“Quit it,” she said, struggling to shove past.
“Shhh. Something isn’t right,” Angst whispered quickly and pointed at Chryslaenor. “You see the sword? It’s glowing.”
“Doesn’t it always do that? I thought its real job was to replace lamplights.” She chuckled at her own joke.
Angst shook his head. “The last time it did that I was fighting someone.”
There was nowhere to hide, so they moved forward quietly until the scene became clear. Two guards were lying on each side of the sword, unmoving, as though tossed aside. Five or six silhouettes of animal-like creatures surrounded Chryslaenor. The creatures made clicking and guttural horting sounds. They took turns trying to pull or push the sword. It didn’t budge, and obviously didn’t want the attention, flashing bright blue every time they attempted to move it.
In the light cast by Chryslaenor’s glow, their faces were strangely human. Each of them two or three feet tall, with rocky quill-like protrusions covering their heads and back. Their long claws clicked loudly when they moved. It would have been comical, if they hadn’t been trying to steal his sword! Several of the creatures started digging around it, throwing bits of dirt and stone into the air. Soon others were helping, and Chryslaenor started to sink as they pulled away the ground beneath it.
There was no time to lose. With a deep breath Angst concentrated, reaching out toward the sword. His hand glowed brightly, and some of the beasts stopped digging and turned to look. When he focused on Chryslaenor, he could hear it, but it felt tethered to its resting place. He couldn’t move the sword with magic, but, like the creatures, he could move the ground under it.
“Angst? That might not be a good idea,” Rose stated, not quite whispering. She was rocking back and forth nervously, as though ready to sprint away at a moment’s notice.
The ground around Chryslaenor shook as Angst willed the earth underneath to rise. Now, all the creatures had stopped digging. He had hoped they would scurry away like frightened rabbits, but instead they congregated and made more of their unusual sounds. The shaking became violent enough that one of them fell. A dozen bright red eyes suddenly looked up and they advanced toward Angst and Rose.
“Bad idea, Angst. Bad idea!” Rose looked back and forth between the path and their attackers, finally drawing a dagger from somewhere near her hip. “We can come back for it. Let’s go.”
“Chryslaenor is mine!” Angst declared in a hollow voice.
“Angst?” Rose asked, her voice filled with concern.
Sweat trickled down his cheek and the aura surrounding his hand became even brighter as he willed the ground to push Chryslaenor. Like a stormy ocean beating a rocky shore, waves of earth crashed toward them, lifting the sword and carrying it on a crest of flowing dirt and stone.
The sword came slowly at first, as Angst had never done anything like this. But as he became more familiar with the process, it gained speed. The upswell of ground threw the beasts aside. They screamed in frustration, but rather than landing, dove into the ground as though it were water. The waves of earth abruptly stopped. Chryslaenor launched into the air and landed in Angst’s hands.
Three of the monsters leaped out of the ground, grasping the sword with long bear-clawed fingers. Two more dove at Angst and one ran straight at Rose. She screamed and drove her dagger into the chest of her attacker. The beast grabbed at her arm with its sharp claws, tearing away at her sleeve. She spun in a full circle, trying to shake it off. When she stopped, it slid off the blade and flew into the air. It landed on its feet and raced toward Rose once again.
Angst quickly stepped in front of her. Chryslaenor’s song was loud, filling his head, and his strength had returned. His aches and pains were completely gone, and everything felt right.
Angst swung at the creature jumping toward Rose. The animals still hanging on the sword were thrown into the air, and bits of the claw-like fingers were instantly severed by Chryslaenor. The song grew louder and power flowed through him. Rose gasped as Angst became a blur. He sliced her assailant in half, gloppy innards splattering them both. He quickly dispatched two more and stopped suddenly. Holding the sword high into the night Angst ran at the three injured creatures, roaring maniacally. The monsters dove into the ground, and everything became quiet.
“What were those things?” Rose yelled, stomping in place and shaking bits of monster off her tattered cloak. “Aaaah!”
Angst kneeled down to check on the soldiers. “It’s Rook! He’s alive, they both are, but these cuts look bad.” He turned on his knee to look at Rose. “Are you all right? It looked like one of them got your arm.”
“No, I’m fine,” Rose assured him. She stood away from the soldiers, holding the arm that had been attacked out of sight.
Angst lightly slapped the men in an attempt to wake them, their only response was weak moaning, neither woke fully.
“I can’t wake them, and I don’t want to stay. Those things could come back with friends. Maybe I can find some rope and we can drag them back.” He stood and everything began to spin, his vision fading in and out. “Not now,” Angst whispered to himself, dropping Chryslaenor. He fell to one knee and fought the sudden and pressing need to pass out.
Rose yelped from behind him, but he couldn’t turn. “Are you all right?” he croaked, still fighting to clear his head.
“Yes. Yes, I’m okay.” Her voice had become husky. “One of them is waking up.”
“Angst, is that you? What’s wrong?” Rook asked.
Angst couldn’t respond. He had to force himself to breathe. Rook grabbed under both arms, pulling him to his feet.
Chryslaenor had been quiet after the fight, but the music began once again, a song he didn’t want to hear right now. He needed time to think, to try to understand what it wanted of him. But it appeared there was no time, so he listened and let the power of the song fill him with energy once again. After several moments, he took a deep breath.
“I’m fine.” Angst stood and lifted Chryslaenor. He hefted it over his shoulder and onto his back then let go. The sword stayed in place as though resting in a sheath that wasn’t there. The hilt rose high over his right shoulder, and the tip mere inches above his left ankle. Both Rose and Rook stared in awe.
“I just sort of figured that out,” Angst said with a shrug.
“Um, never mind. No offense, but I really don’t want to know,” Rook said, shuddering at the sight. He walked over to the other soldier, placed his hands under the man’s arms, and lifted him.
Rose shot Angst a quirky smile. “Freak,” she chided. She circled the area and collected the monster claws he’d removed with Chryslaenor. “Look, souvenirs!”
Her cloak was stained with blood, and the sleeve shredded with claw marks. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He pulled at her arm to check it for wounds and was surprised to find it untouched. She jerked it back and scowled at him.
“That thing tore my cloak, but I’m fine,” she said, hiding her arm behind her back.
Angst didn’t believe Rose but arguing would be useless. “Let’s get him to the infirmary.” Angst said to Rook.
They both took an arm and slowly made their way back to the castle. It was an awkward walk for Angst. If he bent his knees even slightly, the sword tip dragged on the ground. If he stood up too straight, the man’s head flopped back and hit Chryslaenor’s hilt. Rose chuckled on occasion, but didn’t offer to help.
Several guards ran to them as they came into view of the castle. “I’ll go with him to the infirmary. I should get checked out too,” Rook informed Angst and Rose. He paused for a moment. “Thank you, both, for saving my life.”
“Thank you for guarding my sword, Rook. It obviously needed watching.” Angst clasped arms with the man.
Rook smiled then followed the guards.
“You did pretty good out there. For a girl,” Angst teased Rose.
She struck his arm. “I don’t even understand how you did all that, but you can explain it some other ti
me. I need sleep.”
“Me too. I get exhausted every time I use Chryslaenor.”
“It looked to me like you just needed to relax a bit,” Rose offered.
“Huh.” Angst considered Rose’s comment, and knew he would have to give her suggestion more thought later. “Well, sorry for getting you involved in all that.”
“Eh. Thanks for not dying this time.” She handed him several claws, keeping the rest for herself, before returning to the castle.
Angst stared at the claws. He decided he was done with surreal, with which the day seemed far too full. He walked straight home, startling several couples on the way with the view of Chryslaenor towering over his shoulder. A light was on inside his cottage, and he opened the door slowly.
“Angst?” called Heather. She got up from the table and greeted him with a hug. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I’ve been so worried.”
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry about this whole mess,” he said, holding her tight.
She pulled away, looking him over with worried eyes. “You look terrible! What happened?”
“Everything,” Angst said.
He set Chryslaenor in the corner, sat in a chair, and told her about his day from the beginning.
10
This was not breakfast. Breakfast is toast and milk, or porridge. Maybe an apple. This grandiose combination of breakfast, lunch, and dinner was enough to feed his friends, wife, and distant cousins for a week. After all that had happened to Angst over the last several days, it was the height of irony. He hadn’t been shocked by picking up the sword or what it allowed him to do; he was shocked by breakfast, that there was so much. Fancy toasts dripping in syrups, gravy and steak (for breakfast), five different kinds of eggs...and it all smelled so good that his mouth watered. Someone had actually gone to the trouble of peeling every bit of fruit that decorated the table. Angst couldn’t help but wonder how the princess had remained so thin, and now knew why the queen had not.
“Angst! Your sword, sir!” The Captain Guard barred his way, hand on the hilt of his short sword, and face curdled with anger. Angst had been ignoring him again.
The spread of food was so ostentatious that Angst had completely forgotten Chryslaenor looming over his right shoulder. It must’ve stood out like a sign that read in big bold letters, “I’m here to kick your ass.” Carrying any weapon in front of the queen was more than a faux pas, but hefting this beast in her presence must’ve seemed like an overt act of war.
Angst shook his head to clear his thoughts then stepped back from Tyrell. “My apologies. These last few days have been a bit...overwhelming.”
“Remove your sword now!” Tyrell was still yelling, even after Angst apologized.
Now Angst was getting upset. It seemed Tyrell wouldn’t even give him a moment to speak. “Fine,” he said curtly. Chryslaenor fell from his back, the tip chipping a fist-sized piece of marble out of the floor just before the hilt landed with a loud boom. “Anything else?”
The Captain Guard, having been extraordinarily lenient in matters concerning Angst and the princess, had no tolerance for any disrespect of the queen. He raised a threatening finger and leaned down so the two men were nose to nose. Tyrell’s pale cheeks were blotchy red with anger, and he took a breath deep enough to blow out a campfire.
Like a refreshing spring breeze, the princess floated in, grabbed Angst’s hand and pulled him to the queen, who was already seated at the table. The move was so quick, so smooth, that neither Angst nor Tyrell had time to react.
“Thank you so much for joining us, Mr. Angst. Our chef prepared a little extra, not knowing what you would like.” She made eye contact and nodded slowly as though trying to extract the merest bit of etiquette from him. She jerked her head once toward the queen then let go of his hand.
Angst tore himself from thinking of Tyrell’s verbal assault, and bowed as best he could. “Your Majesty, my sincere gratitude for your invitation to breakfast this fine morning. I am honored.”
The queen, who’d completely ignored everything that had happened to this point, held out her hand so Angst could kiss the royal ring. He kissed it with the tiniest of pecks, quickly, as though to avoid contaminating his lips. Isabelle offered a strained smile. Today, the queen wore a mauve dress that seemed slightly less flowing and embroidered than her usual pageantry. Her white hair rested on her well-fed cheeks, and her crown was nowhere to be seen. Had she tried to dress down for the occasion so he would be more comfortable?
“I would like to see it,” she commanded politely.
“Your Majesty?” Angst asked, perplexed by the queen’s request.
“The sword, Angst. I would like to see it.” Her gaze was steady, her eyes absorbing and assessing everything he did.
“Um, of course, Your Majesty.” It made no sense to Angst, especially after the altercation with Tyrell.
“Your Majesty, it is by your own command that weapons should never be carried in your presence, save for your own personal guards.” Tyrell’s feathers were evidently still a bit ruffled.
“Tyrell, from what I understand, if Angst intended to attack us with that thing, he could’ve taken out half the castle by now.” The queen’s tone wasn’t rude but rather matter-of-fact.
Angst walked by Tyrell to fetch Chryslaenor. It took every ounce of strength not to stick out his tongue, stick up his nose, or stick out his finger at the man. He could sense the princess holding her breath, and feel Tyrell’s eyes boring into his skull.
He lifted the sword then looked down at the dislodged piece of marble. “With your permission, Majesty, may I repair the floor? My sword seems to have damaged it.”
The queen nodded once, examining him closely. Angst knelt down. A gentle blue aura surrounded his hand, and the marble melted back into the floor. He stood and walked to the queen, holding out Chryslaenor for her to see. She reached out and touched the blade curiously. Tyrell loomed, appearing ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
“Please, be careful. It could harm you if you were to try to lift it,” Angst warned with genuine concern.
“So I’ve heard, Mr. Angst, but thank you for the warning all the same.” The queen took her hand away. “It seems surprisingly unremarkable. Is it...intelligent?”
“Well, I don’t believe it’s stupid,” Angst replied without thinking then realized he should’ve spoken more formally. “Sorry. I mean to say, I’m not certain, but Chryslaenor seems to react to things, which would indicate...something. I honestly don’t know what that means, just yet.”
Isabelle nodded then casually waved to the nearest corner. “Set it aside and let’s breakfast.”
Breakfast was actually, sort of, nice. For the briefest of moments, the queen appeared almost human. She liked eggs, and ate her fill of three different kinds. A young servant had prepared a plate of fruit for the princess, who pulled her feet up to the chair, wrapped her arms around her knees, and nibbled on grapes. Tyrell ate more steak and eggs than Angst had seen even Tarness down. Angst wasn’t hungry; anxiety seemed to be marching through his stomach. He was, however, curious, and snacked on the dishes he wasn’t familiar with.
Conversation was filled with safe generalities. In fifteen minutes, they covered summer, fall, family members, visiting dignitaries, and breakfast, not once mentioning anything relevant or controversial. While he felt he was intruding on a family meal, it was nice to sit near Victoria, in the open, without getting yelled at or stared down. The queen was diplomatic, seeming both casual and careful with her choice of topic. She even held back rolling some of her Rs.
Dishes were efficiently removed at the end of their stuffing, and all became quiet.
“Your Majesty, what can I do for you?” Angst finally asked.
“Angst, that was the right question,” she said with a politic grin.
The queen’s brows knit together as though they were trying to form the word ‘opportunity.’ He sensed that it may have been the wrong question.
“You w
ielding that sword has been both complicated and timely,” she began.
“Would these have something to do with being timely, Your Majesty?” Angst dropped one clawed finger from the prior night’s battle onto the white tablecloth.
The queen waved at one of the servers, who hurried over to scoop it up then whisk it away to Tyrell.
The Captain Guard took the claw and studied it. He seemed surprised at first then a little worried. “Angst, where did this come from?” It was the first time Tyrell had spoken directly to him since their altercation.
“When I went to fetch the sword last night with my friend Rose, some creatures were trying to take Chryslaenor. We killed several, and scared the rest away.”
“You killed some?” Tyrell asked in disbelief, looking up briefly. “We’ve been defenseless against the gamlin since they appeared a year ago.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean defenseless?”
“Our weapons can’t penetrate their hide. The best we can do is capture them, but even then we haven’t been able to hold them.” Tyrell looked at the queen and nodded, as though confirming something.
Angst braved a glance at the princess, who flashed him a quick wink but offered nothing more. He then faced the queen.
Isabelle sat straight in her high-backed chair, her face pained as she fought to form the words. “Angst, Unsel is in need of your...abilities, and I’m prepared to offer you title in exchange for your services.”
Angst wanted to ask if the ‘title’ being offered was knight. He wanted to know what that would take to achieve. But this wasn’t an award ceremony for winning a lottery—this was politics. “I assume you aren’t asking about my filing services, though with Chryslaenor, I could put away documents faster than ever.”
The princess chuckled, familiar with Angst’s humor, but the queen shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “In light of current events, I believe a promotion is in order.”
Angst couldn’t help but smile. The anticipation was almost too much.
As though reading his mind, the queen answered his unspoken question. “Angst, as you know, not just anyone can be a knight of Unsel. It requires more than family, more than strength or prowess on the battlefield. Knights are something...well, something more. Making you a knight because you picked up an old sword would be like making you a king for finding one in a stone. The protection of Unsel is more important, more sacred, than tradition.”
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