by Jeff Gunzel
Azek started to stand up slowly, hesitating as if making sure no one else had anything to add before he excused himself. “Well, if we are all finished here... Eric, will you walk with me?”
“Of course, come on,” he replied, standing up from his chair. He had to admit, getting out of this small room didn’t seem like the worst idea. The two of them left and walked down the hall side by side. Eric glanced at Azek periodically as they marched, wondering when the grizzled soldier was going to break the uncomfortable silence. The man’s face was no easier to read than a stone.
When they approached his private chambers, Azek opened the unlocked door and motioned for Eric to follow him inside. Eric hesitated a moment, seeing as how he had never been in here before.
Dark blue walls covered with several thick, golden-framed oil paintings hung from every wall within the rectangle-shaped room. An almond-lacquered wooden plaque with crossed long swords hung over a shiny suit of a full plate of armor in the corner. A large, raised bed with multiple white goose feather pillows and thick green blankets stood high on four wooden legs in the other corner. To Eric’s right stood a large oval mirror with looping silver trim and thick golden metal legs propping it up off the plush white carpet. An oddly placed crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling made Eric snicker. This hardened soldier’s private quarters were nearly as fancy as the queen’s.
Eric stifled his laugh immediately when he was flashed an angry look, but Azek’s scowl only lasted a second as he glanced around at his own treasures, suddenly looking a bit embarrassed. “Life’s simple pleasures, my friend. Never underestimate them,” he said as he patted Eric roughly on the shoulder three times. “Now then. I’m not real big on long goodbyes or anything of that sort, but I have something for you that I think might be very useful.” He gestured for Eric to wait a moment before disappearing into his enormous closet. He returned with a plain-looking wooden box, which he flung onto the bed. The rectangle-shaped box with faded gold coloring on each handle looked very old and unassuming. No one would ever believe it held anything of value. Azek reached down the front of his shirt and retrieved a little black key hanging on a thin silver necklace. This took Eric aback a bit. It was so small and subtle that he had never noticed it before. Has Azek always worn that key around his neck?
Leaning forward with an outstretched neck, the soldier fiddled with the old, rusty lock. After a light clicking sound, he leaned back and flashed Eric a rare mischievous grin, keeping his eyes on Eric as he slowly flipped back the lid. He wanted to see the younger man’s expression, and was not disappointed. “Go ahead and pick it up. It belongs to you now,” he said while stepping away.
Eric reached in reluctantly and slowly pulled out a jeweled blade that belonged in the scabbard of a king, not in some old wooden box. With his eyes bulging and mouth wide open, he balanced the dark long sword across both palms to get a closer look. The sharp, double-edged blade was a deep blood-red color, but even as he rolled it back and forth across his palms it seemed to change from red to dark orange, then back again. The sturdy, thick hilt swirled with shimmering gold and silver spirals, while a short yellow tassel hung from the end. The hilt’s thick crossbar was encrusted with several white crystals of all different sizes. On both the far left and far right of the crossbar were a pair of shiny red jewels deeply embedded through the hilt so they could be seen from both sides. But when he rolled the blade down his palms a second time, the two large jewels appeared to alternate between red and green.
Eric whistled sharply through his teeth, then cautiously held out the sword towards Azek, as if he were afraid he might break it. “I—I can’t possibly accept this. I’ve—I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Of course you can, and you will,” the older man said while spinning away from the offering. He placed his hands on his hips, and now appeared to be studying the wall with his back to Eric. “But you are correct, of course. I know you’ve never seen anything like it.” He turned back around, leaning firmly against the wall. “That was my father’s blade. He called it Spark for some reason or another. But now that it’s yours, you can call it anything you want.”
Eric held it up in the air, for a moment temporarily mesmerized by its hypnotic beauty, but then snapped out of his momentary trance. “This was your father’s? Azek, I can’t possibly—”
“You can’t what?” he said, angrily cutting Eric off. “Accept the gift I’m offering to the most important man alive? That blade was left to me by my father to do with as I see fit. It can stay here locked in a box for all eternity...or it can aid the Gate Keeper on his important quest. Do you really think my decision unwise? Do you think my father, a man of principle and honor, would frown upon my choice?” He walked up to Eric and folded his fingers back around the hilt. “Try it out. If you still don’t want it, I’ll put it back in its tomb to sleep for another ten years or so.”
Eric chuckled, knowing he was wasn’t going to win this one. “Spark,” he whispered as he held the blade up once more. It was impossibly light, as if it were made of paper. He dared to give the blade a slight twirl, but he couldn’t help but notice the color of the blade darken as he did. The suddenly puzzled look on Azek’s face proved he hadn’t imagined it.
Feeling a bit bolder, this time he moved into the center of the room while Azek backed away, giving him just enough space. Holding the blade up high, he let it drop as the pommel spun in his hand. Using the instant momentum, he exploded into a series of spins and thrusts. Instantly the blade turned so dark, it almost looked black. But a second longer brought something neither of them was prepared for...
The entire blade burst into magical flames as it danced in circles around Eric. The flames were not orange like a normal fire might appear, but a deep, dark red not unlike the blade itself. He never stopped his forms while the dark flames continued to whip around him like a tornado of living fire, but when he stopped twirling his tool of death, the flames extinguished themselves instantly. He boldly touched the blade in two quick taps, but on the third he confidently gripped it. It was so cool it almost felt like ice.
“By the gods,” said Azek as he dared to reach out towards it. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen, and wanted to try it for himself. He had owned the blade for years, and it had never done such a thing, nor had his father ever mentioned that it had magical properties. Did he even know? Was that why he called it Spark? However, when his fingers drew close to the pommel, the sword reignited once more. An angry red flame erupted from the blade as he pulled his hand back just in time. The two of them stared at one another as the angry flame died back down. Eric ran his free hand along it once more. Again, it was more than cool enough to touch—icy, like it had just been pulled from a frozen lake.
As the shocked look slowly melted away from Azek’s face, he actually smiled with amusement. “I’ll tell you one thing, Eric—if you’ve taught me anything at all, it’s not to question events I don’t understand. That sword has never done that before, and I doubt it would have ever displayed its power for anybody but you.” He stepped close to Eric and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Here I was, thinking I had given you a gift. But it’s clear to me now—that sword chose you. It chose to be wielded by the Gate Keeper.”
Chapter 3
The subtle morning breeze carried a bitter chill as it cut through their standard garments like a razor. Athel and Jade both leaned against the worn, white-canopied wagon while waiting for Eric to show. The dingy canvas was stretched tightly over the thin metal rungs but still managed to ripple slightly in the rolling breeze. Thick, oversized wheels were sure to limit any chance of getting stuck before they reached the coast. Not that it would matter anyway, with several armed soldiers instructed to escort them the entire way, not to mention the numerous scouting parties that had already set up camps along the main road. Ilirra had already made it clear she intended to use every resource at her disposal to make sure they arrived safely.
Jacob and Morcel engaged in a
spirited wrestling match near the side of the wagon. The game consisted more of hand fighting than actual wrestling, but still remained completely one-sided. Morcel’s giant hands completely engulfed Jacob’s. He brought the much smaller man to his knees over and over again, but it would have been hard to determine a loser just by looking at their grinning faces.
The girls looked on as the guys engaged in their primitive, manly game. Despite their shallow claims that they were simply trying to keep warm, the girls knew better. The game was nothing more than a distraction from the reality that this was probably the last time they would all be together. For a long while, at least. Although Jade was shivering, she resisted the urge to climb into the wagon. She too wanted to extend these final moments for as long as possible.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something for a while now, and it doesn’t look like I can put it off any longer,” said Jade through chattering teeth as she furiously rubbed her arms and shoulders. Athel glanced at her sideways with a curious look, appearing completely unaffected by the cold. “I just wanted to let you know that you do have a choice here.” She forced her eyes to meet Athel’s. “I swore on my life to defend Eric. I’ve spent most of my life preparing for this.”
She gestured towards Jacob, whose feet were kicking several inches off the ground while Morcel held him up in some sort of chokehold. Jade couldn’t help but grin at his ill-timed pose, which was not aiding her attempt at a serious conversation. “Although it’s obvious he takes nothing seriously, Jacob is Eric’s best friend. He will never leave his side, no matter what. But you...you have no obligation here. There is still time to back out if you want. Nobody would think any less of you.” Jade dropped her eyes to the ground. “You...you could stay here in the palace, if you wish. You could live out your days in luxury.”
Even in the low light provided by a reddish sun just threatening to peek over the horizon, Athel’s bright green eyes gleamed. “So, you think to get rid of me that easily?” she asked in a playful tone as her silver teeth sparkled with every word.
“No...no. That’s not what I—” Jade turned bright red when Athel began laughing. She just shook her head and grinned, realizing how easily she had just been tricked.
“Jade, I know what’s at stake here. The life I left behind was far from perfect, but it was the only life I knew. I don’t have a single regret.” Athel gently placed her hand on Jade’s cheek. “I made my choice,” she whispered. “There was nothing left for me in Dronin. I had no purpose there. Watching my father slowly lose his mind through the years was torture. There were days when I wondered if I was destined for a similar fate.”
Jade clasped her own hand over Athel’s, pinning it to her cheek. Sadness flooded her eyes as she listened to Athel pour her heart out. It was true; she really had no idea what the girl had been through, the things that had led her to this point in her life. “Athel, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” the other girl said with a grin. “I’ve made my choice. I have sworn my allegiance to the Gate Keeper, just as all of you have. Not once have I second-guessed my decision.” Her eyes narrowed in mock anger. “And like I said, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Jade wrapped an arm around her friend and pulled her in close. “I was hoping you would say that. I just wanted to be sure you were following your heart, and not some blind sense of duty. We are honored to have you with us.” She glanced back at the two men, who looked to be frozen in time. Jacob’s position had not improved much; he continued struggling, trying to break free from the never-ending chokehold. Jade rolled her eyes before looking back at Athel. “And to be honest, I think that one there needs your help more than Eric does!” They both shared in a good laugh just as the double doors at the top of the steps slowly creaked open.
Ilirra, Azek and Eric slowly dragged their feet down the stone steps, but with sudden haste Ilirra rushed on ahead and hurried towards Jade. The two men took the less-than-subtle hint and hung back so the girls could talk privately. Jacob and Morcel had finally stopped their ridiculous game and were now engaged in civil conversation.
Azek and Eric looked on from the stairs as Ilirra and Jade spoke their final words to each other, then embraced in a teary-eyed hug. The queen then approached Jacob and Athel, giving each a kiss on the cheek before dragging her feet back up the steps. For the first time ever, Eric thought she looked weak and frail, but that feeling only lasted for a moment. Looking into her eyes, he saw nearly unbearable sadness, but not weakness.
Gently placing both hands on his chest, she said, “Eric, the task that has fallen to you is little more than a curse, one I would wish on no man alive. And even though no one has any right to ask more from you...” She pulled herself close and placed her head flat against his massive chest. Her shoulders jerked with soft sobs as she rolled her face back and forth against him. After regaining some measure of composure, she looked up with her chin still pressed against his chest. “She loves you, Eric, and she deserves no less than a man such as you, but—but she is also blinded by her love for you. She will always put herself in harm’s way just to protect you. Eric, I’m asking you...I’m begging you. Please don’t let any harm come to my—” She stepped back as her arms went limp and fell to her side. “Please don’t let anything happen to Jade. My heart could never take it if—”
“My queen,” he interrupted. “As you know, Dragot’s heart no longer beats. That foul serpent didn’t die by my hands because he hurt Jade; I took his head because he threatened to.” Ilirra and Azek were suddenly chilled by how easily this blacksmith, this farm boy, spoke of death. “I promise you, my queen: anyone who even thinks of hurting her will share his fate.”
Eric’s dark eyes flared as he turned to Azek. “After we arrive in Shangti, Jade will be giving constant reports to Berkeni. I leave it in your hands to have Taron’s army ready when the time comes.” As if Azek wasn’t already shaken by Eric’s words, the wicked smile that crossed his face turned his blood to ice. “When Krytoes dares to enter the world of men, I want to make sure we ‘welcome’ him properly.” Eric dropped into a low, graceful bow. “Farewell, my queen.” He turned and headed towards the wagon, where the others were already waiting inside.
Azek swallowed hard as they watched it pull away. He glanced over to Ilirra, who looked to be in a trance. “I can’t believe the change in that man,” he said breathlessly. “He is definitely no longer the timid farm boy I remember.”
****
The four friends rode along in silence as the squeaking wheels chirped away with each revolution, a rhythmic, steady sound they would eventually grow used to. Eric held Jade close to him as they swayed back and forth to the wagon’s uneven wobbling. She leaned into him heavily as her eyelids started to flutter. The long, sanded bench had no backing, so he willingly held her full weight as she drifted off to sleep. With a little tact, he was able to move her head down to his lap without waking her. He carefully stroked her long, black hair, thinking hard about the promise he had made to the queen. It was no different than promising to breathe. He would have protected the woman lying on his lap with his life no matter what.
Athel and Jacob sat quietly on the bench across from the other two. Their subtle swaying movements were that of the wagon as it rocked back and forth. Each bump sent their heads up and down, then back and forth as they rolled along down the street. Packed leather bags were scattered about, mostly filled with essentials such as clothes, dry rations, flint and steel, and even a few beeswax candles.
Would the new world be as harsh and chaotic as the one they had always known? Was that even possible? Would there be any normal form of life or civilization? So many unanswered questions neither Addel nor Berkeni could provide answers for. And despite their burning curiosity, in the big picture these answers were really of little importance. Were they too late? Had Krytoes already entered the world of men? It was almost too much to think about. For now, just completing this journey would be a victory i
n itself.
The crack of a whip snapped Eric from his daydream. Jade stirred on his lap. He stroked her hair while urging her to go back to sleep. The large, stout driver never turned around as he continued to crack his whip every few minutes, pressing the sleek, black horses onward. The hardened man with long blond hair and deep-set green eyes was no ordinary driver. In fact, he was no driver at all. He, along with the other soldiers surrounding the wagon on horseback, were highly skilled killers handpicked by Azek himself. Aside from their formidable combat skills, these men were also trained scouts, and were fully aware of their surroundings at all times. These dangerous men, whose formidable skill sets were probably overkill for a lowly escort mission, had been approved by the queen, who had no intention of taking any chances.
Athel’s eyelids soon grew heavy as well. With a rapid flutter she opened them again, trying to resist the fatigue, only to have the pattern repeat itself again and again. Showing no hesitation, she scooted close to Jacob, who sat hunched over with his hands folded across his knees. She snuggled close to him before resting her head on his shoulder. Within a minute her breathing became deep and slow as she drifted off. Similar to what Eric had done, Jacob gently guided her head down to his lap. Even though he tried to be careful, her beaded hair rattled the whole way down. The exhausted girl never even stirred.
The two friends did what they could to steady the girls while they swayed back and forth. With no real way to brace themselves, they continued to be at the mercy of the uneven road, but neither one cared right now. For now, everything was peaceful.
“You know, Eric, sometimes I feel like all of this is just a dream,” Jacob commented, struggling to find a proper volume that could be heard over the wagon’s creaking, yet not wake up the girls. “Like none of it’s real. When I think about the life I had back in Bryer, it’s like someone else’s life now; innocent memories from an innocent time that belong to another person.”