It wouldn't be any trouble." The man scrubbed his hands with the rag he carried before setting it down. "Let's have a look."

Maverick frowned down at the other man's hands. "Those are interesting markings." While it was difficult to tell the color, they reminded him of Laina's.