The Sword Read online

  He knelt by the carriage door, where a struggle had obviously taken place. A piece of rope had been dropped to the ground, indicating someone was bound. Among the jumbled footprints, Teo searched for the one whose presence he dreaded to find.

  When he finally did, his body went cold, and his gut lurched inside of him. It was a woman’s shoe print. Teo knew whose it was. His chin fell to his chest. For a long time he knelt in silence, his eyes closed.

  At last he looked up. Something caught his eye. Pressed into the churned-up mud, a white flower lay crumpled and bruised. It was a mountain-star blossom, the inviolable symbol of the Kingdom of Chiveis. However, this alpine flower didn’t grow in the lowlands. It must have been brought here.

  Teo lifted the blossom from the mud, drawing out a string of similar flowers, all black and defiled. The garland! Only twelve hours ago, he had held that garland with joy and honor. Now he clenched it in his fist with rage and frustration and helplessness. Waves of an undefinable emotion washed over him as he wept on his knees in the light of Astrebril’s dawn.

  The men shoved Ana along the trail, showing no mercy when she stumbled. Even so, the rough treatment from her captors wasn’t the worst part. The bag over her head tormented her the most. It stank of moldy turnips, and its tight weave made breathing difficult. Ana felt as if she were suffocating.

  Eventually they came to water. Ana was thrown into a boat, and the early morning sun beat down on her as she lay in the bow. The heat inside the bag became unbearable. Rivulets of sweat ran down her forehead. Her cheeks felt flushed, and her breath came in insatiable gasps.

  Panic began to rise within her. Ana realized she was being carried away from Chiveis by outsiders, and the thought terrified her. In her agitation, her throat seemed to constrict. The fabric of the bag clung to her mouth, preventing her from taking a deep breath. She whimpered and squirmed in her bonds, fighting for control of herself. Everything inside her screamed for fresh air. Help me! I’m dying!

  By an act of her will, Ana steadied her breathing. Her mind instructed her body to lie still, to grow calm, to quit thrashing. The familiar setting of Edgeton became her mental refuge, and she went there in her thoughts. She told herself the bag would be removed soon, and she would look for the right moment to escape. Until then, she would be patient. Be strong, Anastasia. You can survive this.

  The men rowed steadily for what seemed like hours. The sun’s blaze grew more intense. Thirst clawed at Ana’s throat, but she couldn’t think about that. She could only concentrate on getting enough air, one breath at a time. Sweat stung her eyes, annoyed her nose, salted her lips. Eventually the brown shadows of the bag began to deepen into the blackness of oblivion. Ana let unconsciousness come to her, preferring it to her present torture.

  “A bird approaches, Your Holiness.” The archpriest of Vulkain stared from a window in the High Priestess’s lofty temple. His robes were dazzling white, bleached by the power of the yellow rock whose mysteries he knew so well.

  The High Priestess crossed to the window, and the Vulkainian yielded to her. She saw the pigeon growing larger against the midday sky. It landed on the sill, and the High Priestess gathered the little bird into her hand, stroking its feathers with her long, black fingernail. “Well done, faithful messenger,” she whispered to it. Removing a tiny piece of paper from its leg, she returned the pigeon to a cage.

  “What news of our transaction, my queen?” asked the archpriest.

  The High Priestess unrolled the paper. Her tongue moistened her lips as she read. She smiled, experiencing deep satisfaction in the knowledge that, many leagues away, her sovereign will was being carried out. Her power knew no boundaries. From a nearby table, she poured a glass of wine, sipping it slowly, enjoying it.

  “The secret transaction has gone well?”

  “Yes. Your Vulkainians report success. They have concluded the trade with the outsiders. Several sacks of brimstone have been obtained in exchange for weapons.”

  “Good. And what of the girl?”

  The High Priestess laughed, throwing back her head and swallowing the remaining wine. She refilled her glass, then poured another and offered it to the man who led the Vulkainian Order. He was useful to her. His brimstone was one of her most important commodities.

  “The girl is theirs,” she said, handing over the glass. “Our clients are satisfied with the transaction. They have received good weapons and a harem slave for their lord. We have received the sacred yellow stone—and we’ve eliminated the girl who ruined my games. Never again will that pretty one compete for the people’s affections.”

  “Does the Warlord suspect us? He’s always so observant.”

  “He observes, but he doesn’t see!” The High Priestess curled her lip in a sneer. “He knows nothing of our brimstone transaction, nor of our deal for the girl. He thinks the outsiders have been raiding for slaves along the frontier. We’ll simply claim they attacked my coach by night. The driver ran off, and they managed to capture the girl.”

  “The driver knows otherwise. He may talk.”

  “I’ve already had him executed for cowardice.”

  The archpriest choked on his wine. He glanced at the High Priestess, and she noticed how he instinctively backed away from her. She moved toward him, staring into his eyes. “More wine?” she asked with an innocent smile.

  The archpriest shook his head. He turned toward the window and gazed at the horizon. “The Warlord will send troops after the girl,” he said at length.

  “He will not!” The High Priestess’s retort was sharp. “Not without Astrebril’s blessing. My soothsayers will seek the will of the god, and I’m quite certain Astrebril will forbid such a rash decision. Our troops shouldn’t be sent to their doom in the Beyond just for one farmer’s daughter.” She smiled to herself, delighting in her ability to dominate the men who supposedly led Chiveis.

  “In that case, the girl’s life will be one of abject suffering from now on.”

  “Indeed. The men of the northern river are cruel and lascivious. They’ll use her roughly. But such are the sacrifices that must be made for the glory of Astrebril.”

  At the frontier headquarters of the Fifth Regiment, Teo removed a slip of paper from a carrier pigeon’s leg. His frustration had mounted through the afternoon as he waited for messages to be exchanged with the Citadel. With each passing second, Ana slipped farther away. Yet it was his duty to report her abduction to the Warlord and await orders. He expected that a rescue operation would be organized immediately. A fast team of elite warriors could catch up to her and bring her home. But when Teo unrolled the paper, he was stunned at what he read:

  TO: Cpt. Teofil, 5th Reg.

  FROM: Warlord’s Bureau

  Regret to receive grievous news of citizen abduction. Warlord has ordered doubling of frontier guard contingent. Urge all citizens to remain behind walls until further notice. HP has taken auspices regarding your request; omens UNFAVORABLE. Permission to pursue abductee DENIED. Remain at your post. Emissary will arrive soon to debrief you.

  Teo crumpled the piece of paper and threw it to the floor of the pigeon roost. The orders made him want to rip his insignia from his jerkin in shame. He ground his teeth and clenched his fists, turning his knuckles white. The “abductee” has a name—Anastasia! Were the faceless military bureaucrats willing to sacrifice her just because the High Priestess said the divine omens were unfavorable? Was Anastasia’s young life expendable in the eyes of the gods?

  Curse the gods of Chiveis to damnation!

  The blasphemy was appalling, but Teo didn’t care. He took a deep breath. Firm resolve steeled his mind. He marched from the room and entered a building across the courtyard.

  “Quartermaster! Attention!”

  The slim man, who hadn’t seen Teo enter, jumped at the sharp order. “At your command, sir,” he said, saluting and standing erect.

  “Prepare an expedition pack, provisioned with rations for an extended mission. Leave one compartment empty.
I will fill it myself.”

  “Yes, sir. And will you need weapons, sir?”

  “Only a quiver of arrows. Meet me at the dock right away!”

  While his pack was being prepared, Teo went to his personal quarters, where he found an oblong package awaiting him on the bed. It was the sword of Armand, given to him by King Piair at the tournament. Teo had arranged for it to be delivered here for safekeeping. He strapped the sword to his waist, noticing its lightness in comparison to a guardsman’s standard-issue weapon. He knelt before his footlocker and withdrew the battle-ax Shaphan had made for him. While training for the tournament over the past several months, Teo had practiced the flicking motion that fired the balls from the ax. He belted it on his hip, its haft close to his hand. From a case in the corner, he removed his favorite bow, a heavy recurve shortbow made of yew. Last, he slid a long hunting knife into his boot. Now he was a fully armed soldier in the scout force of Chiveis.

  At the dock, Teo’s supplies were ready. He loaded everything into a canoe, then pushed away from the pier and slipped into the Farm River, heading downstream. The vessel sat light and tight on the water, and in a few minutes he was at Edgeton’s dock.

  A pall of grief covered the town. News of the kidnapping had spread quickly throughout Chiveis. Many people had fled to the comforting safety of the Citadel. Those who remained were in shock. Windows were shuttered, shop doors were latched, and the few people who plied the streets kept their eyes on their feet.

  Teo approached the home of Stratetix and Helena. It was closed up, but he could hear voices inside and the sound of weeping. For a moment he hesitated at the door. Guilty thoughts tugged at him. What if he hadn’t taken Ana to the Pon-Revel? What if he had complied with her wish to leave, as a gentleman should have done? No doubt he could have prevented her abduction. How could he now look her parents in the eye? He bowed his head. There was only one way to atone for his mistakes.

  Teo’s knock silenced the voices inside. After a pause, the door opened. It was Stratetix. His face was grim, but when he saw Teo, he brightened a bit.

  “Captain Teofil, come in!”

  Teo took one step inside, feeling unworthy to intrude any farther. A crowd of mourners stared at him, anxious to learn of any new developments.

  “What word of a rescue, Captain? Does the Warlord plan to go after my Ana? Surely the Royal Guard is being mobilized as we speak.” Stratetix’s voice held a desperate edge. He was clinging to a slim thread of hope, knowing the thread could break at any moment and all would be lost. Teo pitied the depth of his suffering.

  “I’m sorry to report: the gods have been consulted, and they’ve decreed that no expedition will be sent. The High Priestess has forbidden it.”

  Stratetix’s shoulders sagged. “No,” he murmured. “That can’t be . . . it’s wrong . . .” With his eyes closed, he staggered back and collapsed into a chair. He hung his head, gripping his skull in his hands.

  Helena approached Teo, looking at him with the red-rimmed eyes of a mother bearing great pain. “I had thought Ana would be safe with you,” she said. It wasn’t a rebuke, only an observation, yet the statement fell on Teo’s shoulders like the weight of a millstone.

  “My lady, I . . .” There were no appropriate words.

  “It’s alright, Teofil,” Helena said, putting her hand on Teo’s shoulder. “I know you grieve with us. These events were not your fault.”

  Teo stared at this beautiful woman, a woman who by all rights should have slapped his face and thrown him out the door. Yet in the midst of her own crushing loss, she had found the strength to offer comforting words to the guilty. Teo was awed. What grace she has!

  “If I may . . . I, uh . . . I’ve come to collect some of your daughter’s things.”

  Helena was startled. “Captain, we aren’t prepared to part with any mementos yet. Our grief is too raw.”

  Teo felt his face redden. “No, I’m sorry. I misspoke.” He waved his hand. “What I meant was, I’ve come to retrieve some necessary things. A bedroll, warm clothing, suitable boots. Things she will need.”

  The house had fallen silent. Every face stared at Teo as if he were a raving lunatic. Stratetix raised his head from his hands.

  “What are you talking about, young man? You said no expedition is to be sent. She’s lost to us forever.”

  “No,” Teo said firmly. “She isn’t lost. I’m going after her on my own. I will find her in the Beyond, and I will bring her back.”

  The crowd let out a collective gasp. No one in the room had even begun to contemplate what Teo was suggesting. The Chiveisi didn’t venture into the Beyond. Though the Royal Guard might patrol the edges of the kingdom, to single-handedly mount a rescue operation in the vast unknown was unheard of. The Beyond was an unnavigable wasteland, a dead zone where no one dared to go—and from which no one ever returned.

  “Captain, some would call this madness.” Helena’s voice was steady, though tinged with deep emotion. “As for me, I don’t call it that. I call it courage, the kind of courage that hasn’t been seen in a soldier of Chiveis for many years. You remind me of the men of old. Men whom I once knew. In fact”—she paused, looking down at Teo’s side—“you remind me of the man who once bore that sword.”

  Teo followed Helena’s eyes to the sword at his hip. It had belonged to her father, Armand. He withdrew it from its sheath and held it up, the fine steel blade glittering in the light. Stratetix approached and stood at Helena’s side.

  “I swear to you,” Teo said, “on the memory and honor of this sword—I swear to bring Anastasia back to this home or die in the attempt. There is no other call on my life than to return your daughter to you.” Another murmur rippled through the crowd.

  Stratetix looked Teo in the eye and clasped his shoulder with a firm grip. Hope had returned to him once more. “My wife and I thank you for this, Teofil.” Helena nodded. They embraced Teo, tears running down their cheeks.

  Ana’s parents promised to meet Teo at the dock when their daughter’s supplies were ready, so Teo took his leave and made his way to the water. As he waited there, a familiar figure approached from within the stockade. It was the burly young man named Fynn.

  “So, guardsman, I hear you’re going into the Beyond? You must know you’re throwing your life away on an impossible quest.”

  “You wouldn’t go after her?”

  “It’s a futile mission! One death will be added to another. By all the gods, no, I wouldn’t go.”

  “You don’t love her?”

  Fynn’s face crumpled in anger. He leaned toward Teo, pointing with his finger, though he didn’t step any closer. “I did love her! But now is the time for mourning. She’s as good as dead.”

  “If there’s a chance she might be saved, I intend to go.”

  “That’s not love! It’s a fool’s mistake.”

  “I think the greatest love is the one that takes such risks.”

  Fynn stood there, quivering. With a swat of his hand, he turned and headed back into town.

  When Stratetix and Helena arrived at the dock, they carried a hastily prepared bundle. It contained a woman’s fur-lined cloak, a field tunic, leggings, and high, warm boots. A few other necessities had been added to the bundle, which Teo wrapped in a bedroll and stuffed into the empty compartment of his heavy pack. He loaded it into his boat and untied the mooring rope. The married couple stood hand in hand as the canoe left Edgeton’s dock.

  “I’ll pray for you, Teofil,” Helena said.

  “Why bother? The gods of our land said I shouldn’t go. They’re evil.”

  “I know. Chiveis is forsaken.” Helena bowed her head.

  Teo nodded and turned to his paddling. He fixed his eyes downstream and dug into the water with his strong arms. The canoe glided swiftly into the current.

  Ana was only dimly aware that the bag had been taken off her head. But when the bucket of cold water doused her, the shock yanked her into full consciousness. She sat up, coughing and sputter
ing, trying to understand what was happening. The laughter of cruel men surrounded her.

  Where am I?

  Slowly the facts solidified in her fogged brain. She was in a boat. She was far from Chiveis. Her wrists were bound. The ropes were stained red with her own blood, their chafing sting more intense now that water had been splashed on them. No matter. At least she could breathe. Ana inhaled deeply, reveling in the pleasure of taking a lungful of air.

  A man stood over her, grinning maliciously and holding an empty bucket. Apparently he was the leader, for he wasn’t rowing like the six other men. Ana recoiled into the boat’s high prow, craving the meager security of the oaken planks at her back.

  The man with the bucket set it down and lifted a lumpy sack. His thick black beard was braided into two plaits. Unsure of what the man intended as he stared down at her, Ana wanted to avert her eyes, but a voice inside her mind said, Do not show weakness. Do not show fear. She forced herself to gaze up at him. Whatever may happen, Ana told herself, I will not give these men the pleasure of breaking my spirit.

  The black-bearded man grunted something at her, but his dialect was strange, and she didn’t catch the word. He held up his bag. The other men stopped rowing and turned in their seats to see what would happen. The leader rummaged in his bag and pulled out a loaf of hard bread.

  Hungry? Is he asking whether I’m hungry? Ana realized she was famished. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t recall. She had lost her sense of time. All she knew was, yes, she was desperately hungry.

  Ana nodded at the man. Saliva flooded her parched mouth, and her stomach rumbled at the thought of food. The man with the black beard held out the loaf to her. She raised her bound hands and took it from him. Lifting the tough bread to her mouth, she began to tear off a bite with her teeth.

  A rough palm smacked Ana hard across the chin. It wasn’t a direct blow to her head, but it hurt. Worse, the blow sent the loaf flying into the water. The men in the boat burst into laughter, especially the leader, who thought his action had been particularly funny. Ana saw the loaf bobbing in the river, receding in the boat’s wake. The men guffawed and slapped their thighs.