The Sword of Azaray

by Shannah Jay

  ‘Isn’t that carving beautiful?’ Shayla asked. She took a step towards it, nearly letting go of Kerril’s hand.

  He yanked her back again. ‘It’s another spell!’ he said. ‘Can’t you feel it? Magic always makes me tingle.’

  She sucked in a long shuddering breath. ‘Now you come to mention it, magic makes me tingle, too, but only slightly. I didn’t even notice it because all I could think of was the beauty of the carving. I felt quite desperate to touch it.’ She took care not to glance in that direction again.

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  Ronan wasn’t listening to them. His eyes kept turning to the weapons displayed in the chamber. As was usual, Lord Nezrim had swords, spears and daggers hung in patterns on the walls. ‘I think,’ he said very softly and hesitantly, ‘the scabbard is over there.’ He raised his free hand to point. ‘It seems—I don’t know how to explain it—but it seems to be pulling me towards it.’

  ‘Those are just old swords,’ Kerril protested. ‘Surely the magic scabbard wouldn’t look so—well, ordinary? And I can’t feel any tingling from that direction.’

  Ronan closed his eyes and concentrated, then began to walk towards a pair of crossed swords on the wall, pulling the others with him. He seemed to hear a faint singing sound in the distance and to see a glow coming from one of the scabbards.

  Now that they were concentrating on the swords, Kerril began to hear something, too, and Shayla saw a faint glow.

  When the three of them reached the wall, Ronan reached out to take hold of the sword, the one that seemed to be glowing, Kerril yelped and suddenly dragged them all back a pace.

  The sword inside the scabbard suddenly flew out and slashed through the air in a downwards movement. If Ronan’s hand had still been there, it would have been badly hacked. Even as they watched the sword lifted for another stroke.

  ‘I felt that warning tingle again,’ Kerril muttered in explanation.

  ‘You saved Ronan from injury,’ Shayla said. ‘Well done!’

  In spite of the danger, Kerril couldn’t help beaming. He hadn’t expected to be able to contribute so much to their task.

  ‘More evil magic,’ Ronan muttered. ‘And the scabbard is—’ he broke off and frowned. ‘It’s calling to me to stand still.’ He stopped trying to move forward and closed his eyes. Within seconds he was swaying slightly. ‘Come to me, scabbard,’ he half-sang. ‘Come to me now!’

  The plainest of the scabbards lifted against the wall, fell back, then lifted again. It seemed to be struggling against hidden bonds. When the sword guarding it trembled in the air, the magic scabbard suddenly thrust upwards. There was a bright flash and a feeling as if the chamber were filled with menace, THE MAGIC SWORD Shannah Jay 58

  then the feeling vanished, the sword fell to the ground with a dull clunk and the scabbard floated easily towards Ronan.

  ‘There’s no tingling now,’ Kerril whispered. ‘I don’t sense any danger. I think you can touch it safely.’

  The scabbard came to a halt in the air in front of Ronan and he stretched out his free hand towards it.

  As he touched it, his hand was bathed in blue light, which ran up his arm and for a moment his whole body was outlined in blue.

  Faintly in the distance all three youngsters heard the words, ‘You are the king, the true-born King.

  Hail, King of Azaray!’ There was a straining feeling, as if something else was trying to reach them, then the light faded and the scabbard slid into Ronan’s hand. It rested there, quiet now, all traces of the humming magic fading.

  With difficulty, because he was still holding Shayla’s hand, Ronan unbuckled his own plain scabbard and sword. Kerril moved round to help him, as he had the only other free hand between the three of them and together they fastened the magic scabbard into place on the sword belt. Ronan’s plain old sword fitted into the scabbard, but looked out of place there. However, until he got the magic blade he needed to keep this one for protection.

  Kerril, who was holding the old scabbard, asked hesitantly, ‘Do you think—could I have this, Ronan? I haven’t got a sword, but I might find one. And even though I’m not a good fighter, it’d surely be better to go armed?’

  Ronan smiled warmly at him. ‘Of course you can have the scabbard—and my old sword, too, once we find the true sword of Azaray.’

  ‘I’ll have to find myself a sword or dagger as well,’ Shayla said.

  The two boys looked at her in surprise.

  She smiled. ‘Like Kerril, I’m no fighter, but if we’re in trouble even I may be able to help.’ She raised her chin and looked first at one, then at the other. ‘If you two think you can leave me out of things just because I’m a girl, you can think again.’

  Ronan looked solemnly at them both. ‘I don’t want to leave either of you out of things. We’ve just proved that all three of us are needed on this quest, haven’t we?’

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  They smiled shyly at one another and for a moment, the chamber seemed filled with warmth.

  Then, before they could move, they heard hoofbeats pounding towards the castle.

  ‘Someone’s coming down the road from Azaray! We’d better get out of here.’ Ronan didn’t wait to see who it was, but led the way towards the door of the lord’s chambers, dragging the other two behind him. It was much easier to move in that direction.

  Kerril put his free hand down to touch his new scabbard. He tried to feel brave and ready for anything, but couldn’t. He had a strong feeling that they were about to face new troubles—troubles far worse than trying to find the magic scabbard.

  ***

  In Azaray, Pavros was still at the palace conferring with the king when suddenly he stopped in mid-sentence as he felt a wrenching feeling.

  ‘Someone has just freed the scabbard!’ he exclaimed, his voice ringing with shock.

  ‘What!’ Sevris leaned forward. ‘But I thought you had it securely placed, protected by magic?’

  ‘So did I!’ Darkness gathered around Pavros like a cloak and through it his voice rumbled with anger.

  ‘Only one person could have freed that scabbard.’

  Sevris stared at him, then whispered, ‘The true king.’

  Pavros nodded. ‘Well, that settles it! The children must die! And quickly.’

  ‘Have I not said that all along? I don’t know why you wanted to keep them alive at all.’

  The wizard stared at him through narrowed eyes. ‘In case you didn’t prove to be suitable, in which case I’d have had to train one of them.’

  For a moment there was silence then Sevris glared at him. ‘Have I not taken control of this country with a firm hand and given you all you wished?’

  Pavros inclined his head, but his voice was mocking. ‘Indeed you have, your gracious majesty. So now we can dispose of the children.’

  Sevris scowled, still angry that the wizard could doubt him like that but not daring make any more protests. ‘It’s a pity Nezrim has already left for his castle. We could have told him to kill the boy.’

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  ‘We can send one of my messengers after him,’ the wizard said. ‘And anyway, Nezrim will find the scabbard missing when he returns. It’s always the first thing he checks. That should make him rather anxious to find the lad, don’t you think?’

  Sevris smiled and relaxed a little. ‘Yes. And Nezrim can be very efficient when his own safety is at stake. But you’ll keep an eye on the magic side of things as well?’

  ‘Of course.’

  With that Sevris tried to be content. But he couldn’t help feeling anxious. After all, Pavros had been defeated once. No, what was he thinking of? That was in the old days, when Ronan had been helped by a group of magicians. There were no other magicians in Azaray now. He and Pavros had made sure of that.

  There were only three children working against him. He didn’t need to fear them!

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  13 INTO TH
E STORM

  Lord Nezrim rode up to his castle, pleased to see that all was in order, with the gates closed and men at watch on the ramparts above them.

  ‘Lord Nezrim has returned!’ a voice called and the gates began to open with the usual clanking of chains.

  ‘Let’s wake up that lanky fool and set him a few tasks that’ll keep him busy for the rest of the night,’

  Garrill suggested with a sneering smile.

  ‘You think too much about tormenting Ronan and not enough about practising your own fighting skills,’ Nezrim grumbled. ‘He’s not worth it.’

  ‘I don’t know how you got a son like that,’ Garrill scowled at his father. ‘He’s not like anyone else in the family. He’s a changeling.’

  Nezrim said nothing. One day soon he would tell his son the truth and allow Garrill to kill King Ronan’s heir. He didn’t know why Pavros had wanted to keep the brats alive, but you didn’t argue with a wizard as powerful as that when he insisted on something. At least today Pavros had admitted it was almost time to put an end to the threat the three children posed.

  Nezrim rode into the courtyard, slipped down from his horse and tossed the reins to one of his men. He strode towards the wooden ramp that led up to the first-floor entrance to the castle itself and inside the Great Hall, where he found sleepy-eyed servitors hastily lighting lamps and blowing up the embers into a blazing fire, for it was a cool night.

  ‘Hurry and fetch us some mulled ale!’ Nezrim ordered. ‘It’s chilly work riding through the night.’ He looked round and frowned. ‘Where’s Ronan! The lazy young devil should be here by now. Someone go and fetch him at once.’

  Two of the servitors shuffled their feet and looked at one another.

  ‘Well, what is it?’

  ‘We knew you’d want him waiting for you, so I’ve already been up to fetch him, but he wasn’t in his room, lord,’ one mumbled. ‘In fact, I couldn’t find him anywhere.’

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  Nezrim stilled. ‘I like this not.’ He turned on the servitors. ‘Go and search the whole castle for him, you dolts. And quickly. He’ll be soundly beaten for not doing his duty—as will you if you don’t find him.’

  They bowed and rushed out.

  Garrill smiled, a nasty curve of his lips that promised trouble for Ronan. ‘Let me beat him for you this time, Father.’

  ***

  At that very moment Ronan was leading his true brother and sister through some underground passages that led from the castle cellars to the kitchens. Twice they had to pause and hide while a servitor rushed past.

  To Ronan’s dismay, when they arrived in the kitchens they found lamps had been lit and torches flaring in the passageways nearby. A scullion was pumping the bellows to get the cooking fires burning more brightly.

  The chief cook arrived just then and stopped short as he saw Ronan standing at the rear of the room.

  ‘So there you are, you lazy young pup! Come to steal some more food, have you? Well, your father is back and calling for you, so you’d better run and see what he wants.’

  He narrowed his eyes as he studied the two youngsters standing behind Ronan. ‘Who are these?’

  Kerril and Shayla, who had been trying to remain in the shadows, froze.

  ‘They’re just a couple of friends of mine,’ Ronan said, trying to sound casual.

  The cook took another step towards them, scowling. ‘There are no other children of that age in the castle. So who are they and where have they come from?’

  ‘None of your business.’ Ronan began to lead the way through the rear of the kitchens—going in the opposite direction to the Great Hall of the castle, where his supposed father was waiting for him.

  Since the cook knew his life would be worth little if he let Ronan and the strangers leave, he moved quickly across the room to bar their way, snatching up his big cleaver and brandishing it at them. ‘Stay where you are, all of you! You, go and fetch the Sergeant at Arms!’

  A scullion slipped out.

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  Ronan drew his sword, feeling anger rise in him. He was sick and tired of everyone treating him so scornfully. ‘Get out of my way!’ he ordered, lifting the sword to a ready position.

  The cook laughed. ‘What? Should I be frightened of a boy who waves a sword he doesn’t even know how to use? And where did you get that sword from anyway? You’re not your brother, you know. You’ve had no training with arms.’ He brandished the cleaver with even more confidence. ‘Now stand still, all three of you, or I may slice off a finger or two!’

  Instead Ronan leaped forward without warning, using his sword at the same time. He beat the cleaver sideways, knocking it out of his opponent’s hand, then thumped the cook’s head with the sword hilt, moving with a rapidity and certainty of purpose that amazed Kerril.

  Another scullion was creeping round the side of them, so Shayla picked up a chunk of firewood and swung it at him, making him dodge back. Following her example, Kerril picked up another piece of wood to use as a weapon.

  The cook crumpled to the ground, stunned, not moving.

  Ronan snapped, ‘Follow me!’ and moved toward the other scullions, sweeping his sword from side to side. ‘Anyone else wish to challenge me?’ he demanded loudly.

  They all backed away.

  Ronan moved on, not looking behind him, trusting that Shayla and Kerril would call out if they were in trouble. He fumbled with the bolt of the side door, shooting a glance towards the group of scullions and breathing a sigh of relief as the piece of round metal slid back smoothly. Then he turned the key in the lock and removed it.

  Another quick glance behind as he opened the door showed Shayla and Kerril still holding their pieces of wood like weapons. Across the room, two scullions were keeping watch on them while another was helping the cook to his feet.

  ‘Quickly!’ Ronan whispered and pushed the other two through the door, before locking it from the other side and pocketing the key. ‘That’ll hold them for a while.’

  The doorway was cut through the thick stone outer walls and led to a narrow path at the rear of the castle. It wasn’t considered necessary to guard things as carefully on this side, since the path led only to THE MAGIC SWORD Shannah Jay 64

  the cliff top. Those who worked in the kitchen used the area to get a breath of fresh air after the heat indoors or simply to enjoy the sunshine—especially when Lord Nezrim was away.

  ‘We need to hurry now!’ Ronan ordered as soon as they were outside the castle walls. ‘Run as fast as you can!’ He set off running up the hill.

  Shayla and Kerril followed him, but were not as fit as he was and couldn’t keep up. When he realized they were falling behind, he had to slow down.

  As Kerril puffed up the hill more slowly than the others, the older boy groaned. Someone was pounding up the hill after them now, someone far fitter than his brother and sister, and that someone was fast catching up with them. ‘Garrill,’ he muttered. ‘It would be him!’ Then he raised his voice. ‘Come on, you two! Let’s get as near the rock as we can before I try to fight him off.’

  Kerril somehow found the strength to make an extra effort and they were almost at the Touchpoint when Garrill caught up with them. He had run so fast in his eagerness to beat his disobedient younger brother that he was well ahead of the other pursuers.

  He drew his sword with a flourish, taunting Ronan as he did so. ‘Now I’m going to give you a lesson you won’t forget, you stupid brat!’ he shouted. ‘Turn and fight, or are you just wearing that sword to make you look good? And where did you get it from anyway?’

  Ronan whipped his sword out of the scabbard again and leaped forward to challenge the person he had called brother, the person who had made his life a misery for as long as he could remember. What had worked with the cook, didn’t work with a trained fighter, however.

  With a laugh, Garrill parried the hasty blow and countered with some mighty blows of his own, his expression of confid
ence changing to one of shock as Ronan managed to beat off this attack.

  ‘Where have you learned to fight?’ Garrill panted. ‘Who trained you?’

  ‘I’ve watched the men train and then practised on my own.’ Ronan deliberately tried to appear clumsy and unused to weapons. He didn’t want Tevis to be blamed and punished for this.

  Garrill laughed and thrust hard, making Ronan leap out of the way. ‘Well, this time, I’m going to enjoy teaching you a real lesson in swordsmanship!’ He landed a glancing blow on Ronan’s wrist. ‘Oh dear, are you bleeding? Poor little boy! Well, you’ll bleed more before I’m finished with you, I promise you.’

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  Kerril edged closer to Shayla. ‘There are some other men coming up the hill and there isn’t time for Ronan to fight this fellow, so I’m going to thump him.’ Even as he was speaking, he kept watch for an opportunity and when it presented, darted forward to hit Garrill as hard as he could on the back of the neck with the big chunk of firewood he was still carrying.

  Garrill sank to the ground groaning and for a moment, Ronan stared down at him in frustration. He had wanted to beat Garrill in fair fight. He scowled at Kerril. ‘Why did you do that? I was able to handle him.’

  ‘There are some other men coming up the hill.’

  Only then did Ronan see them.

  ‘Come on!’ Shayla urged, tugging at his sleeve. ‘Or they’ll catch us.’

  They ran a few more paces up the hill and stopped on the black rock itself.

  ‘Hallie! We’re in trouble. Take us to Shayla’s world quickly!’ Ronan called out, but he held his sword ready to defend them, just in case.

  For a moment nothing happened and their pursuers got close enough for Ronan to see Lord Nezrim’s shocked expression as he saw the three of them standing there together in the moonlight.