Maiden's Saber

by Marion Faith St. James

  Some of the gods were smiling—others glaring. I felt like we were but pieces on a board that the heavenly beings moved about for their amusement.

  The cavern held captured air many leagues below the sea. As I did not need the air to breathe, I neither welcomed nor dismissed it.

  At the center rising out of the water was a large stone pedestal. Upon its flat surface was this very sword,” as she raises it up high. “The shimming light I held from below came from this blade. The light created dancing shadows on the cavern walls and ceiling. The blade emulating the light was the only source of illumination I beheld. The sword made strange sounds, as it seemed to speak to me. Although I did not understand, I knew I must take this in my hand. I made my way back to the surface with this saber in my belt.”

  “Dian, how was it you learned to call if forth or send it away until needed?”

  “I do not know…it sort of came to me.”

  “It did not just come to you. The enchanted saber is one with your soul. It put in your mind the magic words to use and summon it from any water source.”

  Dian thinks hard on what Amari is telling her. In her spirit, she knows this witch’s word hold some truths.

  “Do you know why you had the desire to take it up?” Amari asks. “It was because the Kcaj blade had chosen you for its master. I believe the enchanted sabers we possess, was preordained by the Goddess Aurelia. You were meant to discover it.

  This is a wondrous thing. What be the chances that we should find each other at this place and time? I believe the Gods have blessed this quest to bring light and order to this land and perhaps beyond.”

  “Are you saying that our paths are somehow intertwined?” Dian returns. “That everything that has transpired was supposed to happen. The curse I suffered for those many years was all part of the gods’ workings.”

  Amari ties her hair in a loose braid while answering. “I do not profess to understand the thoughts and plans of those that created us. Can you not think of anyone who could go where you had gone and retrieve such as this,” as Amari touches the Water Sword. You can call it from any water source. That means it lives within you and is never far.”

  “You have brought to mind many things to consider Maiden. I must ponder on the reasons why I was cast to the sea and the crossing of our paths. It might well be more than chance.”

  As Gareth and I put our enchanted blades back into their scabbards, Dian with a wave of her hand causes Hydrosin to disappear in a spray of water. She lifts her face to the mist…relishing it.

  Days later after the telling, my strength has completely returned, and I am no longer a burden. We depart the camp we have stayed this full cycle of the moon. Amari, Garth and Natsha have recounted their adventures to me. It is a wondrous quest to be a part. My heart yearns to stand battle ready against the darkness my new friends face.

  Gareth tells me we journey to the city of Yerin along the eastern shore. The name meaning city of gold is a great city I have heard of in my sea wondering…although I have never set my water-bound eyes on its marvels. It will be amazing to walk among the dwellings of man again.

  We depart early morn with the giant Gareth to the fore, sword out and ready to defend. The Maiden comes next with eyes closed, reaching out with her magic to sense danger before it comes close. Then be I with an arrow notched and string ready to tighten.

  Natsha comes last, protecting our back and watching for attacks from behind. If they had not told me of those that are searching for them, then I would have thought them overly cautious. I constantly scan all about, expecting someone to rush us from every thicket or bend in the trail.

  Twice the Daughter of the Thieves Guild stops and scans the beach behind her. She looks to the peaks that rise up past the shore. A thought that something or someone lurks there; she can feel a presence. It is gone now—she runs to catch up to the others.

  Chapter 6 - The Flowers of Fire

  Amari, Gareth, Natsha, and now Dian, share the path to Yerin…the city at land’s end. Built on the ocean shore and partly into the sea, it is a trader's paradise. The traveling guilds of merchants bring wealth to this growing seaside city with rare goods from far-off lands.

  While we walked, Gareth painted us a little history of our destination. It was one of his ports of call while a seaman. He knew it well.

  “The city of Yerin grew from a small fishing village to a major landfall for those traveling the seas. Local lords became richer, as they had demanded a fee or gift to allow the merchants to sell or trade their wares. The piers and docks were constantly enlarged to handle the increased foot traffic and larger vessels moored there. Hardly a week would go by without three or four ships tied up at the wharves, or on the horizon.

  In the beginning, those traveling merchant guilds brought cloth and spices. With Yerin and other large ports up and down the coast, the variety of what was bought or traded increased. The tradesperson bartered in food, raw materials, and luxuries: salt, wine, cloth, tapestries, silks and exotic spices from Asia. Some merchandise even made its way into Aventine.”

  Gareth pulls a steel bolt from his quiver. “These shafts that Natsha and I carry are probably produced from iron and nickel ore from some other lands.”

  He continues. “On the heels of the increase in prosperity of the ports came the thieves, scoundrels and the workers of the dark. The lords hired henchmen and guards to provide protection, but many were rogues themselves. The coopers, bakers, blacksmiths and the honest people of Yerin live in the constant shadow of those who walk the crooked path.

  Dian and Amari asked several questions during Gareth’s narration, but for the most; they walked in silence.

  Coming into Yerin from along the coast, the four companions could see the large docks which held scores of ships. The piers crowded with sailors and dock-men as ships resting at moorage were offloaded of their wares.

  The sound of taut mooring lines creaked and snapped as ships of every size rose on the swells coming ashore. In the distance, hammers and saws could be heard as tradesmen worked wood and steel. Ladies in red velvet swayed as they shuffled up and down the long piers enticing those that gazed upon them.

  Children with scant clothes and looking like raggins were about the feet of people. There were dozens with dirty faces and upraised hands looking for a small coin to grace their palms. If just one citizen even made a gesture of reaching for his or her purse, the street urchins surrounded that person and tugged at coat sleeves for attention. They would beg until driven away with a rap from a cane to the head.

  A score of the King's soldiers walked among the throng; some speaking to the women of less virtue, others rapping the ears of the little ones to move them along. For the most gathered about, they quickly stepped aside for the armed men passing between them.

  One could see argent, gold and jewels flowing among buyers and sellers. Untold personal wealth lay hidden among the folds of those wearing the long cloaks. The abundant smells of cockets and other breads; roasting meat drifted on the wind.

  As Amari, with her sword brother and sisters enter the outskirts of the town, people stopped their doings to watch them pass. It was not a casual interest of those new to this port. Not everyone looked to us, but more than most seemed unusual.

  Gareth sees the looks of those around them and comments to Natsha. “Tis strange we are observed sister? With travelers and seafarers flowing through this land why do we draw the most attention this day?”

  Natsha stops and looks at those city dwellers on both sides of the road they travel.

  Amari, Dian and Gareth pause and look back to Natsha.

  The Maiden is the first to speak. “What troubles you my sister?”

  “Amari, look about you. Why the interest in our path? Are we to be recognized, or are these people forewarned of our coming? Each may be a spy to report our arrival to someone that wants our spirit. Amari, you have been gone these many years; could your image still linger in the minds of these people?”
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br />   “Nay my friend…I have never been to this place.” I touch the shoulder of Gareth, who has unsnapped his sword stay; his fingers linger near the hilt as he looks about us. “You as a master of the seas; this has been a port-of-call for you. Was there blood drawn as your metal was tested in a challenge? Or perhaps, you Dian in the former life before the curse may be the reason for the long stare?”

  Dian and Gareth answer as one; we shake our heads no.

  Natsha gets our attention. “It seems the King's men are looking this way, as they too have taken an interest to our passing through this quarter.” She motions to a building with a wooden sign over the door of an ale tankard. “Quick, let us move inside that place of drinking and away from the attention that surrounds us.”

  Gareth is the first to go inside the dimly lit interior. It only takes a scant moment for him to assess if there is a danger about. Amari, Dian and finally Natsha guarding the rear, enters. Natsha closes the door and goes to one of the windows to see if anyone follows them. “It is safe my friends; those that remarked in our passing, have returned to their own business. Even the soldiers have moved away.”

  I join the others who have found a table in the back within a dark corner. It is a better vantage point to survey all who come and go.

  They all sit; except Gareth who stands with his back to them and facing the door—hand resting on his mighty sword.

  Dian watches the muscles through his tunic flex and release. “Does he always expect an attack?”

  Natsha speaks. “I have known him for many a year. His insides are most often right than wrong. He has been in this city before…danger may be hidden from us, but not him.”

  “Tis truly strange,” remarked Dian. “Those that watched our movements were focused upon you Maiden. Those gazes were not of knowing or remembrance, but of awe and at the same time fear. Almost as they sense death followed your path.”

  We all remain silent as a man with a stained cloth over one shoulder hobbles over to our table. “Greetings good fellow and ladies, how do thou fare this day?”

  Gareth gives him a passing glance and returns his attention to the door.

  Natsha answers. “We do well kind sir.”

  He takes the soiled towel from his shoulder and wipes the table top of crumbs and leftover bits of food. “We have sweet ale and wine. Will thou partake?” He asks.

  “Wine and water to slack our thirst, if you please…food as well.” Natsha answers for the others.

  He nods his head and walks away and into another room.

  It gave us a chance to survey the limits and contents of this meager establishment. On either side of an oaken door, two cloth-covered windows let in meager light…the threadbare material is tattered and soiled.

  Candles scattered about the room on wall mounts were the source of smoky light. Many areas of the room were dark and shadows danced from the flickering flames of the tapers.

  We sat there in silence, each in our own thoughts and musings. Only Gareth still stood, as if always on guard and ready to do battle. Nothing would get past his eye or blade.

  Three other rough wooden tables were against a wall with rickety-looking chairs set on top. A section of the floor glistened as if just washed. The telltale signs of soap bubbles collected among the cracks.

  The back wall was decorated from floor to ceiling with human skulls cemented together. It was meant as a grim reminder of an olden custom of displaying those who were put to death for their crimes. The empty black sockets staring back to deter others from committing the same mistake. It did not matter what the crime. All were put to the sword or beheaded by the axe man of the king.

  Beneath the table and at our feet was a spittle bucket for those who drank too much. The stench of the intoxicating fluid rose to assault their noses.

  The keeper of this ale house returned with clay mugs and a tall earthen jar of fermented wine. He also carried a small tray of gray meats and overripe sliced fruits.

  Gareth flipped a small silver coin to the man.

  It was deftly whisked from its flight and hidden from view in the folds of his robe.

  Natsha says. “Please take this pail,” as she hands it to him. “This will ruin our appetites.”

  He cautiously takes the offending bucket. The barkeep turns to leave, but the big man motions for his attention.

  “Sir,” Gareth asks. “Why is the wall of skulls still modeled here? I was led to believe the former king wanted them all removed.”

  “It is true gentle sir. However, that wall is not just for display, but the actual structure that holds the ceiling from falling upon us. The King's administrator gave the previous owner a boon and allowed it to remain. I myself dislike the stares of those darken sockets. Alas, I have not the means to have it removed and a stone wall put in its stead.”

  He looks at Gareth and his attire, then at the women. “My name is Alberic. I am your servant and host. You have traveled from afar gentle ladies and sir?”

  Amari is quick to dismiss the man; “yes, our path is a long one. Please leave us to our private conversations.”

  Alberic bows and looks upon them with furrowed brow. “I must attend to another matter and will return shortly. Enjoy your drink and meat.” He turns and leaves by the door the strangers entered. They are left alone as no others are within.

  Dian reaches for the plate of meats. “He was a strange fellow.”

  Amari stays Dian's hand. “Hold sister! This wine and food must be made pure. Many have died from tasting ill-prepared meals and drink.”

  Dian pulls her hand away.

  Amari looks to the plate set before them and holds her hands above the table and its contents. I mutter a few words of magic and move my palms over the food in a circular motion. A twinkling blue-light flows from my outstretched hands to settle upon the meat and wine. In several moments, the blue wisps are gone…absorbed by the food.

  The meat is no longer gray, but has the redness of a fresh kill that is lightly seared. The wine bubbles with a sweet aroma.

  “It is safe. Please partake of the nourishment my friends.” I grab one of the apples, as I do not eat the flesh of any animal. That does not stop my companions. They pick at the still warm meat and wash it down with wine.

  Gareth makes no attempt at hiding the sound of chewing and gulping his drink.

  “You would not have thought this fare so tasty had I not purified the tainted meat and removed the decay my large friend. Your belly would be on fire until it passed.”

  Gareth stops chewing, as the three women are smiling at him. “I am sorry about my manners, sisters. It has been long since I tasted such as this!”

  “No—please continue,” Natsha says. “It is quite entertaining watching you.”

  “You cut me to the quick woman! I am a man and will eat as I please.”

  I grab Gareth's rock hard chin. “I am just ruffling your feathers. I meant no ill will my brother.” As I squeeze his thick neck, Amari jumps to her feet.

  “Stand ready; trouble is upon us!” Katana at her side is pulsing red…warning of approaching danger.

  Just as the three get to their feet and before Gareth can draw his sword, the door is thrown open and a score of crossbow armed men stream inside, filling the room. Soldiers aim their weapons at us. With fingers twitching at the triggers, impatient to release deadly darts.

  What must be the leader with the mark of rank across his shoulder enters last. “Do not be foolish to draw your swords. You are under arrest by order of the King. Men relieve them of their weapons,” he tells two of the closest soldiers near us.

  Gareth puts himself between the women and the raised bows. “You will have to get by me,” as he draws his sword slowly from its scabbard. His menacing glare holds them at bay for a moment.

  Amari stops him and puts a hand on his sword arm. “My brother; it will do us no fortune if you were to die today. We are no match for this many notched arrows. Return your saber to its resting place. We will not be meat
for their darts.”

  Gareth does as the Maiden asks and returns his sword to the scabbard. He unhooks the sword belt and reluctantly hands it to one of the soldiers.

  Natsha does the same. Dian appears to be weaponless, as only her companions know that her sword is formed from water when it is needed. She moves forward, but holds her magic in creating a weapon from the tankard of water on the table.

  Amari also removes her belt and hands it slowly to another soldier…with a warning. “Only touch the scabbard if you want to keep breathing in this realm.”

  “Do not give me orders wench,” he tells Amari. He jerks the sword from her grasp. While doing so, his fingers slide over the hilt guard a mere speck of time. His hand and forearm burst into flames. Dropping the sword, he falls to the ground as the flames continue to burn flesh and bone.

  “You were warned; the pain is on your head for not heeding my words.”

  “She is a dark witch,” one of the soldiers screams as he watches his companion shrieks while being consumed with fire. “Kill her! Kill her quick or we all will die!” He points his crossbow at Amari before their leader can stop him; an arrow is released.

  Extremely agile for his size, Gareth steps in front of it. The shaft strikes him in the lower chest. The soldier who fired the arrow receives a crushing blow to the jaw from Gareth's big fist.

  Dropping his bow, the soldier crumbles to the floor; his neck and head at an odd angle.

  The formidable giant of a man stands there with clenched fists. The feathered arrow still imbedded in his chest. He neither staggers nor falls, as if the wooded shaft was a mere troublesome splinter.