Chapter XX
The Sword in the Stone
The remainder of the trip was quiet and uneventful, with no vampires or Acarians encountered. Selphie remained distant the entire time, and said little, especially to Luca. Emila was also rather withdrawn on the day just after the vampire incident, but she was back to her usual self the next morning. Luca wondered what it was that bothered her: the vampires, or the lute? Everyone was so quiet and withdrawn that Luca sometimes felt as he walked at the head of the group that he was travelling alone. It was a strange feeling, because Luca had never actually travelled alone before ; he had always had a companion.
About two weeks after the encounter with the vampires they reached the town of Eccador. The town was small and quiet; certainly not the kind of place one would expect to find a legendary blade. There was a wooden gate bordering the town, to keep monsters out as most settlements did. As they neared the entrance, a group of three hunters were there, busy skinning half a dozen goblin corpses. One looked up, a heavy old man with a grizzled beard and a thick scar on his face, and gave them a suspicious look.
"Seven more," the old hunter said to the others.
The other two hunters looked up from their work. They were both younger men, and they had faces that resembled the elder's. They were likely his sons, Luca figured.
"Here to see the new tourist attraction?" the old hunter asked.
"I take it you're referring to the Rixeor Fragment?" Luca asked him. "We've heard rumours..."
"Aye, everyone's heard the rumours," the old hunter interrupted. "You all are the tenth or so to show up this week. More will likely follow. Soon, it's all anyone will come here for. That old fool should have just kept his mouth shut about the damn thing."
"You seem angry about this," Brand said to him. "Is this not a good thing? Your village will make a lot of money this way."
The hunter's mouth tightened. He looked away from them, turning his attention back to the dead goblin in his lap. He grabbed a handful of skin in his calloused hands and ripped it from the goblin's back, exposing the muscle underneath. The smell of dead meat filled the air. "It's nothing special. It's just a damn sword. Nobody can use it. They all just leave with burnt hands and sore asses."
He was wearing gloves, Luca noticed.
Muffled sounds of argument carried from the direction of the town. Luca glanced inside, but he couldn't see what was going on.
"Father," one of the younger hunters spoke quietly, "perhaps we should do something..."
"It's not our business. We're hunters, not soldiers. If the old man wants to bring every fool from the four corners of Bacoria here to waste their time, then he can deal with the consequences of that. Not us." The father's tone was strict and direct; the tone of a parent who wanted an end to a discussion. It worked; the son looked down at his own goblin the same way his father was.
Luca was feeling more and more like a spectator. "We can enter, then?"
The old hunter made a sound halfway between a laugh and a grunt. "We're not gatekeepers. Just don't want to be around the damn lizards. Go right on in."
Brand frowned, and stared at the hunter like he wanted to say something, but he did not. He stepped past the others and went right inside. After a moment, the others followed one by one. Luca and Emila were the last, and Emila wrinkled her nose at the smell of the skinned goblins. "I never got used to that," she muttered.
"The goblins?" he asked.
"That's not what disgusts me," she answered in a low voice.
As they passed through the walls and entered Eccador, Luca saw what the argument was. It was as he'd suspected. Three figures stood outside the humble inn at the entrance of town, being harassed by several villagers. The villagers were unmistakably human; the travellers were not. They each stood a good hand or two above the villagers, with thin frames. They had no hair on their heads, flat noses that were almost a pair of slits, and mouths with no lips. There skin tone was a sickly green, and where the light caught it one could see the shimmer of their scales. Their eyes were large and their eyelids blinked vertically. The most noticeable feature, however, were the large tails that hung between their legs, stopping just a few millimetres from the ground.
Luca and Emila joined the others. They drew up behind Wiosna, finding themselves part of a quickly growing audience to the argument.
"Sendorai..." Wiosna muttered. "You don't see them in these parts."
Luca had spent four years of his life passing through various small towns in Sendora with his father. Out of all the lands he and Lodin had gone through, those years in Sendora were undoubtedly the worst. The lizardmen had been distrustful of them, as they usually were of humans, and treated them coldly and dismissively. When they had finally boarded a boat and sailed for the Arimos region, Luca had been overjoyed to get out of Sendora; until he came to know just how cold and dead the Arimos was.
Two of the Sendorai before them wore leather armour and carried curved blades at their sides. Standing between them was a Sendorai who carried no weapon, and wore robes. He was older, which could be seen by his paler skin, slouched posture, and the greyness in his eyes.
"What are they fighting about?" Luca asked.
"I'm not sure, but I think the locals don't want them here," Wiosna replied, not taking her eyes off the Sendorai. "I don't think they trust them."
One of the villagers - a blacksmith it seemed, from his heavy build - stepped in front of the robed Sendorai and shouted something to him. The blacksmith poked the Sendorai hard in the chest, and not a second later he was pushed back and onto the ground by the two armed Sendorai, who had their hands on their swords.
The other villagers who were with the blacksmith helped him to his feet, while others had knives out and took a few brave steps towards the armed Sendorai. The blades remained sheathed, but Luca could see that they were trained warriors, and could draw those scimitars in a second if need be.
Someone pushed their way through the crowd and ran up to the agitated parties. It took Luca only a moment to realise it was Brand.
"What is he doing?!" Luca said under his breath.
"They are his kinsmen," Jared said to him. "He grew up in Sendora, remember?"
"That fool is going to get himself killed," Ash muttered.
"We can't leave him," Luca said, starting towards the inn. "C'mon."
They made their way through the small crowd to the stand-off. The entire town's population of a hundred or so must have come out to see the event of the day. Several parents were holding their children close, watching the Sendorai in fear.
Brand now stood in the middle of the two groups, his arms crossed.
"Move, traveller!" the blacksmith shouted at him. "This is no concern of yours!"
"I am a traveller, the same as them," Brand said to him. "They have the same right to safe passage through your town as I do."
"You would defend these things?" asked someone in the blacksmith's group. "Why would you take their side over ours?"
"Because whatever fears you have of them are unfounded," Brand told them all. "They will not harm you, but if you come and threaten them, they will defend themselves, just as anyone else would."
"We don't want them here!" the blacksmith shouted. "How can we sleep at night with them around? How can we be sure that they won't abduct our children in the night to devour them!"
"As I just said, those stories are just false rumours."
"I've heard they eat their own dead," someone else said.
Brand hesitated, and the two Sendorai glanced at him for the briefest of instants. Still, he shook his head, and said, "also lies."
"But they leave behind corpses!" the blacksmith said, his expression a confident sneer now that he'd found some ground in his argument. "Human beings ascend to the spiritual realm when we die. We don't leave behind meat to rot."
"That is enough, Ardin," said a new voice. Everyone turned to look at the newcomer. It was a man, tall and heavy, but old and wise. He had
a long beard that was braided through. Despite his heavy build, he walked with a limp, and leaned on a cane with each step.
"Village Elder," the blacksmith said with both respect and annoyance. "These lizards have come to see the sword. They want to stay at the inn, and sleep under a roof my brother helped build."
The two armed Sendorai glared at the comment, but the robed one said nothing.
The elder looked at both parties, his eyes lingering for a moment on the dark-haired boy standing between them. "So they do. I don't see why this is cause for violence."
"Elder, all these travellers who have come here to see the sword are one thing, but..." the blacksmith was beginning to hesitate. "I cannot let my brother's legacy be tainted by letting a lizard sleep under his roof... by letting them be served by his widow and children."
"Your brother was a good man," the elder said. "Do you think he would turn away travellers who have come to stay at his inn? Or for that matter, do you think that his wife and children would? Have you even asked them?"
The blacksmith's eyes glanced over at the entrance, past where the Sendorai stood, where a woman and two children, a boy and a girl, stood at the doorway.
"I cannot trust them," the blacksmith declared, ignoring the elder's arguments. "When my brother died, he asked me to protect his family. I cannot wager my oath on the word of three lizards."
"I see," the elder said with a heavy sigh. "In that case, the Sendorans will stay in my home, with me."
"Wh-what?"
"Elder!"
The crowd protested, dozens of voices speaking in unison. The Elder silenced them with a raised hand.
"I will not force you to risk your oath, Ardin, but as the elder of Eccador, I will not turn away travellers who seek our refuge. I forbid you all to harm or harass the Sendorans while they are within these walls. Keep to yourselves, and they will do the same."
There were murmurs of disagreement, but it was clear enough that the argument was done. The villagers clearly took the elder's word seriously. The crowd began to disperse. Eventually, even the blacksmith and his group turned and walked away, leaving the Sendorai, Luca's group, and the elder alone.
"I apologise for that display," the elder said to the Sendorai. "It was not how you should have been welcomed, but I fear that centuries of tradition give us both our most admirable traits and our least. The xenophobia is one that I am trying to change, but it is a slow, uphill battle."
"Thank you nonetheless," said the robed Sendorai, speaking for the first time. "I am called Softclaw."
"I am Powell, son of Puelle," said the elder, stepping forward and offering his hand to the Sendorai. They shook. The elder turned to Brand. "And I thank you as well. Had you not intervened, things might have gotten ugly."
Brand turned to the Sendorai, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "I grew up in Sendora. They are my kinsmen."
"So you know of our way?" Softclaw asked.
"The way," Brand corrected him. "It is as much mine as yours."
"Ah. So you knew, and yet you lied for us."
Brand frowned. "Had I not, they likely would have attacked and killed you."
Luca glanced at Emila. She met his gaze but said nothing. Ash had an unreadable expression on his face. The others were similarly silent.
Brand seemed to pick up on their silence, because he turned to them and explained. "It is a custom of theirs, from old days when times were tough. There culture is different. It does not make them savages."
Softclaw gave Brand a long look. Powell turned his attention to the others. "And who is the leader of your group?"
Luca glanced at Selphie, but she said nothing. Her head was bowed and she refused to meet his gaze. Luca noticed that the others were looking to her as well, which only served to make Selphie even more withdrawn. A tense few seconds passed with no indication of her speaking up, which told Luca that she had no intention to.
After a moment's hesitation, Luca stepped up to the front of the group and answered, "I am."
"I see," Powell said. "Well, there's little other reason for anyone to bother coming to our town. I take it you're here to see the object of the rumours?"
"The Rixeor Fragment," Luca said.
"Indeed," Powell said, a knowing glint in his eye. "I will take you to it. Both of you. But first, let us rest at my home for a bit. I'm sure you're weary after your long journey."
Luca considered for a moment, then nodded.
"If you'll follow me," Powell said, starting off. The Sendorai followed right behind him, the two with the blades keeping close at Softclaw's sides. Luca's group - which it was in all but name at that point - followed after them.
They came upon the elder's home, which was a small but homely wooden house near the centre of the village. Despite it's size, the living room was spacious and had many chairs set around a table; it was clear he had company often.
"If everyone could find their seats, I'll make some tea," Powell said before disappearing into another room.
The three Sendorai sat at one side of the table, and Luca's group sat at the other. Softclaw looked to Brand, a strange expression on his reptilian features.
"What is it, kinsman?" Brand asked him.
"I believe I might have seen you from afar some years ago," Softclaw said. "But forgive me if I was mistaken. I hate to say it, but I have trouble discerning one human from another."
"I have changed a lot since I lived in Sendor," Brand said with a sigh. "It has been five years since my master found me in the city and took me to Allma Temple. I barely resemble the Brand of back then. I doubt the boy you saw was me."
Softclaw considered, frowning and scratching his chin with the claw of his index finger. "Hmm... perhaps I was mistaken. There are other human boys in Sendor City, after all. What are the odds that I would happen to see the same one twice? Especially as I do not often spend my time in the city. Ariath is my home."
"Your robes mark you as a scholar," Brand said to him. "I had figured you were from Ariath."
"Very knowledgeable of you," Softclaw said with a nod. "Indeed, you are a kinsman."
Luca noticed a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned just in time to see the door from which they had entered closing shut. There were now two vacant seats at the table. Selphie and Jared were gone. The others were now noticing the absence as well; the only person who did not react was Ash.
"Where are they going?"
"To the inn, she said," Ash said without so much as glancing up from his sullenness. "She wants to pay for our rooms ahead of time."
Luca wondered if that was the real reason at all.
Softclaw's eyes gleamed with unspoken interest. Something about the Sendorai bothered Luca. He couldn't bring himself to trust him.
"If I might ask, why have you come to Eccador?" Brand asked, resuming the conversation. "As a scholar, you must have sworn a vow of peace, but the only thing to see here is the Rixeor Fragment. What interest could you have in blades?"
"Quite a bit of interest actually," Softclaw said, leaning forward and grinning. "For it is the blade that I have come to study."
Brand's eyes widened. Clearly he had not expected this answer.
"This chance is one I have been waiting my whole life for, and I may not get the same opportunity again. My field of study is in the Fragments, and the legends of the sacred sword Rixeor itself. But though I have read every book in the Sendor library on them, I have yet to see one up close, and touch it with my own hands."
"What about Dragontooth?" Brand asked.
"I have made many requests to examine it," Softclaw said sadly. "The king has denied them all."
"What a strange choice," Brand said. "I never could have imagined a scholar, having taken a vow of peace, to dedicate his life to the study of weapons."
"It would appear ironic, to some," said Softclaw. "But the Rixeor Fragments are not the weapons of warfare and destruction that the stories make them out to be. They are what the wielder makes th
em. They give strength to what is already within oneself."
Luca frowned. Dori had once said something similar to that...
"So you know a lot about the Rixeor Fragments, then?" Luca asked.
Softclaw looked to him now, considering his answer. "I can humbly say that I do not know everything about them. The blades are wrapped in mystery, and only a few are accounted for. But I have spent more than three decades studying them, and I can recite the legends by heart. Why, do you have questions?"
"Many," Luca said.
The sound of footsteps alerted them to Powell's return. He walked into the living room, carrying a tray with a large pitcher on it. "I hope this is enough for nine people," he said.
Powell walked around the table, setting down cups in front of each of his guests and pouring a dark gold tea. As he made his way around them, Softclaw looked intently into Luca, as though trying to see through him. The Sendorai's large green eyes were alien to Luca; they unnerved him.
"There are many legends," Softclaw said. "A few contradictory, as legends tend to be, but there are consistencies, and these are taken to be facts. There are nine Fragments in this world... and each was once a piece of a single blade. This blade was called Rixeor, and it was used by the legendary swordsman Uro to strike down the demon Ekkei and seal it in the realm between realms.
"Rixeor was unstoppable in Uro's hands; he was a god among men. He knew this power was too much, even for him, so he split the great sword into nine smaller blades and scattered them across the world, keeping only one of them for himself.
"Only three are known and accounted for. One is Altair, the sword of the royal family of Saeticia. Another is Dragontooth, the blade of Sendora's royal family. And the third is carried by the king of Acaria, Zinoro. I do not know the name of this blade, nor how he came by it."
Softclaw grinned. "But today, that number becomes four. And it is I who will record the first information about this fourth Fragment."
He continued, "The Fragments are not like ordinary weapons. They will never chip, nor dull, nor rust, and nothing can break their steel, not even another Fragment. When mana is channelled through one, the blade is wrapped in a fire the colour of the wielder's mana-form. This magick is called manaflame, and is the greatest power of the Fragments.
"They are made with an ancient magick, and they appear to have some degree of sentience. They choose a master, and will only allow that person to wield them. Anyone else who tries to touch them will be faced with an impossibly heavy burden, and a touch that burns like white-hot iron.
"The new master is traditionally the person who manages to slay the previous wielder. This must be done in honourable combat. The Fragment knows when it is taken dishonourably, and it will remember.
"A wielder may name a successor, but if the blade is claimed by another, it might choose whoever it feels is stronger. If the circumstances of the succession are particularly uncertain, the blade may go to sleep."
"Go to sleep?" Luca asked.
"The sleeping shard carried at your side," Softclaw recited. "Know it not from a blade of steel. The sleeping shard will awaken at the time of it's choosing. And not a moment before.
"It's a rough translation from an ancient Sujin poem," Softclaw said. He chuckled, and added, "This is one aspect where the legends are fuzzy. I, for one, would relish the chance to see a 'sleeping' Rixeor Fragment, if only to know what it truly means."
"So what does it take to claim a Rixeor Fragment?" Luca asked.
Softclaw stared at him for a moment. "You need a good reason, first and foremost. To forcefully take hold of a Fragment and sway its devotion from its current master to yourself, you must have a need for it, something that the blade would feel is worth abandoning its current wielder for. Otherwise, when you take it, it will burn you like any others."
Luca frowned and stared into his cup of tea, which he had yet to touch. The abstract clouds within the murky liquid seemed to form shapes from the deepest corners of his mind, spilling out his secrets for all to see. Softclaw certainly knew what he was after - his guards and Powell as well - for what other reason could they have come to Eccador for?
And why shouldn't they? It was no secret that he planned to kill Zinoro. He'd told everyone in his group as much.
But would revenge be reason enough to sway the Rixeor Fragment to him?
Emila's hand found his own. He looked up to see her looking to him. She smiled and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Somehow, this was enough to dispel whatever doubts lingered in his mind.
"We appreciate your hospitality," Luca said to Powell. "But if it's alright, we'd like to see the Fragment."
Powell, who had sat down a moment before, nodded, took a sip from his tea, and rose back up. "Of course. I underestimated your eagerness to see it. I'll take you to it right away."
Powell started for the door, and the sound of scraping chairs filled the room as everyone rose to follow him out. A few moments later, the three Sendorai and the five of Luca's group were outside.
Softclaw stopped just outside the door and turned to his bodyguards. "I'll be safe enough in this town. You can wait for me here."
Without so much as a concerned hesitation, the two armed Sendorai disappeared back inside the house. Noticing that Brand was watching, Softclaw chuckled and grinned. "They won't be paid until we get back to Sendor. They only care about my safety when it is their responsibility to."
"Speaking of which, I've been wondering about something," Brand said to him. "As you are forbidden to touch weapons, how to you plan on examining the Fragment?"
"I don't need to touch it myself. I just want to see what happens when someone does."
Though Luca's back was turned to him, he could almost feel the Sendorai sneering and glancing ever so briefly at him. There were no pretencions between the two of them. Luca knew exactly what he was to Softclaw; a young, overconfident fool who was here on a pipe dream of glory. Softclaw thought he was here to take the Rixeor Fragment because he wanted its power. But Luca knew that he would prove him wrong, because he had reason to claim the Fragment. Justice needed to be served.
"She's back," Ash said, just loud enough to hear, pointing down the road.
Selphie and Jared were coming towards the rest of them from the direction Ash had pointed. Selphie looked uncomfortable, like she was waiting for something bad to happen, while Jared was his usual stoic self.
"Is everything alright at the inn?" Luca asked her once they were close.
"Y-yeah," she muttered. "I paid for our rooms."
"Good," Luca said, choosing to ignore her attitude. "Powell was about to show us the Rixeor Fragment."
"Alright," Selphie said, looking at the ground.
Now, it was getting on his nerves. Gritting his teeth, he took a step towards her. "It's what we came all this way for, isn't it? It's what we need to stop Zinoro. Remember what he's done? The thing that had you in such a rage when I told you?"
Selphie scowled so slightly Luca was barely sure her expression had changed at all. "Of course I remember."
"Good, so perhaps you could show a little bit of concern for the mission," Luca said, his voice a touch harder than he meant it to be. "You remember the mission too, right? You brought us all together for it. We've all risked our lives several times for it. You remember that too, I trust? I ask because you seem to have forgotten, while wallowing in self-pity."
Selphie bit her lip. She finally looked up at Luca, anger in her eyes. "Luca. Remember your place."
He took another step forward, almost laughing. "And what is that place? Following behind you? While you keep your tongue tied and lead us nowhere?"
"Luca." It was Jared's voice now, not a shout, but firm and carrying withheld anger. Luca looked to him and saw his eyes narrowed, and his mouth tight. "You will not address her that way."
Luca glanced behind him, seeing the others watching in varying states of surprise and confusion. Emila's hand covered her mouth. Brand was staring at his feet,
unusually quiet. Ash actually looked angry. Powell and Softclaw just stared at them, not understanding the situation. They didn't know who Selphie was; for all they knew, she was just another member of the group. The group he had told them he was the leader of.
He turned back around and said to Jared, "I'll speak to her the way I feel like. Because if nobody else is willing to do it, I am. I don't know what's troubling her so much, but she has a responsibility to be the leader of this group. And for the past two weeks, she's failed to do that. If I have to step up and be the leader of this group, then I'll do it. Because clearly Selphie is incapable of doing that."
Selphie's gaze was on the ground again. Jared, however, looked him right in the eyes. "There's more to things than you know."
Luca scoffed. "Actually it seems quite simple. Rather than take charge and do what she has to, Selphie would rather just wallow in her own misery and cling to her boyfriend. Well, you two can stay here and do just that. My useless brother can even join you while you're at it. In the meantime, I have a group to lead, a king to slay, and a country to save."
Turning on his heels, Luca left them there before they could say anything more, and walked back over to the others. Ignoring the stares of the other members of his group, and especially trying to ignore the stare of Softclaw, Luca approached Powell and said to him, "Take us to the Fragment."
The elder nodded. "Very well. If you'll follow me..."
Luca walked at his side, with Softclaw on his other, while Emila, Brand, Ash, and Wiosna followed close behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Selphie and Jared followed too, at a bit of a distance.
"You were reprimanding those two for leaving earlier?" Powell asked him as they walked.
"Something like that," Luca replied.
"As a leader, one must do such things from time to time," Powell said with a sigh. "Much like the blacksmith from earlier whom I had to stop from harming the Sendorai. As the leader of this village, I am like a parent to each and every one of them. And though I wish to do well by them, I must sometimes go against their interests for the greater good."
"I can understand that."
"It must have been embarrassing to have your followers troubling you like that in front of company," Powell said. "I apologise if I've made things difficult for you in any way."
"You've been nothing but hospitable and polite since we've arrived."
They reached a hill at the edge of the town, around which a rough wall of lumber had recently been constructed. There was a small gate at a gap in the wooden walls. Powell lead them over to it, and pushed it open.
"And there it is," the elder said.
On the side of the hill there was a large boulder surrounded by many smaller stones. In the centre of this boulder, a sword was stuck fast, the blade half-buried within the rock.
"We found it here a few months ago," Powell said. "There were no travellers around at the time, and I know no villager possessed such a blade, so I couldn't imagine who left it here, or why. But when we tried to draw the blade from the stone, it burned our hands like a blacksmith had just pulled it from a furnace. The stone is stuck deep in the hill, and is too heavy to move. We dare not try to use Earth-form magick, for there are old mines under this hill."
Luca walked over to the sword, hardly able to believe he was so close to a blade of legend. He noticed that Softclaw was beside him, a wide grin on his scaled face.
"Only a few of us have attempted to draw the sword out," Powell said. "We have no healer, so there is little we can do about the burns. I have not touched it myself, but I have witnessed others who have... the pain looked unbearable."
The hilt of the sword was nothing worthwhile, but the blade itself was in pristine condition. Luca wanted to reach out and touch it, but he knew he could not lay hands upon the blade until it was time to give it his all and draw it out.
"How very fitting," Softclaw said with a chuckle. "A sword placed in a stone that warriors may come and try to draw out. I wonder if the wielder who stuck it here was unaware of the symbolism, or if he was familiar with the ancient stories as well."
"Ancient stories?" Asked Brand, who had joined them. The others were now standing behind Luca, staring at the blade as he was. Emila, however, was looking to Luca with a concerned expression. She seemed to care little for the Rixeor Fragment.
"I've come across a few old stories about magic swords in stones," Softclaw said. "There was one in particular about a boy who drew a sword nobody else could and became a king. Or perhaps it was a girl... Actually, I think it was a girl who passed herself off as a boy. In any case, it was a very old story, and I was only able to find fragments of it. I never found out how it ended."
Emila moved closer to Luca. "Are you sure about this?" she asked, a worried look in her eyes.
Luca look her hand and gently squeezed it. "We didn't travel all this way to doubt things now. We need it. And I'm going to take that sword and make it my own."
"But..." Emila bit her lip and glanced nervously at the sword.
"Oh," Luca muttered, realising what was worrying her. Through the tether, Emila would bear every moment of it that he did. "I hadn't thought about that."
Emila then realised what he was thinking of, and she shook her head. "No, that's not what's bothering me. I don't care about the pain. There's just... something about that sword."
"What do you mean?"
"There's too many unanswered questions. Who was the previous master? Why would they leave a Rixeor Fragment behind? Why leave it in a place like this?"
Luca frowned. "I know. It's very suspicious. But we have little choice. We need a Rixeor Fragment to stop Zinoro, and there's little chance that Marcus will be willing to share his. I have to try." He kept his voice down, so that Powell and Softclaw did not hear.
Emila nodded, understanding the situation, but still uncomfortable. Luca left her side, approaching the blade. He pulled off the gloves he wore, not wanting them to be ruined, and stuffed them in his pocket.
"Whatever your reason is for wanting the blade," Softclaw said to him. "You need to keep it strong in your mind. Speak to the sword with your thoughts. Win it over with your passion. Otherwise, it will not accept you."
Luca glanced at the Sendorai. There was a spark of barely-contained excitement in his eyes.
Turning away from him, Luca stepped up onto the large rock and was right before the sword. He put his hands right around the hilt of the sword, not yet touching, and closed his eyes.
He said quietly to the sword,
"Lodin... my father. He was murdered by Zinoro, a man who carries your brother and commits atrocities with it. With dark magick, he's murdered hundreds and brought them back as hollow shells to fight for him. He's made an army of these revenants, and he's planning to invade the country of Sono and slaughter everyone in his way. He needs to be stopped, and I need your help to do it.
"Please, Fragment of Rixeor. Lend me your strength, so that I might avenge my father and bring this monster to justice..."
Luca took the hilt of the sword in his hands and pulled up on it.
The sword did not budge. He was able to hold the sword for only a split second before he began to feel it heating up. It happened quickly; taking only seconds to go from cold steel to burning like fire between his palms. He pulled on the sword with all his strength, doing his best to put the rising pain out of his mind, but it did not yield from the stone that held it.
"Please, Rixeor Fragment," Luca said through grit teeth. "I need your strength! I'm the only one who can bring this monster to justice, but I cannot match him without you!"
The sword was on fire now. He could feel it burning the flesh on his hands like white-hot steel. The pain was unbearable, but he kept his jaw clenched shut to stop himself from screaming.
"For justice! Justice! Justice! Accept me as your master!"
He was answered only with more pain. At last, unable to bear it any longer, he let go and fell backwards, falling
from the rock he was standing on and landing on his back in the dirt.
Immediately, Emila was by his side, cradling him and calling his name. He hardly even heard her. The others were talking as well, but he couldn't understand their words; all he heard was a blurry haze of sound. He looked up through teary eyes and saw Softclaw standing beside the sword with an open scroll, jotting down notes.
He gasped aloud as Emila took his hands in her own. They were raw, red and black from the burns, and it hurt intensely to move them even slightly. But he felt the warm glow of Emila's magick, and in moments, the burns were gone.
"Are you alright?" she asked him, her eyes full of concern. Luca could see the same tears of pain in her eyes that he'd blinked through moments ago. Her hands were unmarked, but she had felt every moment of pain that he had.
He sat up, and looked behind himself to the others. They all wore concerns of expression, including Selphie. Even Jared frowned worriedly.
"Don't you pity me..." he hissed, so quietly that even he could hardly hear it over the wind.
"Luca?" Emila asked, even more worried than before.
In a rage, he pushed himself away from her and climbed back to his feet. He marched back over to the Rixeor Fragment. He pushed Softclaw out of the way to get to it.
"I'm not giving up!"
He grabbed the sword again and pulled with all his might. He forced himself to ignore the heat in the sword, which came faster this time. He filled his mind with images of Zinoro, of his father being stabbed in the snow, and of his many fantasies of doing the same to the Acarian king.
"ACCEPT ME AS YOUR MASTER!"
He screamed directly to the sword in his mind - or perhaps it was aloud, he couldn't be sure - and pulled on it with all the strength his body could muster. For a fraction of a second, he thought he felt some kind of hesitation in the sword's unwavering resistance, as though it were truly considering him. But it would not budge from the stone, and the heat did not let up. Again, it got to the point that he could bear it no longer, and his hands released it.
This time he did not fall backward. He collapsed on his knee, and gasped for breath. His hands were burned anew, Emila's work in healing them completely undone. But he cared not for that. His mind was so filled with rage that the pain didn't even register.
He heard someone say his name - probably Emila - but he didn't acknowledge it. He grabbed the hit of Siora and drew it from its sheath, then swung it in a blind fury at the Rixeor Fragment. There was a flash as the steel of his sword struck the other, and the shock of the collision travelled up his arm and renewed his pain. He swore and found his useless hand dropping his sword on the ground.
He spun around, seeing the others staring at him. Softclaw stood beside him, his lizard-like eyes wide in shock. Emila was standing now, watching him carefully like he was some kind of dangerous beast.
He couldn't take it. In every stare there was judgement and disappointment. He could already hear the laughter Softclaw would have at his failure. He couldn't bear to be around them for another moment. He ran.
"Luca! Where are you going?!"
He ignored Emila. He ignored the concerned expressions of Brand and Wiosna, and the strange look Selphie had, and ran past them all.
He left behind two swords; one in a stone, and another in the dirt.
He didn't know anything about Eccador, so there weren't many places he could go. He ran past Powell's home, for Softclaw's bodyguards were still there, and ran to the other side of town, to the inn at the entrance.
He pushed open the front door and stepped inside. The inn was almost empty. There was a woman at the counter, and two children; a boy sweeping the floor, and a girl doing dishes. There was also a man there, but Luca only caught a brief glimpse of him before he disappeared up the stairs.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked.
Remembering that Selphie had already paid for rooms for them, Luca went to the counter. "I want the keys to my room."
"I'm sorry?"
"A girl came by earlier and paid for some rooms. I'm part of her group. I want the keys to my room."
"O-oh! Just a moment!"
The woman turned and started rummaging through the box of keys behind the counter. It was clear she wasn't very experienced at running an inn. She looked like she wasn't sure which keys were right. After glancing at her ledger for a moment, she produced a key and handed it to him.
"E-enjoy your stay..."
He ignored her, taking the key quickly so she couldn't see his burnt hands. He went up the stairs to his room. On the way up, the man from before came down the steps and passed him. The man, a bearded and strange-looking guy, gave Luca an odd look as they passed. Ignoring that as well, Luca quickly found the room number that matched the key he'd been given, and went inside.
He tossed aside his bag and took off his cloak, and sat down on one of the beds, frustrated and ashamed with himself. He looked at his hands, burned from the hot sword, and slowly tried to make a fist. It hurt too much to do so. He felt guilty, because he knew every bit of pain he felt was shared with Emila. Not only had he tried to pull the sword twice, but he'd forced Emila to go through that as well.
And Siora was missing. He'd left his father's sword behind after drawing it in a blind rage and swinging it at the Rixeor Fragment. Just when he couldn't have embarrassed himself more, he'd gone and thrown a fit. He prayed his sword wasn't chipped from that, at the very least.
Luca noticed a pair of bags in the room that weren't his. He sighed, realising that the innkeeper had given him the key to Selphie and Jared's room. He could have gone downstairs and got the right key, but he was too angry and tired to do so. He just stayed on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
After a few minutes, he grew restless. The pain in his hands was too much for him to relax. He stood up and paced the room a few times, trying to put everything out of his mind.
And then, he noticed something. There was a small envelope on the floor right in front of the door. Somebody must have slipped it under the door.
The gears clicked in his head, and he realised something. Unable to resist his curiosity, he got up and picked up the envelope. It was closed by a simple, ordinary seal. It was not addressed, and unmarked, save for half a dirty footprint.
He broke the seal and opened the envelope. There was a single folded piece of paper within. He took it out and read it.
I'm disappointed in you for leaving like that. Had I known you were going to sneak out in the night like that, I would have put a dozen guards outside your room. But we'll discuss this later. We have other concerns for now.
As we did not get enough time to talk while you were here, let me make one point clear. The original plan has failed. I understand that. The attack on Allma Temple was, among other things, Zinoro's response to our original proposition. At the time when I wrote that first letter to him, I did not fully grasp the man he was, and the evils he was capable of. I could not ask you to marry such a man now.
The original plan failed, but it may be possible to still prevent the war. We talked about this, despite your stubborn refusal to accept the possibility. I understand the point you make, I certainly do, and I know why you refuse to do this. Your loyalty is commendable, really. It shows that you have the makings of a great ruler. If anything should happen to your brother after I die, then you will be queen. I pray that will not happen, but you must be prepared for it.
And part of that preparation is that you must be willing to make hard decisions and sacrifices. I've come across these kind of issues many times in the forty-five years I have been the king of Sono, and I've always chosen the kingdom over my own desires.
Zinoro gave us a promise, and while he may be a monster, I know he values his word. If we give him what he wants, he will hold off his attacks. This will not prevent the war (I doubt anything will at this point), but it will give us more time. And we need time to prepare for him.
I know Lodin's son is your fri
end, but a ruler must sometimes give up the things closest to them. What is one life compared to our entire nation? Sacrificing Luca can save thousands of lives.
Ultimately, however, it is not your decision. I could simply order you to do it, but I am taking the gentle approach in the hopes that you will see the necessity of this. Please understand where I'm coming from. We'll talk about this when you arrive at the Elder Hall. I'm on my way there now.
Remember, it is for the greater good.
Upon finishing the letter, Luca was filled with such rage that he would have crumpled the letter up in his hand if he could make a fist. Instead he clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ground, and he tossed the letter aside, which landed on the floor.
A thousand possibilities raced through his mind. Part of him wanted to go back outside, find Siora, and kill Selphie right then and there. But even in his rage he knew what a foolish mistake that would be. How would the others react? If he attacked Selphie he would have to fight Jared as well, but would the others jump to her defence as well? They would likely just think he'd gone mad, especially after his display earlier. Even if he tried to explain to them what he found, there was no guarantee they would believe him. Emila was the only one he knew for sure would take his side.
And if he did kill Selphie, it would only earn him a death sentence either way. Zaow would send a hundred soldiers after him, and no matter where he went, he would be turned in by anyone who knew about the bounty on his head.
Emila would follow him, he was sure. She would follow him into hell itself at this point. And by helping him, she would be considered an accomplice. He couldn't do that to her.
Attacking Selphie would be the worst thing he could do. But he couldn't confront her about it, either. Just knowing this was dangerous. How would she react if she found out he knew? The letter implied that she wasn't quite happy to be doing this, which explained her melancholy attitude of late, but the fact that she hadn't told him was proof that she hadn't ruled out the possibility.
He could not trust her anymore. Jared likely knew, so he couldn't trust him, either. If they did end up deciding to do it, the attack would come from behind, when he wasn't expecting it. He would need to be careful around them.
The first thing he needed to do was cover up that he knew. The letter itself was unmarked, so he just needed to put it in a new envelope, seal it, and place it where it was originally found.
Thankfully, he still had the envelope that contained Gordon's note in his bag. He took it out, removed Gordon's note, folded up Selphie's letter, and placed it within. Searching through Selphie's bag, he found a simple seal that she used for her own letters. It matched the one from the envelope he had torn open. Luca used it to seal the new envelope, and then placed it on the floor right where he'd found the original. He picked up the original, opened envelope and put it in his bag, then took his belongings and left the room. Checking before he left, it looked as though he had never been there.
He looked around the corner. The children were busy with chores, and the innkeeper was cooking up supper. Slipping through, he tossed the key back into the box on his way past.
As he stepped back outside, he saw Emila leaning against the wall just outside. She looked up as he emerged, searching him for any of the rage of before.
He was still angry, but now for very different reasons. "I'm alright. I just needed some time to cool off."
Emila giggled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. Just... You know, 'cool off'. It was a bit funny."
"Hahaha," he muttered in total sarcasm.
"I'm sorry. Here, let me get that."
She came over and took his hands in hers. A few moments later, his hands were healed and the burns gone, but they still ached.
"Sorry you needed to do this again," he apologised. "I wasn't really thinking clearly."
"It's okay. I just wish you hadn't run off, so I could have healed you right after."
Standing right before him, he took in her features. Somehow, the knowledge of Selphie's possible betrayal made him appreciate her unwavering loyalty and kindness even more. She was such an amazing person; sometimes he couldn't believe he'd met her. He leaned in, cupping her chin with his hand, and kissed her.
A moment later, he broke the kiss, and pulled away. Emila smiled at him, her cheeks flushed. It just made her even more beautiful.
Perhaps he should tell her. He considered it, but he couldn't. For the same reasons as earlier, he just couldn't get her involved. If things went south, which was a possibility now, he wanted her to be innocent by not knowing of it. If he had to flee, he would leave her behind like he should have in T'Saw.
But what was he to do in the meantime? He would have to pretend he didn't know for the time being, but ultimately he couldn't rely on the possibility of Selphie turning against her father. He would have to do something eventually.
Things would be safe until they got to the Elder Hall. Nothing could happen until then, at least. Once there, he could seek help from others. Marcus would be there. If it came down to it, he could side with Marcus against Zaow. Marcus hated him, but at least the man had honour. That was something he could count on.
Luca ran his thumb over Emila's cheek tenderly. "I'm sorry I'm always being such a fool."
She smiled and said, "If that bothered me so much, I wouldn't still be here. You're no fool, Luca. You care. That's why you get angry."
He frowned, considering those words. In a way, it was true. But it was also wrong. "We should rejoin the others."
She nodded, and they started back. As they walked, Luca considered the now-changed situation. Now they had no Rixeor Fragment, and he knew that Zaow and Selphie were plotting his death. Things were worse than ever.
But he felt the warmth of Emila's hand in his, and for the time being, those things no longer worried him.
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