by Garth Nix
Odo barely noticed. His thoughts were a whirl – but he knew what he had to do. Although being a knight was something he had learned to like, he knew he still had a great deal to learn. Being a king was an even tougher job than being a knight, and he simply wasn’t ready for such a task. He was a boy from a village who knew right from wrong, and liked knowing what he was supposed to do. He didn’t have the first idea of how to rule an entire country.
Eleanor saw all this pass across her friend’s face, and understood completely. She would have done the same in his shoes, but for different reasons. She wanted to see the world, and kings mostly stayed at home and argued with people who wanted things from them. That sounded about as much fun as helping her father lance Old Master Croft’s boils.
She could have cheered when he lifted the crown off his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I am not ready to be a king. Perhaps I never will be.’
‘I’ll make you the richest man in Tofte,’ said Odelyn, sensing victory nearing once more, even though she stood alone among enemies. This knight was just a boy, and boys were easily convinced to act against their better interests. ‘You’ll marry the prettiest woman in Winterset.’
‘I don’t want that either,’ he said without hesitation. ‘And besides, it’s not my place to choose.’
He tossed the crown to Egda, who heard the rush of air and caught it expertly.
‘It’s a wise man who knows his limitations, Sir Odo,’ he said, weighing the crown in his hands. He laughed softly. ‘As I believe I now know mine. I didn’t give up the throne because I was blind. I abdicated because I no longer had the desire to rule. I was tired, frustrated, and …’ He forced himself to utter the word he had resisted for so long. ‘… old. But there is no shame in that, just as there is no shame in being blind. I accept the truth now, and tell you with all honesty that I still don’t want to be king.’
He laughed again, more loudly. ‘And judging by the quaking underfoot, I suspect the great Aldewrath doesn’t want me to be king either!’
Egda paused for a moment, everyone watching, everyone listening.
‘But I do know someone who I think is suitable,’ he continued. ‘Someone whose clever planning, patience and humility shows he is fit to be king.’
There was complete silence for a moment. Egda raised the crown and said the name.
‘Kendryk.’
Kendryk slowly walked over to Egda, placed his hands on the old king’s shoulders, and knelt before him. Egda lowered the crown on his head. Just as it settled there, Odelyn made a sudden lunge, only to be prevented by Eleanor and Runnel.
‘There,’ Egda said, tapping the crown lightly on top to make it sit securely. ‘By the will of the dragon, it is done.’
As Kendryk stood up, Egda went down on one knee, and so did Hundred and Odo. Eleanor stayed standing, but only because she didn’t trust Odelyn not to run at Kendryk again.
‘I might have the crown,’ said King Kendryk as the rumbles of protest subsided, ‘but I’m still only a pretender. Our whole family are pretenders!’
‘All kings are pretenders,’ came a rumbling voice from below, and the dragon’s head rose out of the rift again.
‘All human kings …’
‘No!’ shrieked Odelyn. She ducked under Eleanor’s grasping hands, dodged Runnel’s sudden swipe, and ran at Kendryk, only to be caught and wrapped several times around by Aldewrath’s lightning-fast tongue. The dragon held her like that for a few seconds, then whipped his tongue back, sending the regent spinning dizzily away until she fell over a stone and lay there, sobbing angrily.
Kendryk looked around in amazement, taking in his great-uncle, grandmother, three knights and a dragon, all looking at him at once, the only person standing on Old Dragon Stone.
This was his moment, he told himself, after everything he had worked for during his long imprisonment at the hands of the regent, seeking a peaceful way to stop her from becoming king, pretending to be mad so she wouldn’t think him a threat. Still, Kendryk had never dreamed that he himself might end up on the throne. That, surely, would fall to someone of the right bloodline. Yet here he was, the start of a new bloodline …
There was so much to think about.
He lengthened his spine, raised his chin, adjusted the crown so it sat straight across his forehead, and said, ‘Are you proposing a new pact, great Aldewrath?’
‘A modification of the original pact,’ said the dragon. ‘This time I will be wary of sorcerers desiring me to sleep overlong.’
Kendryk bowed, holding the crown with one hand so it didn’t fall off. There had been too much kicking around of that crown already, and he could see several of the gems that had fallen off lying on the ground.
‘On behalf of … of my people, I apologise for the actions of Brandar the decidedly un-Wise and the forgetfulness of Tofte. It will never happen again.’
‘I sincerely hope not. Not too often, anyway. I like my sleep, but waking has its pleasures too. The dawn in particular. I will dream of this one while I await the next.’
Aldewrath’s glassy eyelids flickered and he began to sink back into Old Dragon Stone.
Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat. She had a question, but did she dare ask it? Only the thought that she might never get another chance forced her to try.
‘Excuse me, Aldewrath?’
The dragon stopped, his snout just visible.
‘Harrumph. Yes, little knight?’
‘The person who started the pact between humans and dragons – was that the First King?’
‘Between all humans and all dragons? I cannot answer that question. But between me and the people of Tofte, it was indeed her. Now, she truly had fire in her veins … and many exhausting questions of her own. Good night, and good-bye.’
Aldewrath’s eyes closed and he disappeared for good. Old Dragon Stone grew silent and still. The cracks healed up. The fires went out. With a steely hiss, the Royal Sword slid out of the rock as though pushed from the inside, and fell flat with a clatter.
King Kendryk gingerly picked it up in his right hand, but it wasn’t hot at all. He raised his left hand for Tip to land on, and then transferred the bat to his shoulder. The little bat settled gratefully there, closing his eyes and falling almost instantly asleep. It had been a long night’s work, with many surprises. What happened during the daytime was the humans’ responsibility.
‘Please, stand,’ said the king. ‘Sir Odo, Sir Eleanor – I feel as though I already know you from Tip’s testimony. You have served my great-uncle well, and by serving him, served me and Tofte as faithfully as any royal guard.’
‘It was our duty,’ said Odo.
‘And a pleasure,’ added Eleanor.
‘My gratitude is undying and … well, I don’t know the proper words, but I’m sure I’ll find them some day. Let us call your apprenticeship complete, shall we? I pronounce you the first members of the re-formed royal guard. Which means, unfortunately for you, there’s still much work to be done. We need to tend the wounded and bind the unrepentant, starting with my grandmother.’
Odo bowed and went to fetch the rope they had used to climb the Stone.
Kendryk continued. ‘Hundred, I believe there are loyal knights in the city. Could you gather them to attend me?’
‘Yes, sire. I know three at least who will be eager to serve.’ She hurried off to summon Sirs Brude, Uen and Talorc, who were certain to have made short work of the Instruments at the river gate.
‘Great-Uncle?’
Egda approached Kendryk, using his staff for support. He knelt before his great-nephew and bowed his head. ‘I doubt you have any need for a blind, old fool, but whatever I have to offer is yours.’
‘You are a fool if you think I don’t need your help.’ The younger man beamed, even though Egda couldn’t see it. ‘Good kings have good advisers. Perhaps you will be mine, until the kingdom is secure once more?’
Egda bowed. ‘It would be an honour, sire.’
‘A madman and a fool in league?’ scoffed Odelyn. ‘I will laugh at you when things fall apart.’
‘I hardly think that is going to happen, Grandmother,’ Kendryk said as Odo finished tying her wrists together. ‘Not while I have such loyal knights and swords at my side.’
Odo expected Biter to launch forth in an enthusiastic salute, but none came. The sword’s tip kept nudging in the direction the Falconstone had fled, and Odo knew what preoccupied him.
Bowing to accept the compliment, Odo joined Eleanor in checking to see which of the Instruments had woken, and which of those had experienced a sudden and unexpected change of heart.
‘I still don’t understand how you talked Kendryk into letting us go home,’ said Odo two weeks later.
Eleanor and Odo were in the royal stables, seeing to their horses. Wiggy had arrived several days before from Kyles Frost, along with Eleanor’s favourite mount – Belbis, a strawberry roan with a distinct snowcap blanket on her croup and fierce curiosity for everything that lay off the beaten path. In that, she very much reminded Odo of her rider.
‘I didn’t,’ said Eleanor in surprise. ‘I thought you must have done.’
‘No,’ said Odo. He scratched his head. ‘I did say I’d like to go back to Lenburh to see my family sometime …’
‘I sort of feel we … I … might have disappointed him,’ said Eleanor. ‘And now he’s getting rid of us.’
‘What? No … I don’t think so,’ said Odo. ‘You mean because of what you did to Lady Scrift?’
‘Lady Scrift said we were the real rebels and traitors and should have our heads chopped off! Besides, I wasn’t going to hurt her. If she’d stayed still she’d never have broken her leg.’
‘Kendryk … the king … told me she deserved everything she got,’ said Odo firmly.
Eleanor sighed as she brushed Belbis down. ‘I guess I’m just not suited to seeing wrongdoers get away with things. Lady Scrift volunteered to be an Instrument.’
Odo had nothing to say to that. Though the regent herself had been decreed a traitor, and would spend the rest of her days in Winterset’s highest prison cell, Kendryk had pardoned most of the Instruments, Adjustors and Regulators, though they would all be replaced.
‘They should have all been locked up,’ said Eleanor. ‘Or had their heads chopped off.’
‘I think the king was right to be merciful,’ said Odo. ‘And I do not think he was worried about you scaring Lady Scrift. He’s not sending us into exile or anything.’
‘No,’ said a familiar voice from the stable door.
It was Egda, and Hundred was with him. Odo and Eleanor put their brushes aside and hurried to greet their friends. They had hardly seen one another since the coronation, what with exploring the city and learning their duties as royal guards, while Hundred and Egda had been often closeted with the king, offering advice.
‘Where have you been?’ Eleanor demanded. ‘I haven’t seen you since the feast three days ago.’
Odo nudged her warningly. ‘There’s been a lot to do, I bet.’
‘Indeed,’ said Egda, but not without an affectionate smile. ‘Some of the Instruments have disobeyed the instruction to return to the capital, the pardon notwithstanding. Not all the former stewards have been located, nor knights who held other important posts. And we have only just set in train the Great Reckoning, the census that will keep many of those former Instruments busy, as we count and record all the people, holdings and other minutiae of the kingdom. Kendryk intends to rule with knowledge, not force.’
‘As befits a sorcerer-king of the first rank,’ said Hundred. ‘I believe a ballad is already circulating through the taverns. It also names two young heroes with a bright future ahead of them.’
Eleanor blushed with a mixture of delight, embarrassment and frustration.
‘If our future is so bright,’ she said, ‘why is the king sending us home now?’
‘He knows you are too valuable to waste your time standing guard outside the throne room, or pacing the sentry-walk of the palace,’ said Egda. ‘Though I daresay you will have your turns at that in the future.’
‘But why send us home?’ asked Odo. On the one hand, he dearly wanted to see Lenburh again, but on the other it did seem surprising the king wanted them to go. Part of him wondered if it was a mistake and they’d be called back, just when he was starting to think about home again, and the way the river burbled beneath the mill wheel, and the birds sang in the morning …
‘Hard to say,’ said Hundred. ‘There are many such decisions for the king to make.’
‘Oh,’ said Eleanor, unable to hide her disappointment. ‘It just seems, I don’t know, odd.’
‘You thought being a knight was going to be one long adventure?’ Hundred asked. She looked at Egda, who smiled. Even though he couldn’t see the smile on Hundred’s face, he must have heard it in her voice.
‘What?’ asked Eleanor.
‘We must return to the king’s side, but before we do, I just want to say what a pleasure it has been serving with you both,’ said Egda. He was still smiling. ‘The new ballad does not lie. The future of Tofte is in good hands.’
Both of them blushed at the former king’s praise, but Eleanor frowned as well. There was something else going on here. Odo also sensed it, and looked at her in puzzlement.
‘Oh,’ Egda said on the threshold. ‘A word of warning. We have received reports of a renegade sword heading west – an enchanted sword that slays anyone who approaches. Fortunately, the king is sending two of his best knights to deal with it, while on their way to Lenburh.’
With that, he and Hundred were gone, and Biter was suddenly out of his scabbard and hissing about the barn, startling the horses.
‘A renegade sword?’ he cried. ‘Slaying people? I t has to be the Falconstone. I t must be stopped! We must join forces with these knights.’
Odo started to laugh, soon joined by Eleanor.
‘What?!’ shrieked Biter. ‘There is not a moment to be lost. We cannot allow these other knights to vanquish our foe!’
‘Biter,’ said Odo, quelling his laughter with difficulty. ‘We are those knights.’
‘Oh,’ said Biter. Odo held out his hand, and Biter returned to it.
‘You had better practise your moves, little brother,’ said Runnel, leaping into Eleanor’s hand. ‘I believe you may still be a little rusty.’
‘Never!’
Joining the swords in the joyous playfight, Eleanor and Odo danced back and forth through the sawdust and straw. Whether the future was in good hands or not, they couldn’t say, but they could at least feel that it was mapped out with some degree of certainty. One magic sword wouldn’t stand a chance against two, not to mention their knights …
Could it?
Without breaking step, the lone traveller stared up at the mountains in exhausted resignation. She had reached the flanks of the Offersittan and knew what lay ahead: a long and dangerous climb. Already haggard and thin after weeks of walking, clad only in filthy quilted gambeson and hose, she doubted she would live to see the other side. But she had no choice. She had to continue.
‘Help! Save me!’
The desperate cry came from over a low hill directly ahead. Unhesitatingly, the traveller started to run. She was going that way anyway, and helping a stranger in need could bring her a meal, perhaps even shelter for the night. She was allowed to rest at night.
What she saw brought her very nearly to a halt. A bearded peasant armed only with a pitchfork was fending off a sword that chopped and slashed entirely of its own volition. An enchanted sword!
The traveller hissed through her teeth. Now this was a predicament. She had experience with such swords, recent experience. She knew how deadly they could be.
Even as she approached, the sword lunged, killing the peasant with a single stab to the throat.
The traveller slowed, though she could not stop. This was an even more dangerous sword than she had supposed. Enchanted swords di
d not usually act without a wielder, and they did not kill peasants.
The sword withdrew from the body and turned in the air towards her, taking the measure of this new arrival. The traveller noted that it had an empty setting where a gem once might have been. It was strange, too, that it did not speak. Maybe it had nothing to say.
‘Let me pass,’ she told the bloodied weapon, her mouth curled. ‘Or slay me. I care not. I am cursed by a dragon, and must walk on.’
The sword answered, but not in speech. It came straight at her, and the traveller forced herself to keep her eyes open, to brace for the killing blow. No one could say she had died like a coward, with her eyes shut.
But at the last second, the sword spun in the air, and the heavy pommel struck her a powerful blow directly above her heart.
She gasped, thrown backward to the ground as though the earth had been pulled out from under her. A terrible pressure spread from the left side of her chest, down her left arm, and up her throat. The sword had stopped her heart! With a single blow! Blackness crept in around the edges of her vision, and she hissed out a curse, unable to do more than feel an incredible wave of anger and futility at dying like this, so pointlessly, and without enacting a terrible revenge on those who had wronged her …
The world turned to black. She felt herself rushing down a tunnel as long as a dragon’s throat …
And then she felt a second blow to her chest that brought her back to life. She drew in a ragged breath, feeling her heart resume beating with a lurch, then a stagger, then a furious racing, driven by panic and relief.
Her vision returned. The sword was hanging over her, mute and deadly.
It had brought her back from the dead!
Why?
An even stranger discovery awaited her on groaning to her feet, her treacherous feet that were condemned to walk east one thousand days. She had endured the dragon’s curse barely one-tenth that time, but now … now her feet were still.
Experimentally, rubbing her bruised chest, she took a step to her left, then her right, then behind her, away from the mountains. Nothing impeded her.