by P. D. Kalnay
I tried to calm down and explain. Mr. Ryan was my friend too.
“It’s not as simple as that. We should have a choice. Ivy shouldn’t be stuck with me if she wants something else, and she shouldn’t have her life cut short either. Did you know they keep her locked in a cell when she isn’t here? A cell, like a criminal! You didn’t see the way they treated her. So you’re damn right I’m mad, and I’m training harder to become strong enough to do something about it. Ivy’s my friend; I didn’t say I was in love with her!”
Mr. Ryan lowered his sword and offered me his hand with a laugh.
“Jack, I think the only person in this house who didn’t know you were in love with Ivy—was Ivy.”
Mr. Ryan looked behind me to where Ivy stood with one hand holding the patio door open.
“Lunch is ready,” she said. “The mistress of the house asked me to inform you.”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask how long she’d been standing there. The look she gave me—before turning to go back inside—said maybe it had been a while.
Chapter 20 – A Petal’s Promise
Ivy was leaving the next afternoon, and my time was almost up. My chest hurt at the thought of another winter alone at Glastonbury Manor. Summers there never lasted long enough. I told Mr. Ryan I wanted to cut sword practice short after dinner. He gave me a knowing smile, and told me that every so often, it’s good to take a break. I hadn’t been to Ivy’s room since I dropped off her bow last winter. For some reason, she always came up to mine. My hand hovered at the door, not sure if it should knock. That dilemma was cut short when Ivy opened it.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked.
Ivy had avoided making eye contact with at me during lunch and dinner. To be honest, I’d avoided looking at her too.
“If that’s OK?”
“Of course.”
She let me by and then firmly shut the door behind me. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. I’d already kissed her. Twice! And she’d snuggled into my bed only a few nights back. Don’t think about that Jack, I told myself. Now, is not the time.
“Was there something else you had a question about?” Ivy asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. “A thing I left out?”
“I’m sure I’ll come up with a hundred more after you’re gone,” I said. “But, I actually came to give you something.”
“You don’t have to give me anything else,” Ivy said. “The bow and… you’ve already given me enough.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about, but if I didn’t push forward, I’d chicken-out again for sure.
“I made you another present last winter,” I said. “After I made the bow. I meant to give it to you when you got back, but…”
“But?”
“I couldn’t,” I said, studying my feet. “I was too embarrassed, and then having you back here was so great and I didn’t want to mess any of that up, and–”
“Jack, I’d treasure anything you made for me. Your bow is my most cherished possession. We are friends, are we not?”
Ivy expression was deadly serious. This was an answer I knew.
“Always.”
“Then you never have to feel embarrassed around me. Even if this gift you made didn’t turn out as you intended, I’ll be grateful for the thought you put into it.”
The necklace had turned out exactly how I’d intended. That was the problem.
“I need you to do something for me,” I said. “I need you to stand up and close your eyes.”
Ivy stood up from the bed and closed her eyes. She smiled too.
“I intended to give you a kiss goodbye,” she said. “You need not steal one.”
“Keep them closed until I leave, OK?”
“As you wish.”
“Promise.”
“I promise, Jack.”
I pulled the necklace from my pocket and carefully placed it around her neck. With a soft click the queen bee clasp shut under her hair. Ivy shivered.
“Jack?” she asked nervously.
“Keep them closed till I’m gone,” I said, resting my hands on her bare shoulders. “You don’t have to keep it if you don’t like it. I got a little carried away.”
I did kiss her then.
“Sorry,” I said, “I couldn’t help myself.”
I fled her room as quickly as I could, and had trouble falling asleep, wondering what Ivy’s reaction to the necklace might be. She didn’t come to my room for a movie that night, but I found out the next morning at breakfast.
***
Usually, breakfasts at Gran’s are a come-as-you-like, if-you-like deal. Frequently, I ate alone even when the house had other boarders. For that last morning, Gran had Ms. Mopat make a special meal, and I arrived to find the table full of food. Gran and Mr. Ryan were deep in conversation over fresh baked scones and tea. A quick glance told me that Ivy hadn’t arrived yet. I hoped she wasn’t upset about the necklace. It really was a ridiculously over-the-top gift. Ivy joined us shortly after I’d sat down.
She was wearing her flower-patterned sundress (my secret favourite) and looked extra beautiful that morning. Ivy was also wearing the necklace and looked unusually tired. Unlike me, Ivy was a morning person. The smile she gave me made my face—and most of the rest of me—flush.
“Good morning Ivy,” Mr. Ryan said. “When did you get a necklace?”
“My Jack made it for me,” Ivy said. Her smile grew with the words.
My Jack? That was new.
“Is that the gift you slaved over for most of winter?” Gran asked.
I glanced at Ivy, who was still giving me a very proprietary smile, and nodded.
“May I see it child?” Gran held out a hand.
“It cannot be removed,” Ivy said. “Not that I would wish to do so.”
“Jack?” Gran sounded irritated.
I jumped up from my chair and hurried around the table.
“Of course it can come off,” I said. “The queen bee is the clasp. You just have to squeeze her wings.”
Ivy stood helpfully still, while I carefully turned the necklace around, until the little queen was in my hand. Gently, I pressed the wings. Nothing. I pressed harder. The wings didn’t budge. I leaned down and peered at the clasp, thinking it must be jammed. The latch and ring were now all one piece. The queen was as solid as she’d been before I’d turned her into movable clasp.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “This is impossible. I made it to open.”
Ivy placed her hands on mine, and I let the necklace fall.
“It did open when you first gave it to me,” she said. “I took it off and examined it carefully. I spent the entire night reading the petals and burning your words into my heart. At dawn’s first light, I put it back on and accepted your pledge. Now, the necklace cannot be removed.”
Petals? Words? Pledge? What was she talking about?
“You look faint, Jack,” Mr. Ryan said. “Why don’t you both sit, and Ivy can explain?”
I was feeling a little dizzy, so I did what he said.
“Ivy, can you tell us more about the necklace?” Mr. Ryan asked.
Ivy looked hesitantly at me.
“Jack crafted it,” she said. “Should he not be the one to tell its secrets?”
“Maybe after,” Mr. Ryan said. “Why don’t you start?”
“Very well. When Jack closed the necklace around my throat, I felt deep magic pass through me. For an instant, I stood under the branches of the World Tree. Then, my Jack kissed me; I was back in my room, and he was gone. I looked at his gift in the mirror and stood amazed by its beauty for a time. As I leaned in closer, to see more clearly, I realised that each petal had a message carved into it. Pressing the wings of the queen of bees, I removed the necklace for the last time and read the words Jack had inscribed. After a night of tears and laughter, I made my choice and returned it to my throat.”
Ivy held up her tattooed wrist.
“This is nothing to me now.” Then she looked
at me. “I will try to be worthy of your gift.”
She said it like a promise.
I was thinking something along the lines of, Holy Crap, Holy Crap, Holy Crap!
Gran stood and leaned in close for a look at the necklace. She reached out to touch a flower, only to be intercepted by Ivy’s hand. Gran frowned down at Ivy.
“Mistress,” Ivy said. “I don’t understand all of the necklace’s enchantments, but I believe it may not suffer another’s touch. Bees do sting when provoked.”
Gran pulled her hand back.
“Thank you child,” she said. “I think you’re correct. Whatever is written on these petals is clouded to my eyes.”
“Mine too,” Mr. Ryan said.
“That’s because I didn’t write anything,” I said. “I just randomly engraved the petals. There are no words or messages written there.”
Ivy was looking at me as though I was the crazy one.
“Maybe you did so unconsciously,” Mr. Ryan said.
Gran was back in her seat, nodding in agreement.
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” I said.
“Perhaps if Ivy would tell us what they say?” Gran suggested.
Ivy’s pale face turned bright red.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” she said. “The words are personal and for me alone.”
“Perhaps you could share the least personal one,” Mr. Ryan suggested. “For Jack’s peace of mind, if for no other reason.”
Ivy looked to me for permission. That was new too.
“Sure, why not?” I shrugged. I hadn’t written a damn thing anyway.
“Very well,” Ivy said.
Her hand strayed to one of the petals. Those things had been a tonne of work. If memory served, I thought it might be the one I made just after I finished the bow. Then, Ivy closed her eyes and spoke as though she were reciting a poem.
“My Love, I visited your room tonight and left the bow I made on your bed. I have made it as perfectly as I could and hope it will bring you joy. Nothing brings me greater happiness than when you are happy. I tarried for a time in the room. Your sweet scent still lingers, taunting me with your absence. Vainly, I drew deeply, eyes closed, smelling your pillow and the dresses in the closet as if I might bring you closer by doing so. If I could, I would come to you. For now, I can only count the days until you return.”
Were it possible to die from embarrassment—I’d have dropped dead at the breakfast table.
“That was the least personal thing?” I asked.
Ivy looked me in the eye. “By far.”
“What are the most personal messages about?” Mr. Ryan asked with a snort.
“Matters that will be addressed when we are properly wed,” Ivy said. “The necklace is mine. I will speak no more of it.”
“I still don’t see how I could have unintentionally written what I was thinking,” I said.
“There is a precedent,” Mr. Ryan said. “Let’s enjoy our breakfast together, and I’ll explain after.”
Chapter 21 – Older Friends
Mr. Ryan carried most of the small talk for the rest of the meal. My normally large appetite had been diminished by Ivy’s revelations. Every time I looked up, she was staring at me. I wasn’t sure what else I’d written on the necklace, but if I done it unconsciously… I sometimes had inappropriate thoughts about her. Thoughts I’d never have said out loud. Crap. After everyone finished eating, we moved to the sitting room. Gran sat in her usual chair, and I sat on the sofa. Ivy sat right next to me, pressed up close, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I’ll be right back,” Mr. Ryan said.
I heard him trot up the main stairs a moment later. After an uncomfortable minute, sitting silently with Ivy and Gran, I heard him coming back. He brought a long aluminum rifle case with him and set it carefully on the coffee table. With no ceremony, Mr. Ryan flipped open the case. His giant white sword lay on the dimpled foam inside. That was the first time I’d gotten to see it in daylight, and I leaned in for a better look. Ivy and Gran both leaned back; each appeared awestruck. Based on what Ivy told me, the sword was their equivalent of Excalibur and the Holy Grail all rolled into one.
I just thought it looked really cool, if slightly impractical. The entire thing, from pommel to tip, was crafted from the same white material. The pommel was carved in the shape of a dragon’s head and the cross guard was formed from many smaller dragons intertwined. It had a handle that was carved to resemble twisted wire, and looked like it’d give a sound grip. The blade was wide, heavy looking, and over four feet long. Deep runes or symbols were carved along its length. Together, they formed the stylized image of flames. What most amazed me was what I noticed next. On top of those larger shapes, the entire sword was engraved as finely as the petals on Ivy’s necklace. My nose was almost pressed up against the blade so I could see. The endless lines and shapes meant no more to me than the ones I’d carved for Ivy, but I could see they were similar in nature. Each was exactly where I’d have placed it. Dumbfounded, I sat back next to Ivy.
“Look familiar?” Mr. Ryan asked.
“No, and yes,” I said. “I don’t remember any of this, but it seems right to me at the same time. I can’t imagine how long all that engraving would take.”
“Most of ten years,” Mr. Ryan said.
“I always assumed there was poetic licence with that,” Gran said.
“No,” Mr. Ryan said softly. “Marielain lived in his smithy for those years and spoke not a single word. If we gave him food and drink, he’d take only enough to sustain himself before returning to his labour. On countless nights, I found him collapsed by the forge fires. None of us knew what he was making, or why. Had I known it was a gift for me, I could never have born seeing my friend so. Slowly, painstakingly he would heat the blade in the fires under Knight’s Haven and carve a tiny section, swiftly, before even his enchanted graver could no longer mark the blade. Then, Marielain would return it to the fires again and again. For all that time the blade was black as night, as Morantal, first of all dragons was black, hailing from a time before light. Ten years to the day his labour began, Marielain emerged from his smithy White Sword in hand. He carried it across the island and into the Hall before laying it at my feet. Then he collapsed on top of it and did not wake again until the seasons had passed. I alone can read what is written on the blade. Till that day, I was a proud man. His gift left me humbled, but determined to be better than I was.”
Mr. Ryan nodded to Ivy then, and they seemed to share a moment of understanding before he continued, sounding more like the Mr. Ryan I knew.
“This is the precedent I spoke of. Marielain couldn’t read the words he’d written and remembered nothing of those ten, long years.”
I thought of the things I’d apparently written on Ivy’s necklace. Then I looked back at the sword, feeling uneasy.
“What kinds of things does it say?” I asked, not willing to make eye contact with Mr. Ryan.
Mr. Ryan burst into laughter, shattering the mood he’d created.
“Nothing like what you wrote for Ivy,” he finally said. “Only one small part is truly personal. The rest are enchantments affecting the blade and concerning the mysteries of creation. I’ve never read a single word of those aloud and never shall. The White Sword may be the most dangerous thing in all of existence. I rarely ever used it as more than the great sword it is—out of respect—and more than a little fear. Marielain was certain this thing would be needed one day, and he trusted me to wield it wisely. As I said, it was humbling to be shown such faith.”
A small section at the base of the blade drew my eye. Something about it was different from the rest. I pointed to it without touching the sword.
“This part here,” I said. “This is the personal part.”
I didn’t know how I knew, but I was sure I was right. Mr. Ryan nodded. Then he spoke much as Ivy had done at breakfast.
“In the time of darkness, you must stand
to safeguard light and life. When the death of the World Tree is nigh, and the Enemy stands at the gate, you must bar the way. That time is clouded before my eyes. Know that should the choice be mine, I will fight beside you. I craft this talisman, so that should I not be there in body, I will stand with you in spirit. For though we are not of the same blood–”
The longer Mr. Ryan spoke the harder I found it to breathe. He stopped when he saw me hyperventilating. Dizziness took me, and I slid to the floor, the room slipping out of focus around me.
“Jack!” Ivy and Mr. Ryan called out together.
Mr. Ryan stood over top of me, looking concerned. Part of me, felt bad for interrupting him. Another part, already knew how the message ended.
“…you are my brother.” I whispered the last words before darkness came.
I woke later, back on the couch, with my head in Ivy’s lap. Her hand gently caressed the side of my face.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You fainted,” Ivy said. “How do you feel?”
I considered that for a moment.
“I’m OK,” I said, sitting up.
Mr. Ryan and Gran were still there, sitting on the other side of the coffee table.
“How long was I out?” I asked.
“Only a few minutes,” Mr. Ryan said.
“I think there’s more than enough evidence.” Gran told him.
“Agreed,” Mr. Ryan said. “But the last test is easy enough to try.”
“What are you two talking about?” I asked.
“The sword,” Mr. Ryan said. “It was made for me, and only I can wield it fully. For anyone other than myself, or its maker, the White Sword is incredibly heavy. Ivy, please try to lift the sword.”
Ivy stood and moved to the end of the coffee table. She wrapped her little hands around the sword’s handle, bent her knees, and lifted. It was obvious she was giving it her all. Ivy’s arms strained, and her face became flushed. The sword didn’t lift, so much as tilt slightly in the case. Finally, she gave up.
“Thank you,” Mr. Ryan said.