The Iron Sword

by J. M. Briggs

  “Oh a while ago,” Gwenyvar replied quickly, a blush staining her cheeks. “If it bothers you-”

  “Of course not,” Arto assured her with a wide smile. “It’s wonderful that my wife and my best friend get along so well. But speaking of wives Luegáed, are you ever going to marry yourself?” He sat up and looked back Gwenyvar, noting an odd expression flash over Luegáed’s face.

  “I’m not sure,” Luegáed answered with a shrug. “We travel so much that I’m not sure I could properly provide for a family. I mean, wouldn’t it be harder to leave if you and Gwenyvar had children?” Arto barely caught his wife’s flinch in the corner of his eye, but he saw it and saw Luegáed blush and lower his gaze from them. “I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s not a concern: we’re both young and as much as my mother begs for grandchildren it can wait,” Arto said cheerfully, taking Gwenyvar’s hand. “You do have a point; it is hard enough to leave Gwenyvar, even on the long trips when I know that you’re here protecting her for me. If there were children it would be even harder.”

  “There, you see,” Luegáed announced in a forced cheerful tone. “I’m busy enough either guarding you or protecting your mother and wife. I haven’t got the time for a wife of my own.”

  “Don’t let my mother hear you say that. Once she wears Medraut down enough to consider marriages she might turn her attention to you.” He paused, tilting his head slightly in thought. “It would do him some good, of course, maybe help him calm down and relax a little. Even Morgana knows that you have to stop and breathe in the fresh air every so often.”

  “Airril is here a lot lately,” Gwenyvar agreed with a small smile. “It makes her very happy.”

  “Yes it does, he’s actually going to officially hand control of their village to his brother after the summer celebration.”

  “What?” Gwenyvar asked with wide eyes. “You didn’t tell me that?”

  “Morgana told me only two days ago,” he replied with a wide smile. “I’ve been waiting until there was a good moment. But yes, Airril will no longer be making those long trips. He’s even offering to join the main force.”

  “That would let him stay with Morgana,” Luegáed observed with a small nod.

  “And you wouldn’t have to worry about who is guarding my back when you stay to protect the village,” he couldn’t help but add. “I trust Airril completely.”

  “Not to mention he is a very pleasant man,” Gwenyvar approved. “He does make Morgana so happy. She always sulks when he’s gone.”

  “I wonder what Medraut will make of that?”

  “Who knows,” Arto replied with a shrug. “My cousin is a mystery to me sometimes.”

  “Medraut did seem very upset with the trader yesterday,” Gwenyvar observed calmly, her deft fingers continuing to work on the small reed basket. “Any idea why? He’s been very tense and short tempered lately.”

  “I’m sorry he snapped at you yesterday,” Arto apologized to her gently with a soft smile, reaching over and brushed her exposed ankle gently. “It wasn’t really you, he’s just preoccupied.”

  “Why, though?” Luegáed asked with a frown, rolling over to face them. “What’s got him so worried all of a sudden?”

  “He’s concerned about the recent traders’ attitudes towards bronze,” Arto replied with a loud sigh. “Iron is starting to take hold in the southern lands. It isn’t common yet, but it is being produced a little more there and traded in from other areas. People have heard about it and are more interested in it. I’m afraid that iron is starting to replace the demand for bronze.”

  “But-” Gwenyvar stared at him with wide eyes. “That’s our primary currency! If bronze isn’t-”

  “I know,” Arto told her calmly. “But the fact is that knowledge of iron is getting to be more common. We’ve done very well off of bronze because our lands contain the materials needed to produce it, but things are changing now. My brother in law Airril has known that for years. Medraut will adjust in time.”

  “No wonder Medraut was unhappy,” Luegáed observed with a frown. “His prestige comes from controlling most of the southern bronze trade.”

  “Exactly,” Arto agreed with a nod. “But I think he’s worrying too much; it will take time. Sure there is a little less demand for bronze and it isn’t as valuable. But three bronze axe heads still got us wine, that jet necklace, and some other things. There’s no need to panic.”

  “I suppose not, but still Arto Medraut-”

  “If you haven’t noticed my cousin worries a great deal about what people think of him. He’s always reorganizing his shelves even before I visit his roundhouse,” Arto observed with a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s silly. I hope he’ll grow out it.”

  “My father wouldn’t mind it if you worried a bit more,” Gwenyvar reminded him with a teasing smile.

  “Your father wanted you to marry me believing that I’d become a powerful lord over the islands,” Arto sighed with a shake of his head. “I love you darling, but your father is a bit too concerned with position. He and Medraut would get along.”

  “No they wouldn’t,” his wife disagreed. “They’d both be too occupied about who was considered more important.”

  A loud laugh escaped Arto as his mind provided an interesting image of his cousin and father in law glaring at each other. Gwenyvar was right of course, but it was tempting to see if he could introduce the two someday. Cailean’s position as a regional priest kept him in the northlands and Medraut rarely went too far from the village. If he did, he might miss a chance to inspect a shipment of tin or copper before it went to the smelter.

  “Still, aren’t you worried about the changes?” Luegáed asked him once he’d stopped laughing. “It will affect the isles.”

  “No,” Arto admitted. “My life, almost my entire life, has been nothing but constant change. It is natural. I worry about how the people will react to the changes, but not the changes themselves.”

  “For instance?” Luegáed pressed, a frown marring his features.

  “If we lose trade with the south then I fear that the wealthy will seek wealth by other means. War is not something we have a history of suffering in these lands. We have always fought the Sídhe, not each other, but if bronze stops having value then that may change.”

  “Unless there was someone strong enough to keep the peace,” Gwenyvar said softly.

  “I am not going to seek dominion over the isles, Gwenyvar,” Arto snapped. He didn’t mean to sound angry, but her father was too fond of having this conversation for his tastes. “No matter what you father says.”

  “He might have a point,” Luegáed remarked in a soft and cautious voice. “The leaders and priests already look to you Arto. They respect you as a warrior and a leader despite still being young. You have powerful magic and the loyalty of the two most powerful mages in the lands. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. What do they call such men in the south?”

  “They call them kings,” Gwenyvar informed him, her eyes darting between them. “They are great men according to the traders who make law and protect the people.”

  “That is not our way,” Arto reminded them as he laid out once more and stared stubbornly into the sky.

  “But things are changing,” Luegáed said in a low voice with a sigh. “I understand Arto that you would prefer to lead a quiet and peaceful life. I understand that my friend, but that is not what you were born for.”

  Arto had no words to say to his friend that he had not already said before. Merlin had said much the same thing to him as had Gwenyvar’s ambitious father Cailean. His own mother often made noises about him being too content as a guest of his cousin. She knew he’d never try to take Medraut’s place, but made no secret that she believed he could have more. Arto told himself not to be angry. They just did not understand. He loved Gwenyvar and merely wanted a happy life with her. He would have been content to have never been the Iron Soul, for his sister to have never been taken. Only Morgana seemed to un
derstand that.

  “A rider,” Luegáed remarked calmly as he nodded towards the village. “For you or for Medraut?”

  “No one comes to see Medraut,” Arto answered with a resigned sigh as he sat up.

  He reached for his shirt and pulled it on quickly. Looking towards the village he could just make out a dark horse entering the village with someone on its back. They were alone, that was rarely a good sign. It usually meant a call for help from a far off village being plagued by the Sídhe.

  Standing up, Arto smiled at Gwenyvar as she handed him Cathanáil which he strapped around his shoulder without a word. The weight of the sword settled on him, both a welcome reminder of his power to create such a thing and a bitter token that his life wasn’t his own. It was selfish and as Gwenyvar looked up at him, Arto felt a twitch of guilt knowing that he’d caused plenty of grief for his wife.

  “You stay,” he told his wife and friend. “No need to spoil your day. If it’s nothing I’ll return straight away.”

  “We’ll be behind you,” Luegáed promised with a pointed look.

  Arto smiled fully this time and nodded in resignation. Good and loyal Luegáed was never too far from him or Gwenyvar. Shaking his head, Arto moved down the slope of the hill, a faint memory of playing here with a dog when he was young tugging at his mind. He pushed the memory away as he squared his shoulders and brushed off his tunic. Arto just hoped that there was no grass in his hair just in case the rider came from someone important.

  The guards at the wooden gates of the village snapped to attention as he approached despite him waving for them not to worry. Arto barely contained his sigh as he headed into the village and scanned for signs of the rider. A dark brown horse was being led to a watering trough near his mother’s roundhouse. Arto allowed himself a small sigh before he headed up towards the roundhouse.

  Stopping just outside the door he heard a frantic voice say, “Please, I must speak with Arto! He’s the only one who can help us!”

  Arto straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath and pulled back the pelt that covered the doorway. It seemed that duty called once more and the day of rest was over.

  16

  Darkness Rising

  The darkness moved with the creature as it slinked through the alley. Alex’s eyes widened as a layer of ice appeared on the side of the large dumpster and spread over it with a creaking sound. Ice began to form in the gravel and even the light coming from behind her seemed to dim. Growling echoed off the brick walls as the Shadow took one slow step forward at a time, its footfalls shifting the gravel.

  Alex’s chest tightened. The Shadow was trying to frighten her; it was making each sound deliberately. Those red eyes were calculating as it watched her try to recover her senses. It felt like ice was creeping up her legs from the ground, locking her into place. Then the Shadow stepped into the dimming light of the street in front of Alex and she saw just how large the thing was. It reminded her far more a great bear than a man or a hound. Massive shoulders and thick front limbs with low claws put images of being ripped apart at the front of her mind.

  There was a squeak of fear behind her from Jenny and Alex jumped to the side, the sound from her roommate breaking her fearful trance. A blast of cold hit Alex in the chest, making her gasp in pain as the air was forced from her lungs. In front of her, the breath twisted into misty shapes that spun off into the night as the creature lunged at them. Alex was pulled back by Jenny so quickly that both of them stumbled. The Shadow snarled as ice radiated out from where it touched the ground. Alex watched in a mixture of horror and awe as frost began to spread onto the bricks of the buildings.

  With a sharp movement, Alex pulled at her magic and pushed it forward. The small blast of magic struck the Shadow in the chest. It shuddered but did not budge. Pulling away from Jenny, Alex dashed past the creature, allowing more magic to flow into her hands. Another blast to the side caused the creature to hiss and fix its glowing red eyes on her. The darkness of its form rippled and seemed to absorb her magic, but its attention was on her now. Alex darted back into the alley and reached into her bag with her left hand. Her fingers tightened around her dagger and she pulled it free, bringing it up in front of her.

  The creature slunk towards her, the light of the lamp dimming as it passed and the temperature dropping further. Swallowing, Alex struggled to remain calm. She needed ice to hurt this thing, which was so stupid, but she needed it now. Magic glided over her cold fingers and Alex did her best to focus on that feeling. The urge to close her eyes tickled at the back of her mind as Alex tried to remember what Nicki’s ice attacks looked like, but nothing came.

  A sudden snarl was all the warning she received; the shadow sprang forward like a great cat striking her in the torso in a flash of darkness and sharp pain. Alex hit the ground, the gravel digging into the back of her torso and arms. Her lower back throbbed, but the pain flashed away as the low growl above Alex pulled her attention back to the danger. The Shadow shifted its weight, holding down her shoulders with the weight of its body. Terror clawed at her chest: Alex could barely breathe as the creature exhaled an icy mist across her face.

  This close to the Shadow, Alex could see the swirling shades of red that made up its eyes. There was no pupil, just a socket filled with spinning colors, all reminding her of blood. The darkness of its form wasn’t simply black, but rather a shimmering void that Alex thought she might reach right through. Had she not felt its weight and seen the flash of its long teeth, she might have thought it some sort of ghost.

  There was a rush of noise, someone moving against the gravel. Above her, the Shadow paused and raised its head. A blur of brown collided with the Shadow, knocking it off of her and to the side as it shrieked. Turning her head as she sucked in a greedy breath, Alex saw the large Shadow fall against the dumpster with a metallic thud. Jenny was looming over her, a piece of short lumber clutched in her hands and breathing heavily with wide disbelieving eyes. Alex began to sit up, but the Shadow was faster. With a snarl, it was up and lunged for Jenny with a deafening roar.

  Jenny avoided one long arm reaching for her, the claws swiping her hair as she pulled back, but in her haste, she lost her footing on the now icy and slick gravel. Everything slowed down as her former roommate hit the ground with the Shadow looming over her. It roared once again and rose off of its front limbs, stretching itself up on its back legs. The darkness of its form filled the entire alley and only the slight flickering of the nearby lamp betrayed its real location. Beyond the darkness, she could hear Jenny whimpering and could hear gravel shifting as she tried to move away.

  Ice lance ice lance ice lance Alex kept repeating in her mind as she reached for her magic. Not daring to close her eyes, Alex glared at the Shadow as the small warm spark of her magic in her gut fought off the chill threatening to immobilize her. She had to make her magic take on the new form. Raising her shaking hand, Alex pushed her magic towards the Shadow and risked a glance at Jenny. Her former roommate groped at the gravel and dragged herself back across the ground from the creature just as the dark silver magic blasted forth.

  The Shadow howled, its cry echoing off the walls of the alley. Alex had to blink before she could properly see the spear of shimmering magic that was plunged into the creature’s side. A wave of despair began to well up inside of her, even as she tried to force her mind to see the shining spear of ice that she wanted. The Shadow was wailing and thrashing about, knocking into the brick wall and spinning, trying to dislodge the spear and completely ignoring Jenny.

  Then the magic spear pulsed with a soft light and the shadow creature fell to the ground. It shook as the light in the spear intensified, only for a moment and Alex stared at it, completely dumbstruck. Magic was being pulled into the spear out of the creature and in the light of the doorway lamp, Alex saw the creature begin to fade just as the spear flickered out of existence.

  Alex sighed in relief, collapsing to the side and dropping her head onto her outstretched arm. Below her, the
ice on the ground remained firm and she inhaled the chilled air, but couldn’t quite bring herself to move just yet. Alex closed her eyes for a moment, easing the painful dryness that had been setting in. Then with a soft exhale she opened them and looked down the alley towards the street where Jenny was staring at her. Alex forced a small smile and one was returned. It was a silent conversation of mutual gratitude that allowed Alex to breathe easier and start to sit up.

  Then there was a low rumble from the street and Alex sat up quickly in alarm. Beyond the edge of the alley the lights were dimming rapidly and all distant sounds of people on the main street around the corner faded away. Alex exhaled and her breath danced as mist in front of her.

  “Jenny,” Alex choked out. “There’s another one!”

  Scrambling to her feet, Jenny started to run away from the end of the alley, her eyes locked on Alex as she moved towards her. Alex twisted her body, bringing her knees under her as she fought to stand up.