Iron Axe by Steven Harper Read Free Book Online Page A

Talfi said. “What’s it like?”
    â€œSmall,” Danr replied.
    â€œWhat’s its name?”
    â€œI don’t think it has one,” Danr admitted, feeling oddly ashamed. What did he care if the village had a name or not? But for some reason, he felt a need to impress Talfi.
    They walked down the muddy, wooden street. The cut logs were rough under Danr’s callused feet. People continued to stare, but not as obviously, probably because Danr was with Talfi, and staring at Talfi would be rude. No one cared about being rude to a half-blood.
    â€œOrvandel is your uncle?” Danr asked, more to fill the silence than anything else.
    â€œNo,” Talfi said, a little uneasily. “He’s just very kind and tells everyone I’m a foster son, so I call him that.”
    â€œHow did you come to live with him? Are you really fostering with him or did your parents die, too?” The moment the insensitive words left Danr’s mouth, he wished he could snatch them back. Danr was an idiot, and rude besides.
    But Talfi didn’t seem to notice. “I, uh . . . I don’t actually know what happened to my parents.”
    â€œYou don’t?” Danr said, his surprise clear. Then he kicked himself again. A monster asking monstrous questions, that was all he was.
    Talfi, however, didn’t seem to notice. “Nope,” was all he said. They reached the edge of the village and went through the crowded gate, still garnering stares. “I mean, I’m almost certain my parents
are
dead. Otherwise I’d be living with them. The rest is . . . strange.”
    â€œYou’re walking down a road with a troll and a cow,” Danr said, “and you worry about strange?”
    That got a laugh from Talfi. Talfi’s laugh was a bright, clear sound, and Danr abruptly realized that this was one of the few times he had heard laughter that wasn’t directed at him. It made him want to laugh himself, though he didn’t.
    â€œYou’re right,” Talfi said, grinning. “So I’ll tell you—one strange person to another.” He paused, his gaze sliding into the distance. Red-brown cows grazed in a meadow near the road, and the breeze carried the scent of manure. Danr waited expectantly.
    Talfi took a deep breath. “The strange part is, I don’t remember.”
    Danr raised thick eyebrows. “You don’t remember what?”
    â€œAnything.” Talfi sighed and bunched his hands underneath his brown cloak. “I have no memories at all.”
    â€œNone?”
    â€œMy earliest memory is of looking at the Skyford gate. I was wearing a ragged tunic and only one shoe and I was hungry.” Talfi was twisting the cloak now. “That was three years ago. I still have no idea who I am or where I came from.”
    â€œHuh.” Danr tried to imagine this, but the idea of not having any memories failed him. “Do you know how to do . . . things?”
    â€œYeah. I can ride a horse. I can read. I can even make arrows. Someone must have taught me, but I don’t remember learning any of it.” He paused, and a raven coasted overhead with a low croak. “My skill as a fletcher was how I persuaded Uncle Orvandel to take me in, but I told him that I was an orphan with no master.”
    â€œHuh,” Danr said again. “Have you tried to find your memory again?”
    Talfi spread his hands beneath his brown cloak. “A little. One time Uncle Orvandel sent me to Meltown to buy feathers, so I was able to ask after myself—that was a strange business—but no one knew me there, either.”
    The sun continued to shine overhead, but the hard rays were blunted by the kindly shade cast by the trees that lined the road, and Danr scarcely needed his hat. The steer followed placidly, and Danr wondered if it was mystified abouttheir trip to Skyford and back. Probably not. Cows leaned toward bland and