The Sword

by Bryan M. Litfin

  Ana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Teo jumped into space.

  They fell until a force jerked Ana so hard she nearly lost her grip on the saddlebag. She squealed as they dangled in midair.

  “Almost missed it,” Teo said as he slid down the rope, slowing their descent with his boots. They hit the ground running as the Vulkainians shouted from the hayloft door. Teo lobbed the end of the rope into a tree so it would hang out of reach of the men in the loft.

  The militiamen’s horses waited nearby with only one man guarding them. When the soldier saw Teo running toward him, he lifted his acid weapon. A ball from the end of Teo’s ax took him in the stomach, and the man doubled over. Teo thrust him aside as he and Ana ran to the horses. They each mounted and kicked their heels hard, sending the animals surging forward. A squirt of acid stung Teo on the thigh. The horse whinnied and ran even faster.

  They took the same trail Teo had used to reach Obirhorn Lake but didn’t go that far. Instead they turned off and meandered through the uninhabited forest until they were certain they had lost the Vulkainians, who were inexperienced woodsmen. Not far above, a waterfall plunged over the lip of a hanging valley.

  “Your parents are up there,” Teo remarked. “But we shouldn’t approach them right now.”

  Ana sighed. “My parents are in exile. Valent and Sucula are dead. My aunt is wavering, and so are Lina and Shaphan. Master Maurice is under arrest, and here we are, fleeing from the authorities.”

  “Yeah. I guess the days of our secret community are over.”

  Ana sat straight in the saddle and turned her head toward Teo, buoyed by a sense of peace. “I’m finished with secrets,” she said. “It’s time to take a stand. It’s time for Deu to come to Chiveis.”

  CHAPTER

  13

  Princess Habiloho sat in a cushioned window seat, carefully painting her toenails in the sunshine. The view from her high window in the royal palace overlooked the Citadel and the great wall that spanned the cleft in the mountains. Spread out below the wall lay Entrelac, with a sea on either side like twin jewels. On this day, however, Habiloho wasn’t paying attention to scenery. She was focused on her pinky toe.

  From behind her, rough fingers dug into her ribs. She yelped at the tickle and painted a black swath across the top of her foot. Who would DARE? Male laughter filled the room as Habiloho spun toward her tormentor. It was the only person in Chiveis who could get away with such a thing—Piair II, heir to the realm and pest-in-chief.

  “Look what you made me do!” Habiloho hurled the bottle of nail polish at her eighteen-year-old brother. He caught it in midair and whipped it back toward her. It sailed past her head and out the window to the street below. Habiloho stared at him in exasperation, her mouth agape.

  Piair approached the angry princess and grabbed her ankle. With the sleeve of his expensive tunic, he wiped the polish from Habiloho’s foot. “Good as new,” he said.

  “What do you want, Piair?”

  “Nothing really. Just a friendly visit with my sister. I came to tell you the news. Did you hear Vingin burned to the ground yesterday?”

  Habiloho curled her lip and tossed her hair. “It wasn’t much of a town.”

  “It was to the people who lived there.” Piair changed the subject. “Why are you getting all fixed up?”

  “In case you forgot, I’m to be made a priestess of Astrebril today, a slave in his holy service.”

  It was Piair’s turn to be exasperated. “I don’t understand why you’d want to do that! I know you used to follow Pon, but I always thought it had more to do with his forest orgies than any real devotion on your part. Now you’re taking the collar of Astrebril! That’s a whole different matter.”

  Habiloho glared at her brother, then rose from her seat and gestured out the window. “See that? All those lands, those people? That’s why I want to join the order. When I met the High Priestess, she awakened something in me, a hunger I never knew I had.”

  Piair glanced sideways at Habiloho, skeptical. “A hunger for what?”

  “For power. Power over all I see.”

  Piair snorted, shrugging his shoulders and throwing his palms in the air. “Power? You have all the power you need! You have Father wrapped around your finger, and your beauty gives you power over men. Politics and seduction—those are the two most powerful forces on earth!”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Not often.”

  Habiloho faced the prince, her chin out. She poked him in the chest. “This time you are, sweet brother.”

  He stared at her without answering.

  “The most powerful force on earth isn’t politics, nor seduction.” She smiled coyly. “Though I’m very good at both.”

  Piair rolled his eyes. “What is it then?”

  “It’s religion. It lets you manipulate people’s fear of death or their desires for things they can’t control. Religion will bend them to your will like nothing else. Once you have them good and afraid, there’s nothing they won’t do for you. That’s absolute power.”

  “And what do you plan to do with your absolute power?”

  Habiloho turned toward the window and uttered a single, bitter word: “Revenge.”

  Piair chuckled. “You’re still mad about your Royal Guard boyfriend, aren’t you?”

  The accusation infuriated Habiloho, and she whipped around to face Piair with genuine rage welling up inside. “What if I am?” she snarled.

  “That girl from Edgeton was stunning! She was a perfectly valid choice for the garland. Let it go, Habiloho.”

  “I’ll let it go—when I’ve tasted revenge. And Astrebril will help me get it.”

  Piair shook his head. “Religion is supposed to make you noble and virtuous. I don’t think you’re headed that way, sis.”

  Habiloho didn’t answer. Instead she stalked across the room, retrieved another bottle of black nail polish from a dressing table, and returned to her window seat. Coldly ignoring her brother, she began to paint her toes again. “Close the door on the way out,” she said.

  The High Priestess slapped Maurice. Hard. He licked his lip but said nothing.

  “Maurice the Wise! I should’ve known you’d try to introduce heresy to Chiveis! Your impious curiosity is well-known to my servants at the University.” The High Priestess paced around Maurice as he sat bound to a chair in the middle of the room. Two Vulkainian guards stood by the doorway.

  “It is the role of the scholar to explore new ideas for the good of mankind,” Maurice replied.

  The High Priestess lifted a black-nailed finger to her brow and slid a wisp of long dark hair behind her ear. She approached Maurice and bent toward him, staring into his face. He was a distinguished man with a shaven head and clear eyes. Red blood stained his white goatee. The High Priestess gripped his chin and pulled his face close. “It is for me to decide what is best for mankind,” she hissed.

  With a wave of her hand, she summoned one of the Vulkainians to her side. He was a thick-chested man with a dull expression and the face of a pig. The High Priestess ignored him and addressed Maurice. “Since you’re so keen to share new ideas with the people of Chiveis, perhaps you could enlighten me as well. What is your message, preacher?”

  “I preach the one true God, the God of Israël, whose name is Deu. The Sacred Writing declares he is the Creator of all things. He’s loving and good. He alone is God. The gods of Chiveis are evil.”

  The High Priestess felt a nameless fear claw at her soul. How had the old sage found the scriptures of Christianism, that dead religion of the Ancients? It had been excised from all the records. Had something been missed? She covered her alarm with a melodious laugh. “Tell me more, preacher,” she said. “Perhaps I shall convert to your Deu.”

  “I’m certain Deu does not suffer mockers lightly.”

  The High Priestess scowled and motioned with her fingers toward the Vulkainian guard beside her. He cocked his meaty arm and smashed Maurice in the ribs, the sound of
fist on flesh making a delicious smack in her ears. The old man’s chair tumbled backward with a crash, and he writhed in the ropes, groaning and rasping. The High Priestess spat on the floor. “That’s what I think of Deu,” she said.

  The Vulkainian set the chair upright again. Maurice’s head hung low, and he breathed with difficulty through gritted teeth. The High Priestess stood across from him, her hands on her hips. “It’s time to make a decision, Professor. Deny your beliefs or face the consequences.”

  Maurice raised his eyes. “I will not . . . deny.” He had to take several shallow breaths before he could continue. “It’s not . . . too late. You can still . . . turn to him!”

  His words told the High Priestess everything she needed to know. So the old man is fully committed to Christianism? Fine. If he won’t recant, then he will die. Sneering, she asked, “Why should I turn to the impotent god of the cross?”

  “Deu . . . is strong.”

  The High Priestess threw back her head and laughed. “Fool! You think he’s powerful? I’ve read his book. I know all about this weak deity of yours. He’s called Dieu in the Fluid Tongue, or Deus in the Old Words. He’s the Father of the Son, who was killed on a cross in shameful defeat.” She paused, narrowing her eyes as she noticed Maurice’s uncertain expression. “You don’t know about that, do you?”

  “I know his symbol.” Maurice winced. “Not its meaning.”

  “And how did you come upon this knowledge?”

  Maurice remained silent.

  The High Priestess flicked her fingers again, and the Vulkainian administered another devastating body blow. The old man couldn’t take many more of those hits and survive. Though some of the civil magistrates might want to launch an investigation if he died, she’d take that risk. The High Priestess had powerful allies at the courthouse. She looked down at Maurice as he lay on the floor, bound to the chair, his chest quivering as he gasped for air.

  “Do whatever it takes to make him recant,” she said to the guard, who broke into a malicious grin. “Hold nothing back.” She spun away and stormed out.

  In her study, the High Priestess summoned a scribe. “Take dictation from me and draft a proclamation. It shall be read throughout Chiveis immediately.” With a parchment clipped to a wooden board and a quill in his hand, the scribe seated himself on a stool.

  The High Priestess gazed out the window of her spire. Though it was springtime, the air was cool. The sky overhead was deep blue, a color precious to Astrebril. Only crimson pleased him more.

  Sipping a glass of wine, the High Priestess considered the turn of events. Christianism had been rediscovered and the name of Deu proclaimed to a few peasants. However, there was still time to eradicate the heresy before it spread. With her free hand she fondled the slave collar at her neck as it if were a talisman, a soothing and clarifying habit of hers. Astrebril’s inner voice began to speak to her soul, driving home one essential point: The people of Chiveis must never turn to Christianism!

  “I’m ready to begin,” she said to the scribe. He put his quill to the parchment. “O people of our great realm! The Curse of Astrebril has visited us. He has destroyed our fair village of Vingin. Other towns will certainly suffer the same fate unless you repent. Astrebril’s thunderous fires will appear again in the sky, proving his fierce wrath toward us. When you see them, you will know for certain he is angry at the preaching of a false god of the Ancients called Deu. Pay no attention to this foul deity! If you do, the Curse of Astrebril will surely descend upon you. There is but one escape from his terrible fires: I alone, your beloved High Priestess, will propitiate the anger of the Beautiful One. Only by my intervention can you be saved!”

  She paused. “Read it back to me.” The scribe obliged. Satisfied with her eloquence, she nodded and waved him away with the back of her hand. He bowed to her and scurried from the room.

  “I have a plan.” Teo rose from where he was squatting beside a stream and looked at Ana, his hand resting on his sword’s hilt. She regarded him with strong emotions. Admiration was certainly one of them—the captain was very capable in moments like this. He was also headstrong and brash, which made her feel uncertain. Could he ever change?

  “You always seem to have something up your sleeve,” she said. “What is it this time?”

  Teo walked over to Ana, excitement written all over his face. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “I’m going to steal a monk’s habit and sneak into the High Priestess’s temple, pretending I’m doing research. When I’m finished, instead of leaving, I’ll go around back. I know a secret way in. I’m certain I can find where Maurice is being kept.”

  Ana held up her hands, palms out. “First of all, what do you mean, I? Surely you don’t intend to leave me behind?”

  Teo frowned. “Ana, be reasonable! It’s not safe for you.”

  “It’s not safe for you either!” She looked into his face. A lock of his dark hair dangled over his forehead. “I’m part of these events too, Teo. You know I can hold my own up there, even fight if necessary. Besides—” She lowered her eyes. “You’re not the only one who loves Maurice.”

  Teo sighed. He started to argue, but when his stern expression softened, Ana knew he had understood her concern for Maurice. Teo’s protests were feeble. “You can’t go. There are no female monks of Astrebril, only priestesses. You’ll have no disguise.”

  “I can go as your household servant—one of those women who do chores for the monks.”

  “That’s not all they do for them.”

  Ana tucked her chin and arched an eyebrow at Teo. “Don’t get any ideas.”

  He laughed, and the two of them mounted their horses, heading for Lekovil by the back trails. Arriving at the University, Teo was pleased to discover his lock had been changed, and the gatekeeper was holding a new key for him. Teo entered the room and hid the Sacred Writing under the floorboards, then packed some writing instruments and glass jars in his rucksack. He didn’t think he would need his ax, so he hung it on the wall. On the way out, Ana made sure he locked the door and put the key in his pack.

  Out in the courtyard, Teo and Ana wandered toward the waterfall. Nobody paid them much attention; they had been seen together before. Teo led Ana to a ladder that had been laid against the cliff over which the waterfall plunged. The outer wall of the University abutted the cliff in two places, forming a semicircle around the waterfall’s pool. Rooms for the professors and clerics lined the interior of the wall.

  “What’s up there?” Ana pointed at the ladder.

  “A natural fissure in the cliff. It runs behind the waterfall. In the time of the Ancients, there was a hillock here, and they would ascend it to reach the fissure. The Chiveisi excavated the hillock and created the plunge pool. But the crack is still there, of course. People sometimes climb the ladder to see the falls up close.”

  “And how does this help us rescue Maurice?”

  “I said we need a disguise, right? I’m going to do some breaking and entering.”

  Teo grabbed the ladder, then ascended halfway to the top. Ana shaded her eyes and watched him climb. Suddenly she realized what he was about to do: he had reversed his stance on the rungs and was preparing to jump from the ladder to the roof of the buildings that abutted the cliff! She scanned the courtyard nervously. Few people were in it, and no one seemed to be looking their way. When she turned back to Teo, he was gone.

  She waited for what seemed like an eternity, but he didn’t return. Ana went to the low wall that ringed the plunge pool, taking a seat in the cool mists. Droplets sprinkled the pool’s surface. Teo was nowhere to be seen.

  A rough hand grabbed Ana’s shoulder. She jumped and let out a cry when she saw a hooded monk. “I have some chores for you, wench!” he said from deep within his cowl. The monk laughed in a very familiar way.

  Ana exhaled in relief and leaned close to the monk of Astrebril. “Careful,” she warned. “I might get the notion to short-sheet your bed.” Teo removed his hood a
nd handed Ana the drab shoes, dress, and head scarf of a servant girl.

  After changing into her disguise, Ana rode beside Teo toward the charred remains of Vingin. They turned onto the path that led to the precincts of the High Priestess’s temple. Although they saw a few people along the way, everyone was too preoccupied with salvaging what they could from the fire to notice the Astrebrilian monk and his handmaiden.

  Just before they rounded the ridge that would bring the temple into view, Teo dismounted and asked Ana to do the same. He scooped some dirt into his hands and held it toward her. “You don’t look much like a servant. Rub this on your face.”

  Ana wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to?”

  “Yup. You’re too pretty to pass as a common housemaid.”

  Ana heaved a sigh, but she dutifully smeared the dirt on her cheeks, chin, and forehead. “How do I look now?”

  Teo shrugged. “Still gorgeous, just dirtier.”

  The statement made Ana smile. “You’ve never told me I’m pretty,” she teased.

  Teo threw her a look of pretended indignation. “What are you talking about? I declared it in front of forty thousand people.”

  Ana bit her lip and cocked her head. She had to admit he was right.

  A mist was gathering as Teo and Ana approached the intimidating spire of the Temple of Astrebril. The three great summits of Chiveis were lost in the clouds. Ana peered at them with a sense of awe. “People say Astrebril has another temple up there on the ridgeline,” she said.

  “It’s not a temple. It’s just a rocky knob that sometimes glints in the sun.”

  At the gatehouse, a surly Astrebrilian monk stopped them. Ana hunched into her scarf, her eyes downcast, while Teo dismounted and stepped forward.

  “Your business?” the guard demanded.

  “I’ve come from Lekovil. I have some research to do in the archives. I might have to collect some plant specimens too.” Teo opened his rucksack to display his parchments, quills, and jars.