Maiden's Saber

by Marion Faith St. James

  Amari sees a tiny smile on his bloody face. “I doubt that would be a problem. He has two women attending him. He is the same as all males.”

  Using her knife, Natsha slices through the bindings and seams of the elf’s clothes. She tosses them on the growing fire Gareth built.

  Around his neck is a small wooden dowel attached to a leather strap. She holds it in her hand, turning it over. Intricate runes are carved into the soft wood. “I wonder the significance of this totem our friend wears? Amari can you read these runes—they are strange to me.”

  The Maiden leans closer to see what Natsha is holding. “I expect some elfin language. I have never seen it before either. It may be just an elfish prayer to whatever this one worships.”

  Natsha lays the cylinder shaped piece of wood back on his chest, deciding to leave it there. If it is some magic runes to his god, then it will help if he can feel it on his body.

  Amari is singing one of her curing spells and moving her hands in the air above him. Just before he falls asleep, he reaches toward his sword lying next to Natsha. She wipes the rest of the blood from the blade with the last bit of his raggedy clothes and puts the hilt in his hand. The rag joins the rest in the fire. He mutters a thank you and falls quickly under Amari’s sleep spell.

  “A true warrior is he not Amari? He may die and all he could think of was the feel of the blade in his hand.”

  Amari eyes crinkle at the littlest of men-like creatures. “I have met a goodly number of his kind. It is not the size of the warrior who raises his metal, but what lies within. This one carries an aura of mystery about him. My senses tell me he is special and must live; almost that our destiny relies on him.”

  The Maiden pats the elf’s head lightly, and lifts his arm up and lets it fall. “He is totally under the sleep spell and will not feel anything while we clean and stitch these wounds.”

  Natsha using water from her canteen gently washes the little elf from feet to head. Once that is done, Amari applies the salve to every cut and slash she can find. They turn him over to make sure no wounds are on his back.

  “This one did not run from his attacker Maiden. All his wounds are to the fore. He faced his enemy when he dealt its death blow.”

  “Yes, it would seem this elf is a brave one!”

  While they are ministering to the elf, Mimna brings them clean cloth to use as bandages. “These I collected from the others. Will it be enough?”

  “Yes,” says Amari. “Thank them for their kindness.”

  It takes Amari and Natsha an hour’s time, but every mark upon its body has been washed, salve applied, stitched if needed and wrapped. Using her healing spell Amari covers the elf’s body with a bluish mist. The magic vapor lingers for a span and seems to melt into his body. “It will be some time before this one is able to move about; that is, if his life-force and my magic do their work.”

  Natsha covers the sleeping form with her own traveling cloak.

  The women clean up as they watch Dian and Holl-tu circle the tree and the surrounding area dozens of times, before returning to the fire. “If this tree truly be the entrance, then it is well hidden. We could not find a hole or portal to gain the way below.”

  Gareth speaks. “Even with your wondrous light over our heads wizard, it would be far better to search again when the sun is on high. Let us wait until the morrow, and we all can search again.”

  Natsha speaks to the others. “This has to be the entrance. I saw this twisted trunk while standing in the Fairy Circle. There were dancing lights around this very tree. Look, my bolt is just there, above our heads—true to the mark.”

  Truk speaks up. “Remember what Lanz Tarris told us. It is well hidden even when we know the location of where it should be.”

  They all settle around the fire for the night. Holl-tu as before places a spell all about them. “For those that are not workers of spells and conjuring, this place will bring an uneasy trembling within their bones. None will dare enter here, unless they know this is just an enchantment.

  “You mean if a Blood Druid is lurking about?” says Gareth.

  “Yes, those evil ones or another sorcerer with the same gift to conjure.”

  Amari stands and draws a circle in the air over her head. A fine mist forms further defining the ring of magic. As she spreads her arms, so does the ring expand and disappear into the night. “This will help in case evil is out as well. Katana will alert us if the shade approaches with enough warning so that we will be ready with sword in hand and our own magic.”

  Satisfied they settle down for the night. Even Gareth confident that the wizard and Amari’s magic will protect them, lays with his head against his pack. He is snoring in moments.

  Natsha lies next to the sleeping elf so she can watch over him. To her, he is like a wee child that needs protection when he is sick. She checks him for signs of discomfort. His breathing is shallow. Occasionally he gives a slight shudder. She looks to Amari.

  “It is normal sounds sister. His body suffered shock and battering at the claws of that wolf. It is healing itself. The mending spells will help with the recovery. I expect by morning’s time; we will see a vast improvement.”

  Natsha lays back and closes her eyes. The warm fire is soothing and puts everyone to sleep—except Dian.

  She lays there for a time grabbing only small snatches of sleep. Her mind going full on with all that has transpired since the Nix spell put on her was broken by Amari.

  She swore an oath to the Maiden and her companions, but something felt wrong about it. Their joined cause was just, but the uneasiness eluded her. It felt like something inside of her was warring…light versus the shade.

  A feeling of dread courses through her mind. She looks at the others lying there. “Someone’s life force is almost to an end,” she thinks inwardly.

  The first rays of sunshine breaks over the trees and penetrates into the camp under the twisted tree. The sounds of yawns and movement interrupt the stillness of the wood. Not even the animals and fowl are about yet.

  A strange new voice causes everyone to jump to a sitting position. “Morn to you Warriors of the Light!”

  Half sitting, half supported on an elbow is the injured elf.

  Natsha kneels before him. “You are well little one?”

  “Not as good when I once was; but far better than I was yesterday.” He raises a finger to his brow and then to his lips in a sign of respect and greeting to Natsha. “I thank you healer. I am Finwë Elensar. My life debt is yours to command. My friends call me Fin. I wish it so for you as well.”

  “No need to thank me elf; I mean Fin. It was Amari’s herbs and magic which brought you from the break of the next unearthly realm.”

  “This I know, the Maiden worked her healing spells, but it was you who washed me, tended my wounds and was gentle with my frailness. This be your cloak as well as the scent is of you. If those gathered here are your sword brothers and sisters, then I will add my blade to your cause as well.”

  “You know of us?” Amari asks.

  “I am over two-hundred years old. I know well of your exploits. I have been waiting for your arrival.”

  They all look at each other in amazement.

  “How is it? You know we were coming to this very tree at this very time?” Holl-tu asks.

  “That, I cannot answer sorcerer? I was far afield in my village among the great crowns of the Spice Forest. A voice on the wind commanded I journey here and wait for your arrival. As it was a woman’s voice, I suspected a goddess commanded me to come here.

  It was over fifty years ago I last visited this place. It may have been destiny that I am to be here when you entered this standing.”

  “Do you know why we are here then?” Amari asks.

  “Yes, you seek the great sword of the Kcaj. Myth says it lies somewhere below ground waiting for its owner. As I possess elfin magic, it tells me this one here,” as he points to Truk, “is the one who shall possess the blade, and all the power it ho
lds.”

  Truk squints to those looking at him. “I? I have never held any of the Kcaj. How is it that I am to be its master and it a slave to my hand?”

  Amari interjects what she knows of the mystic blades. “The Kcaj Sabers are ancient magic…almost alive at times.”

  She pulls Katana from its scabbard and held it in front of her eyes. “Katana and I have been mated since I was a little girl.” She caresses the razor-sharp blade without suffering the slightest cut. “This mighty blade selected me those many years ago. The same for Helixx Gareth carries at his side. Only he was allowed to take it from the dead knight. Any others would have writhed in pain and flame.”

  Amari adds. “Do you remember the soldier who thought to grasp Katana by the bare metal? His scars will remind him of his foolishness.

  What about Dian’s Water Sword. It obeys only her commands. Can any of us bring it to life from the water about us? No, I believe our little friend is right my dwarf brother. If he says that the Mystic Wind only fits Truk’s right arm, then I believe him.”

  Truk shakes his head. “I am too old to be swinging a magic sword. I can barely manage this battle axe?” He taps the weapon at his side. “If anyone, Natsha should be the master of that blade when we find it.”

  “No,” says Fin the elf. “Destiny has already written your path…I have seen it in the vision fires of my people. The Mystic Wind will serve only you. You must resign yourself to the fact you are a chosen one. The gods have ordained this long before our coming into the world.”

  “You may find that being old is not a bad thing.” The Maiden says to the dwarf. “I draw strength from Katana—also magic. It is true the Mystic Wind is part of the Kcaj Pentadiene. So is the Fire Sword. Until they are united with Helixx, Hydrosin and Katana, their full powers are limited. We shall wait to find the Wind and see what happens when we do.”

  “Ok Fin,” says Natsha. “What is your role in this adventure?”

  He touches the wooden totem strung around his neck. “I carry the key that unlocks the entrance to what lies below.”

  “That is not a key elf. It is just a round piece of wood with some carvings on it.” Gareth says dismissing the elf.

  “Not all keys are the same my large friend. Every lock has its own key. It does not have to be made of iron or metal. It need not be of an irregular shape. This will fit an opening somewhere on this tree.”

  “You do not know where it goes?” Dian asks.

  “No! I spent days before I was attacked by that wolf looking for the keyhole—I did not find it. I wanted to be ready for your arrival.”

  They all turn and stare at the tree. There is no break in the bark to show a door may be there.

  “I thought the entrance would be a concealed opening in the ground, not in a tree.” Mimna says.

  “Whoever devised this magic, made sure that it was not stumbled upon.” Holl-tu says while touching the bark of the tree. Dian and I have been all over this area and cannot find anything remotely resembling a doorway.”

  “We are more eyes to search,” Amari says and then turns her attention to the elf. “You rest Fin—we will continue looking for what we seek.”

  The warriors all circle about the tree touching and feeling the harsh surface. Not even a split or knothole is to be found. After many hours, they come back and sit next to the elf.

  “Do not give up the hope my large warriors.” Fin says. The lock is there…cleverly hidden.”

  “Amari,” asks Mimna. Could a magic spell be at work here?”

  “Possibly, but I sense nothing. It may be an ancient magic before my time, so I am unaware of its power.”

  “Could it be higher up the surface of the trunk?” Dian says while looking over their heads to where the four trees twist together.

  She squints her eyes a little, as she sees something on the tree a little taller than Gareth stands. Dian gets up, circles the tree and comes back to where the others are gathered watching her move about.

  “What are you seeing?” Natsha asks.

  “Yes,” says Holl-tu. “What has revealed itself to you?”

  “Look up there along the trunk; a good measure higher than Gareth’s height. See that small stump where a branch snapped off probably due to a wind or perhaps rotted off. I just circled the entire girth of this massive crown. It is the only burl on the tree—that has to be it!”

  Gareth stands under where Dian points and reaches up. He feels the stump now made flat from the passing of time. “Natsha, come stand upon my shoulders and get a better look.”

  Gareth leans against the tree while Natsha climbs up his body as if it were a ladder. She straddles his shoulders with her feet while he holds her legs. Now at eye level she presses and pokes at the stump. An almost inaudible click can be heard. The end of the stump pops open on a wooden hinge. On the inside of the open cover is a flat surface with ancient runes and markings. In the center is a small round hole.

  Natsha in her excitement almost slips from Gareth’s shoulders as she yells down to the others. “Dian, you found it! This is the keyhole and the object of our search. “Fin, give Dian your totem key.”

  The elf removes the strap from around his neck and passes the necklace to Dian. She gives it to Gareth, who tossed the totem up to Natsha on his shoulders. She inserts the round dowel into the hole. It is a perfect fit. They wait, but nothing happens. Natsha tries to shove it a little further in, but it resists. She pulls the finger of wood out, rotates the dowel and inserts it back into the hole again.

  “I do not understand,” says Natsha, while removing and inserting it several times. “It is the proper size and fits like the pieces were made of the same wood.”

  The elf speaks up. “I have carried that sliver of wood about my neck for over one hundred years. I found it not far from here in the nest of a Barnacle Goose. I was raiding its nest for the gems the great bird finds in the streams. It has a keen eye that spots jewels while soaring above. As for the wood, I was fascinated by its perfect roundness and smooth surface.”

  Natsha taps her head as if thinking hard. “Barnacle Goose, is that not a mythical bird that spawns from a tree and not hatched from an egg?”

  “I assure you,” Fin says. “It is real as any of us.”

  “Perchance, could it be what you are trying to push into the tree, and Fin, both are the key.” Amari asks. As destiny put this warrior here; providence caused him to find the key…will one not work without the other?”

  “If that is true, then maybe because I found it, the magic will only work if I were the one to insert it into the lock.”

  “It is worth a try.” Amari says while helping the small elf to his feet. With Dian helping, they hoist Fin up into Natsha’s waiting arms.

  While cradling the little elfish man like a baby, she hands him the key. With shaking fingers, he inserts it into the hole.

  The tree gives a shudder.

  “Well done,” Gareth says while stroking Natsha’s exposed calf absentmindedly.

  “Mind your hands large one, or it is my foot against the side of your head.” Smiling, Natsha passes Fin back down to the two women and jumps from Gareth’s broad shoulders. They all stand back from the tree.

  A series of waves goes from the base of the tree along the trunk to the individual joined trees all the way to its majestic top. The bark flexes and pulses as if it were a living thing. Where the four trees are joined, they begin to creak and stretch as they start to unwind themselves. Small leaves and bits of bark rain down on those below.

  After a bit, all unusual vibrations and loud noise subside. All that is left is the wind lightly rustling the leaves.

  “Now that is something you do not behold every day,” says Holl-tu. “My guess—what we seek must be up there. One must go down into the center where the four trees join together.”

  Amari nods her head in agreement. “When the trees unwound themselves, it must have exposed a cavity within the massive trunk above and out of our sight. Dian, are you
up for a bit of flying again?”

  “What?”

  The Maiden touches Dian’s arm, “not to worry sister. It will not be soaring above the clouds on devices made from wood and skins. I mean to levitate you up to the center of the four trees growing from the main trunk, so you can get a look of what we hope lies there.”

  “If you selected me, then I will go. Please do not drop me!”

  “If I do, Gareth will catch you.”

  A grin grows on the big man’s face.

  Waving her hands and repeating some age-old magic, a white mist surrounds Dian.

  In the briefest of moments, she rises by unseen hands. Dian wobbles at first, as this is a new sensation to rise off the ground and not by the means of a ladder or climbing up a tree branch.

  She hovers for a few moments and then rises further up, as Amari lifts her hands toward the center of the tree. Dian floats up and lands with her feet straddling two of the smaller trunks.

  “What do you see?” Natsha yells from below.

  “Yes” Truk joins in. “What do you see up there?”

  Dian peers into the cavity revealed when the four trees untwisted. “I can see what looks like an opening, but it is very narrow.”

  “Can you climb down and see if the Greek Amulet and the flute are within?” Amari hollers so to be heard.

  “I will try.”

  Once Dian’s feet touch the trees, Amari releases the levitation spell. The young warrior woman climbs down, bracing feet against two of the trees. The harsh bark tears at her hands and tender skin. She manages to climb down without falling. As she nears the hole, Dian stops her descent and looks into the small cavity. It is dark and narrow. As she starts to yell up and out, Natsha lands just above her. Amari has lifted her up as well.

  “What say you Dian—can you see what lies within?”

  “No sister, it is dark and much too narrow for me to climb in. As I am the smallest among us, we are stopped!”

  Natsha turns and yells back down to the others. “Dian can see the entrance, but it is too narrow…even for her.”

  “Not for me” Fin says to the others.

  “Not you little one” Amari answers him. “You are still mending, and the strain of climbing would put excessive pressure on your body.”