Chapter 3

            Arran woke up before sunrise to do his morning chores. He changed into a clean tunic and went about feeding the animals. He failed to notice a man in a black cloak, lurking in a shadowy corner, watching him. Arran grabbed a cloak off of the wall and went outside to line up for another day of Choosing stations. He didn’t have to wait very long. Youth came in groups to the village square. Arran was the only one who stood alone. Tenvon appeared shortly. “Attention!”, he growled. The youth scrambled to get in line.

            “Today, the first stop is the hospital. Left face! Forward march!” The youth obeyed and stepped in formation. They marched off to the hospital. They arrived there, and a doctor was standing there to meet them. He took them into a room with a bunch of scarecrows dressed to look like regular people. The doctor showed them all how to make splints, and what herbs cured what ailments. He had them set broken arms and legs. He told them the ailment, and they had to find the right combination of herbs. Arran “killed” his patient about a dozen different times. He chose the wrong bunches of herbs and ended up poisoning the patient. He made the splint too loose and it kept slipping off the arm. The doctor called out all the names of the students whose “performance excelled beyond expectations”. The group had narrowed down from thirty-four to thirty-one.

            They lined up and headed towards the cobbler’s. There, they tried to fix shoes and make new ones. The cobbler had a very short temper and wouldn’t allow anything other than perfection. He kept glaring at Arran and rolling his eyes. The entire time, Arran was trying his best, but to no avail. He ended up making a hole trying to repair one and made something closer to a saddle than a shoe. He looked down with shame as the cobbler called out names. The whip hit his back, and he lifted his head to see Tenvon’s steely gaze. “What did I tell you about presenting yourself, young man?” With that, Tenvon turned away. Arran shuddered slightly, wincing as the cuts burned into his back. He was determined to keep on going, no matter what Tenvon thought.

            After that awful experience, Arran was more sure that he was going to the mines to work. While he was thinking about the fate that might await him, and he let his gaze wander. Once again, he felt the sting of the whip and heard Tenvon’s voice. “One more step out of line, and you’ll be working in a mine,” Tenvon laughed. Arran kept his face forward. They stopped next at the fisherman’s plaza. The head fisher took them out to the docks that extended over lake Voliaer. He gave them poles and bait, and told them to catch whatever they could. Arran’s hook got caught in the wooden dock. He tried again. This time, it got caught on his leg. Not wanting anyone to notice, he subtly cut the line and told the fisher that a fish tore the hook off his line. He tried not to let his pain show while he walked.

            The next place Tenvon had them go was the blacksmith’s workshop. The blacksmith looked really excited. He explained how there are many different types of metals. “The… art… of blacksmithing is a delicate one. The first thing you need to know are the different types of metals. Some metals can be heated and shaped into what you want it to be. Others have to be melted and put into molds. I am going to have each one of you come and do different parts of the task of making a knife.” He cleared his throat. “If anyone wants to go first, I need someone to light the forge.” Arran stepped forward. What could go wrong?, he thought. The blacksmith smiled. “Good, good. Come over here. I assume you know how to use flint and steel. Here you go.” The blacksmith gave him a small steel knife and a piece of flint. Arran made his way to the opening of the forge. He struck the two together. Sparks flew, but nothing caught. He tried again. Still, nothing caught fire.

He swallowed nervously. Everyone was watching him. He couldn’t mess up now. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He could do this. He could light the fire. It was a simple thing to do. He closed his eyes and struck the two together again. He heard the blacksmith whisper a word, but didn’t quite catch what it was. It sounded something like “Ingvo”. He opened his eyes, and almost sighed with relief. The fire was going. He stood up, and turned around to see the blacksmith right behind him. The blacksmith smiled at him. “Come back tonight and meet me behind the forge.” He said under his breath. “There are things I need to talk to you about.” He cleared his throat. “Good job, lad!”, he said loudly. “Back in line you go.” Arran hurriedly got back in line. The blacksmith glanced uneasily at Tenvon, then turned back to the youth. “Right, uh, whose next?” All twenty-three youth in line, including Arran, got to do something for the blacksmith. The blacksmith then chose five of the youth to work with him. All five were muscled and could swing a hammer hard. After he had chosen, the youth lined up again. The blacksmith nodded his head at Tenvon, who sniffed in return. The blacksmith then glanced at Arran and smiled.

They marched off to lunch. It was the hottest part of the day, and Arran’s feet began to hurt. He wanted so desperately for the week to be over, so he could get back to his miserable life. He was sweating lightly as he waited for his food. When it was his turn to receive food from the serving ladies, he smiled. They smiled back as they gave him his portion. He nodded quietly thanked them, as he always did. They smiled even bigger and sent him on his way. Arran looked around. There was no more shade available. He sat alone on a rock, thinking about what the rest of the day would hold for him, and whether it would be a good thing or not.

After three minutes since everyone started lunch, Tenvon called everyone to attention. “I have just gotten word that an archeologist has come to town. We will make an impromptu stop with him. Maybe he will take one of you to be his apprentice.” Tenvon’s expression became darker. “About face! Forward march!” The youth obeyed, and were marching off towards Cavern Hall. Cavern Hall was the meeting place of the people, and where the city governor ruled over the town. The heat was making the youth sweat. Some of them started to slouch. Arran heard the crack of the whip several times, and was glad he was not the one subject to the lashings. He felt bad for those youth. Tenvon was being overly strict. One of the kids passed out from the heat and the lashings. Tenvon called for a soldier, and told him that the boy was to report to the mines as soon as he woke up.

Arran felt bad for the boy. He knew that the boy had a long, hard future ahead of him. Arran forced himself to focus on the task at hand, and not get distracted, unless he wanted to be the one sent to the mines. They went inside Cavern Hall, and the archeologist did a lot of talking. He wouldn’t stop talking about the many places he had been, or the many interesting things that he had done. He droned on and on and on. The kids began falling asleep in the heat. Arran wasn’t paying any attention. He was thinking about what the blacksmith had said. What was the word that he had whispered? The word sounded familiar to Arran, like he should know what it meant. He made a note to talk to the blacksmith about it later that night.

Arran’s train of thought was interrupted by Tenvon’s voice. “Line!” Arran got up and took his place in line. The archeologist chose two to be his apprentices. They were the smartest of the bunch, and knew more than they should about certain things. Tenvon’s voice carried over the noise of Cavern Hall. “The next stop is the Hunters.” At these words, Arran became excited. He had always dreamed of being with the Hunters. If only he weren’t so clumsy. “I expect you all to be on your best behavior. These men do not tolerate anything less. If any of you are disrespectful in any way, I’ll see to it that you never see daylight again. You’ll go to the deep mines!” Tenvon flashed an evil smile, and Arran’s excitement died. “Right face! Forward march!”