Blade of Truth

by Diane Lynn McGyver

Blade of Truth

  Diane Lynn McGyver

  Copyright2013@Diane Tibert

  Summary

  Bronwyn looked down at his food as his mother destroyed his manhood by attempting to defend his inexperience.

  Innocence Shattered. A young man on the verge of seeing a dream come true is crushed by the most unexpected person.

  Blade of Truth is a short story that ties into the Castle Keepers series. Many of the characters who appear in it also appear in Shadows in the Stone and Scattered Stones.

  Follow Diane Lynn McGyver into the Land of Ath-o’Lea and live the fantasy.

  Please note

  This book was written using Canadian spelling.

  Unfamiliar Territory…

  Her soft, warm hands sent tremors through his body and unfamiliar feelings surfaced. Before he could say a word, she closed her mouth over his and kissed his lips hard. He held her tightly, so the ale and the flood of sensations wouldn’t topple him over. When he felt her hand on the button of his trousers, he gasped, but she held him firm.

  Finally, she moved her lips to his neck and busied herself with trying to pull down his zipper the full length.

  Contents

  Blade of Truth

  About Diane Lynn McGyver

  First Chapter of Scattered Stones

  Blade of Truth

  Diane Lynn McGyver

  Bronwyn Darrow fondly drew a soft brown rag along the blade of his short sword, cleaning it one last time before sliding it into the leather scabbard. He savoured the weariness in his muscles after the vigorous workout. If permitted to do so, he would continue to practice his swordsmanship in the backyard all day. He loved the sensation created when the sword reached its apex then swung around as if a thousand horses pulled it.

  But today he had to attend the last day of study and collect his outcome report. He had completed ten years of education at the nearby study hall and would soon begin his trade. His brothers wanted him to become a wainwright and join them in their business. As the youngest of the family, he felt obligated to do so, but Bronwyn also had his own ideas. Since a young man, he had dreamt of enlisting with the Royal Army.

  Bronwyn walked across the grassy yard and entered the back door of his home. His family’s business—the Forest Bakery and Herb Shop—was located on the bottom floor. His father, sister and grandmother already worked in the kitchen baking bread for the day’s customers. The family’s living quarters existed on the second floor. As he made his way upstairs the smell of morning ration filled his nose. The wonderful aroma quickened his step.

  “I wondered when you’d put that sword away and come in to eat,” said his mother Maisie.

  Bronwyn had looked up several times while he practised and seen his mother watching from the window. He smiled, grabbed a biscuit and pulled a chair up to the table. His sisters, Rhiannon and Loran, already sat eating. They had both finished their studies and worked as apprentices at the nearby dress shop. They often talked about opening their own shop one day.

  “After today, you won’t have time to play with your silly sword,” said Rhiannon. “You’ll have to work like the rest of us.”

  “My sword is not silly,” said Bronwyn. “And I already work. Don’t I, Mum?” Every day, he stocked shelves and ran orders for the family’s shop.

  Maisie Darrow guided the bacon and eggs from the pan to Bronwyn’s plate. “Of course. He is my best helper.”

  His sisters giggled.

  “Worker,” corrected Bronwyn.

  “That’s right, dear.” Maisie eyed her daughters. “He certainly does more work around the shop than you two did. You both kept busy ogling boys. Now, you better hurry or you’ll be late. Ole Miss Purdy frowns on tardiness.”

  Bronwyn made a face at his sisters and plucked two pieces of toast from the tray in the centre of the table. He used one to break the soft yolk of his egg, and then dipped a corner of the toast into the yellow liquid. His mother made the best rations.

  Heavy boots clunked on the stairway, making everyone turn and watch to see who entered. Bronwyn’s brothers, Joris and Calder, walked in and took seats around the table.

  “Have you eaten, boys?” Maisie kissed each of her sons on the top of their heads. When they answered no, she added more bacon and eggs to the pan. She appeared happy to have two more of her children eating the morning ration under the same roof.

  “We came to see our future employee on his last day at the study hall,” said Joris.

  Calder grabbed a piece of toast. “We expect you at the shop bright and early tomorrow,” he said.

  Bronwyn swallowed the yolk-soaked toast. He hadn’t committed himself to being a wainwright or a wheelwright, the profession of his grandfather. Even he wanted Bronwyn to work with him. Personally, he didn’t want to leave his parents shorthanded and had previously used this excuse for not accepting the positions. “I might be a little late,” he mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

  “Late!” Calder pretended to fuss. “The boy wants to be fired the first day.”

  “Leave him,” said their mother. “Bronwyn is attending the celebrations tonight. I remember you boys going to your end of study celebrations. You didn’t arrive home ‘til morning.”

  Calder and Joris jostled each other back and forth.

  “Remember Lily? Your date?” said Calder. “She left with Gilson. I guess you weren’t her type.”

  “And you fared better with Sally? Seems to me she was a little bossy.” Joris rustled his hair.

  “Now, now. No wrestling at the table,” said Maisie.

  “All right,” said Calder to his little brother. “You can be late tomorrow, but you’ll have to work twice as hard.”

  “Speaking of late we’d better go,” said Loran. She and Rhiannon jumped up from the table. “Miss Purdy will be watching for us.”

  Rhiannon grabbed one last piece of toast. “If we’re late, she’ll remind us all day how important it is to be punctual.” She followed her sister down the stairs.

  “So, Bronwyn, who are you taking to the celebrations?” asked Joris.

  “I bet it’s the girl who comes into the bakery looking for the extra special cookie,” said Calder. “And you’re the cookie.”

  Bronwyn felt his face flush, but didn’t want to let his brothers get the best of him. He thought of Breckin Dole as a friend. They had started their education the same year, but she was two years older. He thought she was beautiful, but he also believed she would never want to see him outside of school now that they were adults. “I don’t need a date. Torin and I might not even go. We might have better things to do.”

  “Torin’s your date?” laughed Joris. “If that’s the case, I wouldn’t kiss him on the first outing.”

  “Boys, leave Bronwyn alone,” Maisie lovingly smacked Joris on the shoulder. “Bronwyn is young, and if he doesn’t want to go with a girl, he doesn’t have to. He’s not like both of you, dragging every girl from study hall through the door. Look at both of you; you still haven’t united and I’m sure you have dated more than half the women dwelling in Maskil as well as a few strays.”

  Bronwyn looked down at his food as his mother destroyed his manhood by attempting to defend his inexperience. He knew his brothers only joked with him, but the teasing about girls had worn out its humour years ago. Anyway, girls were second in importance in the Land of Ath-o’Lea to swords.

  Calder and Joris eagerly ate the ration and washed it down with tea.

  “Have a good day at study hall,” said Calder. He swatted his little brother on the shoulder as he passed.

  “And good luck on your no-date with Torin.” Joris leant close to Bronwyn’s ear and whispered, “I really don’t think he’s your type.”

  Bronwyn swung his ar
m to strike his brother, but Joris moved quickly to avoid the hit. Joris and Calder kissed their mother good-bye, and then descended the stairs laughing.

  “Don’t listen to them, dear,” said Maisie. “There’s plenty of time for girls. Those two were girl crazy—still are.” She cleaned the dishes from the table and prepared to wash them.

  “I know, Mum.” Bronwyn finished his breakfast and sat quietly for a moment. He struggled to gather the courage to raise the subject of enlisting with the army. Each time he had previously done so, a wave of concern swept over his mother, forcing him to quietly accept her opposition to the idea. “Mum,” he said softly.

  “Yes, dear,”

  “Would you be upset if I didn’t become a wainwright with Joris and Calder?”

  Maisie stopped washing the dishes. The skin on her face tightened. It appeared she anticipated what he would say. “Did you want to join your grandfather making wagon wheels?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Do you plan on staying on at the bakery? We need another full-time worker. Your father and I are not getting any younger.”

  “Mum.” Bronwyn left the table and leant on the counter next to her. “Mum, I want to enlist. It’s always been my dream.”

  “Bronwyn, you are so young.” His mother sighed. “Why don’t you wait until you’re older?”

  “Would it make you happy?” He didn’t want to disappoint her. He loved her and respected her opinion.

  “Being a soldier is dangerous work. Like I’ve said before, I’d prefer it if you left the job to men more experienced.”

  “I can’t become experienced unless I complete the training. No one can. But I’m good with the sword, Mum. You know that. I practice every day. I’m strong and fast.”

  “Bronwyn, I’m not certain how I would cope if you…”

  “Mum, I’ve grown up. You can’t protect me forever.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. “You taught me to always do what I believed in. I believe I can do this. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  Maisie hugged her son and smiled at him. “I know you are wise and strong. I know you would be the best soldier the castle ever had.”

  A wave of relief consumed Bronwyn. She’d finally agree with him.

  “But you’re my baby.”

  He rolled his eyes and endeavoured to defend his maturity level, but she stopped him and continued her speech.

  “Bronwyn, promise me one thing.” She looked thoughtfully into his eyes as if to gather courage to grant his heart’s desire. “Promise me you will wait until the next waning moon to enlist. During this time, I want you to learn more about what is expected of a full-time soldier. I want you to think about the benefits and the drawbacks. Once this time passes,”—she paused, and he heard her swallow hard—, “if you still feel this is what you want, then you have my blessing.”

  Bronwyn lifted his mother into the air and spun her around. “Thank you, Mum!” He set her down and hugged her tightly. “Thank you. I will not let you down. I gladly make the promise.”

  Maisie couldn’t suppress the smile. Her son’s joy ignited her own happiness. “Don’t forget. Not until the next waning moon.”

  “Yes, mum. I promise.” He raced to the top of the steps, paused to glance back at her and thanked her again. Then he flew down the stairs and out onto the street towards study hall. He couldn’t wait to tell Torin the great news.

  Pedestrians, carts, wagons and horses filled the streets of Maskil, so Bronwyn weaved in and out on his route from his dwelling to the study hall. Several groups of students mingled outside, but when Bronwyn didn’t see his friend, he entered the building. Preoccupied with finding Torin he didn’t see the group of girls and bumped into them.

  “Sorry. Sorry. Excuse me,” he said quickly. His gaze fell upon Breckin Dole, and he couldn’t help but stare as he continued down the hall. When he tripped over a chair, Breckin and the other girls giggled. Embarrassed by his clumsiness, Bronwyn focussed on the hallway before him. A short distance away, he found Torin.

  “Where’ve you been? Class is about to start.” Torin and Bronwyn had met many years earlier and instantly formed a friendship. The two dwarves often hung out together outside of study hall.

  “I have great news!” Bronwyn could barely contain himself. “Mum has granted permission for me to enlist with the army.”

  “That’s your great news?” Torin grumbled. “Why do you want to hang out with regimental thugs? What about our plans? How are we going to become great entrepreneurs in the horse trading business if you’re on the training grounds day and night?”

  Bronwyn thought Torin would be happier for him. The horse-trading business was just two kids wishing on stars; he never wanted to leave Maskil and chase horse dreams. Being a soldier was all he had talked about for years.

  “Listen, we have more important things to do,” whispered Torin. “Our friends got a hold of a barrel of ale for tonight. They need us to help transport it to the celebrations.”

  Bronwyn gawked in surprise. He had never drunk ale before and didn’t think Torin had either.

  “Are you going to help us with it?” asked Torin.

  Not wanting to sound like a regimental thug, Bronwyn agreed. He hoped they wouldn’t get caught. It might look bad when he enlisted. He turned when he heard Breckin’s voice. Years ago, they often played together, but lately her girlfriends and other boys preoccupied her time. She seldom spoke a word to Bronwyn, only smiled and winked now and again.

  “The Scintillate Theatre is begging me to join them,” said Breckin loudly as she and her friends walked past Bronwyn and Torin. “They are afraid I might consider the Kelip Theatre at Wandsworth.”

  “I’m sure you’ll pass their examination,” said one of her friends. “You’re the best actor in study hall.”

  “Pass?” quipped Breckin. “I’m a shoe-in.”

  Bronwyn smiled at Breckin. Her brown hair flowed over her shoulders and halfway down her back. He noticed soft pink lipstick painted her lips and her tight shirt across her chest revealed every curve. He had tried several times to ask her to accompany him to the theatre, but his bungling tongue had always rendered him to feel like a fool. He’d give anything to attend the evening celebrations with her.

  “Snap out of it, lover boy.” Torin pushed Bronwyn’s shoulder.

  The girls giggled as Bronwyn lost his balance and crashed into the wall. He jumped up, glaring at Torin. “What’d you do that for?”

  “Hey, Bronwyn, can I talk with you a moment?” Breckin waved at her friends to continue on without her.

  “Me? Ah, yes. Of course.” He stumbled over the words as if a boy scraping his knees on rocks.

  “Alone.” Breckin stared at Torin. When he didn’t leave, she said, “Torin, be a nice fellow and get lost.”

  Torin frowned at the girl, but when Bronwyn failed to offer assistance, he grunted and mumbled, “I’ll meet you in the main hall.”

  Bronwyn nodded and watched him leave. When he felt Breckin’s hands direct him into a corner, he caught his breath and allowed her to direct his movement.

  “Bronwyn,” she whispered. “We’ve been friends a long time.”

  “We have…Years.” He wished he hadn’t worn a long-sleeve shirt. The study hall felt warm today.

  “Do you have a date for this evening? I know it’s short notice, but I seem to be without one. I was wondering if you would do me the honour of accompanying me to the celebrations.” Breckin leant close to his face.

  Bronwyn’s mind tumbled into a haze as her warm breath fell upon his cheek. His dream had come true. The girl he loved wanted to attend the celebrations with him.

  “Well,” she whispered, her lips so close to his skin he could have sworn they touched it. “Can I go with you?”

  “Yes.” His voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, I would love to go with you.”

  “Wonderful,” she said. “I’ll expect you at eight then.” She wi
nked one of her long dark eyelashes at him then ran to catch up with her friends down the hall. They giggled as she barged into their circle.

  Still in a haze of wild excitement, Bronwyn watched her bound down the corridor. He hadn’t stood that close to Breckin since they crashed into the creek bed as they slid down a mud slide. Her smell had changed since then. Instead of soggy dirt, she smelt of wildflowers on a hot spring afternoon. Maybe his brother was right; Breckin visited the bakery because he worked there.

  The best day of his life had arrived. Not only did he have his mum’s permission to enlist, but he’d attend the evening celebrations with the girl of his dreams.

  Two boys walked by and gave him peculiar expressions. Bronwyn quickly wiped the smile from his face and nodded at them. After they passed, he gave himself a shake to loosen the tight muscles created from the encounter with Breckin. He headed off in search of Torin. His friend would never believe him about his date for tonight.

  But Torin didn’t want to hear it. Instead, he complained about messing up their plans to hang out with the other unattached guys. He also needed his help getting the ale to the celebrations. “What am I supposed to do while you’re escorting Miss Prissy Pants?

  “Don’t call her that,” said Bronwyn. Torin always called her that, and he didn’t understand why. Was he jealous because Breckin had given him more of her attention over the years?

  “Defending her already?” said Torin. “The woman is poyson. If I were you, I wouldn’t take her.”

  “You’re not me, and I am taking her.” Bronwyn crossed his arms as he listened to the closing ceremonies. They would soon be handed their reports and be on their way home.

  “Fine with me,” growled Torin. “Just remember I told you so. She’s poyson and will only make a fool out of you.”

  “You’re jealous,” he said, not looking at his best friend.

  Torin chuckled. “Why would I be jealous of a girl who loves to show-off and snub everyone around her?” He pointed a finger at Bronwyn. “You said you’d help me, and now you’re bailing. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “You’d do the same to me if you could get a date for tonight. It’s not like you asked if I wanted to help smuggle ale into the celebrations.”

  “Whatever!” Torin huffed and marched away.