Authors: Ann Hunter
Maeb chased him, hand splayed to catch him, but the boy was too quick.
Xander spun on his heel with an angry holler, snatching Eoghan by the scruff of his neck. He lifted the boy and glared eye to eye with him. Eoghan blinked, chin trembling. He proffered the ham bone to his father.
Xander grabbed it and flung Eoghan to the floor then hurled the bone into the fire.
Eoghan crab-walked across the floor, his eyes never leaving Xander.
“Honestly I do not know why I keep you, Maeb,” Xander spat.
Maeb wiped her tears away. She knelt beside Eoghan and stroked his hair.
“If you cannot control him…”
Maeb kissed Eoghan’s temple, caressing his ruddy cheek.
“I should just shut him away,” Xander said quietly.
“Aowyn would never forgive you,” Maeb choked bitterly.
Xander could barely swallow. His eyes rose to Idegwaed. “She never will.”
Xander’s hand shot to Idegwaed’s hilt. He took her from the mantle and rounded violently. “I should have sent you with her. Aowyn is gone, Maeb… and so shall you be come morning.”
Eoghan rolled and scuttled from the room with wide eyes. Maeb stared up at her master helplessly. “What are you going to do?”
Xander raised the blade and felt the blood cry of old rising inside of him. “I’m going to end this.”
Rhun plodded wearily through the swamp of Morgorth until he refused to go further. Xander dismounted and swung the reins over the stallion’s head. Rhun resisted being led at first, but gave in and followed. Xander hoped he could still find Sylas in this dark and vile place. What if the shack was abandoned? What if Sylas had been killed by some new creature Xander had brought upon the land?
A dull pain in his hip reminded him of the power Sylas wielded and promised death was not likely for the warlock. The crackle of campfire and the sway of lichen ahead put aside any doubts Xander had remaining. He ground-tied Rhun near a log and a patch of green and made his way into camp.
“I summon thee, Sylas Mortas!”
Sylas appeared a moment later in the doorway of his little shack. A slow, thin smile snaked across his face. “I was beginning to wonder when you would return. Are you satisfied with yourself?”
Xander drew Idegwaed and cast her into the ground. She stuck a few feet away, wobbling slightly.
“No deal.” Xander crossed his arms.
Sylas’s black, almond eyes narrowed. The gills on his neck opened and closed slowly. “I’m afraid it’s too late for refunds.”
Xander remained firm. “I said, ‘No deal.’ Your blade has brought me nothing but heartache and strife. It has cursed my son and killed my wife.”
Sylas raised a long, spindly finger that ended in a yellow, dirty, bent nail. “Correction.
You
brought it upon yourself the moment you left my swamp with my sword.”
Sylas moved forward. Xander sidestepped. “Take it back.”
Sylas shrugged, moving closer. “I cannot.”
Xander moved away again into a shadow. He nearly fell into a hole that he had not seen before. He teetered precariously. His arms windmilled. The heels of his boots dug into soft loam and teeth leapt toward him from the darkness, gnashing hungrily.
Xander glanced over his shoulder. He could vaguely make out the form of a creature below with the body of a man and the head of a lion. He slipped as more ground gave out from below. A slimy hand gripped his collar and hurled him toward the earth with a high laugh.
Xander raised his head and spit dirt as a voice behind him voice crooned, “Is Daddy’s pet hungry? Yes, he is. Daddy will feed you soon. He will.”
Inches away, Idegwaed glinted in the firelight. Xander scurried over and retrieved her. He was on his feet instantly and brandished Idegwaed at Sylas. “No more tricks, warlock.”
Sylas was still stooped over the hole, watching his monster. “Do you not see? I cannot take back the blade of which you have paid so dearly. My donestre--”
“Tried to kill me.”
Sylas looked over his back and rose. “I saved your life.”
“You destroyed it with this sword.”
Sylas brushed off his hands. “You believe your curse is the result of your actions, but I tell you, Xander, it is so much more than that. Your actions have far-reaching consequences. Farther than you can fathom.”
Xander tilted his head, squinting. His grasp on Idegwaed tightened. “What have you done?”
Sylas strode toward Xander, his hands clasped behind his back. “Can you not see? The price you have paid in blood has brought forth a new era. My era. By sacrificing your wife and child, you have opened the way to my creatures—creatures from the ancient lands. Many portals, both seen and unseen, are ripping through the Twelve Kingdoms. The innocent lives you took now return to haunt you in the form of those supernatural. Honest men who fought for their masters return as giants; brigands as barghest, righteous kings as great stags and unicorns… do you see?” Sylas paused. “This is the price you have paid. I cannot take back the sword. It is too late. You may think I am trying to kill you, but it is quite the opposite.” Sylas’s smile widened enough to reveal his stained, razor-like teeth. “I am trying to protect you.”
Xander swore aloud.
Sylas continued. “There is another whose destiny is intertwined with yours. They alone can end your son’s torment. Please take one of my creatures as a guardian of your own.”
“Enough!” Xander roared and raced toward Sylas, ready to strike.
A gash of blue light shot from Sylas’s hands. Xander was ready for it. The bolt bounced off Idegwaed, downing a tree branch. Idegwaed cracked visibly, but did not break. The gap became filled with a sliver of blue light. Xander spun and swung the blade at Sylas’s thigh. The warlock sidestepped and waved his hand. Another streak of blue snaked toward the blade, but missed. Sylas vanished just before Idegwaed struck him. Xander stumbled from the force and cried out as electricity snapped him between the shoulder blades, forcing him to the earth.
Idegwaed let out a low squeal. A new crack filled with light.
Sylas reappeared near the shack. Xander forced himself upright and hurled Idegwaed at him. The blade tumbled through the air, singing with each turn, then suddenly hovered. Sylas held up his hands. Idegwaed was surrounded by light, floating only inches from her creator. Xander watched as the black blade seemed to split into pieces, yet remained intact, filled with the same light that surrounded her.
Xander’s chest rose and fell rapidly. He crossed the camp and looked into Sylas’s eyes. They were bright white with the reflection of it all, so focused and intense. Xander could see himself and Idegwaed as though in a mirror. His trembling hand reached out to the hovering blade. He didn’t want the blade, yet it called to him in agony. She cried, saying his name over and over. She begged to be released from her prison. Xander flinched as his fingers passed through the light between he and Sylas. His other hand clasped his wrist, trying to pull it back. Idegwaed screamed. Xander’s hand short forth and took her from the light.
Sylas slumped with a sigh of exhaustion.
Xander’s chest heaved, and he stared at Idegwaed. Without hesitation, he raised the sword. He expected Sylas’s back to split in two with a spray of red ooze as he buried Idegwaed in the warlock’s shoulders. Instead the Barwn of Blackthorn was hurled in to the dirt as Sylas rose into the air, face turned skyward, spread eagle, full of light-filled cracks and burst in an explosion more blinding than the noonday sun.
Xander’s dark hair whipped around, trees swayed, the campfire went out. Xander lay motionless in the dark, listening to the crickets and bullfrogs and the hungry growl of a donestre. Rhun whinnied nervously. The swamp filled with light again, this time from Idegwaed. Xander leapt to his feet as the sword flew from his hand, surrounded by green light. She floated, humming. All of her cracks and jags were visible. Xander shielded his eyes as Idegwaed burst into shards that soared into the stratosphere.
Xander crumbled to his knees, staring skyward. The shards hovered briefly, then shot out in twelve directions over the treetops.
Xander dropped his head and wept.
Part II
THERE’S NO SUCH THING
AS MONSTERS
The early spring sunlight glinted off the polished black blade. Ten-year-old Glory, daughter of High King Balthazaar, reached out to touch the cool obsidian, but her friend, Colin, pulled it away.
“Don’t touch it! Father said she is not a toy.”
Glory’s face scrunched up at the admonishment. “Than why are you showing it off as though it were?”
Colin sheathed the dagger carefully. “I got it for my birthday. I’m a man now.”
“Only nearly. You’re twelve.”
“I wanted you to see her.”
“
Her.
You speak as though it is a person.” Glory stuck her tongue out to feign disgust.
“Father said her name is Ilyndiil.”
“Only weapons of legend have names. Why would a falconer have such a thing? And why would he give it to
you
?”
Colin squared his shoulders and stood proudly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Glory batted his arm and began to jog off. “I’m the princess, so you be the giant. Chase me!”
“There’s no such thing as giants,” Colin said.
“There is so. My nursemaid, Maeb, told me that when a princess marries, they bay at the moon and dance in the dark.”
“That’s silly.”
“No, it isn’t. Maeb says there are fairies and unicorns in the world. Last night, I asked Papa to catch me a unicorn.”
Colin rolled his hazel eyes. “Your father told the kingdom no such creatures existed.”
Glory scowled. She stomped her foot. “Chase me!”
“I’m nearly a man now. Your game is childish.”
“That didn’t stop you the day before last. Are you slow now that you are
old
?” Glory taunted and dashed off.
Colin sighed, exasperated, and ran after her.
Glory liked the way Colin followed her around and that she could generally get him to do what she wanted. She bolted through the garden gate and outside the castle grounds toward the line of trees over the hillside.
Brown leaves and the last remnants of snow crackled under their feet. Birds scattered from trees as they raced by, laughing and leaping over their shadows.
“Fee, fie, foe,” Colin roared. He reached out to tag Glory but only brushed her skirt. “Fum!”
Glory squealed. “You cannot catch me!”
Colin grew winded and slowed. “Why do I have to be the giant? Why do your sisters not play with you?”
Glory hid behind a tree, her palms resting against the smooth birch. “Half of them say they are too old. Except Portia, but she is so…”
Colin caught a glimpse of Glory’s skirt and crept toward the tree. “Fat.”
Glory’s nose wrinkled. A rush of excitement filled her as Colin stalked closer. She squeezed her eyes shut as if doing so would cause her to vanish.
“Portia is so fat, I am surprised she does not make up half of your sisters. She is so fat that the earth shakes in fear when she steps on it,” Colin murmured. His voice escalated gradually. “She could single-handedly fell trees by getting stuck between them. Animals flee before her. Rawr!”
Glory didn’t like what Colin was saying. She peeked out from behind the tree. “Do not be so cruel. She is my sister.”
Colin slapped her arm. “Got you!”
Glory’s face drew into a pout. “I don’t like this game anymore. You are a mean giant.”
Colin beamed. “I play my given part well. Perhaps I shall be an actor when I am grown.”
Glory sprinted away while Colin gloated. She crested a hill, deeper into the woods, and screeched as the ground caved from under her. She fell into darkness and landed with an “
Umph!
”
She trembled and sat up slowly.
A rhythmic thumping drummed overhead. Colin stopped just in time. He peered into the hole. The sunlight blocked out his features so that only his silhouette was visible. “Are you all right?”
Glory tried to shield her eyes from the sun. Something rustled in the darkness, and she jumped. “Colin, I don’t like this.”
Roots had thrust themselves through a stone ceiling and surrounding walls. She swallowed and tried to shake out her nerves. The fourth wall was not made of stone. She scuttled to it and felt earth beneath her fingernails. She raised her hand and closed it around one of the roots and tried to pull herself up. It slipped instantly from her.
“I don’t think I can get out.”
There was a groan from the shadows. “Who’s there?” Glory bleated. A drip, drip, drip echoed. Dankness filled her nose. “I am not afraid!”
Her heart hastened its beat. She yelped as Colin’s boots landed behind her. “What are you doing?”
Colin brushed himself off. “I’m rescuing you.”
Tears welled in Glory’s blue eyes; her lungs began to ache with a swollen, staggered breathing. “You stupid boy. Why did you not get my father?”