Fern and Thor

Chapter III

Fern awoke to the sound of voices. Her blood ran cold as she recognized them. It was her mother and the councillor. Muffled by the door, she overheard their voices.
“Well, I suppose it is time… She has been looking forward to an opportunity to get out and see the world. I mean, she is almost eighteen, and ready to leave home. But I’m just so concerned about her safety…”
The voice broke off in small sobs, managing a few more words.
“I …just couldn’t bear to….. If anything happened”
“It’s okay, Edna, if she goes she’ll be well protected, and we’ll give her a bow to defend herself.” The unmistakable voice of the councillor drifted through the thick oak and into Fern’s ear. Not wanting to hear any more, she turned away and sat down worriedly on her bed. The speech continued, although she couldn’t make out the words. She hoped they weren’t talking about what she thought they were.

After a 10 minutes, Fern heard the talk cease. Curiously, she got up as her door opened. Her mother and the councillor walked in.
“So” said the councillor dully, “Fern, you’re mother and I talked and we decided that you’re departing the village tomorrow at 8:00”
“Yes” her mother put in, “we thought it was time for you to finally see the world.”
Fern felt her heart sink. She looked down at the floor and muttered, “But I don’t-”
“Want to go so unprotected?” The councillor butted in. “Of course. We’ve got a bow you can take.”
“But I don’t even do archery!” Fern exclaimed.
The councillor looked a little surprised, but he quickly recovered. “Well then, why don’t we get Horace to show you now?” he turned to Fern’s mother, and bowed slightly. “So Edna, it’s official?”
“Yes…” Fern’s mother confirmed, looking slightly dazed.
“Okay then. Fern, come with me”
The councillor stalked out of her room and Fern had no choice but to follow. He took her round the village to the north-east, where a thin, athletic man with throwing knives was practicing in front of a target. He threw the blades with startling speed and accuracy. Every time they hit the middle. He noticed them and held up a hand to signal he’d be with them in a second. He walked up to the target and yanked the knife out, handle-side first. Strolling over to the pair, he placed the knife in a leather belt made of pigskin, holding several other knives, plus a quiver full of arrows.
“Hey kid” he winked at Fern and grinned. She immediately liked him. He turned to the councillor. “I’ll take it from here.” As he spoke to him, Fern could hear a change in his tone. His voice was now rough and low. “Come on, Fern.” He said, beckoning. She was a bit surprised he knew her name, but she ignored that for now and followed him into a cabin-like shed, stacked with bows, arrows, crossbows, boomerangs, spears and throwing knives. He went over to a small box labelled with her name and lifted it off the shelf. “Here, Fern.” He said. “I’m Horace.”
Fern noticed that Horace’s name didn’t suit him at all. If he hadn’t told me, she thought, I’d have visualized him as a Liam or a Peter.
“I’m Head of Ranged Weapons. I’ll show you how to use a bow and maybe some throwing knives.” Horace continued. He picked up the box and strode out. She followed, trying to see inside the heap of cardboard. Outside, there was a platform of flat boards 5 meters long, lined with targets at the end varying in size and height, and lines marking standing position painted on the floor. Horace rummaged in the box and pulled out a beautiful long bow. “Here” he sighed, handing it to Fern. Then, unexpectedly, he added, “by the way, has the councillor forced you into doing this?” and laughed as Fern’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “Don’t worry. He always does that when he feels cornered. I actually had to do something similar to this because of him”
Fern suddenly felt like Horace was her best friend; she felt comfortable around him and free. “Yeah…” she gave a weak smile. “I’m pretty nervous. What if something happens?”
“Don’t sweat it. Nothing will. Come on, cheetah. We need to get training. Don’t have all day.”

Through the two hours they had before dark, Fern and Horace trained with a bow, throwing knives and at one point even a spear. At the end, she had learned a lot about each weapon and Horace nodded in satisfaction. “You’ve gotten good.” He smiled. “Here. This will prevent you getting injuries from the bowstring.” He handed her an iron cuff with patterns of a vine.
“Thanks.”
“See you, cheetah. You got to go home now.”
“See you.” Fern waved and sadly left, and she smiled as she heard Horace’s final words. “Do me a favour and stick one of those knives in the councillor, will you?”