The Sword

by Bryan M. Litfin

  Teo climbed the moraine beneath a glacier, knowing any ibex would still be on the highest crags at this time of day. The wild goats only descended in the evenings to graze. As he squatted behind a boulder and scanned the rocks above, he couldn’t escape the mental image of Stratetix’s destroyed chalet. Teo recalled the anguish he had experienced when he had seen those smoking ruins. The fear that Ana was inside when the divine curse fell had been more than he could bear. Teo was prepared to endure many hardships in life, but not the thought of Ana suffering or even dying. After all the adventures they had shared together, after all the dangers they had faced side by side in the Beyond, how could she then be killed in her own bed? Teo shook his head, trying to clear such a horrific thought from his mind. As he squatted next to the boulder, he felt a renewed sense of relief that Ana had chosen to go outside at dawn. Was it mere coincidence? Teo knew Ana didn’t think so. She attributed it to the inner promptings of Deu. Teo looked toward the sky. Does Deu really get involved in our lives like that?

  “Are you there, Deu?” he said to the silent mountains. “Everyone seems to think so, but if you want me to follow you, you’re going to have to give me a sign.” Teo considered how he might put Deu to the test.

  Far above and to the right, something moved. Teo focused his eyes on the area, trying to pick out an animal shape among the jumbled rocks. There! It was an ibex, its long, backward-curving horns signaling it was a lone male. Though its meat wouldn’t be as flavorful as a female’s, Stratetix and Helena would appreciate any fresh game during their stay at the remote cabin.

  “This is it, Deu. If you want me to follow you, prove it by helping me bring in that ibex.” Teo arose from his crouch and began to edge his way upward, keeping an eye on his quarry.

  The ibex sensed danger and began to ascend. Teo followed. By the time he thought he could attempt a shot, he had attained the highest elevation he had ever reached. Obirhorn Lake sat like a tiny aquamarine jewel far below, and the view to the northern horizon was incredible. Teo gauged the distance to the ibex as he drew his bow. It would be a tough shot. When the powerful gusts of wind calmed momentarily, he let an arrow fly. The wild goat flinched and leaped onto the glacier above. Teo cursed and jumped from rock to rock in pursuit.

  Wet snow began to spit from the cloud wall that always towered above the peaks when the foehn was blowing in the valleys. The rocks became slippery, but Teo kept climbing toward the glacier. At the edge of the ice, he paused. He had never stepped onto a glacier. Chiveisians didn’t venture this high in the mountains, for the summits were regarded as useless wastelands of rock and ice with dangers lurking everywhere. Crevasses often lay underneath a thin crust of snow, ready to condemn the unsuspecting traveler to a frigid death. It was even rumored that demon spirits and white trolls roamed the glacial summits. Although Teo didn’t believe those old wives’ tales, he had no desire to put his life at risk. At the same time, he had wounded the ibex and wanted to bring it in. He put his foot on the ice. It seemed firm enough, so he began to ascend into a different world.

  The ibex had left tracks, and as Teo followed them, he soon spotted a red stain on the snow. It can’t be far ahead now, he thought as he trudged higher, but the tracks continued into the mists ahead. The snow began to fall harder. Teo stopped and assessed the situation, realizing he was in a dangerous position. He had ventured far onto the glacier. The swirling snow and frozen landscape had disoriented him. Which way was north? He looked back at his tracks in the snow, his only sure landmarks. How long before they would be covered? Bagging a stringy wild goat wasn’t worth his life. Ahead, a mountain peak rose from the center of the glacier. Teo decided to go that far and no farther.

  As he neared the peak’s base, where it thrust from the ice, Teo spotted the ibex again. Lifting his bow, he took a shot but missed. The ibex struggled onto the rocks. As Teo circled around to the left of the peak, he watched his quarry climb the side of the mountain. Suddenly his eyes caught something else—the outline of a building constructed by human hands! A building up here? It couldn’t have been made by anyone from Chiveis. Only the Ancients possessed the means to erect a structure like that in such a remote and desolate place. He started forward to investigate.

  Beneath his feet, the snow gave way to empty space. Teo dived backward, clawing at the snow as he tried to arrest his fall, but there was nothing to hold onto, and he plunged into the hole. Immediately he lurched to a stop, wedged into a tight place at his waist with a yawning void on either side. The fall had caused Teo to spill his arrows and drop his bow. The sound of them clattering off the walls as they tumbled down the crevasse continued for a very long time.

  Teo remained motionless as he tried to calm his rising panic. Get ahold of yourself, Teo, or you’re lost! He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Finally he dared to look up. The crevasse’s rim was within reach. If he could get purchase on the ice wall, he might be able to climb out. Teo lifted his leg and withdrew his knife from his boot, careful to make no sudden movements that might dislodge him from the narrow place in the ice. One mistake here would guarantee a slow, dark death.

  Teo carved a series of notches in the ice from waist level to as high as his hands could reach. With his blade between his teeth, he used the upper handholds to lift himself so he could poke his foot into a lower notch, and in this way he scaled the wall until his head was above the rim. As he was about to climb out, one of the footholds crumbled under his weight, and he slipped down again. Teo threw his arms forward, digging into the snow while his feet dangled over emptiness. His strength began to wane as he struggled and kicked. At last he managed to find enough traction to scramble out of the crevasse and collapse on the snow. The knife had cut his tongue, and he spat out blood as he lay panting on the glacier.

  When he had regained his breath, Teo lifted his head. The ibex stood on a boulder beside the stone hut of the Ancients, watching the drama unfold. It shook its head, waggling its tufted beard and brandishing its curved horns like two giant sabers. Then, with aloof dignity, the ibex moved into the rocks and disappeared.

  Teo stood up and brushed the snow from his clothes. He retraced his steps, not deviating to the right or left of his tracks. The falling snow had completely covered the indentations by the time he reached the glacier’s edge. Teo was glad to be alive as he stepped onto solid rock. He resolved never to take such risks again.

  At the hunting cottage on Obirhorn Lake, Stratetix was outside chopping firewood. The sun was shining, and the weather here was much warmer. It hardly seemed possible Teo had just come so close to an icy death.

  “No luck hunting?” Stratetix asked.

  “Deu failed me,” Teo replied. He saddled the horse, and with a warning to Stratetix to stay out of sight, he started down the valley toward Lekovil.

  Ana could feel the cold stares as she walked the streets of Vingin toward the market. The frightened populace had trickled back to the village after the smoke of Astrebril’s Curse cleared. Of course, everyone knew whose home the god had destroyed. The farmer’s daughter from Edgeton was now an orphan, but it wasn’t compassion Ana sensed from the people. It was fear, and even hostility.

  She entered the open-air market, a basket under her arm, and began perusing the stalls. Teo had taken virtually all the food from Rosetta’s home, so Ana intended to replenish her aunt’s larder. The thought of Teo made her wonder how her parents were doing at the distant cabin. Had they arrived safely? Were they discouraged or frightened? Ana decided to visit Teo at the first opportunity to get a report on their condition.

  A shriveled peasant woman hawked dried fruit from a corner stall. Summer was on its way, so fresh fruits and berries would be available soon, but until then Ana would have to rely on the dried variety. The priests of Vulkain used their sacred yellow stone to preserve fruit over the long Chiveisian winters.

  “How much for the pears?” Ana asked.

  The wrinkled old woman glared at Ana from underneath her head scarf. “They’re
not for sale.”

  “What do you mean? They’re right here, displayed in your stall.”

  “What can I say? I’m a god-fearing woman. They’re not for sale.” The woman shooed Ana away with the backs of her hands. “Go on then. Move along.”

  Ana didn’t fare much better at any of the other stalls. She managed to get some hard bread and inferior cheeses at less than fair prices. It was the best she could do. Many of the merchants wouldn’t even talk to her, treating her as if she carried some horrible disease that might infect them if they so much as said hello. Ana returned to her aunt’s house and set the basket on the table. Rosetta was churning butter.

  “How was your shopping?” she asked, working the churn.

  “Miserable. No one would deal fairly with me. Some wouldn’t even deal with me at all.”

  “In their eyes you’re accursed.”

  “I’m still a human being. You’d think they would have pity on a poor orphan.”

  “I know what you mean, but try to see it from their perspective. If the god is angry at your family, any sign of friendship might make him angry at them, too. They’re afraid.”

  “True religion shouldn’t make you afraid.”

  Rosetta didn’t answer, but she paused from her churning to put the stale bread and cheeses in the larder. She pulled the stopper from a jug and poured cider into a wooden cup, setting it before Ana on the kitchen table. “I’m beginning to wonder what the purpose of religion is altogether.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s just that . . .” Rosetta chose her words carefully. “I guess I thought Deu’s religion would bring me more happiness than it has. You know—his blessings. A better life. Good things.”

  “Hasn’t Deu brought you a peace you’ve never had before?”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. But sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the cost. My sister and brother-in-law are in exile. Their house is destroyed. My niece is treated like cow dung on a trail. What’s next? Will my house go up in flames too?”

  Ana sipped her cider without replying. She wasn’t sure how to answer such heartfelt, searching questions. Rosetta took a seat across the table. Tears welled in her eyes, and she sniffled as she wiped them away. Ana took her aunt’s hands in her own.

  “It’s hard,” Ana said.

  “What are we supposed to do, child? You seem to trust Deu so much! Tell me—what’s a doubter like me supposed to do?” She implored Ana with tearful eyes.

  Ana sighed. “I think we’re supposed to believe, Aunt Rosetta. Believe that Deu is good, even when circumstances seem to say otherwise. Remember, we can’t see everything he sees. He has purposes we may not understand. All we can do is keep walking ahead, saying to Deu in our hearts, ‘I believe you’re good. Please take care of me!’”

  Rosetta stared at Ana, nodding. “You have uncommon wisdom for such a young woman.”

  Ana didn’t feel wise—she felt vulnerable. Everything she counted on for security had been yanked away. Her parents. The house community. Even Teo. Especially Teo, she admitted to herself.

  “Do you mind if I find a quiet place to read?” she asked her aunt. “I’m hungry for Deu’s words.”

  “Run along, child. I’ll go to the market and see what I can find.”

  Ana collected a few things and put them in her rucksack along with the satchel of Shaphan’s scrolls. She closed the door behind her and set out for Teo’s theater, intending to read for a while, then hide the Sacred Writing there as he had instructed.

  The key was where Teo had said it would be, under a flat rock by the tree nearest to his cottage. She unlocked the door and entered, taking a seat at his desk. The hot winds were too gusty for outdoor reading, but the cottage was pleasantly cool inside. Morning sunlight streamed in the windows as Ana unrolled a scroll she had not yet seen. It was a collection of holy poetry.

  As Ana read from the book of Hymns, one poem in particular caught her attention. Its words seemed to have been written just for her at that very moment:

  The Eternal One is my shepherd. I will lack for nothing.

  He makes me repose in green pastures.

  He leads me near peaceful waters.

  He restores my soul.

  He guides me on the footpaths of justice because of his Name.

  Ana looked out the window and lifted her hands to the sunshine. She could easily imagine herself as a helpless lamb who needed a strong protector. That was exactly how she felt. “Lead me, holy shepherd,” she whispered. Turning her eyes back to the page, she noticed a shift in the language of the hymn. It became more personal as the composer, David, now spoke directly to Deu:

  When I walk in the valley of death’s shadow,

  I won’t fear any evil, because you are with me.

  Your crook and your staff reassure me.

  You set a table for me in front of my enemies,

  You anoint my head with oil,

  And my cup overflows.

  Yes! Goodness and grace will go with me all the days of my life,

  And I will live in the Eternal One’s house until the end of my days.

  Ana had just finished reading the hymn when she heard footsteps on the gravel outside.

  “Anastasia? Are you in there?” It was a man’s voice. She quickly hid the scrolls among the others lying on Teo’s desk.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “It’s Valent. I was passing by and noticed you. May I come in?” He barged into the cottage before Ana could answer, closing the door behind him. “I am so sorry for your loss,” he said in a kindly and sympathetic tone. “Stratetix was a good man, and your mother was a real beauty.”

  “They’re in Deu’s hands now,” Ana replied, unsure if she was supposed to play the role of orphan with Valent. Though she didn’t want to lie to him, something told her to hold back the full truth.

  “The community’s future is uncertain,” Valent said, stepping closer to Ana. “I assume you’ll be returning to Edgeton to grieve?”

  “It remains to be seen what I will do.”

  “I’m sure Deu will show you what’s best. In fact, I’ll mention it to Sucula. She’s something of an oracle, you know. Perhaps we can determine Deu’s will by means of a vision.”

  “Or through the Sacred Writing.” Ana put her hand on the leather bag but immediately regretted it.

  “Is that it?” Valent’s face lit up with interest. “Let me take a look at it.”

  Ana rose from the desk and held the satchel to her breast. “I’m not sure I should, Valent.”

  Valent’s eyes flared. “Why not? I’m a member of the community too! Maurice said we should read the Sacred Writing.”

  “Yes, but that was when my father was available to oversee who had the scrolls. He’s gone now, and Master Maurice may have different plans.”

  “Give me the bag, Anastasia. I want it.” Valent lunged at her, but she dodged around the desk and backed into a corner, clutching the bag.

  Valent glared at Ana. “Are you going to make me take it from you?”

  Ana held his gaze. “Yes. You’ll only have it from me by force. And then the community will hear of it.”

  Valent’s expression softened into a smile. “Well, aren’t you a feisty little girl?” he teased. “Have it your way then. I didn’t mean to offend you. I only wanted to learn more of Holy Deu. I’ll leave you to your reading.” He bowed and backed out the door. Ana’s heart pounded.

  As she watched him leave the theater, Ana questioned her actions. Didn’t Valent have a right to read the scrolls? Perhaps. Yet her instincts had warned her otherwise, and she was glad she had followed them. Ana considered what to do with the scrolls. She couldn’t leave them in the cottage, for it was no longer a secret hiding place. She’d have to take them to the University. Teo will take good care of the Sacred Writing, she thought.

  Valent arrived home angry, but he knew he needed to set those feelings aside for the moment. Shaphan and Lina had been invited fo
r lunch, and it wouldn’t do to appear irritable or out of sorts. He washed his face, smoothed his hair, and put on his best smile.

  At the appointed time, Valent opened the door to his chalet and welcomed Shaphan and Lina inside. “Sucula, bring some mead for our guests! It’s hot and windy outside, and their throats must be parched!” He shook Shaphan’s hand as he entered, then kissed Lina on the cheek. Everyone took a seat around the kitchen table as Sucula set down a tray with four steins and a bowl of salted pine nuts.

  “Thanks for inviting us to your house, Master Valent,” Shaphan said as he reached for a stein.

  “Please, Shaphan! It’s just Valent between friends!” The young man nodded and broke into a smile.

  “Lina, your hair is so lovely,” Sucula said, extending her hand to bounce the blonde curls. “How do you get it so wavy?”

  “It just does that naturally,” Lina answered with a shrug.

  “Well, now,” Valent boomed, “it seems you two have developed quite a friendship over the past few weeks—or maybe it’s something more?” He tilted his chin and raised his eyebrows, a knowing grin on his face. Shaphan and Lina blushed and gazed into their mugs.

  “Ah, yes, young love! I remember those days when I was young and in love!” Valent leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head.

  “Did Sucula take your breath away?” Lina asked, her eyes shining.

  “Oh, this was long before Sucula. I’m talking about when I was young. I had quite a few fillies in my stable back then. Too many to count, in fact.” He punched Shaphan in the shoulder. “Know what I mean?”