Legend of the White Sword (Books 1 - 3)

by P. D. Kalnay

  “Sorry you got dragged into this,” Mr. Ryan said as he led the way.

  “It’s no big deal,” I said. I mostly meant it too. I’d have been a bit nervous exploring on my own. Mr. Ryan appeared soft and out of shape, but he also seemed like somebody you shouldn’t mess with. “It’s kind of cool exploring the house.”

  “Yeah, your grandmother’s place is huge. I haven’t seen half the house after almost two months of staying here. This is like exploring a dungeon.”

  Mr. Ryan turned back, flashing me a tight grin. Which I returned. He was a hard guy not to like.

  A wide hallway ran down the centre of the basement, the same as on the upper floors. Unlike the hardwood upstairs, the basement hallway was paved with smooth, tightly fitted stone. Fluorescent lights had been added like an afterthought to the ceiling, and lamps, which I guessed ran on oil, still hung on the walls. Half the fluorescent tubes flickered and clicked, creating shadows that danced into the distance.

  “I forgot to ask for directions,” Mr. Ryan said with a laugh. “I guess we’ll have to search. We might as well try this one first.”

  He opened the closest door, standing opposite the stairs. After a little fumbling he found a light switch, and I pushed in next to him so I could see. The room was huge and filled with wooden crates, boxes, and furniture covered in white sheets. A counter ran around the outside of the room, and there were lots of cupboards. The tiny windows near the ceiling provided a trivial amount of light.

  “This is the original kitchen,” Mr. Ryan said. “The ovens and old wood stove are there, under all that.” He pointed to the far end of the room.

  “A kitchen in the basement?”

  “Back in the day, the servants and cooking were kept out of sight. The kitchen upstairs would have been added in the last century. There sure is a lot of junk. Shall we move on?”

  Mr. Ryan led the way out, and I followed him down the hall. It took two more tries to find the gym. The gym was across from the pool. Yeah, I said pool! My grandmother had a pool in her basement. Not an Olympic-sized pool, but more than long enough to swim laps. The pool looked as if no one had used it in my lifetime. Possibly not Mr. Ryan’s either. We both stood on the deck, staring into the empty pool for a while. The pool room had more windows along the two outside walls than kitchen had. The room wasn’t bright, but it was brighter. A second door led to a small mechanical room filled with pumps and ancient-looking pool supplies.

  “Do you think it’s usable?” I asked as we left the pool room.

  “I didn’t see any cracks in the pool, and the pumps and filter system look intact. I’d need to replace the burnt-out bulbs and have a better look to know for sure. You could ask your grandmother about it. There may be a problem with it, or she might have felt the pool was too much work to maintain. Kinda cool, don’t you think?”

  We shared another grin before Mr. Ryan opened the door to the gym across the hall. The gym was a proper gymnasium, with a higher ceiling and sprung hardwood floors coated with a thousand layers of varnish. It looked to have been built a hundred years ago, and I imagined old-timey strongmen and bare knuckle boxers training there. One wall had a peg board, and there was a stack of kettlebells in a corner. Not the new, trendy, rubber-coated kind either. Another corner had more modern equipment. A big rack held dark cast-iron plates and chrome barbells. There was another long rack filled with dumbbells ranging from tiny to way-too-big-for-me-to-lift. Gran’s gym even had a universal machine, an old rowing machine, and a treadmill. It was also relatively bright. The gym had more lights than the rest of the basement combined, and it made the place feel more ordinary.

  “Your Gran wasn’t kidding when she said there was a gym.” Mr. Ryan looked as impressed as I was. “This must take up a quarter of the house’s footprint.”

  He walked over to examine the bench by the free weights as I wondered to the opposite side. There were hooks hanging from the ceiling and one had a round board above it.

  “What are these for?” I asked. The hooks looked heavy-duty.

  “That one’s for a heavy bag, and that’s for a speed bag,” Mr. Ryan said.

  I jumped. I hadn’t heard him cross the room.

  “For boxing?”

  “Yeah, I might buy bags as my contribution to the gym.”

  Mr. Ryan’s enthusiasm made him seem younger.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some down here,” I said. “There looks to be one of everything else.”

  “Maybe in there.” Mr. Ryan pointed to a door that didn’t lead back to the hall.

  The door led to a storage room. Part of which was under the stairs. The room had a musty smell like old canvas tents.

  “There’s a little of everything in here,” Mr. Ryan said. “Fencing equipment, boxing gear, somebody even had a go at kendo at some point.”

  He pointed to a rack of wooden and bamboo swords on one wall. Two sets of kendo armour flanked the rack. The rack also held foils, epee, and sabres. I grabbed a sabre and went back into the gym. Although I’d only gotten to do fencing for the one year at military school, I’d liked it. Admittedly, part of the reason for that was I was pretty good at it, and I’d liked being good at something besides homework. I raised the sabre to parry an overhand attack and slashed an imaginary opponent diagonally across his chest. It felt good holding the slender sword. Something hit my left leg with a painful thwack, and I turned in shock to see Mr. Ryan holding one of the bamboo-slat swords from the rack. I took a step back, seeing the expression on his face.

  “Sloppy,” he said. “You had too much weight on your front foot, and your knife hand is flopping around like a wet noodle.”

  There was something genuinely scary about Mr. Ryan with a sword in his hand. It wasn’t even a real sword. His face lost its scary-serious expression; which was replaced by a look of horror.

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” he said. “I shouldn’t have hit you. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “That’s OK. I’m not hurt. Do you know about fencing?”

  “A little,” Mr. Ryan said. Then he shrugged before adding. “Actually… a fair amount.”

  “Will you teach me?” I asked. Fencing had been the only good thing at military school. It wasn’t a popular sport, and I hadn’t expected I’d get to try fencing again before I went to college, if then. Mr. Ryan clearly felt guilty about hitting me. Now was the time to strike.

  “I’d have to ask your grandmother,” he said.

  Despite the painful welt forming on my leg, I couldn’t help grinning. Maybe staying at Gran’s wouldn’t suck.

  Chapter 5 – Digital Princess

  Mr. Ryan and I spent the better part of the day cleaning the gym. It was a big room and everything was covered in dust and spider webs. I learned no fencing, but Mr. Ryan did teach me the proper ways to sweep, mop, and polish. He said cleaning was one of the few truly useful skills twenty-five years in the army had provided him. Personally, I could have done without the lesson. We moved the rack of swords out to one wall in the gym, and I thought it had a shrine-like quality. The kendo gear was lightly used, and Mr. Ryan declared it serviceable. Most of the fencing equipment was moldy, nasty, and ancient. It went into a garbage bag. Mr. Ryan looked at the punching bags for a long time before saying he’d order new ones. He said they were so old they were probably made of asbestos. I wasn’t sure if he was joking. By late afternoon the gym sparkled, but we were both filthy and headed off to our respective showers.

  ***

  I was eager to ask Gran if Mr. Ryan could teach me fencing at dinner, but he beat me to it. Gran looked between us thoughtfully.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose on you Mr. Ryan,” she said. “Young boys can be a handful, and I’m sure you have other things to do.”

  I held my breath. It was up to Mr. Ryan now.

  “It would only be for a couple hours a day,” Mr. Ryan said. “I haven’t done any fencing in years, and I am trying to get back into better shape. Jack’s youthful enthusiasm
is sure to inspire me. I also wanted to replace the boxing equipment if that’s all right? Some of the other gear is beyond salvaging, but I didn’t want to throw anything out…”

  “If it’s garbage, throw it out,” Gran said. “I’m not attached to any of the fitness equipment. If you find Jack isn’t behaving, don’t feel obligated to continue his lessons.”

  “I’m sure there won’t be any problems,” Mr. Ryan said.

  Yes! I cheered silently. I would get fencing lessons and still have plenty of time for exploring the woods and generally goofing off. Things were looking good. When she spoke, it was as if my grandmother had heard my thoughts.

  “That will leave you with a great deal of unscheduled time,” she said.

  I didn’t like the appraising look she was giving me.

  “I’ll find things to do.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Gran looked from me to Ivy and back. “Ivy is spending the summer with us to learn how things work here. I can teach her many things, but I know little of computers and modern technology.”

  Gran wasn’t kidding. I forgot to mention that there are no TVs in Gran’s house. None. No cable, no satellite, no antenna. I might have died on the first day, but she has a phone line and the internet. Unsurprisingly, people don’t want to stay at a place with no connection to the outside world. I’d been streaming TV on my laptop since I got there. I looked at Ivy.

  “How can you not know about computers?” I asked. “Are you from Pennsylvania?”

  Ivy hadn’t spoken for the entire meal. Now she glared at me.

  “Ivy isn’t Amish.” Gran said. “She’s been home-schooled and has received… a classical education. As I already told you, she is here to learn more contemporary things. You will teach her.”

  “No!” Ivy and I said together. It was the first thing the little princess and I had agreed on.

  “Yes,” Gran said. “You will teach Ivy about computers and such. You have the only computer in the house, and I know nothing about them.”

  Wait a minute. I looked desperately to Mr. Ryan, but he shook his head before I could ask.

  “Sorry kid,” he said. “My laptop can’t be accessed by anyone else. People pay me not to endanger their information.”

  Damn.

  “I can simply use the boy’s computer.” Ivy smiled sweetly at Gran. “I’m sure I can figure it out on my own.”

  I felt blood rushing to my head. The main reason I had no friends was the moving around thing, but I also had difficulty controlling my temper and not saying things out loud that shouldn’t be said.

  “Two problems with that,” I said. “One, my name is Jack, not the boy, and two—I’m not letting some stupid girl break my laptop!”

  “Did you just call me stupid, boy?”

  Ivy’s fuse was as short as mine. It’s how we’d ended up turning Gran’s vegetable garden.

  “My name is four letters long and a single syllable. So yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re stupid.”

  “That’s more than enough from the two of you.” Gran didn’t raise her voice, but we both backed down. I’d discovered years before that arguing with Gran was a bad idea. You never won. “Jack will teach Ivy about computers, end of discussion. Ivy will teach Jack about gardening.”

  “What?” Again Ivy and I spoke in unison.

  “You both have too much misdirected energy,” Gran said. “I will inform the groundskeeper that the two of you will manage the vegetable garden this year.”

  “I’d be happy to tend the garden as thanks for your hospitality,” Ivy said. “I can manage the task on my own, without any assistance.”

  I had nearly two seconds of renewed hope.

  “How will Jack learn about gardening that way?” Gran asked.

  Ivy’s cute little face stared up at Gran for a good minute before she backed down. Like I said, you don’t win arguments with my grandmother.

  Mr. Ryan quietly ate his dinner and refrained from commenting. That was the first time I realised… he was smart too.

  ***

  I had a strange dream that night. Maybe it wasn’t that strange, considering that blacksmithing was one of many things I’d always been interested in, and I’d seen the Lord of the Rings movies a thousand times. I dreamt of a dark smithy, deep under the earth and lit only by the forge’s white-hot fire. How’d I know it was deep under the earth? I just knew. Sometimes in dreams, you know stuff. In the dream I was me, but I was also somebody else—pretty standard for dreams. Not a lot happened in the dream. From what I could remember afterwards, it mainly involved the forging of a huge hammer head. It had a spike on one end, so it was probably for a war hammer. The whole thing was very Mines of Moria. I chocked it up to way too much Middle Earth… and the two extra servings of dessert I’d eaten right before bedtime.

  ***

  My grandmother had called my father, and the next morning five boxes of fencing gear showed up at the front door. It was white, pristine, and new. There were sets for Mr. Ryan too. After we’d opened the boxes on the gym’s floor, he gave me a questioning look with one querulous eyebrow raised.

  “My dad’s super rich,” I said. It was true. “This won’t mean anything to him, as far as the cost goes.”

  “Do you ever see him?”

  “Not much anymore,” I said. “He’s really busy… with work.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s no big deal,” I lied with the bright smile I learned to lie with years before. “Now we can practice.”

  “We definitely can,” Mr. Ryan said. “We’ll start with stretching.”

  Two hours of intense exercise and drills followed. I’d hoped to spar at the end, but Mr. Ryan said it was too soon for that. I wasn’t disappointed though. Somewhere in the middle of the practice, I realised Mr. Ryan knew his stuff. He said he hadn’t picked up a foil in twenty years. Watching him move, I hoped I’d be as good after twenty more years of practising. Mr. Ryan also turned out to be a very strict instructor, but not a mean one, and that makes all the difference. I left the gym exhausted and sweaty.

  It was still weeks too early for planting vegetables. I’d hoped to duck into the forest for the afternoon to explore. By the time I finished showering, the heavy rainfall outside had dashed those hopes. Dinner is a formal meal at Gran’s place, but breakfast and lunch are self-serve on weekdays. Ms. Mopat had set the sideboard in the smaller dining room with sandwiches and pot of soup. I don’t normally enjoy soup, but on cold wet days it has its appeal. I’d just grabbed a big plate of sandwiches and a bowl of soup, and had sat down for a quiet lunch, when Ivy set her own lunch on the table across from me. Neither of us acknowledged the other. We ate in sullen silence for a good twenty minutes.

  “The mistress of the house informed me that you shall begin my instruction this afternoon,” Ivy said.

  I looked up from studiously ignoring her. Ivy’s food was gone. If I hadn’t eaten the same meal I’d have concluded that the food was incredibly bitter, based on her expression.

  “She didn’t inform me,” I said.

  “I am informing you now, boy.”

  I felt my face go hot. Something about this miserable brat infuriated me out of all proportion.

  “I’ll let you know when I’m ready Princess,” I said through clenched teeth. I picked up my last half sandwich and ate it as slowly as I could manage. At the end of five painful minutes, I looked up to find Ivy staring at me. She spoke when I made eye contact.

  “How did you know that I’m a princess?” she asked softly. She looked super intense.

  Oh yeah, I thought, she’s crazy. The conversation in the library came back to me in a rush as I remembered she was a few bricks short of a load. Then I briefly felt bad again for antagonising someone with obvious mental issues. Maybe she couldn’t help being a miserable harpy.

  “It seemed pretty obvious to me,” I said. Was that the right answer?

  “If a simpleton can discern my true nature, I must be more careful.”

/>   What?

  “OK, whatever you say, Princess.” I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.

  “It’s good you’re learning your place, boy. You may begin my instruction now.”

  Damn it. Princess Whackadoo appeared to be taking what I said at face value. Military school was looking good.

  “Gran doesn’t have wireless, so we’ll have to do it up in my room.”

  “That seems… improper.”

  The glare Ivy gave me was loaded with suspicion. She stared at me like she wanted to peel the skin off my face with her eyes. Heck, I felt guilty.

  “Come on,” I said and headed to my room without checking to see if she followed.

  Ivy did follow me. Mr. Ryan and I lived on the third floor of Gran’s house. Gran, Ivy, and Ms. Mopat lived on the second floor. As I said before, most of the place was empty. My room was one of the smaller bedrooms, but it had two big windows overlooking the back yard and the forest. Mr. Ryan had a bedroom, a sitting room, and a bathroom all to himself, but I used the shared bathroom at the end of the hall. It wasn’t a big deal because I rarely had to share it.

  I led Ivy over to the antique writing table that held my laptop. Only a couple of rooms were wired for internet, which was how I ended up with that particular room. I carried a second chair to the table and set it next to the one I usually used. Ivy made a point of pulling them further apart before sitting next to me.

  “How much do you know about computers?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Ivy said. “We don’t have such things at home.”

  No computers at all? Where was she from? The 1700’s? I suspected Ivy was a new-age-hippy type.

  “How do you get things done without computers?”

  I was genuinely curious, but my question angered her.

  “Very well, thank you,” she said. She pointed at the laptop. “Is this a computer?”

  “It’s one type of computer, a portable model.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Computers do everything,” I said.