Sea of the Dead Read online

  Chapter 2: A New Beginning

  Michael’s heart quickened as he ran for the city. His feet barely touched the ground as he approached, but then he hesitated at the looming gate. He had never been by himself before, and now he was alone. He ran away, and now Topaz was dead. There was no one left.

  Weariness was taking over, but he had no bed to rest on. With nowhere else to go, the prince laid down in an alley to sleep, when something sharp drove into his cheek. He groaned and pulled the dart out of his ear, tossing it aside. Then a thought crossed his mind. I don’t want to be suspected as the prince.

  Michael grasped in the dark for the dart. He pulled the steel tip out of the projectile and carefully used the grip of his sword to bend it into a round shape. He pushed the open steel ring back into the hole in his right ear then squeezed it closed.

  A ring in the right ear was the mark of a released slave. When the slave is still working for his or her master, the ring was a straight rod. Straight, it symbolized poverty and weakness; but when it was bent round it symbolized strength and freedom. No man or woman would ever be able to legally own a released slave who had a ring in the right ear. The piercing was an accident, but Michael realized that it may help disguise him.

  Thoughts were racing through his mind, but finally, sleep took over his mind.

  When Michael awoke, the streets were flooded with people. Tall, short, fat, skinny, all were very wealthy—but among the crowded streets, he could see a uniform he recognized. A guard! Michael ducked into the crowd so he wouldn’t be seen.

  The ripped piece of cloth fell off his head and to the ground when he crouched behind a tall man. When the guard was finally out of sight, he came out of the crowd. He stood for a minute, until somebody bumped into him.

  “Move!” the man yelled.

  “Sorry,” Michael replied quietly.

  “Stupid boy,” the man muttered, walking away.

  Michael turned and read a hand-painted sign: Weapon Shop; now hiring apprentice smiths or other workers.

  Michael walked inside. Dozens of shelves lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling. On those shelves were many weapons that ranged from bows to swords, daggers, maces, axes, spears and small knives.

  There was an empty bin in the center of the room and a rack above the door. “Hello?” he asked, “anybody here?” There was no reply.

  He was about to leave when something caught his eye. A blade crafted with a master’s skill rested on a plaque behind the sales counter. The pointed guard was made from gold and silver; the gold in the center where the blade joined, and the silver made up the usable guard. The gold was studded with polished pearls. Steel and leather coiled down the grip and ended at the silver pommel. The pommel was formed like a wolf’s head with opened jaws. A diamond gleaming with every hue imaginable rested between the silver teeth of the beast.

  “It’s not for sale,” boomed a deep voice behind him.

  Michael leaped and fumbled for his sword. He turned around to strike, then realized there was no threat. “Y-you startled me,” he said as his eyes fell on an enormous man, whose arms looked as if they could pull a tree out of the ground. He had a bush of gray hair and a shaggy black beard.

  “That’s quite the bump you’ve got there,” he said pointing at the wound on Michael’s head. The man’s eyes drifted to Michael’s sword, then back to his head. “How’d that happen?”

  “I hit my head.”

  “That’s obvious,” the man replied, apparently interested in hearing the rest of the tale.

  “I was playing…tag…with my friends, and I hit my head off the corner of a building.”

  “I see,” said the man, furrowing his brow and scratching his chin. “So, did you just come to talk?” he asked with a sudden sharpness in his voice.

  “No, sir,” replied Michael. “I read your sign. I need work.”

  “I need a name in order to hire you. What’s yours?”

  “Kyle. And yours?”

  “I’m Reno, your new boss.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Now go get washed up, I’ll bring you a clean shirt.” The man looked at Michael’s bloodied shirt and pointed up the stairs behind an opened door. “There’s a room down the hall at the top of the stairs with a washtub and some buckets filled with water. Only use what you need; I don’t feel like walking to the river today.”

  Michael walked up the stairs, each one creaking in protest at the slightest pressure. There was a hall at the top of the stairs with two doors on either side and a fifth door at the end of the narrow hallway. He walked over and pushed the heavy black curtain aside, revealing a small room with a window at the back.

  Although he was not thrilled with the lack of privacy, he filled the metal tub half full with the water from the wooden buckets and stripped down to bathe. When Michael dunked his hair into the small washtub, it swirled with streaks of red and sent off the pungent metallic odor of blood. He poured the water out the window into the back alley when he was finished. Redressing himself in his brown wool pants, he left the room and put on his new shirt and leather apron. It was a loose fit, but it was clean, and for that he was grateful.

  Reno came up to him. “Have you ever worked with metal before?”

  “No,” he lied. He could not risk being found out by his knowledge. “Will you teach me?”

  “I suppose, but you will not actually be making weapons. It takes years of practice.” He took a hammer and a chunk of iron over to a hot furnace. Michael was lost in his thoughts, only faintly hearing the ringing of metal against metal. He felt a lump in his throat as his memories shifted from his mother and father, to the echoed thud as Topaz landed on the rock bottom of the earth’s mouth-like gorge. He wondered if he had made a mistake in running away.

  Reno continued through the processes of heating and hammering several times until he had a quality steel blade in front of him.

  When the work was done, Reno looked to at the blade. “It isn’t good enough for the market; it would take more time to make a proper blade.” The piece of metal sizzled as he dunked it in the tank of water beside him.

  Michael could tell that Reno was worried about something, although he could not tell what. “Boss—” Michael would have asked what the problem was, but thought better of it. Instead he said, “What should I do?”

  “Call me Reno. I don’t do well with the whole boss thing. As for what you can do, sort the weapons on those shelves. Just put swords and knives together, then hang the spears and halberds on the racks over there. The maces go in that bin with the grips pointing up, wouldn’t want anyone to hurt themselves when they reach in,” He smiled and went to the back.

  Michael started to work, thinking of the possibilities for his new life. Soon, I might be Kyle the Blacksmith; I will never have to be anything more unless I want to. No more royal balls, no more dressing in fancy clothes. Now I can be myself, the way I want to be. When he drifted away from his thoughts, he had already sorted all the swords. He continued on to the spears, then to the maces.

  “Reno!” he hollered.

  “What?” Reno asked.

  “I’m finished,” Michael stated. It was true, for he had sorted every weapon in the shop.

  “Impossible!” The smith said, looking around as if it were a dream. “You were only working for thirty minutes! How did you do it?”

  “I suppose it is because I enjoy seeing such skillfully crafted weapons.”

  “Hey, Kyle you should go home and rest for the ni—”

  “Don’t have one,” Michael cut him off before he finished. Michael nearly cringed at the use such unrefined speech.

  “One what?”

  “A home,” said the young prince.

  “You mean you live on the streets?” Reno asked, his voice softened with sympathy.

  “Yes,” Michael replied sadly. “I asked for work because I need to feed myself.”

  “How old are you? Thirteen? Fourteen?”

&
nbsp; “Fifteen,” Michael lied, and headed for the door.

  “I have an extra room upstairs. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

  “You don’t mind?” asked Michael as excitement welled up inside him.

  “Not at all, I get lonely. And besides, I’ve always wanted a son. Not that I will claim you, unless that is your wish,” Reno laughed.

  “Thank you so much! You won’t regret it, I’ll work extra hard!”

  “Don’t get too thrilled, I don’t know if you can stay for long,” The man rubbed his sleepy eyes with the tips of his fingers. “Now it’s time for you to get to sleep. We’ll need to get you some more clothes tomorrow.”

  “I can pay for my stay—it doesn’t seem right to barge in,” Michael said as he pulled a small coin purse from his belt.

  “You’re not barging in, I invited you. Besides, you are already working your stay,” Reno pulled out a piece of yellowed paper. “Now let’s see, today you earned five silver pieces. You did well for a first day.”

  “Thank you,” Michael said as he turned his back to open the leather pouch tied around his waist. He added the silver coins to the fifty gold coins he already had.

  “Hey, you earned it. If you keep up this working pace, I can take you as my apprentice, and you can take my place when I am gone... well, I’d say that it’s about time to finish off the day.”

  “I agree,” said Michael yawning.

  “If there’s anything I can get for you, don’t be shy. Just ask.”

  “Alright, I will. Thanks Reno, good night.”

  “Good night, Kyle.”