by Ann Hunter
Sylas moved to an anvil near his shack and picked up a falchion blade. He held it with reverence. “Xander, Xander, Xander.… Have I not made it clear that I care not for the lives of men? I only seek to make a means to an end. I am sure we can come to some agreeable terms.” He turned the hilt to Xander in offering. “I believe you stand in need of a new blade. This is Idegwaed. Try her out, won’t you?”
Xander eyed the cloaked figure. After a long while he grasped the falchion. Idegwaed’s balance was unlike any he had ever experienced. Her guard was styled to resemble a screaming mouth. The flawless obsidian blade glinting in the firelight extended like a tongue. The grip was black pearl, bound in silver wire. The pommel bore a single ruby as counterweight. Xander swung the falchion with such ease. Never had his movement been so fluid and effortless. He felt as though Idegwaed had been forged exclusively for him. She sang as she sliced the air. Xander’s arm grew stronger, a river of power flowing through him, as though he could never be conquered so long as he kept swinging. Sylas’s dark laugh cut the moment, a cold piercing sound. He clapped slowly. “Beautiful, is she not?”
Xander was breathless. Idegwaed was beyond compare. She was a sword men would kill for. He swallowed. Such a prize did not come free.
Sylas’s voice was thick. “Do we have a deal?”
Xander stared into the surrounding darkness. Oh, gods, did he want this sword! Blackthorn would never be threatened again with the likes of this blade, this extension of himself, at his command. “Name your price.”
“Oh, really, my dear Barwn. It’s nothing you need to worry yourself over. Merely a trifle compared to what you’ll gain from Idegwaed. I can assure you that I deal quite fairly. You get what you want. I get what I want. Everyone is happy.”
He looked at Sylas. “If I am to make a deal, then I wish to look the man in the eye of whom I’m making the deal with.”
Sylas nodded and slipped back his hood. Sallow, spotted, green skin framed a gaunt face adorned by long, pointed ears. A blaze of flaming, orange-red hair stretched down the middle of his scalp from widow’s peak to nape. He gazed at Xander with almond-shaped, glossy black, pupil-less eyes.
Xander had never seen such a being. He quaked inside.
“With that blade,” Sylas pressed his webbed fingers together, forming a point with his thumbs and index, “I can guarantee all the power you seek. Nations will fall to your feet. However, I cannot guarantee the consequences.”
Xander swallowed. “How do you mean?”
Sylas began to pace. "The weapons I forge have their own personalities. Much like people, relationships with such things have lasting effects. I will guarantee your victory, nay, I foresee it, Barwn Blackthorn, though I cannot say at what cost. Now, do we have a deal?"
Xander caressed the ruby on the pommel as though awakening a lover. Idegwaed seemed to hum his name pleasurably. Xander felt braver and stronger the longer he clutched her. She assured him that the consequences would pale in comparison to the things she would do for him. Sylas foresaw his success. It was a sure thing. How could the Barwn of Blackthorn resist? "You say you foresee my victory..."
Sylas nodded. "You need only tap Idegwaed’s power."
Xander ran his hand against the cool flat of the blade. Idegwaed warmed to his very touch. "Tell me how."
Sylas stepped beside him with a twisted smile, full of piranha-esque teeth, and placed a clammy hand on Xander’s shoulder. "Simple. Kill."
Rhun cruised into the sunlight with Xander astride. Idegwaed, nestled in a red stag hide scabbard, swung gently at their sides. Rhun snorted and dropped his head as they crossed the River Trefnwy. Xander loosened the reins and let his feet hang free of the stirrups. The midday sun felt wondrous after so many dark hours in that dreary, cold swamp.
Xander felt that all would be right in the world now. Archduges, Iarlls, and Tywysogion would swear fealty to him in exchange for his protection. They would gift castles and fiefdoms to his son. Life would be perfect for the first time in Xander’s family.
They rode all day until Rhun stopped at the edge of midnight and gazed at Blackthorn. He whickered softly and pawed the earth. Xander shifted in his saddle. “What is it, lad?”
Then he saw it, or rather didn’t. The kettledrums normally lit at night by the gate had been quelled. Blackthorn was suspiciously quiet, until Xander heard a scream.
Aowyn!
Xander dug his heels into Rhun’s side and rocketed toward the gates. Rhun couldn’t move fast enough. Xander drove hard against the stallion’s neck, booting him over and over. Rhun’s breaths came frantically. The tall grasses brushed by in a blur of moonlit gold.
Once in the bailey, Xander swung from Rhun’s back before the stallion had come to a halt. Before he could draw Idegwaed from her scabbard, two men clad in chainmail and boiled leather barreled into him. Xander’s hands were bound behind his back as a fist slammed into his jaw. He arched his back to try and kick out, but failed. With a grunt, he hammered his heel into his captor’s foot then pummeled his elbow into the man’s ribs, breaking free. He raced to Rhun’s side and drew Idegwaed. In one fell swoop, he spun and hacked into one of the men’s pauldrons. The man staggered backward, gripping his shoulder. The other raced toward Xander, swinging a claymore. Xander grit his teeth and pitched a blow into the on comer’s side. A voice from the curtain wall above cackled with glee. “Keep him busy, boys!”
Xander rolled away from the blow of a mace and saw a hulking man clutching Aowyn. Aowyn struggled against him, her voice muffled by the man’s hand over her mouth.
“Wyn!” Xander yelled.
Aowyn tried to cry out as the large man laughed again. “I have a date with a princess.”
Xander bellowed and affronted the one with the claymore. Steel screeched against obsidian. Xander rammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, then pivoted and slashed into the place between the other’s neck and shoulder. A spray of blood spattered against Xander’s chest. He raised Idegwaed and swung again. She chewed through chain and bit deep into flesh. The man dropped to his knees, his open-mouthed face blankly turning skyward. Xander roared again and spiraled toward the one with the claymore, shoving Idegwaed into his belly. Xander’s heart pounded as the man looked at him with the same wide-eyed expression as his comrade had. Xander grabbed the man’s head and pulled him close, pushing Idegwaed deeper through the man’s gut with a primal yell. As the man choked, the sneer on Xander’s face turned to a dark smile.
He pulled Idegwaed out and watched with an unnatural pleasure as the man fell to the ground. Xander placed the toe of his boot against the man’s face, and turned it away from him. The rapid breath in his lungs burned. The blood on Idegwaed rained like tears down her guard as Xander ran toward the nearest door.
The door had been battered open and hung in broken pieces. Xander leapt over the rubble, squinting in the darkness. Bodies lay on the floor. He stooped by one and recognized his captain of the guard. A glance over his shoulder revealed three of his other best men. Xander swore under his breath and stole up the staircase. He found Maeb gagged, bound, and unconscious in a darkened corner. He checked her pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. Alive. He whispered an apology and left her as he found her. He didn’t want her causing a commotion and running off to find Aowyn only to get herself in to more danger.
He tightened his grip around Idegwaed and crouched, prowling down the hall. He heard Aowyn’s scream. He was getting close. The sound of pottery smashing and bodies clunking against furniture was just around the bend. When he reached the door, he kicked it open.
“Unhand my wife.”
The burly man captured Aowyn by the wrist and pulled her close to him. He chuckled. “My men and I were beginning to wonder if you were coming back.” He regarded Aowyn momentarily and laughed again. “Who do I kid? A pretty girl like this. Of course you would come back.” His lips curled as he pressed his nose to Aowyn’s jawbone, breathing deeply.
Aowyn stared at Xander in terror, uttering
his name. The man covered her mouth and pressed a dagger to her throat.
Xander growled. He tightened his hold on Idegwaed and took a step in their direction. “Let her go.”
The man looked at him from the corners of his eyes with a baleful grin. “Uh, uh, uh, Barwn Blackthorn. Play nice now.”
Xander began to circle them. Who was this man? Why had he come? By the looks of his furs, his cape, and the rings on his beefy knuckles, he was a man of importance. Xander continued to pace around them, frustrated that Aowyn was being kept between them like a shield.
“Tell me where you are from,” Xander snarled, “so that I may send your head there when I cut it off.”
The man sniggered. “Such a shame they want her dead. She’s so very beautiful.”
Xander’s anger raged as the man pressed his tongue against Aowyn’s cheek and slowly slithered it up to her temple. Aowyn’s breath coursed and her eyes flashed. She bit hard into the man’s finger until a line of blood trickled to the floor. The man sounded like thunder, “You venomous she-devil!”
He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, bolting for the door. Xander had not been mindful and left it unguarded. He charged after them. The man was lumbering down the hall. Xander could hear Maeb clucking beneath her gag, then squawking and making a ruckus as the man drew near. With a bellow and a mighty heave, Xander hurled Idegwaed after him. The falchion sang through the air and buried herself deep between the man’s shoulder blades. The man sucked in a sudden breath and paused mid-stride. He staggered toward Xander, his eyes open capaciously. Xander bolted to grab Aowyn and push the man forward. With a deafening thud, the man fell. Xander held Aowyn close. She trembled in his arms. Xander took her face with both hands and looked her in the eyes. He didn’t need to speak the words he was thinking, wondering if she was alright. She simply nodded and hugged him hard. He scooped her up, cradling her, and leaned his forehead against hers. He walked down the hall slowly, never wanting to take his eyes from Aowyn again. The world seemed to disappear. He made way to their bedroom and gently laid his wife on the bed, pressing his mouth to hers softly. He made her comfortable and dropped to one knee, weaving his fingers with hers. “Tell me what happened.”
Aowyn winced. “It happened so fast. One moment we were enjoying dinner, the next the castle went dark. Our men started fighting. Maeb and I tried to escape, and then that man…” she shuddered, then cried, “Oh, Xander, where were you?”
Xander kissed Aowyn’s knuckles. This was his fault. If he had been here to protect his keep, this might not have happened. “This will never happen again. I swear it.”
“How can you promise that with assurance?”
Xander looked at her earnestly. “Everything will be different from now on.” He leaned over the bed, placing a hand on his wife’s belly. He kissed the widest part of it and spoke quietly. “You will never have to fight for our land so long as I live.”
His fingers tightened around Aowyn’s nightgown as the baby kicked beneath his hand. He kissed Aowyn long and deeply, then rose.
Aowyn stirred uncomfortably. “That sword you had… I’ve never seen it before. Where did you get it?”
Xander tensed and said nothing.
Aowyn tried to turn his head to look at her. “I have only seen one other like it, forged by a creature from our lands. Tell me where you got that sword.”
Xander clenched his fists.
Aowyn choked. “Sylas Mortas. You’ve been to him, haven’t you?”
Xander turned his back.
“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with, Xan. I know him. He will only make things worse for us. Even the gods want no business with him! Please believe me.”
“I love you. Goodbye.”
“Where are you going?” Aowyn shifted in bed. “Please don’t leave me alone.”
Xander glanced over his shoulder as he exited the room and shut the door behind him. Any threat to Aowyn was a threat to his son and must be hunted down without hesitation.
He returned to the man’s body, took his dagger, and dislodged Idegwaed from her sticking place. He strode to Maeb, shook his head, then cut her loose and ungagged her. Maeb started ranting in her tongue. Xander ignored her and helped her up. When she paused to take a breath before her next tirade, Xander shoved the dagger into her hands. “Go to Aowyn. Protect her. Do not leave her side. In the morning, you shall have fresh men to guard the keep. Understand?”
Maeb nodded and waddled down the hall to the bedroom.
Xander bolted downstairs to the bailey and mounted Rhun.
“Aowyn…” the gods called again.
Aowyn answered their beckoning and rose slowly from her bed. Maeb snored beside her, clutching the dagger she had been given. Aowyn crept to the window, bathing in the last moonlight before dawn. She hoped the gods would show her another vision of her son.
“I am here,” she whispered. “What would you have of me?”
“Behold Xander…”
Aowyn found herself enveloped by a dawn as red as fire. This canvas was painted with her husband marching into a castle. He swung a terrible black sword at the guards, slicing through their armor and rending them to their knees. A spin found the blade clean through another guard’s belly. The next was beheaded. More and more guards came, but Xander only grew stronger with each kill. His face was grim. Aowyn barely recognized him. He was dropping men dead as easily as rain fell until he reached a throne room. He pointed his sword at the Iarll in charge. “Swear fealty to me or die,” Xander demanded.
The Iarll at throne was aghast and trembling. With a wave of his hand, a servant brought him his sword. The Iarll took it, then dropped to his knees and proffered up his blade to Xander.
Xander snatched it. For a moment he looked unsure of himself. He erupted with a sudden holler, and beheaded the man. He breathed hard as he stood over him. Xander looked at the servants and pointed the blades at them. “You answer to me now.”
The servants cowered in a corner and nodded emphatically.
Xander kicked the body across the floor, blood streaking the polished tiles. “Clean this mess up.”
Aowyn watched Xander march back outside and return to Rhun. He rode forth unopposed.
The red dawn grew brighter.
Aowyn bit back a cry. “Why do you show me this?”
“Xander walks a dark road,” the gods answered. “He has sought the aid of Sylas Mortas.”
Aowyn looked on as Xander rode into another city. Women and children fled before him. He offered his ultimatum to the men at arms. Those who refused met a swift end.
“He must be stopped,” the gods said.
Tears burned Aowyn’s ruddy cheeks. Surely this was not her Xander. The world went black, and she awoke in her bed.
Birds chirped outside. It was a beautiful day.
She looked over her shoulder. Maeb snored loudly, clutching the dagger she had been given.
“Maeb.” Aowyn poked her. Maeb stopped snoring and opened an eye. “Maeb, how did Xander find Sylas Mortas?”
Maeb shut her eye and let loose the loudest snore of all.
Aowyn grimaced. She leaned close to Maeb and muttered, “You’re useless.” She threw back the covers. She never saw Maeb’s pained expression.
Xander lit from Rhun’s back. His boots hit the earth in a dusty cloud. Idegwaed rested in his hand, bloodied from a two-day rampage. He grabbed the wrist of the first man he came across and hacked off his hand. It was a hand that could pose a threat to Aowyn and their son. He moved on mercilessly, bringing down anyone who came across his path. A twisted pit of excitement formed in his stomach. He was keenly aware of the way his muscles flexed whenever he danced with Idegwaed. The sunlight that beat off his shoulders now only made him more aroused. Even the guards were fleeing before him by the time he reached this city. He strode into the great hall, offering his ultimatum to the Tywysog of this province. The Tywysog rose swiftly and drew his sword. Servants quickly equipped him with a shield.<
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Xander shook his head. “Do you think that will save your rotten hide?”
The Tywysog banged his sword against it, announcing his intent.
Xander grasped Idegwaed’s hilt and rushed the Tywysog. The Tywysog deflected Idegwaed with the shield and whacked Xander in the back with the flat of his blade tauntingly. Xander growled and windmilled around, crashing Idegwaed against the other sword. He pressed the attack. Idegwaed’s obsidian edge scraped down toward the Tywysog’s hand. The Tywysog clenched his jaw and kicked out, shoving Xander back and slicing at his shoulder. Xander spun away, just in time, and cut hard into the Tywysog’s thigh. The Tywysog bawled and staggered, clutching his leg. Xander raced toward him, Idegwaed raised over his head. The Tywysog tried to limp away as Idegwaed fell through the air. The Tywysog lifted his sword, and the black blade glanced away. The Tywysog forced himself upright, his face drawn and pale. Xander swung at his head, then his shield arm. Idegwaed’s tongue sparked against its rival and then bit into the shield arm. It gnawed through bone, and the shield fell. The arm hung awkwardly, sinew exposed. Xander reeled around and swept the legs out from beneath the Tywysog with the flat side of Idegwaed, then grabbed the Tywysog’s hair, pulling his head back to expose the man’s throat. Idegwaed hummed as she slid against stubble.
Xander felt alive with an intense spark. His muscles rippled with renewed power. He savored having this man’s life in his hands. He would never again be subject to anyone.
“Submit or die,” Xander murmured.
The Tywysog swallowed. “Either way I am a dead man. I pity those who bend to tyran—”
Blood spilled. The Tywysog gurgled and crumpled to the floor.
Xander cleaned his blade on the Tywysog’s clothing. As he did so, he noticed small chinks along Idegwaed’s edge that had not been there prior. He sheathed her carefully and turned to the fearful guards in the room. “You there. Cowards.” He crossed to them swiftly and took them by their collars. “You’re mine now. Inform your comrades. We ride at dawn. Those who refuse will be hunted and killed for the dogs that they are.”