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Chapter One: Leave Taking
Idris’s eyes were already open when
the knock sounded at his door. In spite of Captain Cowan’s urging that he get
some rest, Idris had been unable to sleep. He had heard the soft sound of
footsteps approaching from down the hall.
“Idris?” a familiar voice called.
He sat up immediately. “Just a
moment, sir.”
Idris pulled on his boots and
walked across the room to open the door. Captain Cowan stood on the other side,
his heavily scarred face pinched and weary.
Idris straightened his scarlet
tunic. The dragon and starburst embroidered in gold on his chest glimmered in
the lamplight. “Are we going to see King Nikolas now?” he asked his superior
with more confidence than he felt.
Cowan shook his grizzled head. “I
have already spoken to the king.”
Idris was secretly relieved. He
suddenly understood why the captain of the Royal Guard looked so harried. “What
did he say?”
“He has given his blessing,” the
old soldier answered shortly.
It was clear to Idris that it
hadn’t been as simple as that, but he knew better than to pry for details. King
Nikolas the Bold was a warrior in every sense of the word, and he never gave
ground without a fight. Captain Cowan had likely engaged in a lengthy argument
in order to gain the king’s approval.
Idris felt a surge of anxiety as
his thoughts naturally turned to the journey they were about to take—the reason
they had needed the king’s blessing. Captain Cowan and the three youngest
members of the Royal Guard were about to depart from Marath for an unknown
length of time during a turbulent period in the king’s capital city. There were
less than a dozen members of the Royal Guard to begin with. Losing almost half
of their number would leave the royal family more vulnerable than any of them
would like.
Yet, it had to be done. If they did
not undertake the journey, they would lose one of their number permanently.
Cowan handed Idris a bundle.
“Change your clothing.”
“Yes, sir,” Idris answered
automatically.
The captain walked away and Idris
closed the door to his room. He set the bundle on his bed before unwrapping it.
He found it contained the clothes he was expected to wear. The tunic was brown
and nondescript, as was the rest of the ensemble. It could have been worn by
just about anyone, which was probably why Cowan had selected it. The belt that
went around the waist had a couple of pouches attached to it. Idris filled them
with items that would be of use as they traveled—a flint, a small knife, a
medical kit.
Idris changed his clothes, then
tidied his topknot of black hair. When he was finished, he pick up the weapon
that had gained him admittance into the king’s most elite group of soldiers.
It was a partisan, with a black
lacquered shaft about six feet in length and the bottom capped in etched steel.
The top of the polearm was sculpted steel overlaid with gold and jewels to form
a dragon’s head, and the blade looked like a tongue of flame issuing from the
dragon’s mouth. Idris admired the beauty of the priceless weapon, just as he
always did when he set eyes on it.
The craftsmanship of the weapon was
extraordinary, and the detailed expression on the dragon’s face made it look
alive. The glittering rubies of the scales and the sapphires of the eyes were
so bright they almost glowed. Idris knew that was due largely to the power of
the weapon.
Is
it time, farmer?
The voice sounded in his mind like
a familiar melody.
“Yes, Iona,” Idris answered aloud.
“It is time.”
The partisan—like all magical
items—was sentient and worked in partnership with Idris. Not long ago they
could barely exchange a civil conversation, but now Idris was pleased to
acknowledge that they were friends.
Idris gently pulled a fitted
leather covering over the head of the partisan, tying it closed. The cover hid
the riches from view. There was no way to hide that he was carrying a polearm,
but onlookers would not suspect its true worth.
Idris attached the partisan into a
holder which he then strapped to his back. He glanced around the room to see if
there was anything else worth taking, pausing as he looked at the mantel over
the fireplace.
When he had first come to Marath to
train with the Royal Guard, his family had given him a bundle of gifts. Among
the items was a chain of colorful yarn with beads woven into it—each bead
representing a member of his family. The family chain was a traditional gift to
those who left home, so they could symbolically carry their family with them as
they traveled. Idris picked up his family chain and tucked it into the pouch on
his belt.
How
sentimental, Iona commented. Her voice had a teasing tone, but it was
affectionate as well.
“I do not know when I will be back
again,” Idris explained needlessly.
With a final glance around his
room, he walked to the door and stepped out to the hallway beyond. A small
group of Royal Guards stood waiting near the exit. Captain Cowan was speaking
quietly to Drusi, his second in command, and Farah, Idris’s instructor. Aherin,
one of the new members of the Royal Guard, stood slightly to the side talking
with Demas and Palti.
Idris’s eyes fell on Hildar, a
young woman with the chestnut hair and fair skin that told of noble bloodlines.
Her delicate face was pale and her eyes were weary with strain. She looked at
Idris and nodded in greeting, a show of their recent friendship.
He smiled in return, but his
stomach gripped with anxiety. Hildar was the bearer of a weapon of power that
had been corrupted at some point in its history. That dagger was fighting to
take control of her. Idris had seen firsthand how destructive Hildar’s weapon
could be. He had no desire to witness it again.
His eyes automatically dropped to
the belt around Hildar’s waist, where she normally kept her dagger.
“Where is Savion?” he asked in what
he hoped was a casual tone.
Hildar’s hand moved to her belt,
clutching at the empty air. Her expression became one of chagrin as she became
aware of her reflexive action. She cleared her throat and determinedly dropped
her hand to her side. “Captain Cowan has sealed the dagger in a special case.”
Hildar gestured as she spoke.
Idris’s eyes followed the motion to the case in Cowan’s hands. It was long and
narrow, just the right size for a dagger. Idris couldn’t tell what the box was
made of, but it looked like crystal. The case looked to be solid, without seams
or hinges. If the outline of the dagger hadn’t been visible, Idris wouldn’t
have known that the rectangle was anything more than solid rock.
Captain Cowan overheard the
exchange between Idris and Hildar. He turned to address the group. “Now that we
are all assembled, I shall share with you the plan for our journey.”
An expectant hush settled over the
hall.
The captain of the Royal Guard held
up the crystal case in his hand. “This is a special item taken from the king’s
personal treasury. It was made during the time of Lyndham, the first king of
Calaris, and has been handed down through the royal family. It acts as a
barrier around magical items, rendering them useless until released. In this
way, Hildar’s dagger will be contained during our journey.”
Idris felt as though a large rock
had been lifted from his chest. He was relieved to know that Savion couldn’t
hurt Hildar anymore.
Cowan continued. “King Nikolas has
given me permission to take Hildar, Idris, and Aherin on a journey to reforge
this dagger. I have been told that it is a dangerous process, and we are not
guaranteed success. However, I believe that it is necessary for us to try.”
Several heads nodded in agreement.
“Drusi is in charge while I am
away,” he went on. “The remaining Royal Guards are to stay vigilant in
protecting the royal family. We know that there are traitors in the Water
Palace, and it is likely that war with Roshum is approaching. It is not
possible to be too cautious when it comes to the safety of the king and his
heirs.”
Idris could see that Cowan’s
warnings were unnecessary. Every member of the Royal Guard took a solemn oath
to protect the royal family. The fervor of that vow shone in each soldier’s
eyes. In fact, the reason that Jerin and Roth were not present for this meeting
was because Cowan had ordered that the king never be left unattended.
“Where will you go?” Drusi asked
quietly. “The art of forging weapons of power was lost long ago.”
Cowan gave a small smile. “There
are people who may know where to find what has been lost.”
If Drusi was bothered by the
cryptic answer, she gave no indication. Instead, she nodded as if he had said
exactly what she expected to hear. “I wish you luck on your journey.”
Her statement signaled the end of
the brief meeting, and everyone broke into smaller groups to say goodbye.
Demas and Palti walked over to
Idris. The former clapped Idris heartily on the shoulder.
“I wish I was coming with you,”
Demas said regretfully. “Adventure and glory awaits you, while I stay here to
keep an eye on the royal children.”
Idris grinned at his friend. “I
think you mean that mud and snow and scant rations await me, while you get
comfort and hot meals.”
Palti chuckled. “He has a point,
Demas.”
“Just think of how the ladies will
swoon when you recount your harrowing tales of blizzards and danger,” Demas
pressed on with a theatrical tone of voice.
Idris felt a small catch in his
throat as he laughed. “I will miss you, my friend.”
Demas’s expression became more
sincere. “I wish you safety on your journey.”
Palti reached out and gripped
Idris’s hand. “As do I, duwado.”
The large man’s affectionate
nickname for Idris meant ‘little brother’ in his native language. He truly
treated Idris like a younger brother, which was something that Idris treasured.
Being away from his family had been a difficult transition, but the friends he
had made during that time had made it bearable.
Captain Cowan gestured to his three
youngest Royal Guards. “Let us waste no time. Our ship awaits.”
Do
not worry, Iona said comfortingly. You
will see them again, in this life or the next.
Idris knew she meant well, but her
words were anything but comforting.
He turned and followed his
companions as they walked out of the quarters of the Royal Guards and into the
winter’s cold.
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