Sword of Betrayal

by Robert Evert

“Very well.” The gatekeeper signaled for the portcullis to be opened, then beckoned to a row of messengers sitting on a bench by the gatehouse. Two boys ran up. He wrote a message on a piece of paper and handed it to the first boy. “Please deliver this to His Majesty’s secretary.”

  “Yes, sir!” The first boy took the message and sprinted off to the castle.

  “Bennie,” the gatekeeper said to the second boy, “please bring Sir Edris to the receiving room.”

  “Yes, sir!” Bennie bowed to Edris. “This way, sir.”

  Edris followed him even though he knew the way. Turning back toward the gate, he noticed the gatekeeper handing a note to a third boy.

  “Sir?” Bennie held open a door to the west wing of the castle.

  “Sorry.” Edris caught up to him.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” his guide asked, barely containing his excitement, “but…did you find the Sacred Scarab?”

  Edris winked at him.

  Bennie exhaled in disbelief. “Great gods! And this was your first quest, too!”

  “I got lucky.”

  “My pa says there isn’t no such thing.”

  They turned down a corridor filled with artwork.

  “My father says the same thing,” Edris said.

  They came to the royal receiving hall. Nobody was there.

  “Please wait here,” Bennie said formally. “Do you require anything, sir? Something to drink, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  The boy pointed Edris’s belt. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve been instructed to…”

  “Oh, yes.” He gave him his two swords. “I’m not used to relinquishing my weapons. I was practically raised here.”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy fumbled under their weight, trying not to drop them. He stared at the writing on one of the sword’s hilts.

  “Can you read?”

  “Not well, sir. But I’m learning.”

  “Good. You’ll never regret being smarter.” Edris pointed to the engraving. “This is my great-grandfather’s name, Lord Edward the third.” He moved his finger along the hilt. “This is my grandfather—Lord Edmund. And my father—Lord Elros.”

  “Why isn’t your name listed?”

  “To be honest,” Edris whispered, “it isn’t my sword. It’s my brother’s.”

  “Does he know you have it?”

  Edris considered making a joke, but he didn’t want to start a rumor that he’d taken his brother’s sword without permission. The last thing he needed was people continuing to think of him as a child.

  “He knows. He lent it to me.”

  “Don’t you have a sword of your own?”

  Edris smiled wryly. “Somebody stole it.”

  “Bugger!”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  He watched the boy marvel at the polished handguard.

  “Here.” Edris took the swords from the boy and slid them under his belt on either side of his waist. He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Go protect the castle.”

  The boy saluted. “Yes, sir!” He bowed. “Somebody should be along momentarily to tell you His Majesty’s wishes. I will bring your swords to the gatekeeper. I’ll make sure nobody touches them.”

  Edris sat on one of the long marble benches lining the hall. “Thank you.”

  “And sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Congratulations!”

  Edris winked at him again. “Thanks.”

  The boy marched out of the hall, the two longswords banging behind him. He closed the gilded doors with an unsettling thump.

  Unable to remain seated, Edris got to his feet and paced the hall, the rhythmic thud of his anxious strides echoing in the frescoed ceiling high overhead.

  He’d been in this chamber many times, but in the dim evening light, the shadows behind the sculpted pillars unnerved him. He pulled the Sacred Scarab out of his pocket to make sure it was still there.

  His first win…

  Actually, it was his second win.

  Two wins…

  He couldn’t help but smile. Being an adventurer was frustrating as hell at times, but when he found his quarry—there wasn’t a better feeling in the world.

  The far door flew opened. But the figure barging in wasn’t the king; it was Markus.

  Edris thrust the scarab into his pocket and felt for his missing weapons.

  Markus leveled his sword at him. “Give me the statue, Eddie.”

  “You won’t kill me, Markus. Not here. You’d be hanged. In fact, drawing a sword in this chamber is a capital offense.”

  Markus put the sword point to Edris’s chest. “I’m the son of the king, remember? Rules don’t apply to me.”

  “You always were spoiled.” Edris glanced at the still-open door, hoping somebody else would enter.

  “Give me the statue right now.”

  “You’re not getting it, Markus. Two people have already tried to take it from me and failed. It’s mine.”

  “I’ll give you a thousand gold.”

  “The prize is more than that.”

  “Two thousand.”

  “You’re not getting it.”

  Markus tightened his grip around the sword’s hilt. “Hand it over, Edris!”

  “No.”

  “I need it! With that statue, I’ll be closer to being one of the greatest adventurers of all time.”

  “Not if you buy your wins.”

  “Nobody will ever know.”

  “They will after I tell them.”

  Markus snarled. “I’ll kill you if you do.”

  “Only if you catch me sleeping.” Edris exhaled contemptuously. “I used to look up to you, Markus. I was so proud that we had an adventurer in the family. Then I realized you were nothing but a gutless coward.”

  Markus’s hands shook. “You bastard. Give me the damned statue.”

  “Why don’t you kill me, Markus? You better hurry. I hear somebody coming.”

  Markus glanced toward the hallway. As he did so, Edris knocked the sword away and slammed a fist into his jaw.

  Markus fell sprawling to the floor, his sword clattering next to him. He immediately scrambled to grab it, but Edris stepped on the blade. He pulled up on the hilt.

  “Stop it!” Markus said, blood trickling from his mouth. “You’ll break it!”

  The blade bent, then snapped a foot above the handguard. Edris handed the hilt to his prostrate cousin.

  “That was my father’s sword!” Markus said.

  Edris took the gem-encrusted handguard back. “Then I’ll give it to him myself.”

  His face burning scarlet, Markus leapt to his feet. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “You need to learn a lesson,” Edris said, retrieving the broken blade. “Isn’t that what you told me after you bashed my skull in with a rock?”

  “You had that coming. Putting a whore before family.”

  Edris punched Markus in the stomach. Markus doubled over, spitting a spray of blood onto the polished marble floor. Edris cocked his arm, about to drive a hard uppercut into Markus’s exposed face—but he shoved his cousin away in disgust instead.

  “You’re pathetic,” Edris told him. “Look at you. You’re probably about to cry!”

  “I’m going to kill you,” Markus said, gasping. “I’m the son of your king. Do you know how miserable I’m going to make your life?”

  “As long as I don’t buy my fame, I’ll still consider myself a man.”

  Markus glowered at him.

  Footsteps echoed toward them. Markus shot a terrified glance up the corridor.

  “Give me that statue.”

  “No.”

  “Give me my sword.”

  As he’d done with the Sword of Betrayal, Edris slid the broken blade into one of his empty sheaths and tucked the bejeweled handguard under his belt behind his back. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself. “Not on your life.”

  The footsteps drew closer.

  Markus straig
htened as best as he could, still clutching his stomach. “You’ll regret this, Edris.”

  With that, he dashed to the far door, disappearing behind it right as King Michael came into view, grinning.

  “Sir Edris!” he called, entering the receiving hall.

  Edris bowed. “Your Majesty.”

  “I’m guessing you have something for me?”

  “I do.” With another bow, he presented the king with the Sacred Scarab.

  “Is this it? It’s such a small thing. I was expecting it to be much bigger. How on earth did you find it?”

  “Unfortunately, there isn’t much of a tale. I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

  “Nonsense. I’m sure it took some doing. Come with me. Mariam was hoping to see you again. You can tell us all about your exploits in one telling.” Edris followed the king. “And we must find Markus. He’s going to be positively green with envy!”

  PART THREE

  Fifty-Six

  Muted morning sunlight slipped between the curtains as Edris stroked Beatrice’s blonde hair. Next to her bed, a beautiful new silk dress lay discarded on the floor.

  “You must be really proud,” she said, her finger caressing his muscular chest.

  “You know,” he said, “I am.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Growing up, I was never allowed to feel proud about anything. My father would always point out that I could’ve done better.”

  “He’s proud, too.”

  “Maybe.”

  “He is!”

  Edris snorted skeptically.

  Beatrice propped herself on an elbow. “When word came that you won, he had heralds march through the streets announcing your victory! There were musicians playing all night. Ed…he went into all the taverns, buying people drinks. I heard there were tears in his eyes!”

  Edris pulled her to him. They kissed.

  “You made that up,” he said.

  “Only that last part.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay!” she admitted. “He didn’t buy people drinks…and there weren’t any bands. But he did send heralds through the town square! I swear!”

  “Sure, he did.”

  She stroked his chest some more. “He’s proud. You know that, right?”

  Edris put his hands behind his head, enjoying being next to her.

  “I’m sure he is…for now.”

  For several moments, they lay in silence, then Beatrice giggled.

  “Two wins in a row!” she squealed. “How can you not be ecstatic?”

  “Yes, well, let’s keep that first one to ourselves.”

  “You’re not going to tell anybody?”

  Would he tell people? He’d already told his father and brothers, and Bea and Brago. Somehow, though, telling anybody else seemed dangerous.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t mind taunting Markus when we’re alone, but I don’t want to get on the king’s bad side. Our deal was a knighthood for the sword. I don’t think he’d be pleased if I told people Markus didn’t find it.”

  Beatrice’s tone cooled. “Let’s not talk about him.”

  Edris kissed the top of her head. “Sorry. But if it’s any consolation, I’m sure he’s sitting in a tavern somewhere, brooding over a pitcher of beer, wondering how the hell his fat little cousin found two quest items in a row.”

  “It’s not any consolation. If he comes here—”

  “He won’t. Believe me. He’s going to stay clear of me for a while.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then we’ll see.”

  “Ed…”

  “Bea,” Edris said, frustrated that the contentment he’d felt was slipping into annoyance. “He’s a coward. He won’t do anything. I know too much that’ll hurt him.”

  “Exactly! Do you really think he’ll let you lord that over him?”

  Edris kissed her. “Don’t worry.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. What if he comes here while you’re gone?”

  “When I’m gone, we’ll both be questing. He won’t give up a quest just to come here and bother you. Questing is too important to him.” Edris examined the book of poetry on her nightstand. “This new? I haven’t seen this one.”

  “Brago got it for me. And don’t change the subject.” She sat up. “Ed, I’m serious. What if he comes to Bend and you’re not around? Last time he was too drunk to do anything other than tear my clothes. What if he’s sober next time? He’s the king’s son!”

  Sensing his moment of peace was irretrievably gone, Edris got out of bed and searched his pile of clothes. He handed her a dagger. “I want you to keep this. Hide it under your pillow or mattress, someplace where you can get to it quickly.”

  “And do what with it?”

  “Cut his balls off.”

  “Ed!”

  Deep down, he knew she was right. Markus wouldn’t let him be. Sooner or later, they’d have to settle scores. Like two young rams fighting over part of the mountainside, they were destined to bash heads—and only one of them was going to be left standing.

  “Maybe,” he said, “I should train you how to fight.”

  “I’m not a knight,” she said, her concern growing. “I’m not a fighter. I’m a commoner—and a woman.”

  “Women need to know how to defend themselves.”

  “What could I do against a man who’s been training to kill people his entire life?”

  They stared at each other—desperation in Beatrice’s eyes, fatigue and annoyance in Edris’s.

  “Bea…”

  “I know, you can’t be around all the time, but…” She brushed away a tear. “How much did you win for finding the statue? Two thousand gold? You could buy some land and start a life. You could be a farmer like you’ve always wanted. You don’t have to worry about your—!”

  “Bea…” he said more firmly. He started getting dressed.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I have to go home. Father is expecting me.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  He kissed her forehead. “As soon as possible.” He smiled and added for good measure, “Don’t worry. I’ll always be here to protect you. Okay? You’ll never have to worry about Markus or anybody else. On my honor.”

  Fifty-Seven

  The guards cheered as Edris rode through the gates to his father’s manor.

  “Congratulations, Master Edris!” one shouted.

  “Well done!”

  He saluted. “Thank you. Let’s hope it wasn’t a fluke!”

  He rode along the road to the main house. The door opened and his father stepped out, wearing formal robes lined with white ermine.

  “Ed!” he said, his breath appearing in the chilly morning air.

  Edris dismounted and shook his father’s offered hand.

  His father patted him on the shoulder. “Congratulations on your first official win.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Edris motioned to the robes. “Why are you dressed up?”

  “Lord Braverton is coming today,” Lord Elros said, annoyed.

  “Why?”

  “The gods only know. Hopefully he won’t stay long. I can’t stand the man.”

  “He is a bit of a blowhard.”

  “A bit?” Lord Elros repeated. “He’s like that entire side of the family. Worthless, arrogant assholes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lord Elros noted the pale blue sky. “You arrived rather early. Did you ride through the night?”

  “No. I stayed in Bend last evening.”

  “Celebrate with your friends?”

  Edris nodded, waiting for the explosion he knew would come.

  “That’s fine,” the lord said. “You deserve to celebrate.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “But I don’t want you resting on your laurels. No one ever made the history books by winning one measly quest.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lord Elros surveyed the manicured lawns
, watching his gardeners hasten about the grounds, getting everything ready for his guest’s arrival. “What’s your plan?”

  Edris had his answer ready. “I’m going to stow my things and resume my training.”

  “Very good! Work on what you’re bad at. Work on what you already do well. That’s how you keep getting better.” The Lord of Bend made sure nobody was within earshot. He lowered his voice. “Any run-ins with Markus?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  “That’s what I like to hear!” He patted his son’s shoulder again. “Go store your gear. Then get to work. Your competition won’t be resting. Neither should you. In fact, I want you to clear the north fields. Widen them a good dozen paces. Fell the trees and dig out their stumps before the ground freezes. There’re also too many boulders lying about. We’ll break plow blades if we try to till.”

  “I’ll take care of them, sir.”

  “Good. And Edris…”

  Edris turned.

  “You did well this go-around.”

  Fifty-Eight

  “So, tell us about your quest, Sir Edris,” Lord Braverton said as they ate dinner in Lord Elros’s private dining hall. “I’m dying to hear the details.”

  In his upper fifties, Lord Braverton was a few years older than Edris’s father. He had a frail, almost elderly pall—as if what little life left in him was slowly seeping out with each wheezing breath. Edris could have easily lifted him above his head with one hand.

  “There’s not much to tell, sir,” Edris replied, cutting into his steak. “It turned out the statue was never stolen.”

  “Never stolen? How can that be?”

  Edris had his mouth full, so Lord Elros answered for him.

  “My son deduced that the bandits never acquired the statue…” He lifted his crystal goblet to the candlelight, inspecting the wine’s color. “…as everybody else assumed.”

  “The monks,” Edris said, swallowing, “must have hidden it as the raiders set the town on fire.”

  “They hid it under the flagstones forming the temple’s floor.” Lord Elros took a sip with evident satisfaction. “Rather ingenious, if you think about it. Hidden in plain sight.”

  “And it had been sitting there the entire time?” Lord Braverton asked, amazed. He slurped his soup, making Lord Elros recoil. “Incredible.”

  “Yes,” Lord Elros said, putting on a more or less pleasant expression. “They moved the town, you see. After it was destroyed. So Edris had to excavate the ruins of the original site.”