Irwin's Journey - The Cardsmith

Irwin ran through town as fast as his thin, wobbly legs could carry him. As much as he tried to dodge the puddles from last night's storm, his feet kept finding them, splashing more and more gunk on his pants.

"No, Mom, I didn't run," he muttered, breathing raggedly from the slight effort. He was mentally preparing himself for the scolding he would get, but it would be worth it. Bronwyn would be back. Finally! He barely recalled anything of what had happened during school, only that Teacher Rhym had repeatedly shouted at him for his inattentiveness.

It's not like he is teaching me anything I don't know already, Irwin thought before focusing back on the important things.

I wonder if he got me a card! Or if he added an upgrade to his own! Maybe a summoning one!

He dodged around the butcher's rickety stone building, his mind filled with hopes and dreams. He slammed into something sturdy, bounced back, and landed on his ass a few inches from a nasty puddle.

"Dammit, you brat! Look where you're going!"

A towering man loomed over him, grinding his teeth as he held a massive bag. An indent on the blood-stained material showed exactly where Irwin had slammed into it.

"Sorry, Master Bullwinkel," Irwin muttered, carefully getting back up.

His face was hurting, but he kept any comment on the matter to himself. Of all the things that could have gone wrong, he had to run into this angry Charbull! If only he'd looked where he was going. The man had no sense of humor and seemed to dislike him with a passion.

"Your Mum has to come by here tomorrow, Irwin, and you better believe I'll tell her you were running again," the man growled.

Irwin's face fell.

"You know full well what she had to go through each time you hurt yourself. Worse, what would you have done if I'd dropped this bag?" Bullwinkel continued, glowering at him.

Irwin deflated even more, any joy at Bronwyn's return stifled at the prospect of having to explain to his mother why he'd not just walked. The fact that it was for his safety made it even worse.

"I won't run again," he said with a tired sigh as he hung his head.

At these moments, his small stature, barely the size of a twelve-year-old, came in useful. Many people forgot that he was fifteen and let him off the hook. He hoped his behavior would placate the man, but when he took a peek up, he saw the scowl remain.

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing. You're always trying to make people feel sorry for you. I won't have it," Bullwinkel snorted.

Irwin's shoulders sagged as he looked at the man, fearing his mother's disappointment already.

There was a moment of silence as Bullwinkel stared at him, then the man sighed. "You, boy, are a major pain in my back. Fine. I'll be seeing your Mum later tonight for the district meeting. I've got to clean and prepare all this meat before then, but the kennels also need cleaning. You seem to have too much energy. Go and clean them, and I'll refrain from telling your mother you were running again," Bullwinkel grunted, staring at him intently.

"But-" Irwin began, knowing he should be home within a quarter of the glass, and the cleaning would take way longer.

"Your choice, boy. Help me out, or explain to your mother," Bullwinkel said with a snort.

Irwin only had to think about it for a second before sighing and nodding.

"Good. Now, get in there. I'll come check on you in an hour or so," Bullwinkel said as he stepped aside.

Irwin walked past the man, and before he reached the door, he'd calmed down. It was for the best. His mother was going to find out anyway. She always did, somehow. There would be less trouble if he told her himself and added that he had already helped Bullwinkel with a chore.

"Don't act like a beaten dog. Your wannabe ranger brother won't be going anywhere for a while, with winter upon us," Bullwinkel called after him.

Irwin managed to hold himself from turning and shouting that Bronwyn was a real ranger! He finished training last spring and was accepted into Magnif's ranger group. He probably closed at least one portal by now!

It wouldn't matter though. He knew exactly what Bullwinkel -and some others- thought of Bronwyn, or worse yet, of how his brother had gotten his first card. If he gave Bullwinkel any lip, the man might not let him go this easily.

His behind still remembered the last spanking by the smith, Randal, and he wasn't up for another. Although Bullwinkel wasn't as strong as Randal, his hands still resembled shovels.

Growling and snapping sounds came from inside the low, rickety building that leaned against Bullwinkel's shop.

Right, the dogs are in, he thought with a weary sigh.

The first snow had fallen, meaning the rangers must have returned them. They wouldn't survive the frigid cold snaps that happened outside. Nothing but the demons, monsters, and most powerful carded could.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, and the stink of wet dog slammed into him. At least it's warm, he thought as he walked inside.

Intelligent, dark eyes gazed at him as Bullwinkel's pack of seven Shadehounds stopped their play-fighting. Each came to his waist and could locate portals over great distances.

"Hey guys," Irwin said as he closed the door behind him and grabbed a nearby shovel.

There was a sniff from his side, and he looked up to see the pack leader, an almost black, silver-eyed hound nuzzling his waist.

"Nope, no treats today- sorry," Irwin said, reaching out and scratching the dog's jaw.

The hound snorted, then went back to snapping at the others as Irwin maneuvered between them, making sure to keep an eye out. Though the Shadehounds wouldn't attack him, they were known to get lively when they played. If he was caught in the middle, he'd probably be bedridden for a week.

He made his way to the back of the low building, deciding that was another benefit of his size. At least he didn't have to bend over, which would have made the work even more grueling.

Struggling with a shit-caked layer of hay, he sighed as he shoveled it into a large bucket in the corner. As the weight left the shovel, his arms trembled. Before he could stop it, the familiar depressing thoughts struck.

If only I had a card. This would have been so easy!

He struggled but failed to suppress the rising anger and sadness, and he felt any remaining joy at Bronwyn's return fade. Familiar outrage at the unfairness of his predicament made him force himself to put more shit on the shovel, and he instantly regretted it as he failed to lift it. He futilely tried to push his weak frame to cooperate, then sighed and let some slide off. Part of him knew it was going to cause him sore arms the next day, but he didn't care.

Nobles get cards. Crafters get cards. Rangers get cards, he chanted as he flung more shit into the bucket. But the kid with the sick and weak body? Noooo, he gets to live and die as a-

He cursed, barely managing to coil in his anger before he would hurt himself. As soon as it faded, the familiar weary sadness replaced it, and he sighed as he continued shuffling smaller amounts. A tiny pang in his back told him he was going to seriously regret his inability to control himself when morning came.

Perhaps Bronwyn got me a card, he thought.

The thought barely managed to cheer him up, but he let his mind drift off to try to ignore his weary arms and shaking hands.

He imagined Bronwyn handing him a common, or -could he hope?- an uncommon, strength-based card. A full body-improvement card to offset his inborn weakness. He'd grow big and strong and show that annoying Bast that he wasn't a baby that should be pushed back into-

Irwin forced the thoughts away as he noticed he was putting too much shit on the shovel again.

It wasn't important anyway. He glanced at the back of his hands and imagined there being a set of three card-outlinings on each. They would give him the power to join the rangers in searching and closing portals or perhaps the guards at the wall. He'd get to fight monsters and become a hero known even in the capital.

Halfway done, the Shadehounds stopped play-fighting and lay down to one side. He felt the alpha's eyes on him, and he looked over to see the curiosity in the intelligent eyes.

"What?" he muttered. "You can always come and help."

The Shadehound blinked slowly, then turned its head away and closed its eyes.

"Right," Irwin muttered.

When he finally deposited the last bit, he was swaying on his feet and barely managed to place the shovel back. Bullwinkel stared at him from the door with an unreadable expression. How had he missed the draft and noise from when it opened?

"How you even managed to survive to this age is beyond me," the man said with a weary sigh before stepping aside. "What are you, thirteen? Well, you did as I asked, so I won't complain. Now run along, and don't worry, I'll keep my word and not tell your Mum. Still, I suggest you do it yourself 'cause she has a way of figuring things out."

"Yes, mister Bullwinkel," Irwin muttered as he walked towards the door. And I'm fifteen!

He didn't say it out loud, though, knowing the ridicule that would bring.

There was a soft keen, and he looked up to see the alpha stare at him for a moment.

"Bye," Irwin muttered, unsure what else to say.

Bullwinkel raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged lamely, trying to increase his pace. His body ignored his attempts at moving faster, and when he finally stepped outside in the cold but fresh air, he saw the red tint in the sky.

So late? Mum's going to be furious.

"Off with you," Bullwinkel growled, and Irwin jerked, realizing he'd been standing there, zoning out. He walked away, unable to go faster than a regular walk.

The streets strung together in a blur as he headed towards the last hurdle before his destination. Irwin felt weary to the bone and wished he could have gone around the busy square.

Officially called Loglinin's stand, everyone in Malorin called it Commoners Square. It was loud and swarming with people. A deafening cacophony of sounds, chatter, and shouting came as people tried to get a few final items from the merchants and crafters before they closed for the night.

Irwin shuffled along the edge, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Halfway, he saw a group of four rangers move through the market. Three had a glove on their left hand, while the leader, a tall, dark figure, had one on each, indicating he had at least four cards.

I wonder when Bronwyn will get to be a full-hand, Irwin wondered as he eyed the gloved hands with envy. They hid the ranger's cards from prying eyes, mostly the few intelligent Demons, but also those who believed the rumors that killing carded sometimes caused their cards to drop.

"-don't believe you!"

An angry shout made him look away from the rangers to a small group of people glaring at an older merchant wringing his hands. The merchant's attention was on a tall boy dressed in fine clothes in the middle of the group.

What is a noble doing here? Irwin wondered, slowing down even more to catch what was happening.

"It's just a rumor," the man said in a raspy voice. "I didn't mean to-"

"Then stop spreading false rumors about an increase in portal spawning. Peasant! The rangers are doing their job, as are the sorcerers!" the boy snapped. He leaned forward. "If I hear your lies again, I'll have my father's guard find you!"

"No, no! There's no need for that," the man said as he waved his hands helplessly. "I'll be silent."

The boy glared at him for another moment before turning and stalking away. Two men followed him, looking around as if they expected someone to get in their way.

Always so overbearing, Irwin thought as he resumed his way.

When he finally reached the old, gray-walled area of Rat District, his legs would barely move. He continued through the narrow alleyways until he reached the dead-end one known as Kettlestreet. There were only three doors, and he was staring at the one at the back, wondering what he could say.

It opened before he was halfway to the door, and his mother stepped out. Arms crossed, fingers clenched around her arms. The way her jaw was moving showed him he might even have to go to sleep without food- again.

"Hey, Mum," he muttered as he walked up to her.

"Don't you 'Hey Mum' me, Irwin!" his mother snapped while pulling him into the tiny hallway and closing the door, bolting it in a single move. "Where have you been, and why-" she sniffed, and her eyebrows narrowed as she began looking him over. "Why do you smell like dog shit?"

"I'm fine, Mum," Irwin tried as he heard a voice call his name from the living room. "Can I see-"

"No. Not before you tell me where you've been!"

Irwin sighed, the little energy he had regained from hearing Bronwyn's voice vanishing as fast as it had come.

"I might have run into mister Bullwinkel," he muttered, slurring his words.

"And I presume you mean that literally?" his mother asked as her eyes passed over him again, and she sighed tiredly. "Boy, you had better not've gotten into trouble again. If that angry man refuses to sell, we won't have any meat for a week."

"No, Mum," Irwin said, dropping his head as much in defeat as due to his weariness. He glanced at his dirty boots, wondering why he hadn't thought about cleaning them. It was no surprise that his mother had figured out something had happened.

"I cleaned his dog pen for him, and he said he'd drop it."

As he looked up, he thought he saw a smile flicker across her lined face, but he had to be mistaken because when he blinked, he only saw her annoyed glare.

"Well, at least you did that," she said. "Now, take off and clean those boots- you probably forgot we have to trade them with Miss Liverly for a bigger pair, and I don't think she wants them as they are now! Or would you like to walk in small boots for a few more months?"

"No, Mum," Irwin said, not saying what he actually thought, that he really didn't think Miss Liverly would care as she would probably toss the worn-out things away. Besides, with how slow he was growing, he could probably still walk in the shoes for another year before they became painfully small.

As his mother turned away and stepped through the thin door into the living room, Irwin caught a glimpse of his brother.

"Well, you should thank your brother for bringing food, or I'd not have saved you any. Now, hurry up and come join us- after you wash your hands and face!"

Irwin nodded and pulled off the caked boots. When he finally put them away, they were as clean as he thought he could get them. With a yawn, he stepped into the living room. Barely twenty-foot square, it was the living room, kitchen, and spare bedroom. Which it would be tonight, as with Bronwyn back, they needed the extra bed.

A large, burly boy, almost a man, sat on one of the hard wooden stools, elbows on the table and resting his face on his hands as he watched Irwin. There was a shadow of a beard on his cheeks, which hadn't been there when Irwin had last seen him. At not even seventeen, Bronwyn was already as large as most adult men and still growing taller and brawnier by the month.

Part of this was the card he'd lucked upon when he was thirteen, but most of it was because, according to their Mum, Bronwyn took after their late grandfather- a giant of a man that would have towered over even the smith and his sons with hands large enough to wrap around a kettle. Not that Irwin had ever seen him. His brother and mother were all the family he had.

How can we be related, Irwin thought as he noticed the corded muscles on Bronwyn's arms. Perhaps I was adopted? It wasn't the first time the thought came to him, and his smile dimmed. His Mum was almost as large as Bronwyn and stronger than most women. Part of this was because of the cards she had, but only part.

"And here's the little troublemaker," Bronwyn said, his voice deeper than Irwin recalled. "So, decided you'd try and gain some muscle instead of coming to see me?"

Irwin shook his head, grinning at Bronwyn as he recalled the reason for his rush and bad luck.

"Don't call me little," he said, annoyed when his voice wouldn't go to the depth a man's should be.

He quickly scanned the table for any packets. A tiny bundle wrapped in a dirty cotton cloth lay in the center, and his eyes widened as his daydreams returned with a vengeance.

"Yes, yes! I brought you something," his brother said with a grin. "Now go wash your hands before Mum has an aneurysm!"

"Bronwyn Roddington, mind your language! I'm still your mother," their Mum snapped.

Irwin was wondering what an aneu-something was when he heard something off in the tone of his mother's voice. Looking up, he was surprised to find another smile on her lips, and he realized she was just playing angry. He sighed in relief, looking at her for a moment. With the smile, the lines eased from her face, making her look younger than before, which was good. He knew she wasn't actually that old yet, only turning thirty-seven this winter, but she looked as old as Tilly's mother next door, who was a decade older.

"Irwin!"

"Right," he said as he hobbled to the old stone sink and the small bucket.

The bubbly water inside was already dirty, but it would suffice, and he quickly scrubbed his hands. The soap bit into the cuts in his hands, but he just gritted his teeth and struggled until they were clean… ish.

Hoping that he was finally done, he moved to the table and jumped up the stool across from Bronwyn. His feet dangled uselessly, but as they finally had a chance to relax, he felt them shiver from all the strain he'd put them through. He'd not be able to walk normally tomorrow. Unless-

"So…." Bronwyn said as he grinned. "I was going to ask if you've been behaving, but I guess we just found out that you haven't!"

"Bronwyn," Irwin exclaimed as he shook his head. "Don't treat me like a kid! Besides… I've been mostly good! This was just because- because you were coming back, and I wanted to hurry and-"

"And you learned a valuable lesson," Bronwyn said with a sage nod. "Sometimes the fastest way isn't the shortest, and sometimes it is."

Irwin frowned, trying to make the lines make sense, then looked at his mother, who sighed and shook her head.

"What Bronwyn means is that sometimes it's better to go slow and take a long way than to rush and break your neck," his mother said before pointing at Bronwyn. "Now hurry along. Irwin needs to sleep- it will be a busy day tomorrow."

Busy? Why? Irwin thought as he looked at his mother with wide eyes. He was supposed to have the day off, shouldn't he? He hoped he didn't have to help his mother at her job again- the last time, he'd had pain in his hands for a week.

"Well, then you had better open my present," Bronwyn rumbled, and Irwin snapped to attention, licking his lips as he accepted the parcel handed to him.

It had to be a card- Bornwyn's smile said as much. As soon as he held it, he knew it wasn't a rare card because those were heavy. At least, that's what Teacher Rhym had told them. No, this was so light it was probably not even uncommon. As happy as he was to finally get a card, it took some effort not to show his disappointment, and he smiled widely at Bronwyn.

"Thanks, brother!" he said, trying his best to show an honest grin.

Bronwyn just raised an eyebrow, though Irwin thought he saw something flicker in the other's eyes. Then it was gone, and he shrugged as he carefully removed the bindings from the cloth, unwrapping the small card. As soon as he saw the dull and pale gray back of a common card, he knew his dreams wouldn't come to pass. Even the best common single-aspect body-enhanced card wouldn't magically change him from being small and scrawny into being strong, let alone as strong as his brother.

I don't have to be as strong as him! Any card is better than none, he reminded himself as he slowly flipped it over.

An image of a finger with a flame atop covered the card, as real as if it was there at that moment. The border lines were smooth and tight, except for the top one, which had an odd swirling pattern. It was unusual, but he barely cared, staring at the card. This wasn't a body-enhancing card. This was…

"What's this?" he blurted before he could stop himself. He cringed as he heard the disbelief and dismay in his own voice and quickly looked up at his brother, trying to fake a surprised smile.

"I've not seen-"

"It's fine," Bronwyn said as he sighed and looked at their mother, who looked at the card with a slight frown. "I know it's not what the two of you were hoping for, and I can understand your confusion, but let me explain."

"No, I-" Irwin started but stopped when his mother hissed.

"Let your brother finish talking, Irwin. No interrupting!'

"Yes, mother," he said demurely, glancing at the card. He might not know the exact skill the card would give, but he recognized a utility card when he saw one.

"I know what you want, but during the last few months, I got to meet a lot of knowledgeable people -rangers- whom I asked for advice on a card for you," Bronwyn said slowly, carefully picking his words as he gazed into Irwin's eyes. "From them, I heard that the only cards that could help with your problem are rare or higher. I tried getting one, but… nobody will trade common cards for uncommon, let alone rare."

Irwin grimaced, feeling horrible for not being happy with what he'd gotten. He knew it would be impossible for his brother to get him a rare card, let alone a full-body-enhancement one. Besides, if he could get one, it would be better for everyone if he used it himself. As a ranger, he was responsible for closing the portals and clearing out the monsters from Gloomforest before they swarmed the fields.

Even though he knew this, Irwin couldn't help but feel sad as he stared at the card. Even a common body-enhancement card would have let him become as strong as a normal person. He just knew it. With this?

"The thing they all said was to get you a utility card with potential for combat, which is what you have there. It's called Flickerlight, and if you slot it, you will learn how to create a tiny flame above the tip of your finger, which you can throw."

Irwin swallowed and knew his smile had turned uglier than it should, but he couldn't help himself. The card was as close to the opposite of what he'd dreamt of as it possibly could be.

If it had been his second card, or if he could become a crafter or alchemist, it would have been useful… but as his first? The first card was the one that defined a person's future and changed their body and mind more than any that followed. So what did this say about his? All he could do with it was light a candle, at best from a distance, if he could even throw it. His throwing skill was almost as bad as his running.

"Thanks, Bronwyn," he said as he swallowed and climbed down from the chair. "I'll go to bed now."

As he moved to the door that led to his small room, he saw his brother's sad look, but Bronwyn said nothing, and neither did their mother. Only when he was already staring at his bed, about to close the door, did his mother speak up.

"Irwin. Slot the card," she said in a tone that left no room for discussion.

Irwin didn't know what to say and just nodded as he closed the thin door.