Sword of Betrayal

by Robert Evert

  Silently bidding the three skeletons to rest in peace, Edris crawled through the tunnel and into the brilliant afternoon sun.

  Thirty-Three

  Dripping wet and covered in mud, Edris scrambled to the ridge along which he’d been riding. The first thing he noticed when he turned the blind corner was that there were two horses waiting, not one. The second was Markus pointing a sword at his chest.

  “Fatty Eddie!” Markus drew closer. “How’s your head?”

  “Still ringing.”

  “Yes, well, sorry about that, little cousin. But you needed to learn a valuable lesson. Did you learn it?”

  Edris gritted his teeth. He wanted to say something biting, but he was at a disadvantage and the gleam in Markus’s eye warned him not to be cheeky. He nodded.

  “Good. Now—” Markus noted Edris’s muddy clothes. “What are you doing here?”

  Edris decided not to lie, but not to tell the complete truth either. “I found Raaf.”

  “Where?” Markus demanded eagerly.

  Edris inclined his head down the hill. “There’s a stream that leads to a cave. He’s in there with his two bodyguards.”

  “And the sword?”

  “It’s gone.”

  Markus smiled knowingly. “Of course, it is.”

  He signaled for Edris to part his cloak. Edris showed him his empty scabbard.

  “Bend your legs,” Markus said.

  Edris brought his knees up and patted his pant legs.

  “Where’s your pack?”

  “It’s on my horse.”

  Markus rifled through it, chucking clothes and books to the leaf-strewn ground.

  “Damn it!” he said. “It wasn’t with the body?”

  “No. Another adventurer must’ve gotten there first.”

  “Another adventurer,” Markus repeated angrily.

  “There were tracks in the mud,” Edris went on, trying to add plausible details. “So, it must have been recently.”

  Markus’s lips twitched. “Show me.”

  “I’ve already told you where it is. I’m not crawling in a cave with you. And I sure as hell am not going to crawl into one with you standing outside.”

  “You catch on quickly.”

  “You nearly killed me. I’m serious, I still can’t see straight at times.”

  “You had to learn, Eddie. You don’t put women before blood.”

  Keeping his back away from Markus, Edris began picking up his clothes and shoving them into his pack. “I’m taking my horse and leaving.”

  “Where you are going?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “It’s by a stream?” Markus surveyed the hillside.

  “The stream comes out of a fissure. You’ll find the bodies about fifty yards inside. Raaf is laid out as if for burial. Hands folded over his chest. Pillow under his head. There’s no sword.” Edris added sarcastically, “Do you want me to wait outside the cave while you crawl in?”

  “That won’t be necessary. Take your horse and ride away, Eddie. Go wherever you want. But if I find you skulking around these hills again…”

  “Understood.” Edris mounted his horse, praying that the hidden hilt wouldn’t fall free.

  “And Fatty Eddie,” Markus said cheerfully.

  “What?”

  “See you in the spring.”

  Thirty-Four

  For the better part of a month, Edris rode with no destination in mind. He took random paths and stayed at whatever villages or towns he came across, keeping to himself as much as possible. Eventually, he knew he had to make a decision.

  “See you in the spring,” Markus had said, gloating.

  Edris didn’t know what he was going to do in the spring, but he knew what he wasn’t going to do. If he became a kingsman, he’d be at the mercy of both Kriton and Markus. It would be five years of absolute living hell. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Then there was the issue of his father.

  Would his father disown him for not killing Markus?

  Maybe…

  Probably…

  He’d be out on his own. True, he could turn the sword in for a thousand gold pieces; but even that would be eventually spent. He needed a career. Something that could provide him with a decent living. Something that he would be good at.

  That left only one option…

  Thirty-Five

  Edris paced outside King Michael’s receiving hall, the corridor once again crowded with waiting petitioners. As he roamed about, he went over his plan, reflecting on each word he’d say and how he’d respond if the king knew of his altercation with his son.

  The gilded double doors swung open.

  “Edris, son of Lord Elros,” the door warden announced regally.

  Edris entered the hall teeming with government officials and bodyguards.

  “Eddie!” the king said, looking up from his massive oak desk. He resumed reading a paper, made a comment to a secretary standing next to him, and then motioned for the secretary to leave. The king stood and offered a hand. Edris shook it. “How are you? If I remember correctly, you’re a couple months early for your enlistment. Here to borrow more books?”

  “No, sir. I was wondering if I might be able to speak with you alone. It’ll only take two minutes.”

  “Two minutes?” The king laughed. “It never takes only two minutes.”

  “It’s concerning Markus and the latest quest.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard.” The king sighed. “Sounds like the Sword of Betrayal will never be found. Shame. I know Markus really wanted to win that one.”

  Edris leaned closer and said quietly, “I can make sure he does.”

  Puzzled, the king waved for the men around him to stop talking.

  “Are you implying something, Eddie?” The brightness in his eyes showed that he thought he understood what Edris was offering.

  Edris held the king’s gaze. “Just that I might be able to help Markus. For certain…compensation.”

  “Everybody out!” His Majesty shouted. “Give me two minutes with Lord Elros’s son. Out!” People filed from the hall. “And somebody go fetch Markus. I want him here, too.”

  The thought of seeing Markus again didn’t please Edris, but he thought he knew how Markus would view his offer.

  The king studied him.

  “Do you know where the sword is?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want there to be any ambiguity on this point. Did you see it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you are sure—absolutely sure —it’s Raaf’s sword?”

  “It has a gem-encrusted hilt.”

  “What kind of stones?”

  “Diamonds. Small white diamonds all along the handguard.”

  The king sat in his chair, not sure how to proceed.

  “There’s the emblem of Hillshire on the pommel,” Edris went on. “Three hills with the middle one crowned. Little lines radiate out from the crown like it was the sun.”

  “I always thought that was a rather pretentious touch.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The king regarded him. “You have the sword?”

  “I can get it.”

  The king nodded, as if realizing the large man in front of him was no longer a naïve child. “You want the thousand gold in exchange for the sword?”

  “No, sir.”

  The door to the receiving hall popped opened. In strode Markus.

  “Did you send for me, Father?” He saw Edris and stopped, his expression turning gleeful. “Well, Fatty Eddie! What are you doing here? Is it spring already? I believe there’s some horse shit that needs to be carried out of the stable yard and you’re the dreg to—”

  Edris tipped his scabbard over. A broken blade clattered onto the king’s desk. The king and Markus stared at it.

  “If you look closely at the blood gutter,” Edris said, pointing to the divot along the blade’s middle, “you’ll see runes. They name
everybody who has ever borne this sword, starting with Rolf the Third and ending with Raaf.”

  “Where did you find it?” Markus cried.

  “In the cave.”

  Markus cursed. “Damn! I knew I should’ve searched you.”

  “What about the hilt?” the king asked. “There can’t be two winners.”

  “I can get the hilt, sir,” Edris answered.

  “You have that as well?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But you didn’t bring it here?”

  “No, sir,” Edris said, attempting to sound respectful. “I thought it would be best if I didn’t.”

  “I’ll give you a thousand gold, Eddie!” Markus said. “Think of what you could do with all that money!”

  “He says he doesn’t want the reward,” the king replied skeptically.

  “Two thousand,” Markus said, louder. “I want that sword. You’re not turning it in and getting credit for the win. The victory is mine!”

  “I don’t want credit, either,” Edris said.

  “Then what exactly do you want?” the king asked.

  “I want to be knighted.”

  “Knighted?” the king scoffed. “You’re fifteen!”

  “Soon to be sixteen.”

  “Eddie,” the king said politely. “You’re too young. Select some other form of compensation. I believe we could go as high as two-thousand, five hundred gold.”

  “I don’t want the money,” Edris said. “And I won’t be a kingsman. I want to be a knight.”

  His Majesty shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Is this about what happened between you and Kriton? Trust me, I can smooth that over. Do your time with distinction and I promise—”

  “I won’t be a kingsman,” Edris repeated firmer. He adjusted his tone. “Sir.”

  The king tossed his hands into the air. “Then take the money. We can give you three thousand gold coins. Take it and go be whatever you like.”

  “I want to be a knight.”

  “So, I can see! But this isn’t the way to do it. Only people who have performed extraordinary service become knighted. Now, after a few years in the company, I can guarantee you—”

  “He saved my life,” Markus said. “I almost fell off a cliff.”

  The king turned to his son. “You told me you saved him.”

  Markus flashed a childish grin.

  “I see.” The king took a deep breath. “The sword for a knighthood? Is that’s what we’re talking about here?”

  “I believe I’ve earned it,” Edris said.

  “He has, Father. I’m not exaggerating when I said he saved my life. I was dangling hundreds of feet over the Dean River. If it weren’t for him, you’d be wondering when I’d return home.”

  The king rapped his knuckles on the table, thinking.

  “You realize, Ed, you will become the youngest knight in the kingdom. Possibly in all the kingdoms. In fact, I can’t recall there ever being a fifteen-year-old knight in all of history.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The king raised an eyebrow. “Trying to make your father proud?”

  “And my mother.”

  This hit the king as Edris had intended.

  “Yes, well,” he said awkwardly. “She would’ve been proud of you regardless. My sister was an exceptional woman.” He considered Edris again. “The sword for a knighthood?”

  “And everybody believes Markus found it.”

  “Father—” Markus said.

  The king held up a hand, then nodded. “Bring us the hilt, and you shall have your knighthood.”

  This brought Edris to the tricky part of the negotiation. “I would prefer,” he said as graciously as he could, “to have the declaration first.”

  The corner of the king’s mouth lifted slightly. “Don’t trust me?”

  Edris thought for a long moment, trying to find a better way of answering. In the end, he simply said, “No.”

  If he took this as a personal slight, His Majesty didn’t show it.

  “As you wish. The official reason will be because you saved my son’s life in a remarkably valiant manner, risking all to save him. I expect you will not divulge your role in the completion of this quest.”

  “I won’t, sir.”

  “Nobody knows you found the sword?”

  “Nobody, sir.” Edris slid a glance at Markus. “I wasn’t in the position to retain the sword should I’ve been challenged.”

  “Very well,” the king said. “We’ll have the ceremony this evening, if that suits your schedule.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  His Majesty gestured for Edris to leave. Edris bowed and retreated toward the door.

  “Edris,” the king called. Edris stopped. “How did you find the sword, by the way?”

  Not wanting the king to know he had been actively searching, Edris hesitated. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, sir.”

  “Try me.”

  “I got off my horse to relieve myself,” Edris lied. “The slope was rather steep, and I slipped. I slid down the hill, stopping a few feet from a small cave.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “I checked inside.”

  The king and Markus howled with laughter.

  “That’s how you found it?” Markus asked. “You’re kidding me!”

  “It was beginner’s luck.”

  “Evidently!”

  Edris bowed and made for the door.

  “One more thing, Sir Edris,” His Majesty said. “Out of curiosity, what do you plan on doing with your life now that you’re a knight?”

  Edris smiled and opened the door. “I plan on adventuring.” He winked at Markus.

  “Go ahead!” Markus laughed. “You won’t always be so lucky. Falling down a slope while urinating? I wish I could tell everybody. Good luck on the next quest, Fatty Eddie. You’re going to need it!”

  “That’s Sir Edris, Markus. And good luck to you.”

  Thirty-Six

  Edris sat in his father’s private office, staring at the mound of documents waiting for the lord’s consideration. He wondered how his father was going to react to what he had to say. Then he realized it didn’t matter. He’d made his decision—nothing could change it now.

  The door flew open as the Lord of Bend stomped in. Sitting at his desk, he tore open an envelope, extracted the enclosed letter, and began reading.

  “Father.”

  Lord Elros looked up abruptly. “Edris.” He regarded the closed door, then his son. He leaned forward. “Have you…completed your mission?”

  “Yes.”

  The lord gaped. “To my satisfaction?”

  “To mine.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Edris didn’t answer.

  His father slammed the letter onto a pile. “Couldn’t bring yourself to do it, could you? Couldn’t do one simple thing? I knew you were weak. I knew you’d disappoint me. Honestly, I have gardeners with more loyalty than you. You’re nothing but a miserable pile of—”

  Edris slid the king’s decree across the cluttered desk.

  “What’s this?” Lord Elros asked, disgusted.

  Edris watched his father’s eyes dart indignantly across the page. Then they stopped.

  “He knighted you?” his father said, stunned. “Why would he knight you?”

  “The official reason was that I saved Markus’s life.”

  “And the real reason?”

  “I found the sword.”

  “And you gave it to Markus?” Lord Elros flung the king’s degree back at him. “For what? A lousy scrap of paper? Damn it, boy, you should’ve—!”

  “For being the youngest knight in history,” Edris replied sharply.

  Lord Elros’s fury wavered, whether because of his uncharacteristic insolence or because he’d achieved some degree of notoriety, Edris couldn’t tell.

  “You found the sword?” his father asked doubtfully. “How?”

  “I told the king it was luck.”

 
“But?”

  There was a knock on the study door.

  “Go away!” Lord Elros shouted. “I’m busy!”

  Footsteps scurried away.

  “How?” Lord Elros repeated forcefully.

  “I found a clue in Raaf’s diary. He liked to ride in the pinewoods near Strombath. I realized the pinewoods were no longer there.”

  “Nonsense! I’ve been to Strombath. I’ve seen those pinewoods. I’ve ridden there many times.”

  “They weren’t there in Raaf’s day. And the original woods were harvested for lumber.”

  His father seemed to understand. “So, everybody else was looking in the wrong place.”

  The room fell quiet for a long moment—the Lord of Bend rereading the king’s proclamation, a contemplative expression growing on his face, Edris peering blankly at a portrait of his mother.

  “I should’ve listened to you,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “I should’ve killed him.” Edris’s voice cracked. “I had the perfect opportunity. Hell, I had hundreds of them. I could’ve slit his throat while he slept, and nobody would ever have found his body, or suspected me.”

  Lord Elros pointed to the jagged scar over his son’s left eye. “What happened?”

  “He beat me with a rock. Then left me for dead.”

  The corner of his father’s lips trembled. Getting up, he came to the front of his desk. “You listen to me,” he said. “You were smart not to tell the king how you found the sword. They’ll think you’re lucky and underestimate what you can do. Use that against them. Lull Markus into a false sense of security. Make him think you’re afraid of him because he’s the king’s son. Then, when you have an opportunity—show him no mercy. You understand me? Make him suffer.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. And I’ll bury his body somewhere nobody will ever find it.”

  “Good.” Lord Elros patted his son’s knee. “You’re learning.”

  Edris stood, towering over his father. “With your permission, sir, I’m going to fell some trees.”

  “You do that. Then maybe this evening, we could practice your sword work. I’m not as skilled as Markus, but I might be able to teach you a few things.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Edris made for the door.

  “Edris,” his father said. “I’m proud of you.”