do not know the exact location so we will have to scout the surrounding area.”
“In your estimation, how long will that take?” asked the prince.
Beorth chewed on that question for a few seconds before responding. “Probably five or six days. Then it may take another several days to scout out Kiln’s exact location.”
“Okay. Largress, Togin, give us three weeks, one to get there, one to get back, and one for some extra time in case something happens. If we have not returned after three weeks then take the horses back to Finarth.”
“Yes my Lord,” they replied.
“Let’s get some sleep. We have a long hard trek ahead of us,” added the prince as he got up and moved to his bed roll. Jonas lay down on his own blanket and looked up at the mountain sky. He could make out pockets of the night sky through the dense trees. The stars sparkled in the clear sky as a soft breeze rustled the leaves. Jonas felt at home here, and he closed his eyes drifting off to sleep.
The next four days of their journey were more difficult, though there were no complaints from the hardy men as they carried their heavy packs over boulder strewn switchbacks. Jonas loved the strenuous activity and the landscape was breathtaking, reminding him of his home, or at least what used to be his home. The game trails were fairly clear and the summer sun kept things warm and dry. They slowly gained in elevation, continuing deeper into the mountains.
On the fifth day of their march they decided to camp next to a cascading waterfall that plunged heavily into a placid pool. On the far end of the pool the creek continued down the mountain, carving a shallow rift through the earth. Soft green moss covered patches of ground that otherwise was flat rock. The moss was thick, a perfect bed for their blankets. They lit the cooking fire and roasted some venison from a deer that Beorth had killed early that morning. They couldn’t carry the entire animal so they cut the choicest pieces, which were roasting over the hot fire. The fat, dripping into the hot coals, sizzled with small eruptions of delicious aromas.
Jonas and Dagrinal were sparring on a large flat rock that jetted out over the pool. The stone was over four paces wide and twice as long. Jonas had learned much from the warrior over the last couple weeks and they had quickly developed a strong friendship. Dagrinal emphasized to Jonas that good swordsmanship was a combination of balance, strength, and speed. He said that most men were lucky to possess just one of those characteristics, but very few possess all three in enough quantities to become master marked.
Jonas and Dagrinal circled each other, as they often did when sparring. Jonas lunged at Dagrinal, attacking him with lightning quick strikes, but Dagrinal was there every time to counter them. His agile footwork on the flat rock always kept him in the correct defensive positions. Dagrinal smiled confidently as he picked up his speed, changing from counters to attacks. Jonas backpedaled, trying to counter his impossibly quick moves. After various exchanges, Dagrinal smacked Jonas twice with the flat of his blade, once on the thigh and the other on his side.
Jonas lowered his sword in frustration. “I just can’t keep up. You’re too fast!” Jonas said with frustration, sweat dripping freely off his nose.
“Of course I’m too fast, Jonas. Don’t get frustrated. I’ve been using the sword for over twenty years. How long have you?”
“Almost two years.”
“Exactly. Listen, no one starts off an expert at anything. It takes time. You are by far the best swordsman I’ve seen for someone your age. You are better than most trained soldiers. It doesn’t matter how good you are, there is always someone faster, stronger, and more skilled. To you I seem unbeatable, but when I fight Master Borum, I feel just as you do now. Do you understand?’
“Yes, sir, I think so.”
“You need to remember, if you want to become a master swordsman worthy of the mark then you must also possess patience and tenacity.”
“I will remember that,” said Jonas lifting his sword again. “Let’s keep going.”
“You certainly have no problems with tenacity,” laughed Dagrinal, lifting his sword in response.
Suddenly Jonas felt the familiar sting on his chest. His eyes grew wide in alarm as he looked about frantically.
“What is it, Jonas?” asked Dagrinal with concern.
Jonas grabbed his chest feeling the familiar sting again. “We’re