Bacorium Legacy (63 page)

Softclaw stared at him for a moment. “You need a good reason, first and foremost. To forcefully take hold of a Fragment and sway its devotion from its current master to yourself, you must have a need for it, something that the blade would feel is worth abandoning its current wielder for. Otherwise, when you take it, it will burn you like any others.”

Luca frowned and stared into his cup of tea, which he had yet to touch. The abstract clouds within the murky liquid seemed to form shapes from the deepest corners of his mind, spilling out his secrets for all to see. Softclaw certainly knew what he was after - his guards and Powell as well - for what other reason could they have come to Eccador for?

And why shouldn't they? It was no secret that he planned to kill Zinoro. He'd told everyone in his group as much.

But would revenge be reason enough to sway the Rixeor Fragment to him?

Emila's hand found his own. He looked up to see her looking to him. She smiled and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Somehow, this was enough to dispel whatever doubts lingered in his mind.

“We appreciate your hospitality,” Luca said to Powell. “But if it's alright, we'd like to see the Fragment.”

Powell, who had sat down a moment before, nodded, took a sip from his tea, and rose back up. “Of course. I underestimated your eagerness to see it. I'll take you to it right away.”

Powell started for the door, and the sound of scraping chairs filled the room as everyone rose to follow him out. A few moments later, the three Sendorai and the five of Luca's group were outside.

Softclaw stopped just outside the door and turned to his bodyguards. “I'll be safe enough in this town. You can wait for me here.”

Without so much as a concerned hesitation, the two armed Sendorai disappeared back inside the house. Noticing that Brand was watching, Softclaw chuckled and grinned. “They won't be paid until we get back to Sendor. They only care about my safety when it is their responsibility to.”

“Speaking of which, I've been wondering about something,” Brand said to him. “As you are forbidden to touch weapons, how to you plan on examining the Fragment?”

“I don't need to touch it myself. I just want to see what happens when someone does.”

Though Luca's back was turned to him, he could almost feel the Sendorai sneering and glancing ever so briefly at him. There were no pretencions between the two of them. Luca knew exactly what he was to Softclaw - a young, overconfident fool who was here on a pipe dream of glory. Softclaw thought he was here to take the Rixeor Fragment because he wanted its power. But Luca knew that he would prove him wrong, because he had reason to claim the Fragment. Justice needed to be served.

“She's back,” Ash said, just loud enough to hear, pointing down the road.

Selphie and Jared were coming towards the rest of them from the direction Ash had pointed. Selphie looked uncomfortable, like she was waiting for something bad to happen, while Jared was his usual stoic self.

“Is everything alright at the inn?” Luca asked her once they were close.

“Y-yeah,” she muttered. “I paid for our rooms.”

“Good,” Luca said, choosing to ignore her attitude. “Powell was about to show us the Rixeor Fragment.”

“Alright,” Selphie said, looking at the ground.

Now, it was getting on his nerves. Gritting his teeth, he took a step towards her. “It's what we came all this way for, isn't it? It's what we need to stop Zinoro. Remember what he's done? The thing that had you in such a rage when I told you?”

Selphie scowled so slightly Luca was barely sure her expression had changed at all. “Of course I remember.”

“Good, so perhaps you could show a little bit of concern for the mission,” Luca said, his voice a touch harder than he meant it to be. “You remember the mission too, right? You brought us all together for it. We've all risked our lives several times for it. You remember that too, I trust? I ask because you seem to have forgotten, while wallowing in self-pity.”

Selphie bit her lip. She finally looked up at Luca, anger in her eyes. “Luca. Remember your place.”

He took another step forward, almost laughing. “And what is that place? Following behind you? While you keep your tongue tied and lead us nowhere?”

“Luca.” It was Jared's voice now, not a shout, but firm and carrying withheld anger. Luca looked to him and saw his eyes narrowed, and his mouth tight. “You will not address her that way.”

Luca glanced behind him, seeing the others watching in varying states of surprise and confusion. Emila's hand covered her mouth. Brand was staring at his feet, unusually quiet. Ash actually looked angry. Powell and Softclaw just stared at them, not understanding the situation. They didn't know who Selphie was - for all they knew, she was just another member of the group. The group he had told them he was the leader of.

He turned back around and said to Jared, “I'll speak to her the way I feel like. Because if nobody else is willing to do it, I am. I don't know what's troubling her so much, but she has a responsibility to be the leader of this group. And for the past two weeks, she's failed to do that. If I have to step up and be the leader of this group, then I'll do it. Because clearly Selphie is incapable of doing that.”

Selphie's gaze was on the ground again. Jared, however, looked him right in the eyes. “There's more to things than you know.”

Luca scoffed. “Actually it seems quite simple. Rather than take charge and do what she has to, Selphie would rather just wallow in her own misery and cling to her boyfriend. Well, you two can stay here and do just that. My useless brother can even join you while you're at it. In the meantime, I have a group to lead, a king to slay, and a country to save.”

Turning on his heels, Luca left them there before they could say anything more, and walked back over to the others. Ignoring the stares of the other members of his group, and especially trying to ignore the stare of Softclaw, Luca approached Powell and said to him, “Take us to the Fragment.”

The elder nodded. “Very well. If you'll follow me...”

Luca walked at his side, with Softclaw on his other, while Emila, Brand, Ash, and Wiosna followed close behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Selphie and Jared followed too, at a bit of a distance.

“You were reprimanding those two for leaving earlier?” Powell asked him as they walked.

“Something like that,” Luca replied.

“As a leader, one must do such things from time to time,” Powell said with a sigh. “Much like the blacksmith from earlier whom I had to stop from harming the Sendorai. As the leader of this village, I am like a parent to each and every one of them. And though I wish to do well by them, I must sometimes go against their interests for the greater good.”

“I can understand that.”

“It must have been embarrassing to have your followers troubling you like that in front of company,” Powell said. “I apologise if I've made things difficult for you in any way.”

“You've been nothing but hospitable and polite since we've arrived.”

They reached a hill at the edge of the town, around which a rough wall of lumber had recently been constructed. There was a small gate at a gap in the wooden walls. Powell lead them over to it, and pushed it open.

“And there it is,” the elder said.

On the side of the hill there was a large boulder surrounded by many smaller stones. In the centre of this boulder, a sword was stuck fast, the blade half-buried within the rock.

“We found it here a few months ago,” Powell said. “There were no travellers around at the time, and I know no villager possessed such a blade, so I couldn't imagine who left it here, or why. But when we tried to draw the blade from the stone, it burned our hands like a blacksmith had just pulled it from a furnace. The stone is stuck deep in the hill, and is too heavy to move. We dare not try to use Earth-form magick, for there are old mines under this hill.”

Luca walked over to the sword, hardly able to believe he was so close to a blade of legend. He noticed that Softclaw was beside him, a wide grin on his scaled face.

“Only a few of us have attempted to draw the sword out,” Powell said. “We have no healer, so there is little we can do about the burns. I have not touched it myself, but I have witnessed others who have - the pain looked unbearable.”

The hilt of the sword was nothing worthwhile, but the blade itself was in pristine condition. Luca wanted to reach out and touch it, but he knew he could not lay hands upon the blade until it was time to give it his all and draw it out.

“How very fitting,” Softclaw said with a chuckle. “A sword placed in a stone that warriors may come and try to draw out. I wonder if the wielder who stuck it here was unaware of the symbolism, or if he was familiar with the ancient stories as well.”

“Ancient stories?” Asked Brand, who had joined them. The others were now standing behind Luca, staring at the blade as he was. Emila, however, was looking to Luca with a concerned expression. She seemed to care little for the Rixeor Fragment.

“I've come across a few old stories about magic swords in stones,” Softclaw said. “There was one in particular about a boy who drew a sword nobody else could and became a king. Or perhaps it was a girl... Actually, I think it was a girl who passed herself off as a boy. In any case, it was a very old story, and I was only able to find fragments of it. I never found out how it ended.”

Emila moved closer to Luca. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, a worried look in her eyes.

Luca look her hand and gently squeezed it. “We didn't travel all this way to doubt things now. We need it. And I'm going to take that sword and make it my own.”

“But...” Emila bit her lip and glanced nervously at the sword.

“Oh,” Luca muttered, realising what was worrying her. Through the tether, Emila would bear every moment of it that he did. “I hadn't thought about that.”

Emila then realised what he was thinking of, and she shook her head. “No, that's not what's bothering me. I don't care about the pain. There's just - something about that sword.”

“What do you mean?”

“There's too many unanswered questions. Who was the previous master? Why would they leave a Rixeor Fragment behind? Why leave it in a place like this?”

Luca frowned. “I know. It's very suspicious. But we have little choice. We need a Rixeor Fragment to stop Zinoro, and there's little chance that Marcus will be willing to share his. I have to try.” He kept his voice down, so that Powell and Softclaw did not hear.

Emila nodded, understanding the situation, but still uncomfortable. Luca left her side, approaching the blade. He pulled off the gloves he wore, not wanting them to be ruined, and stuffed them in his pocket.

“Whatever your reason is for wanting the blade,” Softclaw said to him. “You need to keep it strong in your mind. Speak to the sword with your thoughts. Win it over with your passion. Otherwise, it will not accept you.”

Luca glanced at the Sendorai. There was a spark of barely-contained excitement in his eyes.

Turning away from him, Luca stepped up onto the large rock and was right before the sword. He put his hands right around the hilt of the sword, not yet touching, and closed his eyes.

He said quietly to the sword,

“Lodin - my father. He was murdered by Zinoro, a man who carries your brother and commits atrocities with it. With dark magick, he's murdered hundreds and brought them back as hollow shells to fight for him. He's made an army of these revenants, and he's planning to invade the country of Sono and slaughter everyone in his way. He needs to be stopped, and I need your help to do it.

“Please, Fragment of Rixeor. Lend me your strength, so that I might avenge my father and bring this monster to justice...”

Luca took the hilt of the sword in his hands and pulled up on it.

The sword did not budge. He was able to hold the sword for only a split second before he began to feel it heating up. It happened quickly - taking only seconds to go from cold steel to burning like fire between his palms. He pulled on the sword with all his strength, doing his best to put the rising pain out of his mind, but it did not yield from the stone that held it.

“Please, Rixeor Fragment,” Luca said through grit teeth. “I need your strength! I'm the only one who can bring this monster to justice, but I cannot match him without you!”

The sword was on fire now. He could feel it burning the flesh on his hands like white-hot steel. The pain was unbearable, but he kept his jaw clenched shut to stop himself from screaming.

“For justice! Justice! Justice! Accept me as your master!”

He was answered only with more pain. At last, unable to bear it any longer, he let go and fell backwards, falling from the rock he was standing on and landing on his back in the dirt.

Immediately, Emila was by his side, cradling him and calling his name. He hardly even heard her. The others were talking as well, but he couldn't understand their words - all he heard was a blurry haze of sound. He looked up through teary eyes and saw Softclaw standing beside the sword with an open scroll, jotting down notes.

He gasped aloud as Emila took his hands in her own. They were raw, red and black from the burns, and it hurt intensely to move them even slightly. But he felt the warm glow of Emila's magick, and in moments, the burns were gone.

“Are you alright?” she asked him, her eyes full of concern. Luca could see the same tears of pain in her eyes that he'd blinked through moments ago. Her hands were unmarked, but she had felt every moment of pain that he had.

He sat up, and looked behind himself to the others. They all wore concerns of expression, including Selphie. Even Jared frowned worriedly.

“Don't you pity me...” he hissed, so quietly that even he could hardly hear it over the wind.

“Luca?” Emila asked, even more worried than before.

In a rage, he pushed himself away from her and climbed back to his feet. He marched back over to the Rixeor Fragment. He pushed Softclaw out of the way to get to it.

“I'm not giving up!”

He grabbed the sword again and pulled with all his might. He forced himself to ignore the heat in the sword, which came faster this time. He filled his mind with images of Zinoro, of his father being stabbed in the snow, and of his many fantasies of doing the same to the Acarian king.