Dragon Sword

by Angelique Anderson

  "Maybe I'll send for you. Would you leave this place for me?" she asked.

  The king with the broken fingernails and big muscles, Lingaria taunted.

  A far better king than the one now, if what you've told me is true. Svana exercised her wit and fantasy.

  True, as is the fact that you must be going. You have coins. You have the shield. You have your mission. And never forget, that you now have allies, a small band, but they will defend your name. They will bring others to your rallying cry.

  "Allies," Svana said aloud.

  "What?" Jakobe wondered, brows furrowing with the change in conversation.

  "There will be a time when everyone will have to choose which side they are on. Choose wisely, my knight," she offered, caressing his cheek with one hand.

  He held his hand against hers, saying nothing.

  "Eloise? I know you're nearby. I'll take that room, if your offer stands."

  The old woman bumped through a door, smirking.

  "Will there be a next time?" Jakobe asked, his shoulders hunched.

  "My word on it," Svana declared, squeezing his hand.

  "Until next time, then." The blacksmith perked up and kissed Svana's forehead, before heading to the door.

  Percival materialized and thrust a great mug of mead into the large man's hand. Jakobe drained it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "Maybe next time you'll do me the honor of tasting me best mead, you big lout!" Percival pushed Jakobe toward the door.

  Eloise showed Svana to her room. When the old woman had gone, Svana buckled on her sword, put on her pack, wrapped an arm through the straps on her shield, and headed for the door. She paused for a moment, her hand on the doorknob. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. She could not stay here, no matter how much she wanted to. People depended on her, a lot more people than a handsome blacksmith and the owners of a pub. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, and disappeared into the darkness, careful to keep to the shadows and her feet light.

  When they were a safe distance from the tavern, wings softly flapped toward her.

  "You nearly lost your focus back there."

  "Please don't lecture me, all right?" Svana meandered, not knowing if she would return to the tavern or keep on walking toward the castle.

  "Allow me to finish, woman-child. I was going to say, that you nearly lost your focus back there, but all things considered, you did well. I know how human emotions can cloud judgment. I know that was not easy for you to walk away from the promise of a life, a real life. The possibility of friends, a family... that's what most humans search their whole life for."

  "Yes, well, it would have been selfish for me to forsake my purpose for something so trivial," she said, fighting the feelings wrestling within.

  The truth was, she had not known the potential for her in the kingdom of Verdil. It had never crossed her mind. Only the fact that she had to fight, fight for herself, for the kingdom, for all of humankind.

  "Trivial? It is not." Aronus settled onto her shoulder.

  Absentmindedly, Svana reached up a hand to stroke the soft skin beneath his chin.

  Being in the village, even for a short time had shown her that there was potential for many things, things she would not have thought of on her own. Marriage, to a good man... friendship with people who made her smile, laughter and dancing. Oh the dancing, she couldn't remember when she had so much fun.

  "Yes, well these things are fleeting," he reminded her. "When the fate of man hangs in the balance. All that you would hold dear could be swept away by the hand of a malevolent king. First, bring peace to this land, then everything else becomes possible."

  "I know," she said, slowing her pace. "It was nice while it lasted." She continued walking, the castle growing nearer and the villages getting further behind.

  She watched the sun rise, and only when it was too late she recognized the angry face of Murdoc, 'The Dragon,' and his rag-tag group of sycophants who longed for a rematch.

  Right there. Right then.

  "Well, well, well..." Murdoc said, his voice heavy with disdain. "What have we here?"

  "I have no argument with you, so let me pass," she declared, her eyes shifting to take in the situation. If there would be a fight, they would feel the sting of her blade.

  "Can't do that. We need our money," one of Murdoc's men stepped in front of the giant, his tightened fist hitting his opposite hand with a threat.

  "A fool and his money will soon part ways," she replied, eyes forward, her sword tracing a figure eight before her.

  "That doesn't impress me. Shoot her." The man waved to someone in a tree beside the road. She hadn't seen the archer perched on a branch. He pulled back and loosed his arrow. The sword jumped to the left and deflected the arrow in a flash. He loosed two more times, and with each, the sword protected her.

  "That doesn't impress me." Svana lunged forward, and the men stumbled backward. "You!" She pointed with her sword at the tree. "Come down here. If I have to come up there, you won't like it."

  The archer climbed down to join the others.

  Murdoc pointed an angry finger at the man. "What did you come down here for? Don't listen to her. Loose! Loose!"

  The archer aimed another arrow at her, but Svana was too quick. With a jump and a slash, the bow fell in two pieces onto the ground. Murdoc stepped behind one of his men and Svana jumped back, standing lightly on the balls of her feet as she prepared to continue the fight.

  "Is this the type of man you would die for? Press me and die you will." She glared at them, from one to the next, unblinking as she let them see the fury behind her eyes.

  They looked away first.

  "What are you doing? Everyone together, attack!" Murdoc shouted.

  No one moved.

  "Everyone together," she mimicked, "get out of my way."

  Murdoc charged her, swinging his iron sword wildly. She batted it away and tripped him. She danced to the side to keep the man on the ground and his cronies where she could see them. He picked up his sword, dusted himself off, and came at her again, this time more tempered in his approach. She beat his sword out of his hands with a block and a twist of her wrist. He stared dumbly as his sword arced away.

  "Kneel," she ordered.

  He stood his ground, acting defiant. She punched him in the face, using her sword's hilt for extra emphasis. He went down like a sack of potatoes. His stalwart band of highwaymen scattered like geese.

  When they were out of sight, the dragon appeared on her shoulder. "That could have gone better," he taunted.

  "How?" she wondered.

  "You could have decked him on the first pass."

  "I was making a point."

  "Did you?" Lingaria asked.

  "Did I what?"

  "Make a point."

  "Yes. His band ran off without bloodshed. They abandoned him. He'll get to wake up to that. Maybe he'll turn from his life of ill-gotten gains, but I doubt it. I have higher hopes for the others."

  "Touché," Lingaria conceded. "Shall we? The castle awaits your pleasure."

  "It does." Svana glanced at the victim of his own arrogance. "How he earned the name 'The Dragon,' I'll never know." She shrugged and continued down the road.

  "It's insulting, if you ask me," Lingaria said.

  Svana glanced at the fallen warrior once more before shaking her head and continuing her journey. The castle grew larger with each step. Empty fields on each side of them had been overtaken by homes and buildings. There were more soldiers, too. Svana was less nervous about them than she thought she should have been.

  "Perhaps I can join up with them?" she mentioned to Lingaria.

  Lingaria shrugged in response. "Just be careful, Svana of the Sword, no sense in you getting taken out this close to your goal."

  "What makes you say that? I can hold my lot with the best of them," she retorted.

  "Yes, but they don't know that," he said.

  "Well, they're going
to find out," she said with determination.

  27

  Hekla

  All energy comes from somewhere. For men, it comes from food and drink. If we cease eating, we grow weak. For dragons, it's far more complicated. They, too, must eat, but they must also feed their mind with the spiritual realm. And their magic draws on that source. Some of their magic they draw from the elements around them, but some, more complex magic, comes from inside of them.

  King Martin the Truthful, Third King of Aequoris, 494 A.V.

  Hekla steeled her nerve as the soldiers surrounded her. New skills. Spells. And a dragon guide to bolster her confidence. She tightened her grip and narrowed her eyes, glancing left to right. Hekla found the keystone, the one man whose removal collapses the arch.

  "There's been no mistake," the gruff one spoke again. His hand moved to the grip of his sword as he withdrew the blade from its scabbard. "In fact, I think the only mistake that might be made is to underestimate you." He advanced toward her.

  Hekla took a step back. "You've already confirmed among yourselves that she and I are not the same. You clearly can tell colors apart. We're different. You said so yourself." A smile played on her lips.

  "You want to know what I think? Even though you aren't her, I think you know who she is. We ought to take you in, seeing as how she killed our captain." The tension in the air thickened as the gruff-voiced man traced her form with dark eyes.

  "Nonsense gentlemen, I am but a lowly maiden on my way to Aequoris, my home. I know nothing of this green-haired woman of which you speak," she said.

  Detecting movement from the corner of her eye, Hekla turned her head ever so slightly. "Tut tut, I wouldn't do that if I were you." Her command was aimed at one of the men who had begun to ready his bow.

  The gruff voiced man used the split second that her attention was diverted, to come barreling at her. She heard his heavy footsteps before she had a chance to see it for herself.

  "Demetrius," the one with the bow shouted, "Don't!"

  It was too late, sword grip in hand, Demetrius swung quick and wide, attempting to cut Hekla in half.

  With only a split second to act, Hekla shouted, "Occulari Invisitum!" She held her staff high in the air and was rewarded when Demetrius's strong and sure swing suddenly wavered. Hekla side-stepped out of the way.

  "Hey, hey!" he yelled, tottering backward. "What happened? Where did everything go? I can't see! I can't see!"

  The man grew wildly fearful, swinging his sword about like a crazed lion with prey in its jaws.

  "Would anyone else like to--" Her sentence was interrupted by an arrow slicing past her ear. She felt warmth at the side of her face and reached to wipe it away. Blood? She turned on her heel, her full attention on the man with the bow. "Was that really necessary?" she said gritting her teeth.

  "I don't know what you did to Demetrius, but you'll not walk away from here." The archer ignored her question. Lifting his arm and bow in the air again, he aimed another arrow at her, preparing to let it loose.

  Hekla raised her staff again, Speltus?

  The word 'Eradicatum' entered her mind.

  "Eradicatum!" she yelled sternly as the arrow flashed from the bow. It disappeared as soon as it left the string.

  It was her turn to catch their attention, and the three men that had accompanied Demetrius, shifted nervously, gripping their weapons in confusion and fear.

  "How did you do that?" the man with the bow asked.

  "Would you like me to show you how?" she challenged.

  "No," he answered. His eyes wide and face drained of all color, he turned and fled.

  Hekla watched him for a moment, hoping the others would follow. She had enough of the fight. She also knew that her blue hair would join her green-haired sister on the king's most-wanted list.

  "Well, there goes one, does anyone else want to leave while they still have the chance?" She readied her staff and jabbed it at them. The men bolted without another word. All that remained was Demetrius, who for the time had stopped his flailing.

  "What did you do? Fight me like a man," he yelled at her.

  "I will not. I am not the one you seek," she answered him.

  "Give me my sight back!"

  "Say please," she teased him.

  "Now, wench! Or I'll have you killed!"

  "Oddly enough, good Demetrius, I see no one around who can fulfill those orders. Your men have taken their leave, abandoning you blind and helpless. It's just you and I now." Hekla's tone openly mocked him.

  He let out a defeated yell, throwing his head back as he did so, then suddenly stopped. "I can see! I can see!" He raised his head, a troubling smile on his face as they locked eyes. Steadily he began advancing toward her. "Is that all you've got, little wench?"

  Hekla, suddenly fearful, took a few steps back. Demetrius raised his sword in the air and brought it down hard. She quickly thrust her staff out diagonally, deflecting the hit. She jumped back. Speltus!

  Speltus was silent. Now or never. She practiced the spells. She needed the right one, right now.

  "Pyrem Brillium!" she yelled, much louder than she needed. A whisper would have sufficed.

  As before, there was no warning. The air suddenly came alive with heat and electricity and a satisfyingly large orb of fire appeared. She pulled her staff back and thrust it forward indicating the direction it must fly.

  Demetrius twisted and tried to dodge, his eyes growing wide as the fireball flew toward his chest. Diving out of the way, he rolled on the ground, landing on his feet.

  "Sword, where's my sword?" Like a lost child, his wide eyes searched the ground for his blade. He stopped when he realized that in the instant it had taken him to dive out of the way of the fireball, Hekla had picked it up. In one hand she now held her majestic staff and in the other, his weathered blade.

  "Give me my sword," he growled angrily.

  "Tut... tut... that's no way to speak to a lady. Why would I give you the very thing that you have been trying to kill me with? Tell me that?"

  He roared in anger, his eyes flaring.

  "Give... me... my... sword," he growled slowly, dangerously.

  "Rein in your temper, or those will be the last words you speak."

  Demetrius glanced from her eyes, to the blade she held, back to her eyes again, and sucked in a deep breath.

  "May I please have my sword?" he said through gritted teeth.

  "I don't know, do you plan on killing me with it? If I hand this back to you, and you come after me, there will be no more chances. Do you understand?" Hekla spoke like a mother scolding a child.

  "Fine. Give me my sword and I'll leave." Every word slid through his lips as if it was a fight to say them.

  She nodded. "Deal." She dropped his sword on the ground and kicked it toward him. "Now leave me be, and if you go after the green-haired one again, I'll hunt you down myself. Understood?"

  Demetrius yanked his sword from the ground and hurriedly shoved it in his scabbard. He cursed her under his breath before taking off running after his men.

  With one threat abated, Hekla let out the breath she had been holding. Her heart, thrumming heavily in her chest, began to slow. To her annoyance, the soft flapping of wings sounded near her right ear.

  "You pick a fine time to show yourself," she said with annoyance.

  "I can't do everything for you," Speltus said.

  "I understand that, but I needed you!" She stamped her foot lightly.

  "Hekla, you absolutely must not act like that." His irritated tone caught her attention.

  "What if..." she began to protest.

  "There is nothing to what if, about. Don't forget that you must do things on your own. This is your journey! When we get to Aequoris, I will not be able to aid you as I have. You will have to rely on what you have learned. You will have to remember all the things I taught you. Your survival will depend on it. Do you understand?"

  Nodding her head, she said, "I feel as if I still have so much to lear
n."

  "This is true, and there are many things I may not be able to teach you, but if you focus on what you know and sharpening those skills, the other things will come. Or I will do as I did today and tell you which spell to use."

  "What other spells are there?" she asked.

  Speltus darted in front of her face and hovered there for a few moments. "There are so many spells, and so much magic in all the universes that to teach them all to you, or to try to sum it up would be ... it would be disrespectful. Not only that, but unachievable!"

  "Speltus, I only wanted to know to gain understanding... that is all," she said, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor.

  "You think like a child, but it is time to think like an adult. The magic you have been given, indeed that you siphon from me is not a plaything. It is a rare and exquisite gift. Do you understand that?"

  Hekla nodded. "I do."

  "There are dragons, indeed, beasts of a higher station than I that are not gifted with what you have been. Understand that here and now before we continue."

  "I understand, I would never take it for granted."

  "You have taken it for granted, because you asked what other spells are there as if it were just so simple. As if it could be measured, or contained. Magic is never meant to be either of those things." He continued hovering, his intense gaze unwavering from hers.

  "I only asked so that I may learn more, not to upset you. I realize it is a gift, I only wish to know more. That is all."

  His tone indicated that he was insulted by her simple understanding. "It is a gift, and a rare one. I will teach you more as you have a need for it, for now, we must hurry to reach Aequoris. We've lost a half day with this drivel. It's two more days' journey. Do you need to rest?"

  "I will continue as long as needed. Let's not waste any more time," she had come to count on their friendship to deter her from her unbidden thoughts of loneliness that sprung up at times. His irritated tone at her naive question was disturbing to her.

  "You said you wouldn't be there when I'm in Aequoris, but now you say that you will be. Pardon my confusion. I don't know enough to protect myself. Not yet. I have to learn more to count on you less, while still leaning on your generosity."