by Sam Ford
Tired?
Sword was not hanging from his belt, instead was propped up against the tree they’d settled under, next to his boots. Even though they were not touching, Cale could still hear him clearly. Cale still held so many questions, but all he could do was yawn in response.
You've had a long day.
"This is the first time I've felt human since..." Cale trailed off. His family would never know full bellies and warm fires again. Here Cale was, finally on an adventure, but there was no Aaron to tell him what to do. No Regina to stand up for him. No Byron to bully him. No Tully to share it with. Cale wiped the tears from his eyes and blamed the wood smoke, but it was availing him little. "I was alone the night they died. I'd never slept by myself before. I was scared then and I have been scared since. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Sword."
I will keep watch over you.
Cale rolled himself into the blanket, facing Sword. "The whole night?"
The whole night.
Cale was asleep before he even heard the reply.
Chapter XI
No. No! At a high guard. High guard! Keep your sword up.
Cale was practicing his sword drills at Sword's insistence. The first lesson was the proper way to hold a sword.
It was not going well. For starters, he wasn't even holding a sword. Sword chose a fallen branch to keep Cale from cutting himself.
"I'm trying!" Cale insisted, sweaty and out of breath. He hadn't even eaten breakfast yet.
Try it again. High! Low! Guard! Turn! Parry! Dodge! Spin! Thrust!
Cale fell flat on his face. When he concentrated on his hands, his feet tangled beneath him. If he watched his steps, he forgot to swing. Picking himself up yet again, he wiped the dirt and grass from his tunic and sat back, defeated.
"I don't want to do this."
You need to train. What is a Knight who cannot wield a Sword?
"What do I need to know that for? I have you. You can just fight through me."
I will not always be the weapon you need to use. You must learn many arts, and how to use many weapons without my guidance. Any good Knight, indeed, any good man, must know how to protect those closest to him and defend those weaker than himself.
"But it's heavy," complained Cale.
It will be much heavier with a shield on your arm while wearing armor.
"Wait, there's armor too?"
Of course, Cale. All Imperial Knights wear armor.
"Does... is it also alive?" Cale pictured climbing into the mouth of living plate armor, enameled blood red.
Don't be ridiculous, Cale. Armor cannot be alive. Back to first position, please.
"Of course." Cale muttered. "The talking sword says living armor is ridiculous."
Cale, please.
"I don't want to hurt myself." The stick could give him a nice crack across the head if he wasn't careful.
Tis just a stick. Did you never stick fight with your brothers?
"Sure, we did. They always beat me with them. One time, Byron took a swing at me so hard he bruised my cheek, and that was the end of that. Ma wouldn't let me play with them anymore. She worried about me getting into fights."
Well, I fear it is a fact of life, that which is best for us is not always safest. Your mother should not have worried about you. She should have worried about the other children when you decided to actually fight.
"I can't do any real damage. I'm not that good."
A good man is not weak, Cale. A good man is very dangerous, a monster under perfect control. I can teach you control--you must learn to be dangerous on your own.
"But I'm tired," Cale whined. "Can't we stop?"
If we stop, you start walking. Our agreement was you train in the mornings. You may play in the stream later. This isn't a game, Cale. There are people trying to kill both of us. On your feet.
"Both of us?" Cale stood, gathering his stick in hand. "Who's trying to kill you?"
Shadow Dwellers. Back to first position.
"What's a Shadow Dweller?"
I will explain on the road. Now please, no more questions for now. First position.
Cale did as he was told. Sword worked him for another hour, practicing the correct way to hold a sword, to swing, to dodge. He learned the names of positions and fighting styles. It was almost mid-morning when, true to his word, Cale got to relax his feet in the creek. The blisters on his hands didn't stop him from catching a fish with great excitement. The fire had gone out in the middle of the night and Sword insisted they needed to be on their way, but with much prodding and pleading from Cale, Sword reluctantly cooked the fish. The skin was burnt and the inside was still a little raw, but that's what happened when you cooked fish over a flaming sword.
Enjoying ourselves, are we?
"Yep," Cale smiled, flakes of fish on his cheeks. "Tis a good day."
Let's just hope we make good time.
"Why? Do we have someplace specific to be?"
Sword didn't answer, so Cale broke camp and started walking in silence. The pack was heavy but the road was good. Cale did not know where they were going, but every step took him farther from home and out into the wider world. The morning glories smiled at him, tucking in for the day while the sunflowers turned their faces to the sun. The wind swept across the prairie, shivering a silver leaf maple and carrying with it the smell of salt from the east.
Cale cleaned his face on his tunic, wiping his hands on his trousers. His right hand itched just a little from the scar Sword had given him. With nothing better to do, Cale studied it for a long time. It was so faint he could barely see it. But he certainly felt it.
"Hey, Sword?"
Yes, Cale?
"How do you work? I mean, how does the bonding work? How can I hear you? How did I wake you up?"
There are three levels in the order of Imperial Knights.
"Three? So I'm not a full Knight yet?"
Yes, Cale, you are. Once a Knight, always a Knight. Even should I be destroyed or perish, you will still be a Knight of the Imperium for as long as you live. However, without a Sword, a Knight loses their conduit for the fire. It still resides inside them, though they cannot access it. And a Sword may have many Bearers during their time in this world, but a Knight may only have one Sword.
"Does that happen a lot?"
We call the destruction of a Sword Nahaki. It literally means The Broken Ones. It has happened in the past, but it is very rare now.
You are on the first level. By spilling a sacrifice of blood from the right hand, it signifies that you are my Bearer and I am your Sword. That is where we are. Traditionally, a Knight must be in the presence of a receptive Sword for a time before the bonding process can happen. This ensures compatibility between Sword and Bearer. We call it sharing blood. Other Knights would guide and protect the acolyte during that time.
The second level is initiated by spilling a sacrifice of blood from the left hand. This signifies that the Bearer and the Sword's souls are in harmony, aligned with the same goals. They act, move and think as one. Secrets are very dangerous things at this stage, and many knights have been undone by them. This is where great Knights rise and weak Knights crumble.
"What's the third level?"
I would have to pierce your heart.
"I think I'll pass, thank you." Cale wasn't sure if Sword was joking or not, but he could hear him chuckling. "Is that common?"
Each subsequent level requires more commitment from both Bearer and Sword. While the bond can never be broken, if the pair are not in harmony, problems may arise. If the discordance becomes too great, the Knight could die and the life of the Sword be shortened. If a Knight is elevated in levels too quickly, it can cause a problem called Blood Poisoning, where the Bearer's body tries to protect itself from the Sword. This is why years of training and great care are required before a Knight is even considered for level three. There have only been a handful of third level Knights. Few have tried. Fewer survived.
&nb
sp; It was a terrifying tale. Cale had no idea there was so much to being an Imperial Knight. He thought it would be like the tales of grandeur, of Rangers riding across the land on horseback and rescuing damsels. Sword made it sound like a lot of work.
"Is it worth it?" Cale stared at his hand again.
Oh yes. For Man and Sword to be in perfect harmony, as the Creator intended? Oh yes, Cale. It is worth it.
"So, hang on. You said Swords and Bearers have to become acclimated to one another before they can bond. But I just cut my hand on you by accident."
What can I say? Miracles exist. Tell me of your world now.
"What of it?"
When last I woke, the realm was filled with kings and queens, Knights and squires. Yet now I see no heraldry or pageantry, and you have said nothing of a king.
"Well, that's probably because we haven't got one. A long time ago there was something called the Calamity. The books say the Red Witches--er, the Knights, rose up and killed the king, plunging the world into chaos."
Lies!
"From what you've told me, I'm starting to think you're right. But it was in a book, why would they lie?"
History is written by the victor, and you are told the version of events others desire you to know. Yours is a species with amnesia. Question everything, Cale Tannor.
Cale gave that some thought for a moment. "Why?"
Outstanding answer! Quick witted and clever. We are well matched.
Cale was pleased to make Sword laugh, but even more pleased to have made him proud.
Who are your feudal lords?
"Lord is little more than a title to the people in poor villages who live from harvest to harvest. Some of the larger cities and areas elect governors, I've heard. But mainly the towns just keep to themselves, trading with one another."
Peculiar. Who keeps the peace?
"We do, mostly. You get caught horse thieving or messing around with the neighbor's wife or taking what ain't yours, well, some people are quick to cut off hands or throw a noose around a hanging tree. But if there's a big fight, like say between cities, or if there are bandits around, that's when the Ranger's will show up."
Who are the Rangers? You've mentioned them before.
"Oh, the Rangers are so great! They ride around the country, helping people and righting wrongs. They live off the land and eat berries and nuts, and they can walk so quietly they can sneak up on a deer and pet it. They patrol the borders, mostly, fighting Indians or Nubians and slavers and pirates. We had one in Urt once, but that was long before I was born. They are the best people!"
Interesting. And to whom do they answer?
"Um, what?"
You said they travel the land. Who tells them where to go and what to do? Who finances them?
"I don't know."
And if they are supposed to protect the realm now that the Knights are gone, why are there so many bandit gangs? Shouldn't they be protecting people?
"I... don't know." Sword really seemed to have a way of making Cale question everything he knew. But he was right--where were the Rangers? Why hadn't they been there to save his family? The people that killed them had certainly looked like Rangers. But they were supposed to protect people, weren't they? And what was that creature made of fire? "I need answers. We need more information, don't we?"
Yes.
"Will you help me?"
Of course.
"What was that enemy you mentioned earlier? Shadow Dwellers?"
Demons, yes.
"What is that?"
It is a... complicated story, Cale.
Cale looked around. The sky was high on a beautiful day, and they had leagues of road ahead of them. "We've got time."
Do you know the tale of the creation?
"Not really. We never went to the temple back home."
A species with amnesia, I swear.
"No need to get snarky."
They go by many names. Shadow Dwellers, Shades, Dwellers in the Dark, Phantoms, Demons. They were once not so different than us. Long ago they had their souls stripped of all light and goodness, and now exist as creatures of living shadow. They are our mortal enemies, locked in a struggle for mankind. They must be destroyed.
"That's our job, then? To hunt down these Demons and kill them?"
Curse them, yes. To send them into the abyss, where neither Demon nor Sword can return.
"That sounds easy enough."
They are unlike anything you have ever faced before in your life, Cale. Do not get cocky. We also need to awaken my fellow Swords and restore the order of Imperial Knights to the world.
"So you're saying this is my destiny? I'm the chosen one, like in all the books? Prophesied to save the world?"
No. Those are just stories. There is no prophecy, no destiny. You are not some Chosen One, Cale.
"But... I have a magic talking sword."
I am not magic and you are just a boy. Get your head out of the clouds.
"But you just said I am the last Imperial Knight and it's my job to find the other Swords."
The two things are not related. Life isn't a fairy tale, Cale. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to the worst people. Just because you have a job to do does not mean you are somehow destined to fulfill it. This is not a story, you are not the main character, and you are not impervious to stabbing.
Cale pouted. This wasn't at all how Tully had described it. How could he save the world, yet not be destined to save it? She said he was special. Sword seemed to like him well enough, though he would not have been Cale's first choice for a traveling partner.
Cale?
"What?"
I think... yes. Yes. You should run. Quickly!
Cale's feet found purchase on their own, running down the road before he could even process Sword's words. Despite his fatigue and hunger, he ran quickly and with great strength, surprising even himself.
"Sword?" Cale puffed. "What's going on?"
Can't you feel it?
"Feel what? There's nothing out here but us."
Farther on ahead. I felt it, just faintly.
"What are you talking about?"
A Sword, Cale. There is a Sword nearby.
"What?"
And they are in trouble. Hurry!
Chapter XII
Hunter and Hunted
Galway snapped his bedroll in the air, spraying the heavy dew across the grass before rolling it tightly. He had been three days on the trail since King's Crown, additional Rangers in tow. He was already sick of them. They did little more than complain, griping about the road and the wet and the food. Last night, Galway had forsaken sleeping by the fire just to get some peace. It was now past dawn, the light of the world having long shifted from gray to full color, and still they slept. He loaded his horse through clenched teeth. Saddle bags with trail supplies, food, water and a freshly-used sleeping roll. His silver saber was sheathed beneath his duster, shiny and new, while a dagger was tucked neatly at the small of his back. He carried a pistol crossbow for a fast reaction and a larger composite hunting bow for game, both the animal and humankind. So very few requirements for the trail, so why it took so long to get packed was beyond him.
"On your feet, Rangers." Galway kicked them all awake none-too-gently. They needed to be on the road.
"Is it morning already?" Alexi asked
"What time is it?"
"Time enough. We need to go," growled Galway.
"Is there coffee?" Yvette ignored him.
"Coffee?"
"Yeah. There's always coffee in Uruk. Jaster makes sure they stock it."
Coffee was a very expensive import. It had to be traded--or stolen--from Nubia and transported over treacherous passes through active volcanic mountains. Or worse, by sea. But the less said about that hellish route, the better. These Rangers asking for coffee was the height of lush living and excess. City walls made one soft. The capital made them the softest.
"Chew some coca leaves. It's time to go."
"Breakfast," Brutus growled. He had been a pain in Galway's side for the last three days. A large man with hard, flinty eyes, he was used to getting his own way. If he saw something he wanted, he simply took it by the virtue of his size, his Ranger training quelling any argument. He came highly recommended by the Ranger Chiefs. Galway thought that said more about them than it did of Brutus.
Galway and Brutus glowered at one another. Brutus had at least three stone on him and stood a head taller, as well. Alexi and Yvette got to their feet and stirred their campfire to life. Evidently Brutus spoke for all of them. Galway turned on his heel and mounted his horse without a word.
"Half an hour," He growled. "Meet me upriver."
"We'll meet you after breakfast," waved Alexi.
Galway said nothing. He put his spurs to the horse and galloped down the trail. The bay was a fast runner, steady and surefooted. She had been Galway's companion for almost five years, through ice and fire, never faltering. Where he led, she would follow. Unfortunately, Galway realized as they cut through the underbrush, he didn't know where he was leading her. He had only accepted this fool's errand at the behest of a feeble old man claiming to be king with fever dreams of a magic sword.
They traveled north from King's Crown for two days. Yesterday afternoon they’d reached an inn where chattel handlers had reported two missing slaves. It was nothing unusual to run away from a slave caravan, but these two young women could not be found anywhere. The slavers had searched in vain. Either the girls knew the lay of the land, even though they were strangers to it, or they were running blind and had just been incredibly lucky. Or, perhaps they’d had some kind help.
The help of a Spirit Sword, perhaps? It was a slim lead, but Galway had little else to go on.
Another hour of riding let Galway calm his anger and clear his head, stopping in a meadow to allow his horse to graze. The air was sweeter here than near The Mine. He never did well north of King's Crown, preferring to patrol the southern country and border lands. Northern Rangers, he found, were a different breed for whom he did not care. Rangers were intended to be Journeyman Protectors, ranging far and wide, stopping towns from warring with one another, securing the borders from savages and avenging murders.