by Rachel James
Niall crouched down and ran his hands along the stone. “At the sixth hour darkness covered the earth…” He turned and stared at the sword, now in perfect alignment with the cross monument, and in the centre of where the two rivers collided. “And at the ninth hour, when Jesus became sin, his light broke through…in the midst of our darkness, our sin.”
Alys blinked as the sun shone through the blue jewel within the pommel creating a beam of light, shining directly on the stone. Her sword made the third cross.
Niall moved his hands over to where the light landed on the large base. “I didn’t notice this before, but this part of the stone is not the same as the rest.” He pressed more firmly, and his voice grew in excitement. “There is a slot where the rocks join.” He reached in and turned it.
Alys clambered out of the water. “What has it done?”
Niall shook his head. “I don’t know.”
She looked to where his hand rested, and she furrowed her brow. The slot was a similar width to the sword’s handle. “I wonder...” she tentatively pushed the hilt inside the gap and stopped as soon as the stone disappeared. Suddenly, part of the rock swivelled, and there, within the foot of the cross monument, lay the most beautiful breastplate. With shaking hands, she pulled. It was the colour of silver, as strong as bronze and light as iron. Its shape was built for a woman. Would it fit her? Was her mother even the same size?
Niall went to help her put the plate on, but Cabal got there first. She raised her arms as the pieces slid on. Its rigid form would take a little getting used to.
“Fits as if it were made for you,” said Niall.
She stared in the water’s reflection. It did indeed. And matched the colour of her sword. Her belt fitted snugly beneath, supporting the structure and taking some of the weight. “It is much lighter than expected.”
They rested for a while, while Cabal cooked the one fish she caught, and they sampled a little of the bread and cheese from Niall.
She rubbed the breastplate in awe. There was no inscription, only the Rivalyn emblem and a symbol of a dove. “What do you think it means?”
“I know not. Peace, mayhap? It could point to the shoes of peace.”
“You know where we’re to go from here?”
Niall pulled out his map and pointed to their place in the Great Forest. “The next part of the Scripture talks about the shoes of peace. I can only think this refers to the monastery. I do believe this river takes us to the mountain.”
Chapter Nine
Alys sharpened her sword by the light of the campfire. “A true blade wields peace and saves with faith,” she said under her breath. Was that her mother’s motto? “A blade that brings peace. A blade that saves.” What a contradiction.
Niall put another piece of wood on the fire and stared into its embers. “You are thinking too literally. If the blade represents the sword of the spirit, it refers to the word of God that brings peace. It is Christ who saves us.”
“But a blade brings death, it holds the power to destroy.”
Niall turned his head. “You’re wrong. The power is choosing when to use it. Someone may deserve to die by the sword, you have the choice to give the ultimate punishment, or show mercy and save their life.”
She rubbed her weary eyes. “’Tis such a responsibility. I’m not sure I’m ready for it.”
“To wield the sword, or claim your crown?”
She sighed. “Calipher once told me, that a leader will be held accountable for their actions on the day of judgement.”
“’Tis true for everyone, but aye, leaders will be subject to a greater measure.”
Alys sat up and removed the heavy piece of armour off her chest, the absence of its weight strange. “I fear I will fail.”
Niall smiled. “We’ve all failed, but you’ll not be able to bear your mother’s armour in your own strength.”
She shook her hair loose—the braid pulling tightly on her scalp. “All this talk of armour, these hidden meanings and symbols, and truth. Truth? What truth? It feels deceptive to me. Why couldn’t my mother just say, here you go, Alys—do not wield your weapon unless you’re ready?”
Cabal massaged his shoulder and stretched out his legs. “I agree. Why scatter her armour to the four corners of the kingdom? I mean, what was she thinking? Anyone could get hold of it. She could have given it directly to the enemy. There’s a fundamental flaw here, I can tell you.”
Niall sipped his drink and glanced across at them. “You mistake deception, with mystery. God only reveals his mysteries to those who seek and obey Him. Your quest to find the sword is as much about obedience and faithfulness as it is to find a greater power.”
“But look at what happened to my mother. Will that happen to me too?”
Niall shook his head. “Aloedia put herself in the line of danger, to protect you. Her legacy was more important to her than her life, after all, she knew where she’d be spending eternity. Life here on earth is but a glimpse in comparison.”
“Aye, well, ’tis but a small comfort.” Using her fur cloak to sleep on, she lay down and looked up at the stars. Other than the annoyance of crawling insects, the onslaught of irregular weather, and the severe cold, sleeping outside was the best thing she had ever done. She listened to the sound of the night owl, and the chirping crickets. Mayhap she only felt safe because she had her two soldiers beside her. It would be an entirely different notion if she were on her own. She fidgeted her body until she was more comfortable. Admittedly, a feather bed certainly held an appeal. She shut her eyes. Tomorrow they would climb the mountain to the monastery. Calipher had been raised there. She thought about him, and her mother and father, still waiting for her in the hideout. How did they fare? And where were the Shieldoks? They’d not seen any since the forest. Mayhap the Wealdfolk had slain them all.
So many questions. So few answers.
The rain was torrential, making the muddy path difficult to walk upon. Niall skidded more than once, and Cabal slid all over, much to Alys’s amusement.
“Would you like to take a break and wait for this weather to pass over?” he shouted across to Alys.
She wiped a soggy sleeve over her face and continued. “No chance. We’re soaked through as it is. I just want to reach the monastery by nightfall.”
They stopped at the foot of the mountain. Niall surveyed the multitude of steps carved out of the rock, with much trepidation. The journey to the high place was not easy. “’Tis no wonder the monks rarely venture from their seclusion, and who could blame them.”
“This can’t be the only way up,” said Alys.
Cabal shook his head. “There is a safer way, via the old road, but much longer.”
Alys placed her hand on her hip, inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Very well, let us walk with shoes of peace. Whatever that means.”
Niall laughed again and walked directly behind her. “It’s recognising that even your shoes are a weapon. Think about it. When you fought those Shieldoks back in the Great Forest, did you use your feet?”
She shrugged. “Aye. Calipher taught me to kick when in close combat.”
“Well, imagine doing that without footwear. And soldiers used to wear Caliga shoes. Heavy-duty leather with hobnails tacked in. They are as much a weapon as the sword.” He glanced at the steep climb. “We could certainly use some Caliga shoes this very moment—it would help us keep a steady footing.”
Alys paused to catch her breath. “We’ll just have to make do with our simple leather soles and careful strides.” Once more, she took the lead, and Niall and Cabal followed. “I understand the concept that the Gospel is our firm foundation. What confuses me is the connection with ‘peace’, if our shoes are a supposed to be a weapon, it is a contradiction.”
The mountain climb was fairly easy at first. But each step grew steeper and less defined the more they progressed. Alys swiped at the rain which dripped from her brow and blew a pesky hair out from her eyes. Her thighs began to ache, and her feet had tur
ned numb with cold. As they ascended further, the air became thinner, and Alys had to stop every now and again to catch her breath. Finally, they reached a half-way point, and the steps came to a natural clearing.
“Oh good,” declared Cabal, taking himself a seat. He patted the stone next to him. “Come, let’s rest while the rain has ceased.”
Alys frowned and glanced up. “But we’re so close...”
Niall took Alys’s hand and guided her firmly to Cabal. “A rest is wise, for it only gets steeper from here on out.”
As they sat, Niall looked down at the path travelled so far. He hoped they were on the right one.
Alys gasped. “Look—there is a Scripture carved in the stone.”
Niall sighed. “‘How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the gospel of peace, who bring glad tidings of good things!’ Thank you, God. I was beginning to wonder if we were on the right path after all.”
Cabal snorted. “Is that it? Aren’t we supposed to find some shoes around here somewhere?”
Alys glanced around, her body exhausted. Would her mother have left her something here?
She rested her chin on her knees. “I suppose, whether or not we succeed in this mission, we always have our salvation. We should carry that hope with us wherever we go.”
“No matter what happens to your kingdom?” asked Cabal. “Even if the Shieldoks rule?”
Niall gazed once more at their landscape. “We are first, followers of Christ. We follow the Greatest Commandment and the Great Commission. That should be our priority, even for royalty.”
“Especially for royalty,” Alys added. “You are right, pursuing the crown is important to me, but it should not be at a sacrifice to my faith.”
Niall passed the flask to Alys and Cabal. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything here. None of the guardians said there would be armour at each stage. We should journey onward. Are we ready?”
Alys stared back at the Scripture and glanced around once more. “Aye. We might find something further up, at any case.”
The monastery was simple in appearance. Plain wooden cladding, with a cross standing at the entrance. It was not large but comprised an inner courtyard, surrounded by outbuildings, with a modest eating hall, and a chapel.
Father Seamus greeted them, and Alys was shown to a simple chamber, with a meagre bed and blanket. A bucket of water placed in the corner, she assumed, would be the extent of her ‘bath’ this eventide.
She sat on the bed, exhausted. How long had it been? Too tired to do anything, even strip off her armour, her eyelids grew heavy.
The next time she opened her eyes, the room was dark, except for the small fire enlightening a corner of the chamber.
Suddenly, she was aware of someone else in the room. She sat upright, forced her weight on them to the wall, and held her blade underneath their chin.
“My-my lady, please—it’s me, Ariana.”
Alys dropped her weapon, the sword clanging noisily on the stone floor. “Merciful heavens! How—but I thought...how is it you are here?”
“’Tis your mother. Her condition worsened, and Calipher thought it best she was brought here. The monks are very good with caring for the sick. That, and it is such a holy mountain, if she is to receive healing, it surely be here.”
Alys closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You knew I’d be here?”
“Aye, you said so yourself that this is where you were heading.”
“And my father?”
She shook her head. “He headed for Castraholm.”
She screwed-up her face. “Why?”
“I do not know, my lady.”
She sat upright, sick to the stomach. Her walls were crumbling, and her family unit falling apart. “Calipher is here?”
“Aye, he tends to your mother as we speak.”
She rose abruptly. “Then I must go to her this instant.”
“Nay, I’m here to help you wash up first.” She looked her up and down and then quirked her eyebrow. “Let ourselves go a little?”
Alys relaxed at Ariana’s familiarity and shrugged. “Well, mayhap.”
Ariana helped her strip off her sodden clothing. “Where did you get—”
“I know, ’tis a lot to take in.” Alys stared at the breastplate and belt buckle placed on the bed.
Ariana frowned. “I thought you said they were just landmarks.”
“They are, but when we reached the landmarks, we also found these.”
“So where are you going next?”
Alys shook her head. “That, I do not know.” She wrinkled her forehead. “But I’m no closer to finding the Rivalyn Sword than I was when I left you.”
“And we arrived at the monastery before you did.”
Alys chewed her lip. “Well, we took a little detour.”
“For what purpose? Can’t you decipher the clues and figure out where the sword is kept? Rather than gallivanting around the countryside?”
Alys sighed. It made more sense, but this journey was all part of her mother’s plan, somehow. She had to believe in the method. “If only it were that easy.”
Ariana sponge washed Alys and helped her slip into a simple dark green tunic. “Let me tidy those locks of yours.”
Alys rested on the side of the bed and let Ariana brush her hair. Something made little sense, and she could not shake this uneasy feeling. Why hadn’t her father accompanied her mother, if she was truly so ill? A question for Calipher, though, not her maid.
Ariana soon had her looking like a noblewoman once more, and Alys followed her maid out of her chamber, down the corridor, and toward her mother’s room.
At the sight of her mother lying motionless in bed, she ran to her side immediately. “What is wrong, Mama?”
Her mother grimaced and opened her eyes, upon seeing Alys’s face. A small smile spread across her lips. “A little fatigue, ’tis all.”
Alys jerked her head toward Calipher’s and raised a questioning glance. A little fatigue? That was enough to move them from the safe confines of the mountain hideaway, down perilous river rapids and up another?
Calipher nodded to acknowledge Alys’s unsaid concerns and angled his head toward the door.
Alys sighed, kissed her mother’s cold, pale forehead, and let her rest. She followed Calipher to the courtyard. The moment they were out of earshot, she turned to him. She didn’t know where to begin. So much had happened in just a few days. Everything began to take its toll, and her eyes brimmed with tears.
Calipher tilted his head, his features softening. He placed his arms on her own and then drew her into an embrace.
“What is wrong with my mother?”
“I do not know, child. Which is why I brought her to Brother Bartholomew. She is fatigued and pale all the time, needs help to even brush her hair. She struggles to talk and swallow. There was little I could do for her in the mountain hideaway. I had limited medical supplies and here...well healing is their specialism.”
She nodded. “I-I understand. But the Shieldoks?”
Calipher grimaced as he motioned for her to sit on a bench. “They have not left Ryvilla. More troops have crossed our border and patrol the towns and villages.”
She swallowed at the thought. “What makes you think you are safe here? The Shieldoks have no respect for our religion.”
“What safer place to be than surrounded by warrior monks. You forget, child, that everything I taught you, I learned from these men. That, and the only barrier to the enemy are the high places, physically and spiritually. I have been praying non-stop since our arrival.”
Alys glimpsed Niall and Cabal go into the hall. No doubt seeking refreshment. It had been a while since they had eaten a decent meal.
“What of my father? Why did he not come?”
“He did not disclose this to me, although I suspect he cannot bear to be idle. I believe he is looking to rally our allies together.” He studied the angles of her face. “Let us eat, you always fe
el better with a full stomach.”
She smiled. Her tutor knew her only too well.
Chapter Ten
Niall bent his back until it clicked, rolled his neck and shoulders, and stretched out his arms. His bed, although more comfortable than the ground, had been hard, and he’d not slept that well all night. Had it been the pallet or something else that had played on his mind? His thoughts moved to Alys. Cabal had been stationed outside her door, and it was Niall’s turn for duty.
He dunked his head in the bucket of water and hastily dressed. He still had a little time to look around before he replaced Cabal.
The sun had just risen, and a few monks did their daily chores before prayers. Niall walked the perimeter of the building, the high location giving the monastery a clear advantage and natural fortification.
What were they doing here? The whole thing seemed like a dead end. Other than the Scripture half-way up the mountain top, no clue showed where to go next, and naught that closely resembled a shield. He needed to speak to Alys, and soon. He headed back to the sleeping quarters and cut through the courtyard. As he entered, he stopped midstride.
Alys and Calipher sparring with each other was quite a scene to behold. Alys dressed in short tunic and hose, her hair free flowing in the wind. They fought close combat, with wooden sticks, not classic swordplay, but a mixture of many techniques. She used skill to overcome her lack of size and weight. She got down low and swiftly moved to dodge Calipher’s strikes and stopped when she saw him.
“Niall,” she greeted, her cheeks flushed with exercise.
“You’re up early.”
“You too.” She took the wooden stick from Calipher and gave it to Niall.
“My lady, I—”
Calipher tapped Niall’s arm. “You’ll not break her, I assure you.” Calipher moved Niall firmly into the centre. Before he knew it, Alys came charging at him. He blocked her attack and swung round to increase their distance. He lunged at her and their weapons met. She twisted her stick and pushed his out of his grasp. The next moment he found himself on the ground, her foot weighted heavily against his throat.