Hokum

A Goat Named Jed

1

Amber woke, heated a few buckets of water over the fire, then bathed in a large wooden tub by her back window, shutters open to let in the fresh morning air and light from the suns dawn. Once finished bathing she toasted some bread over the same fire, grilled some grunter rump, fried a clucker egg, and ate it all at the table next to her bed with a tall wooden cup of spring pear juice. While eating she heard a loud noise from afar in the forest, possible the call of a Huntstan, but didn’t really think anything of it. Not the first time a Huntstan would be heard wandering these parts.

After breakfast she sifted about in her dresser drawers for too long before deciding on one of her many string strap tube-slip undergarments, covered then by a pale-purple and sleeveless semi-bell dress that barely reached her knees and had a frontal lace-up low-fit bodice to expose some upper cleavage. She at last fixed her hair and slipped on her favourite pair of woolen ankle boots and entered the second room of her house - which was in fact her leather shop - at the same time that her first customer for the day knuckled down hard on the door.

Closing the door to her living area behind her, she crossed the store swiftly, checked her look and her cleavage in the polished metal pane on the wall next to the entrance, then unlatched and swung open the door with a welcoming smile – a smile that quickly ran from her face when she saw the weirdo standing on her front landing.

She gasped.

A Goat Named Jed

Part 3

A Different Perspective

A Goat Named Jed

12

Minus the bow for now, Jack left Torn’s Blacksmith with duffel on shoulder and his new daggers dangling open blade from his belt. When he stepped out on the street he looked down toward the bridge. The guard was still near the tree by the Mill’s entrance, his eyes were still stuck like glue to Jack, his hands were still fixed to the hilt of his sword. Apart from that, the sun had snuck behind the mountains on its angled ascent of the morning sky, causing an eerie type gloom to be cast upon the ancient village, where, aside from the guard, the community seemed utterly absent of any activity.

Jack felt like antagonising the guard, so he did. He contrived a ridiculous smile, a little wave of one hand. The guard in response widened his stance, hands tightening their grip on his weapon. Jack chuckled and walked the rest of his short journey across the street to Amber Wears.

A Goat Named Jed

11

More information about the previous civilisation would have to wait for another time. For the time being, Jack was in need of establishing his situation, which, for now, meant choosing a weapon or two and then finding a means of paying the Blacksmith. He then needed to go and visit the leather worker across the street, and then possibly rent out a room at the Inn for the night.

Per Torn’s advice, Jack selected a bow. Not a long bow by any means. It was shorter than a meter in length and came with a quiver of iron arrows to suit, as standard length arrows for standard sized bows would not work In it. The bow, according to Torn, was crafted from a very rare naturally occurring metallic element called Absint. It was therefore duly expensive, more valuable than gold, and items crafted from it were even more rare and usually only commissioned by kings, royalty, and other self-important types. The greatest things about Absint was its strength, its flexibility and, somewhat most importantly, it’s extraordinary light weight - all the combined qualities needed in creating an almost weightless compact bow with the power and accuracy that exceeded its larger counterparts.

Jack also chose two daggers. These daggers had 11 Inch double-edged blades made of a metal that looked and felt suspiciously like titanium, though Torn referred to it as Stir. The daggers came with iron hoops with strap that could be used to holster them from ones trouser belt. Torn also pointed out that if Jack actually wanted a leather sheath for the weapons he would need to be asking Amber across the street about that.

In the end, paying for the weapons came with greater difficulty than Jack had hoped. Even though he and Torn seemed to have been getting along just fine for the time being, the Blacksmith was not a man to take business lightly, not even among friends. Jack attempted to offer Torn some gold plated coins, which were in fact just dollar coins from 20th century Earth and a land called Aus. To Torn, however, despite their unique exotic quality, they were nothing more than an insult. Still, Jack must have made some sort of good impression not to have Torn kick him out of his store without a weapon, and instead had a little work for Jack to do. And by a little work, what he really meant was a big and dangerous job that may or may not include murder.

A Goat Named Jed

10

Torn explained the three materials smelted to create the metal called Mironyn, used to craft the bow Jack had asked about, was actually one of the most used flexible metals in the land. Of course, this knowledge, aside from making Jack look like a complete ignoramus, paled in comparison to the information Torn soon shared about the metals of even greater quality used in crafting the weapons waiting in the other room. Jack had been correct. Torn’s better craftsmanship was indeed held in a separate room.

This other room was smaller, it too was illuminated by an iron cupola, but dedicated solely to weapons, and such were on displayed in a way one might imagine ritualistic tools be placed on stone shelves of a subterranean cultists chamber. Each weapon had its own stone shelf, yet more than just a shelf, rather a cavity chiselled out from the natural stone formations of the walls. And again, on one of the walls, was yet another door, closed, arched in shape, and made of a very heavy timber.

‘You really have been busy, haven’t you?’ asked Jack, shaking his head in dismay.

Torn replied, ‘Don’t be absurd, man. I am not a crazy idiot. This room is part of a vast network of underground caverns left behind from an older civilization. My father merely discovered this area of the caverns and built his house upon it.

A Goat Named Jed

9

Jack chuckled. He knew there wasn’t much point in trying to hide his outlandish circumstance, at least not from the Blacksmith. Torn, despite his brutish size and beaten face, had a certain refines dignity about him, and that was something Jack felt like he could trust. Even so, he wasn’t prepared to spill everything. That would be a tremendous mistake, that is, if Torn was of the mind to believe him at all.

‘A land very, very far from here, sir.’ Jack turned to Torn, stuffed his hands modestly into the pockets of his jeans. ‘I doubt you would have heard of it.’ He took his eyes to the sunlight shining down from the open doors in the ceiling. ‘Things are a lot different around here.’

Torn somehow revealed a smirk without actually changing the expression of his deadpan face. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

There it was, that moment between two strangers wherein they seem to connect on a deeper level by undefined and unspoken means. Jack and Torn stood there, stare fastened to each other as they - had anyone been watching on - would have appeared to be busy reading each other’s thoughts.

‘How long will you be with us?’ Torn finally ended the moment, a new, cryptic tone in his lowered voice.

‘I can never really tell at first. Depends on why I’m here and what I need to do. Both of those things aren’t clear at the moment.’ Jack broke eye contact, taking his look to the closed door beside the table. ‘I guess you have all your good stuff hiding in the other room.’

Torn sneered again. ‘All my stuff is good.’

‘No offense, I just feel a man like you can do better than what you have on display in this room.’

‘Feelings are for women,’ Torn said, but he smiled at last.

A Goat Named Jed

8

Jack lowered his duffel to the floor.

‘Take your time,’ said Torn, folding his arms while he remained standing by the cupola, ‘All my range weapons are over there.’

Jack was already on rout to where Torn had nodded in reference. Half of one wall was dedicated to shelves and racks sporting various kinds of bows, crossbow-like weapons, slingshots, and other projectile equipment Jack wasn’t entirely sure about.

‘You take me for a range man?’

‘Of course,’ Torn announced a small amused snort, ‘I know the look.’

‘Jack glanced over his shoulder at the man. ‘The look?’

‘Close contact isn’t for all of us.’ Torn eyeballed Jack up and down, making it clear he didn’t think much of his clothing. Jack’s clothes may not have been any fashion Torn was used to viewing, but it was obvious they hadn’t seen much action. Torn would have likely been hard pressed to find anyone with clothes as clean as Jack’s were. Perks of living in the 20th century. Of course, Jack knew it wouldn’t be long before this primitive world stripped away his clean and crisp appearance.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Jack, as he reached out and ran his forefinger along the curve of a metallic bow. He was no metallurgist, but then he didn’t need to be one to know that metal flexible enough it craft a bow wasn’t easy to come by, especially in this era. The metal was cool to the touch, like other metal, but it was grained, seemingly impure, yet the blue-tinted grains seemed to have a type of random yet set pattern to them. It reminded Jack of weapons made of Damascus steel he had seen once on display in one of Earth’s museums. ‘What sort of metal is this, Torn?’

Instead of directly answering the question, Torn let Jack know just how ignorant the question was by asking his own question in response:

‘What far away land are you from, Jack?’

A Goat Named Jed

7

Torn did not lead Jack through the house to the basement. Instead, there was a hatch outside on the ground built into the large stone tiles near the rear wall of the house. The hatch was of double doors that were sealed shut by a large iron bar laid over them. One end of the bar was fixed to the ground tiles by a hinge fixture which was bolted to the stone tiles, the other end was held in place by an iron latch - also bolted to the ground tiles - with a heavy mechanism that Torn unlocked using a large key to release that end of the bar.

There was nothing wrong with keeping ones goods locked up, Jack thought, but this seemed a tad excessive for such a seemingly peaceful little town.

The bulky Blacksmith lifted the iron bar aside as if it were nothing, he opened the double doors, then clambered down into the darkness of his basement. Jack hesitated, but followed cautiously. The daylight from the above opening was ample to guide his way down the crooked staircase to the floor, where he stood patiently until Torn lit a fire inside a meter-wide iron ring cupola in the center of the room.

The large stone basement, covering the area of a small house, had a strong wet-sock odour of mould with a hint of what was possibly urine. The display, however, was impressive: Three walls covered from ceiling to floor in shelves and racks and cabinets displaying the many item Torn had for sale. Hundreds of item were here: Weapons, tools, utensils, all manner of metal-based household items and other things that Jack couldn’t explain off hand. The fourth wall held a wooden arched door, closed, next to which was a dark wood tabletop the size of a dining table, one length of the tabletop was bolted to the wall, the other was supported by logs under both corners. On the table, against the wall, was a bookshelf, and on the opposite side of the table to the door were several timber and iron braced barrels stacked to the ceiling.

Jack stood at first bewildered by what he was looking at. He marvelled at the work it would have taken, not only to dig out a subterranean room like this with nothing but primitive equipment and elbow grease, but how many hours must have gone into the manufacturing of all the crafted metal items on display. Torn had been busy. Sure, Jack knew next to nothing about the world he was in, or the land he was on, or even the surrounding towns or cities, but he still couldn’t help question just what a place like this had any business doing in a town like Greenfalls.

Hell, Jack remembered the words Torn had spoken outside, even the King knows that.

A Goat Named Jed

6

The Blacksmith finally pulled an expression in the form of a curled lip or, as it were, a sneer. He stopped hammering as well, placed his hammer and the item he was working on next to him on a stone bench. He looked at his open kiddie-pool sized fire pit, which was barely producing any heat at all at the moment, he regarded his house as if it were holding secret value, and then he slightly nodded in direction of a small establishment across the street next to the stables. Above the door of that building was a sign that read Amber Wears.

‘Amber deals in leather goods, amongst other things,’ told the blacksmith, then gave Jack a curious, if not condescending, look. ‘And unless your senses are dull and your brain is slow then it should be obvious that my forge is not at full capacity today.’

Jack was slightly off-balanced by this, he wasn’t expecting to have his intelligence insulted by the brute who was turning out to be smarter than Jack had first given him credit for.

The Blacksmith continued. ‘My hearth is in use two or three full days each week when the boys are available to keep it fully heated, everyone around here knows that. Hell, even the King knows that. If you want to place an order in, I’ll get to it eventually.’

‘Right, of course,’ said Jack, eyeing the fire pit - or hearth, apparently - then glanced over at the large furnace on the far side of the yard. Though the hearth was dwindling in heat, the furnace appeared to be full charge, smoke billowing from its roof.

‘But if you want to look at what I have in stock,’ added the Blacksmith, ‘we can venture into my basement.’ His final words stopped short with a severe dead look into Jack’s eyes. ‘That is if you have the coin.’

‘I have a means to pay you, yes,’ replied Jack, though he wasn’t sure the man would accept it.

‘Then follow me.’

Jack nodded, started to follow, and said, ‘Name’s Jack. And you are?’

‘Folk call me Torn.’

A Goat Named Jed

5

The woman that had been seen walking toward the Blacksmith before Jack entered town, had since disappeared into the Blacksmiths stone-walled and slate-tile roof home. It was the only building in town - far as Jack had seen - to be constructed of the same materials as what he thought was the local tavern, the same he now knew as Greenfalls Inn. Considering this, and the fact that the woman appeared, at least from a distance, to be about the same age as the Blacksmith, he figured it would a safe assumption that she and the Blacksmith were married, or at least a couple. And, of course, Jack being a man who did what he could to win the favour of people he intended to conduct business with, he also decided that using this knowledge of the pair and their home would be a good start to getting a fair deal. Nothing like a well placed compliment to curry favour.

‘Greetings there!’ Jack declared to the blacksmith with a smile as he stepped into the sheltered work area alongside the house, ‘I see both your house and your wife are made of the finest materials, you must be a man of great taste!’

It was only as Jack finished saying these exact words that he realised the many ways it could go wrong. Accordingly, he took a step back out arms reach of the large man.

The Blacksmith, who hadn’t yet taken his eyes off Jack since he started conversing with the guard, continued to stare deadpan at the stranger, not a move or even so much as a flicker of an eye to suggest he was in the slightest way affected by Jack’s approach or his choice of words. He actually stood staring for an uncomfortable amount of time, causing Jack to wonder if he should just walk away, before, at last, he did reply in a flat, candid manner.

‘If you desire my wife for the night, I’m willing to work a deal, but you will be escorting her to the Inn. No shenanigans in my home, you hear? Besides,’ he finished, while turning back to the anvil and raising his hammer for another strike at his current job, ‘I don’t care much for watching.’

Jack was a tad set back by this response, it wasn’t expected in the least. He watched on, jaw slightly dropped, and blinking each time the Blacksmiths hammer connected.

‘That isn’t actually what I was after,’ said Jack between strikes of the hammer, ‘I was just saying… good taste you have. You know, that sort of thing.” He shook his head and decided on forsaking any further explanation. ‘I actually just came over to see if I could have you forge me a weapon. Or maybe you have one ready for sale? I’m also looking for a leatherworker, if you know anyone.’