Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (54 page)

              He picked up the knife and held it aloft. Before I could do or say anything, he stuck it square in his heart. I leapt back
and stifled a scream however with a small moan of pain,
the ratty old man simply withdrew
the knife and sat up
.
The wound made was dry and scab like and
t
he little blood there was didn't even escape the
piercing
.

Watching in apprehension, I saw
the muscle around
the area
churn, covering
fresh skin over the gaping hole in the man’s chest. I now noticed that there were a great number of holes in his shirt, which suggested he tried the same thing many times.

              “Tah dah!”
t
he man exclaimed
,
giving himself a round of applause. “Oh
it's
wonderful isn't it? The slob of a man who can't die. The man that’s required to serve all of eternity in a
leather shop
somewhere just because some warlock freaks told him to.” He
gave a
rancid burp
a
nd
suddenly
began to sob in his seat.

I didn't know where to look or what to say. I thought about giving him a pat on the back, but decided against it at the last moment. Fortunately I didn't need to look anywhere else, because Gregor had finally
finished his ascent
along with the
chaplain
. Greg
or l
ooked slightly puzzled at the sight of flat land all around him
but
didn't so much as flinch
when he discovered that the camp was underground
. He calmly took a single breath and walked outside into the open world
, leaving
no impression that he was ever going to turn back.

              “Let him
have a moment to himself,
”
t
he Chaplin said
as if I would somehow care about Gregor’s well being
.
Stepping backwards, he
nearly tripped over the sobbing shop ow
ner before making
a
stiff
movement towards me. It was
a
strange bow
where he held both of his wrinkled palms outward
. His fingers clicked
five
times
and without another word, the chaplin left
. I didn't complain or even laugh at the ridiculous
blessing
. If anything I was glad to
have this gesture momentarily
distract me from the daunting task ahead.

              While the
shop
owner
continued to sob heavily
, I decided to rummage through the supplies we
’
d been
given
.
Opening
up
my pack, I felt m
y fingers r
u
n over a
new leather tent
and a
stuff sack containing
three
days worth of cured meats, f
ruits and bread.
As much as
I couldn’t believe it, it really seemed like the Grimlars spared no expense in keeping us alive.
My hands met a
large wallet
fil
led to the brim with gold coin
, which I gleefully tossed from hand to hand. I examined a set of empty glass bottles before setting them to one
side as
I
caught a glimpse of a strange looking box,
covered
in extravagant fabrics. Inside this,
were many small
paper satchels of what felt like sugar and flour mixed together
.
Stuck to these
were bright yellow labels
, with a couple being:

             
“Martha's All Purpose Cold Repellant”

              Take one pinch of powder, and spread it
exactly
where

             
you plan to pitch tent.
Warning: does not cure colds,

              If you feel a burning sensation as you sleep or if you

             
ingested the powder, drink one gallon of water,

             
and resist the urge to set fire to anything. Not intended for indoor use.

             
“D.I.Y. Shield repair kit”

Apply a small
handful of powder to the injured area and with a handful

of damp stringy grass, place a large amount of pressure on the damaged section.

As soon as you feel the grass
bind to the
shield, drop it immediately,

and wait twelve hours before use. If it doesn't take,
throw it to the

ground in an angry sort of way, and begin yelling it it.

We've found
it may even work better if you adopt this method.

             
Warning
:
Progressive shouting at the same shield over an extended period of

             
time can reverse the effect, and make the shield more brittle than ever,

             
due to hurt feelings. Caution is advised if the user decides to shout at their

             
shield.

              Tossing these two aside, I
held up a
particularly small, and expensive looking package that hardly looked like it could hold a teaspoon of
salt
. Carefully wrapped and embroidered in expert calligraphy; it read in golden letters:

              “Professor Pocket's untested, unrefined Miracle powder.”

              No instructions were visible on the packet. The only other words printed onto the strange satchel, were the ones that formed the command,

             
“Use
sparingly
.”

             
I carefully placed the packet back into the bag
,
resisting the sudden urge to rip open the
parcel
and possibly even take a small taste.
“
What kind of enchantment doesn't even come with instructions?
”
I thought to myself
irritably

              A loud cough from the other side of the room signaled that the
shopkeeper
had finished his
sobbing.

“
Have you got a compass I could take
?” I
asked
, suddenly remembering that the professor had not included one in his handbag.

              “Fine by me. It's not going to do any filthy good here.”
The old man
motioned for me to advance as he began rummaging through a series of
cubby holes
built into the stairs. He was murmuring to himself the way most men do when they
’
re irritated and they want to show it. “
Here
we are
,
”
h
e
said,
withdrawing a
large bronze compass
. Its a
couple hundred years
old, but I doubt that makes much of a difference.
”

I took it, and stuffed it with the rest of the supplies.
“
What's
your name?” I asked the man.

              “Theodore. That’s who the
shop’s
named after anyway. I've lived for so long I could be Theodore the
seventh
by now.” He forced a chuckle, but I could see he was still grimacing.

              “So that’s what this place is called? Theodore’s
Leathers
?”

              “Yep.”

              There was a rather uncomfortable silence after this, where neither one of us knew what to say next. I tried my best to
reassemble my remaining supplies before staring up into his scratchy face.
“I Guess I'll be off then.”

Theodore
scowled.
“I guess you will.”

Strapping my own pack to my back and cradling Gregor's in my arms, I walked outside into the cold morning air, where it was just
beginning to snow
.
Just as I took a step onto the open earth,
I heard
Theodore’s creaky old voice
call for me.

              “Yeah?” I
asked,
turning around.

              “Good luck
,
”
he
said while raising a
bottle
in my directio
n
. “Just remember, death isn't as bad as most people make it out to be. If you find yourself dead, well you can thank the gods that you don't have to do anything else for a ver
y
long time.”

I nodded my head with my eyes closed as if in deep thought, however in truth, I was just fighting off a sneeze. I turned around and without looking back,
set off to find Gregor.

Chapter
twenty

             
Red Faced

Lo, Running through the distant mountains cold

             
Swimming through a lake of molten gold

             
Underneath is blood and broken bones

              Where harmony is undefined

             
The young, have a time to hate their elder kind

             
Sitting on the thrones of steel and thorns

              Bread and butter

             
Blood and water

             
Singing songs that do not matter

             
Ocean rising

             
Purifying

             
causing children to stop crying

              Stormy weather fades away

             
Boat in water sails away

             
Panicked feelings go away

365 days of quest remaining

             
I
looked into the distance
and saw Gregor silhouetted against the lakefront
. As he stood clutching his tense stony shoulders, I could see that he was breathing quite heavily, making it seem as though a large weight was pressed against his chest.
I advanced slowly, unsure
what he would do
if I were to suddenly start talking to him. I was
perhaps
a
few
arms lengths away when he turned around. I flinched and
staggered
back a couple of steps
, however
h
e didn't look at all
surprised
to see me
. Instead, he snorted through his throat and looked at me as if immensely disappointed with what he saw.
I threw my sack to the ground and gently propped his against a large lakeside rock. Just as I did before,
h
e carefully took this time to examine everything in his pack
while I quietly shivered on the spot
. It was another five minutes or so before he spoke.

              “Right. We have a year to find and kill possibly the strongest dragon in existence. Where do we start?”
Gregor
seemed to be asking himself more than me. He probably thought that I didn't have any good ideas.