Legend of the White Sword (Books 1 - 3)

by P. D. Kalnay

  “My name is Jack.”

  “A lie,” the woman said. She looked even angrier than before. “Will you end your life with a lie on your lips?”

  “Please,” Ivy said from behind me. “Let him go. He’s just a foolish boy who tried to help me.”

  “The hour is late for that,” the woman said. She looked back at me. “Your name?”

  You might think I was scared. What with having my butt handed to me by demon wolves and this dragon lady. And sure I was afraid, but now, woozy or not, I was getting angry. So, full disclosure, as my mother would say, my name isn’t Jack. I tell people it is, because the third reason I had no friends, on top of the moving around, and the bad temper… was my name. My stupid, stupid name. Other people have crappy names they dread having read aloud on the first day of school, but they all feel better at attendance time when my turn comes. Now, I was mad. It wasn’t enough for this psycho to kill me in the forest with her creepy sword; she had to humiliate me in front of Ivy too. Fine.

  “Jakalain Moonborn Talantial,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Ivy gasped and the woman laughed. When she stopped laughing and looked down at me, I somehow knew she wasn’t laughing about how funny my name sounds.

  “So much vengeance in a single night,” she said. “Well fought, Son of Talantial.”

  When she drew back the huge sword, I tried to cover Ivy with my body. It was hopeless. I wouldn’t even slow her swing. The white blade flew towards us with impossible speed, and in that instant I realised that Ivy’s little hand was clenched in my own. The white sword stopped dead a few inches from my face—caught by a silver blade. Then, with a screech and a hail of sparks, Mr. Ryan pushed the bigger blade up with the library sword and threw the woman back a few paces. He moved to stand between her and us, sword at the ready. I was caught somewhere between wanting to cheer and wanting to cry. Mr. Ryan was a guy you could count on. Without taking his eyes from the dragon lady, he reached up, removed, and tossed me the little headlamp he was wearing. Then he gave her his salute, the same one that both begins and finishes his katas.

  Seeing the salute, the woman hesitated. She looked Mr. Ryan up and down before attacking. You’ll have to trust me when I say that no sword fight you’ve ever seen in a movie comes close to the spectacle Ivy and I watched in the stone circle. Mr. Ryan and the dragon lady ignored us completely. I knew Mr. Ryan was good, never having touched him with my sword, but dancing with the library sword in the moonlight, he was beautiful. It was very much a battle between raw power and grace, and the dragon lady brought crazy strength and speed to the fight. Mr. Ryan is a strong man… I spotted him sometimes when he did bench presses in the gym, and he’s strong. His strength didn’t come close to the dragon lady’s. Several times, when forced to block her attack directly, Mr. Ryan was literally thrown from his feet. He always found them again, like a cat, circling away and returning as good as he got. Even in my dim state, I recognised that I’d never be Mr. Ryan’s equal. Not with a lifetime of practice. Watching him fight was like watching a racehorse run or an eagle fly. It was what he was made for. Stronger or not, the dragon lady wasn’t a match for Mr. Ryan either. He fought her the way he’d told me to fight a stronger opponent, with his mind. Then he disarmed her. It was too fast and the night too dim for me to see how. The white sword lay at his feet, and the dragon lady crouched, several paces away, empty-handed. Mr. Ryan had won. Then he flipped the big sword at the woman with the tip of his sword and took a step back. She caught her sword and stared at Mr. Ryan like she was trying to see through him. I took my first breath in a while.

  “Why did you stop?” the woman asked.

  Mr. Ryan lowered his sword. I’d never seen an expression like the one on his face before, and I’m not sure how to describe it, but it was a look of desperate longing.

  “I’ve spent my entire life searching,” he said.

  Something in his expression intrigued the silver-haired woman, and she lowered her own sword.

  “Searching for what?” she asked.

  “For you,” Mr. Ryan said. Then he laughed a laugh I could only call merry. I’m talking Santa Claus merry.

  Across the clearing, I saw tears well up in the golden eyes.

  “Janik?” the woman asked.

  Beside me, Ivy made a sound, and she squeezed my hand hard, but I couldn’t look away.

  “I feel I should know that name,” Mr. Ryan said.

  The woman extended the white sword toward Mr. Ryan. Part of me was impressed by the strength she must have to hold the enormous weapon at arm’s length, and part me wanted to scream Don’t do it! I kept silent as Mr. Ryan reached out his left hand and touched the pure white blade. The sword flared into life. It shone so brightly, blade and hilt that I had to turn away and cover my eyes. When I looked back, the woman and Mr. Ryan hadn’t moved. She’d let the tip of her sword fall to the earth and wept in the bright moonlight. Her grief was palpable, and I pitied the woman who’d intended to kill me minutes before.

  “Why are you protecting them?” she asked through her tears.

  “I gave my word.”

  “Has your heart found forgiveness?” Anger was back in her voice.

  “Never,” Mr. Ryan said. He made the word sound like it was forged from steel. “They’ve taken what was most precious from me.”

  The woman’s smile was fierce. As a golden circle of light flared beneath her feet, she threw the white sword to Mr. Ryan. He caught it neatly by the grip.

  “My time is up,” she said. “Take your sword and find a way back.”

  Then she took a slow step, backwards into the light. I blacked out soon after that, but I’m sure I heard Ivy tell Mr. Ryan how sorry she was about something.

  ***

  There isn’t much else to tell you about my first summer at Gran’s. I spent the next couple of days drifting in and out of sleep. Gran told me my fever was very high, and that she’d have taken me to the hospital if Dr. Davis hadn’t been staying with us. Those days are blurry, and I briefly wondered if I’d imagined the fight in the forest and the silver-haired woman too, but I have scars proving I didn’t. I heard pieces of two conversations from my sick-bed over the course of those days. I didn’t know how much was real, and how much was dream, induced by my fever.

  “I wished to say farewell, and to thank him,” Ivy said.

  “He won’t wake before you leave,” Gran told her.

  “Did he know who I was the whole time?”

  “Unless you’ve told him yourself, I expect he still doesn’t. Did you hold to your promise?”

  “I did. Why didn’t you tell me who he was?” Ivy asked.

  “That wouldn’t have been fair to him, now would it? I wanted the two of you to start on equal terms, and to get to know one another, without the rest influencing you.”

  “But it won’t matter, will it? In the end, the outcome will be the same, won’t it?”

  “The pact cannot be broken. But that doesn’t mean there can’t be happiness.”

  “Thank you,” Ivy said. “You’ve given me something to take back with me that I’d never thought to have.”

  “A new understanding of computers?”

  Ivy laughed before answering.

  “Hope.”

  “You’re leaving us?” Gran asked.

  “Yes.” Mr. Ryan said.

  “What will you do?”

  “My plans are my own. I need to get away from here.” Mr. Ryan sounded angry.

  “Thank you for saving my grandson.”

  “I didn’t do it for you.”

  “I know. You had many reasons not to.”

  “It’s taking everything I have—not to kill you where you stand.” Mr. Ryan spoke softly. “I gave my word, so I’ll return each summer to protect the girl.”

  “And Jack?”

  “Unfortunately… I already like the boy.”

  “You’ve always been a good and honourable man.”

  “Ivangelain will return after wint
er’s last frost?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I will too. Say goodbye to the boy for me.”

  I woke to find Ivy and Mr. Ryan gone. Gran passed on their goodbyes, but I couldn’t help feeling hurt. I replayed that night, and the blurry conversations, over and over in my head, trying to make sense of it all. Gran refused to answer any of my questions, telling me I’d get the answers at the proper time. Ivy obviously didn’t leave a phone number, or an email address. That was to be expected. That Mr. Ryan didn’t either, made me sad; though I knew they’d both be back next summer.

  From the long bus ride, to the reading of my name in homeroom on the first day, high school started as poorly as I’d expected. Finding friends at school doesn’t look promising, but I remind myself, that even if I won’t get to see them until next summer, I do have two friends now.

  At least, I think I do.

  For now, I go to school and wait… for the last frost of winter.

  —End of Book 1—

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Ivy’s Tangle. I hope you enjoyed the story. If you did, and have time, please take a moment to rate or review the book online. It’s nice to hear from people who enjoy my books, and it makes a big difference in how visible they are to future readers. (Note: If there are thousands of reviews by the time you read this… maybe just move onto Ivy’s Bind;)

  Thank you again,

  P.D. Kalnay

  The adventure continues in Book 2:

  Ivy’s Bind – 2016

  Ivy’s Bind

  Legend of the White Sword – Book 2

  Legend of the White Sword:

  Ivy’s Tangle

  Ivy’s Bind

  Ivy’s Blossom (forthcoming)

  Other books by P.D. Kalnay

  The Arros Chronicles:

  The Spiders of Halros

  The High Priestess

  Jewel of the Empire (forthcoming)

  The Alien Documentaries:

  Resurrection

  Retribution (forthcoming)

  Redemption (forthcoming)

  Children’s Books:

  Burn Bright

  Ivy’s Bind

  Legend of the White Sword – Book 2

  P.D. Kalnay

  Misprint Press Publishing

  Copyright © 2016 P.D. Kalnay

  ISBN: 978-0-9950515-0-8

  Cover Design by P.D. Kalnay

  Author Website: www.pdkalnay.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

  Dedicated to my cousin JT…

  Thank you for encouraging me to write.

  Chapter 1 – Unexpected Treasure

  Last summer, the summer before I started high school, I went to live at my grandmother’s house. It was the best summer of my life, but the way it ended left me with an incredible number of questions—and not a single answer. It also left me with some pretty big scars. Last summer, I made my first real friends. Mr. Ryan taught me about martial arts and sword fighting, and Ivy taught me about gardening and friendship. Then the summer came to a crazy conclusion, and I found myself alone with my grandmother in her big old house. Ms. Mopat, my grandmother’s housekeeper was there too, but since she had yet to say single a word… I didn’t count her.

  During the week, I went to school every day. I was the first kid on, the last kid off, and my bus ride took over an hour each way. Those hours were more than enough time for me to get my homework done. I spent every weeknight down in the basement in the gymnasium, practicing the sword katas that Mr. Ryan taught me. I didn’t know why I needed to become a great fighter like Mr. Ryan; I only knew that I did. My grandmother was no fan of idle hands, so I kept myself busy before she found things for me to do. On the weekends, I took a break from sword practice and spent most of my time in the workshop. One end of the huge boiler-room in my grandmother’s basement housed a workshop the likes of which most hobbyists only dream. The shop contained every tool imaginable. Many of them were quite old. It had taken me a good deal of Googling to determine all of their purposes.

  Before that winter, I’d never had the opportunity to find out, but it turned out that what Jack does best is make things. I made all kinds of things in Gran’s basement, and (if I do say so myself) I was good at it. The internet became my ally. When it let me down, regarding a topic, I ordered a book, or more often books, and taught myself. Every Saturday and Sunday, I sawed, hammered, and sanded. It always surprised me when a day had passed. Ms. Mopat often left a lunch-filled tray on the end of a workbench. Gran sometimes had to come down to tell me when it was dinnertime.

  I started with furniture, making myself a desk and a chair. There must have been a dozen desks in Gran’s house already, and countless chairs. Then, I took it up a notch and built a chest of drawers. I screwed-up my first try at dovetailed joints, but after that it was smooth sailing. Those things scratched my furniture-making itch, and I was ready to move on. It wasn’t even December by then.

  The workshop had more than just woodworking tools. If you can imagine a hobby or craft, somebody had given it a go down in my grandmother’s basement. Twenty years back, a goldsmith had lived at the house for a time. All of her things had been left behind when she died. I discovered them one Saturday evening, two weeks before Christmas holidays. Her tools and supplies hadn’t been racked, or added to the shop’s extensive collection. Instead, they were stacked in big plastic Rubbermaid tubs in one corner. Some of her equipment required more internet research, and I discovered that the tools alone were worth a lot of money.

  I found the case of materials the following morning at the bottom of the last tub. Under all the rest, lay a case that folded open to reveal clever drawers and compartments. The case’s contents were worth more than the rest of the tools in the workshop combined. Opening the case for the first time was like discovering a pirate’s treasure chest. Each little compartment contained some precious thing. Small bars of gold sat next to silver and platinum. There were also chunks of a dull reddish metal I didn’t recognise, and spools of wire made of the precious metals I did. Other drawers contained gemstones, both cut and uncut. The stones I recognised were diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, but there were plenty of others too.

  The case was heavy for its size, and I moved it to a workbench to examine under better lighting. Not knowing what gold and gems were worth, I wasn’t yet in awe of its contents. I took one of each stone up to my room after dinner, and following a late night of searching the internet, found it hard to fall asleep. If all the materials were real (and somehow I knew they were) then that little case was worth as much as a decent house. Possibly—since I couldn’t find pictures of several of the gems, or the reddish metal—more than one house.

  The weekend had ended, and I had school the next day. But I couldn’t think about anything besides the treasure I’d found. That Monday, for the first time in a while, I had something to talk to Gran about at dinner.

  “Gran?”

  “What is it, Jack?”

  “I was down in the basement on the weekend–”

  “You usually are,” she said, looking up from her food.

  “Yeah, anyway I found stuff you should know about.”

  My grandmother caught me in her icy blue eyes, like a bird of prey. I was the rabbit.

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “I was going through the jewellery-making tools, and I found a fortune in raw materials.”

  “Oh.” Gran turned her attention back to her plate. “You mean the case with the gems and whatnot?”

  Whatnot?

  “I did a little research. That case is worth h
undreds of thousands of dollars all together… if it’s real.”

  “All of it is real.”

  I gave my head a shake. Gran knew about it, and it was real? Both sides of my family are well off but… An idea occurred to me. If my grandmother was aware of the precious materials, and had left them in a box in the basement, she probably didn’t care about them.

  “Can I use some of it?” I asked.

  “What for?”

  “I thought I’d try making something.”

  “Jewellery? You’ve done an excellent job with the furniture, but making jewellery is a far finer process. Not the sort of thing that would interest a young man, I’d have thought. Are the boys at school wearing jewels these days?”

  I could feel my face go red.

  “I wasn’t going to make anything for me,” I said.

  “Then for whom?”

  Blood continued filling my face. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I wanted to make a present for Ivy.

  “Never mind,” I said. I looked down at my plate.

  “You may use as many of the materials as you see fit,” she said.

  I looked back up, not sure I’d heard her correctly. Gran raised one eyebrow.

  “Was there something else?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  ***

  I thought about what I might make for Ivy. I’d never seen her wear any jewellery, and had believed she was from a new-age-hippy compound until the end of the summer. Now, I wondered where she really lived. Last summer had ended with a crazy night out in the forest. Demon-eyed wolves, a silver dragon lady, and (I was pretty sure) magic swords had all played a part.