by P. D. Kalnay
There were families in the city—little kids too. I ran for the workshop.
“Where are you going?” Ivy shouted.
“I’m getting my hammer.”
My hammer and shield were leaning against the wall by Marielain’s armour. People were already dying outside, so I only took the helmet from the rack. The hammer burned my hand, but I barely noticed. Ivy was waiting by the doors with her bow and the quiver of arrows I’d found for her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
“Too dangerous, you stay here.”
“I’m staying with you.”
I knew Ivy was brave, but I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. I also knew she was stubborn.
“Ivy, can you grab my knife from my room?”
Ivy turned and ran back down the hall toward the apartment. She stopped abruptly, at the halfway point, and spun about.
“I revoke your permission to open the doors.”
I said it softly, but Ivy heard. Then I got out and shut them before she could make it back. No matter what… I had to protect her.
Chapter 17 – The Price of Fame
Mercifully, the doors cut off Ivy’s screams. It was harder to erase her expression of betrayal from my memory. More screams rose from the city as I ran down the stairs. I took them ten steps at a time without noticing. The wyvern we’d seen hadn’t gone far. It had cornered a satyr woman and a child a few blocks further up the boulevard. Their backs were to a low stone wall, and they had nowhere to run. I’d seen how fast the creature could move. The wyvern had plenty of time to eat them both before I got there. I screamed an unintelligible battle cry as I ran. Without thinking about it, I sent my cry upon the wind. It was enough to cause the wyvern to hesitate and look back towards me. I had all of its attention.
The sight of me charging enraged the monster. It turned around in an unnervingly liquid motion and came to meet me halfway. Everything but the wyvern vanished from my consciousness. Twenty paces away, I thickened the air and flapped my wings. The wyvern leaped to meet me in mid-air like some snake-dog jumping for a Frisbee. I had the advantage of greater height, and the Arath met my enemy’s head with all of our combined weight behind it—ending the fight in a single blow. I landed hard beside the wyvern’s crumpled body.
The wyvern looked like a small wingless dragon, or maybe a giant snake with six legs. It was a good fifty feet long and had stood my height at the shoulder. The scaly red and black monster must have weighed thousands of pounds, but my hammer had stopped it short. Dark blood oozed from its mouth and nostrils.
“Thank you, Prince Jakalain,” the woman called out.
It was Aleen.
“Get inside somewhere and hide,” I shouted back.
If I remembered the book I’d read correctly, a brood of wyvern always numbered thirteen. New screams rang out nearby, and I made for them without looking back to see if my advice had been heeded.
The second wyvern never saw me coming. I arrived too late to save any of its victims, but a few blows from my hammer brought an end to its rampage. For number two I skipped the battle cry, leaping from the next level up. The black hammer wasn’t weightless, but it felt very light. Swinging my hammer was like swinging a flyswatter—a five foot long flyswatter with a twenty pound hammer head on the end of it. I mostly felt the wind resistance. Thinking about that brought the currents of air around the hammer’s head into focus, and I instinctively parted the air in front of the hammer’s face. It moved even faster. Mr. Ryan had told me that I wouldn’t need much in the way of form once I had the hammer back. I hadn’t truly understood at the time.
My first strike broke the wyvern’s spine and the rear half flopped dead on the street. The shield protected me from sharp claws as I worked my way, blow by blow, up to the head. The hammer’s spike ripped off a chunk of scales, skull, and brain. Two down, eleven to go.
Once I moved further into the city, I was spoiled for choice. Terrified screams rang out from multiple directions. I ran for the loudest, and those screams eventually led me to the harbour’s edge. The third wyvern was the largest yet. It had feasted on townsfolk and sailors beside the serene waters of the harbour. Two unfortunate souls were pinned firmly to the ground under middle and rear sets of claws, held in reserve while the wyvern ate an ogre alive. Ogres are big, and they have incredibly tough skin. It wasn’t tough enough to save that guy’s life. The ogre’s robustness only lengthened the time it took to die while the wyvern worried at its meal. I ran as fast as I could, but still got there too late to save him.
As I closed the distance down the curving waterside street, I saw the wyvern grow. Some rules on the First World were the same as those on Earth, but others, generally those involving magic, were very different. I’d seen time-lapse footage in documentaries about deserts where a rare rainstorm produced prodigious growth, and plants grew from seed to bloom in a matter of hours. Wyverns are creatures of the desert, and they grow as they eat. I didn’t remember that tidbit from Gran’s book until the ogre’s legs disappeared, and I saw the wyvern expand a few feet in length and slightly in girth. In the middle of the Black Wastes there’d be little to eat and few creatures that weren’t predator as much as they were prey. By comparison, Havensport was more an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I hadn’t planned to warn my enemy, but when the wyvern made motions toward eating the next unlucky fellow, a goblin who was still struggling to no effect under a heavy foot, I shouted for a second time as I charged forward. The wyvern didn’t come towards me. It had two meals in hand, and a third running straight for its gullet. Having failed to distract or draw the monster away, I went with a full frontal assault. The wyvern was even faster than I expected, and its head shot forward for a mouthful of Jack. It got a mouthful of shield instead, slicing off half a tongue along the sharp bottom edge when the maw clamped shut. I was sprayed in black, inky blood as it let out a gurgling scream. That was all the opening I needed to make with the smashing. My first strike threw the huge head back and up—I heard jawbone break. My second blow drove the hammer’s spike deep into its brainpan and the monster died instantly. Three down.
People dashed from a warehouse behind me, pulled the goblin from under the wyvern, and half carried him back inside. A quick glance told me why they’d left the other guy behind. Nobody said anything to me, but I hardly noticed. New screams were already drawing me onward.
***
I stood at the intersection of four main roads. Number eight lay dead at my feet. The wyvern looked smaller without the coat of shadows and large parts of its head and neck crushed flat. Eight monsters slain, and not a scratch on old Jack. Except for the pain in my hands, I felt as though I was king of the world. People had cheered for me when I killed number six. Shouts of ‘Blackhammer’ still rang in my ears.
The wyvern had grown warier as the hours passed. They’d come to fear me. Which, I though, was how it should be. I was unstoppable, a mighty juggernaut. No mere monster from the Black Wastes could stand against me. That was my last thought before I realised four of them had surround me, each having come up a different road.
Thanks to the hammer, I’d proven more their match one-on-one. Seeing four together was like being splashed with a bucket of icy water. Oh crap.
The first to reach me fell dead, with its head smashed-in, under the weight of my hammer. I blocked the second with my shield, stunning it and sending the beast sprawling. Then I dodged number three… barely. The last one got a mouthful of wing and ripped me from my feet. I was shaken like a dog’s favourite chew toy. Its grip on my wing prevented me from turning to face it, and I couldn’t find my balance. The other two came back in for their piece of Jack. Recklessly, I knocked them away with hammer and shield, but many of those blows were ineffective, and claws raked my chest and legs. It was only a matter of time until one of them got a mouthful—and that would be that. I wished I’d parted with Ivy on better terms.
A tiny gold
en something shot past my face, then another, and another. My wing was free, and I staggered away, putting my back to the nearest wall. All three nest mates screamed in agony. The wyvern had hardly given more than a low growl or grunt to that point, and I hadn’t realised they were capable of the high-pitched, undulating wails. A swarm of bees, each bathed in the golden light of the World Tree attacked them. Mouths full of dagger-like teeth snapped at the tiny enemies to no effect. Their screaming was followed by thrashing, which was followed by twitching and death. Then the bees shot up into the sky and raced south in an angry, swirling swarm.
I sank to my knees, kneeling in a widening pool of blood. It took a second for me to realise the blood was mine. Ivy’s face floated in front of me. I was still lucid enough to understand it was a hallucination, but spoke to her anyway.
“Ivy, you have my permission to open the doors,” I mumbled. A stream of blood came out with the words.
Then I lost consciousness.
***
I woke in the bed in Ivy’s room. Light trickled through the windows and the open doors to the balcony. When I sat up, I discovered I was naked except for a large number of bandages. Dry clay peeled off of me as I moved, making a mess of the bed. It took a moment to remember what had led to my current condition. My last words must have granted Ivy the ability to open the main doors.
“Ivy,” I called out.
The bedroom door was open.
“She isn’t here, Master,” One said.
He walked around from the far side of the bed which had hidden him from view.
“Where is she?”
“She has gone, Master.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
Where could she go? Why would she go? I ran my fingers through my hair, dislodging more of the clay.
“She is living in the city, Master. In the same house she found shelter in before you arrived. Two and Three have taken turns watching over her. That’s what you would have wished, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Ivy was gone.
I knew she’d be angry when I locked her in, but it was for her own good. She must have realised that.
“How long have I slept?”
“Twenty-five days, Master, counting today. Mistress Ivangelain left three days ago when she was sure of your recovery. She instructed me to watch over you while you slept. She spent almost all of that time tending your wounds. They were quite serious.”
I craned my head to look at my left wing, the one the wyvern had gotten a hold of. There didn’t appear to be any damage.
“Mistress Ivangelain regrew much of your wing, Master. Only the greatest healers could accomplish it. We tried to care for her, but she has rested little since you fell.”
“I have food and drink for the master,” Two’s voice proceeded her as she came into the room. She carried a silver tray laden with goblets of water and a bowl of steaming soup. “Master!”
“Hello, Two.”
“The mistress said you would wake today, and that you would be thirsty and hungry.”
She came to stand beside One, offering me the tray. I was incredibly thirsty, but not as hungry as I’d have expected after over three weeks of not eating. I drained all five goblets in quick succession. Then I started on the soup. The others watched me wolf it down in silence. I think it was fish and vegetables, but I wouldn’t swear to it. My mind was on Ivy.
***
I took a few more days to recover to where I could walk around, and another week before I was fully recovered. Impressively, I had no scars from my recent injuries. It was time to find Ivy. The bodies of the wyvern had been removed during my convalescence, and nothing remained at the places where my battles had been fought. I only passed by a few of those spots, but suspected it was the same everywhere else. I also passed by some of the city’s residents. Many waved or called out greetings, and though none looked inclined to talk to me, it was better than being avoided altogether.
Ivy wasn’t at the little house when I got there. She had pointed it out early on, and I knew where to go. The place was unusual because of its better-than-average condition. It had almost half of an intact roof. One of the new residents would surely have snatched it up if the house hadn’t been at the edge of the city. I felt tired from the walk and sat on the front steps to wait.
***
“What do you want?”
Ivy’s voice startled me out of sleep. It was almost dark. I’d slept the afternoon away, leaned back against the house.
“I want you to come home.”
“This is my home. I don’t wish to see you.”
Those words hurt. I knew she was angry at me for locking her in, but hearing those words hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just trying to keep you safe.”
“Go away. I have nothing to say to you.”
Ivy went inside the broken-down house, and I stood out front, unsure what to do. Then, I made a slow walk home. I stopped at the intersection of my final battle and collected my hammer. It was still lying where I’d dropped it at the side of the road. I bumped into Lyrian near the stone arch at the bottom of the stairs. She appeared to have been out for an evening walk.
***
“Good evening, Jakalain. You look well recovered from your injuries.”
I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her, but it would’ve been rude to walk on by.
“Yeah, I’m fine now.”
“The townsfolk have been singing your praises since you vanquished the wyvern.”
I didn’t care about that, but her comment made me think of something else.
“Did anyone find out who brought them? And don’t they always have thirteen in a nest?”
“No, and yes.”
I could only account for the twelve that Ivy and I had killed. Maybe Ivy’s bees had found the last one.
“Do you know what happened to the last one?”
“The knights killed one near their Hall. The fourteen knights in residence banded together and slew the beast. Three of them fell in the contest. The wyvern are deadly creatures. I hid—and feel no shame for doing so. Tales of your prowess will surely spread as more ships visit this island.”
I didn’t care about that either.
“Well, I had this.” I hefted the hammer at her. “And those guys didn’t.”
“A mighty weapon. The legend of the Blackhammer shall rise again it seems. Perhaps, in the second telling, it won’t be overshadowed by that of the Whiteblade.”
I was too upset about Ivy to pay attention, and shrugged my indifference.
“You seem unenthused for a young man who has already made his name?”
“I’ve got other things on my mind.”
“Ah, the florathen girl. I’d heard she is living down in the city.”
“Yeah.”
“Lovers will oft times have fallings out or find they are incompatible. Although she is your betrothed, my understanding is the contract was made null and void. You need not keep her if you wish otherwise. I’ve no doubt many potential suiters will travel here to meet a young hero such as you, Jakalain.”
“I don’t want anybody else,” I said.
It was none of her business. She was getting me riled up with her talk of replacing Ivy.
“I see.” Lyrian pursed her lips, which I’d learned was her thoughtful expression.
“I’ll just keep apologising until she comes home.” What else could I do?
“May I offer you some advice?”
“I guess.”
“I think it fair to say that I understand the mind of a fae girl better than you.” That wasn’t saying much. I shrugged again; she took it as encouragement. “You’d be best to leave her alone for a time.”
“Do you think so?”
I’d planned to go back in the morning and maybe do a little begging.
“Definitely,” Lyrian said. “We are a long-lived people. Give her time to calm down and consider her actions. She will come to miss yo
u and may return of her own accord.”
That didn’t seem likely.
“I don’t know.”
“You will only make matters worse by pressing the issue. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you choose to compel her—through the necklace.”
“What?”
“She freely accepted it, did she not?”
“Yeah, so?”
“I understand only one of the necklace’s enchantments.”
“Which one?”
“That of binding. In accepting your gift, Ivangelain bound herself to you, and accepted you as her master.”
What?
“I can’t believe she’d have done that knowingly,” I said.
I also couldn’t believe I’d have added an enchantment like that, even subconsciously.
“Such a pact can only be entered into willingly. To receive the power that necklace offers… most would kill for the opportunity to serve you.”
“I didn’t intend any of that,” I said.
“Intention is irrelevant. The pledge was made, and the contract accepted. As her master, you may compel her to return, or, to do anything.”
I was feeling sick to my stomach. What if she was right? Did Ivy think I’d done it on purpose? Why would she have accepted the thing? Then I felt light-headed.
“You look unwell, Jakalain.”
“I’m going to bed,” I said. “I’m still tired.”
“Sleep well.”
As tired as I was, it took hours for me to fall asleep.
Chapter 18 – Impossible Possibilities
I spent an embarrassing amount of time moping around the apartment. Eventually, I’d resume lessons with Lyrian, but I was feeling too sorry for myself. I had spent little time with Ivy since my arrival on Knight’s Haven—because we’d been busy. Not being able to see her drove that home. I had new questions and decided to find out if One had the answers.
“What do you know about binding?” I asked.
One and Three were out on the balcony with me.