by P. D. Kalnay
Ivy and I watched a couple of films back to back. By the time the credits were rolling on the second, it was 11:40. We agreed to meet at the patio doors in twenty minutes. I grabbed my big flashlight and went down to the library to get the sword from above the fireplace. With my greater height, I no longer required a step stool. I stared at the blank spot above the mantle for a good minute before my brain accepted what my eyes saw. The sword was gone. Two lonely nails stuck out from the plaster where the sword usually hung. The black shield still hung on the wall, but the library sword had vanished. Or been stolen. An image of the leather clad gang from dinner flashed before my eyes. I had no proof, but I felt sure one of them must have robbed my grandmother.
There wasn’t anything I could do in the middle of the night. Ivy was waiting for me, and I didn’t want to answer questions about why we were up, so I decided I’d tell Gran about the missing sword in the morning. I still needed a weapon to protect Ivy, and the only one that came to mind was the knife in my sock drawer. Racing up the stairs again, I grabbed my knife and pushed the green-gold sheath behind my belt. The knife wasn’t a sword, but far better than nothing. If Ivy was right, and Gran’s property was protected, it wouldn’t matter.
Ivy awaited me at the patio door.
“Did you decide not to bring the sword?” she asked.
“It’s gone,” I said. “Someone must have stolen it.”
Ivy didn’t look concerned.
“I don’t believe anyone would steal from your grandmother,” she said.
She certainly sounded unconcerned.
“It’s time to go to the garden.”
I followed Ivy out back, and when she went to do her singing/walking/whatever in the garden, I kept watch on the yard. The moon shone full in the cloudless sky. Gran’s yard was bright enough to see without my flashlight, once my eyes had adjusted. I thought I’d kept a good watch, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when the woman from dinner spoke right behind me.
“A fine evening to hunt.”
I spun around, a hand on the handle of my knife.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked. My voice was a bit shaky.
“Fulfilling a contract,” Relique said.
I had no idea what she meant.
“The mistress of the house will not approve,” Ivy said.
She’d left the garden, and I jumped a second time when her voice came from right beside me.
“We were paid a great deal extra for the risks involved.” If Relique had concerns about my grandmother’s opinion, she hid it well. “And we’ll be long gone before she knows. It was helpful of you to leave the house proper.”
“Do you know what she’s talking about?” I asked Ivy.
I didn’t take my eyes off of Relique. There was no doubt in my mind that she was dangerous and maybe crazy too.
“They’re here to kill me,” Ivy said.
“Both of you,” Relique corrected her. “Two contracts, with bonuses. Well worth the risks.”
Kill us? Once again we were in danger. At first, I was more annoyed than scared—none of my questions had been answered. I also wondered where her brothers were.
“We’re going back inside,” I said, trying my best to sound confident. “You stay right there.”
Relique smiled and reached behind her back, drawing two long daggers.
“We can’t have that,” she said.
Then I saw her brothers on either side of us out of my peripheral vision. They were also armed with long knives. Neither had made any sound that I’d heard.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
My question caused Relique to hesitate.
“Because we were paid to, obviously.”
“By who?” I asked.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Relique said with a laugh. “The list of those wishing you dead is long. I will tell you that several interests contributed to your bounty. That’s more than enough talking.”
Like a single minded entity, the three crouched preparing to attack Ivy and I. Mr. Ryan had taught me knife fighting, and we’d been sparring with hard rubber knives for over a year. Against three armed attackers, who were also assassins by the sounds of it—there was no way we’d survive. At the same time I drew my knife, I saw Mr. Ryan. He walked casually, and silently, up behind Relique. I breathed a sigh of relief at his arrival. I also discovered who’d taken the library sword.
“The girl is under my protection,” Mr. Ryan said. He said it the way most people might say, ‘Cool out tonight, isn’t it?’
Relique turned to face Mr. Ryan.
It was insulting. I was standing right behind her with a knife in my hand!
“One Knight against the three of us?” Relique asked. “You’ll die for nothing.”
“The girl is under my protection,” Mr. Ryan repeated.
“And the boy?”
Mr. Ryan smiled. It wasn’t his usual, friendly smile.
“I like him,” he said with a shrug. “I can’t speak for the mistress of this house, but I will allow you this one chance to fly.”
“We’ve accepted the contract,” Relique said.
“They’re under my protection,” Mr. Ryan answered.
He gave his salute and moved the sword to the ready position. I guess that’s all the talking out of the way, I thought. I was wrong. Mr. Ryan had one last thing to say.
“You two, get to the house,” he shouted as he leapt at Relique.
She caught his sword between her knives and held him at bay. Ivy raced by me, towards the house, following Mr. Ryan’s instructions. I ran after her, knife in hand. The sound of fighting rang out behind us. Halfway to the house, I glanced back to see Mr. Ryan fighting with Relique and Deirk. That saved my life. One of Jellan’s knives arced towards my throat. I rolled to one side as Mr. Ryan had taught me, coming back up onto my feet without slowing. No one that big should be able to run so fast, I thought. I was scared, but also relieved… Ivy should have safely reached the house. I didn’t know how much safety the house could provide, but it had to be better than being outside.
I held my knife low, squaring off against Jellan. Turning my back, and trying to run again, would be suicide. Mr. Ryan taught me to watch my opponent’s knife, not his hands or his eyes. He hadn’t mentioned what to do if my opponent had two knives. I tried to watch both. Jellan was cautious at first. He made probing attacks to see how fast I was. I barely avoided his knives, jumping back out of reach each time. When he’d seen enough, he attacked in earnest. Desperately, I tried to watch both glinting knives in the moonlight. I parried his first serious attack with my knife. When my tanto met his long dagger, his knife shattered. Surprised, Jellan jumped back, staring down at the inch of blade remaining. My first thought was that his knife must have had a defect. The contact had only been glancing. My second thought was… Is that an arrow in his chest? An arrow stuck out of the left side of Jellan’s chest at a steep angle.
If I’d had time to consider it, I’m sure I’d have hesitated. I would have been conflicted, stabbing someone, but Mr. Ryan’s training produced a reaction faster than conscious thought. My knife hand knew what to do with a distracted enemy. The tanto shot forward, and it felt as though I watched someone else stab Jellan just under his lowest rib. I felt my knife go in with little resistance, and then… nothing. Jellan was gone. His knives, the broken and the whole, lay at my feet. One of the arrows I’d made for Ivy also lay on the ground beside them. I looked around for Jellan, but he had truly vanished. Then I remembered Mr. Ryan. He knelt next to Relique, half the yard away. Deirk lay a dozen feet to one side, unmoving.
“Jack, go to your room,” Gran said.
I jumped for the third time that night. You might wonder how I could meekly go to my room, like a child, after the night’s events. If you’d heard the tone of my grandmother’s voice—or seen the look in her eyes—you’d understand. My grandmother was always intimidating; that night she was terrifying. It never occurred to me to argue
. Besides, my room looked down on the backyard.
I went inside and ran up the stairs. I didn’t know what might come next, but I didn’t want to miss anything. I left my lights off and peered out my window. Below, I saw Gran kneeling next to Relique where Mr. Ryan had been. Mr. Ryan was gone. I could only see Gran’s back, and if anything was said I was too far away to hear it. Then Gran stood and walked back to the house. Two bodies lay out on the grass in the moonlight. I was unable to look away. A few minutes later, another person appeared on the scene. What came next was as surprising as the rest of the night had been. Ms. Mopat, Gran’s silent, pretty, and raven-haired maid, dragged the bodies into the woods… with a fistful of hair in each hand. After a half hour of nothing more to see, I left the window and sat on the edge of my bed. I felt too keyed-up to sleep, until it was almost dawn.
Chapter 12 – Early Engagement
For the first time that summer, I actually slept in. If Mr. Ryan had come by my door, he’d decided to let me sleep. I met up with Ivy at lunch. She’d just filled a plate with sandwiches and sat down. It turned out that disposing of the odd body didn’t impact Ms. Mopat’s ability to make meals.
“Are you OK?” I asked, sitting down with my own sandwich-filled plate.
“Yes, Jack. I’m fine.”
“Thanks.”
“Why are you thanking me?” Ivy asked. “I thought you’d be angry.”
“Because you still haven’t told me anything?”
I wasn’t not angry about that.
“Yes.”
“I was thanking you for saving my life last night. Nothing you haven’t told me would have prevented all that, would it?”
“No.”
I’d suspected as much.
“Then you saved my life… again. If you hadn’t shot that guy, I’d be dead.”
“I was unsure I’d hit him,” Ivy said. “Mr. Ryan returned my arrow this morning and there was no blood.”
My knife had been blood-free too. I knew I’d stabbed Jellan… deep.
“Where is Mr. Ryan?”
“He spent the night searching for the third Clansman, Jellan, but found no trace. I believe he’s now resting.” I’m not sure what Ivy saw on my face, but she hastened to add, “You don’t have to worry Jack, Jellan cannot return now that your grandmother has revoked his welcome here.”
“I don’t think he’s coming back,” I said. That dude had vanished, not run away.
“Why do you say that?”
“What’s a Clansman?” I asked back.
Ivy looked down at her food.
“Please keep your promise for a little while longer,” she said softly.
Now I was angry.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell you my secrets when you tell me yours.”
***
A week before summer ended, I got another surprise. Most of the vegetables were harvested, and Ivy and I were having what would undoubtedly be one of our last swimming lessons of the summer. Ivy had become a solid swimmer and could tread water for over an hour. I’d like to think some of it was my excellent instruction, but the truth was, she put her whole heart into any task and deserved most of the credit. We’d mainly swum laps for the last weeks, and it meant the hands-on instruction was long behind us. She was comfortable in the swimsuits, and still looked amazing, so it wasn’t all bad. Gran interrupted our laps well before we’d have stopped for dinner.
“Jack!” she shouted.
Ivy and I stood up in the centre of the pool. We’d been about to meet, mid-lap, in our respective lanes. Gran had never come down to the pool during a lesson before.
“What is it?” I asked, wiping the water from my eyes.
“I have received word that the bonding ceremony will take place tonight. Dinners have been set out for the two of you. You’ll leave in an hour.”
Finished, Gran turned to go.
I was about to ask what a bonding ceremony was, and where the heck we were going, when a tiny hand grabbed mine under the water and squeezed hard. Ivy’s face begged me not to say anything. It took all I had to let my grandmother walk out in silence.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “What’s a bonding ceremony, and where are we going?”
Enough was enough. Ivy was running out of summer.
“We should eat quickly. I’ll come up to your room to explain,” Ivy hurried for the nearest ladder and climbed out of the pool in a spray of water. “We’re going to meet some extended family. You must dress formally. Hurry Jack, we mustn’t be late!”
I got out to dry off too. Sometime, during the drying of my hair and face, Ivy made a run for it. The dinner Gran spoke of sat on a tray in my room. After a quick shower, I ate on my feet as I pulled a suit, dress shirt, and tie from my closet. I only had one new set of dress clothes that fit, making it easy to decide what to wear.
Chapter 13 – Untimely Answers
I’d just finished laying out my suit on the bed, when Ivy burst into my bedroom in tears. Then, to my amazement, she wrapped her arms around my waist and sobbed into my chest for several minutes. After a startled moment, I hugged her back, giving my silent support. As I held her, I couldn’t help noticing just how tiny she was. I also pondered the fact that the third hug I’d gotten in my fifteen years was from Ivy. Even when her sobbing had subsided, Ivy continued clinging to me. It wasn’t at all unpleasant.
“I’m so sorry,” she said into my chest.
“Sorry for what?” I asked.
“Will you do something for me?”
My first instinct was to ask what, but I found myself agreeing instead. “OK,” I said, bemused.
“Please hold me until you hate me too much to continue,” she said. “I wish to remember this, later on.”
“Remember what?”
“The time before you hated me, and we were still friends.” Ivy’s little, tear-streaked face looked up at me. I’d never seen her more distraught.
Girls can be so dramatic.
“I haven’t had many friends,” I said. “I don’t plan on giving up on you any time soon.”
“You only say that because you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” I asked.
“Anything,” she whispered.
“Talk and I’ll listen,” I said. “Why don’t we sit on the bed if there’s a lot to say?”
She looked as though she might start crying again.
“I’ll hold your hand, and you can tell me, all right?”
Ivy nodded, and that’s what we did. I sat right next to her on my bed and tried to ignore that she was soft, pretty, and smelled like springtime.
“I promised the mistress of the house that I’d tell you everything,” Ivy said. “I actually begged her and Mr. Ryan to let me be the one to tell you–”
“You haven’t told me anything!”
“No, and I’m sorry. I wanted things to stay the same between us, and I kept putting it off. You’re the only friend I’ve ever had… I didn’t want it to end. It wasn’t fair to you. Now, I must tell you what I can before we leave.”
I said nothing—feeling nervous—now that I was about to get answers.
“My name is Ivangelain Gardenborn Venantial,” Ivy said.
I couldn’t help noting that her name sounded awfully similar to my own stupid name, but I kept listening.
“Technically, I am a princess of House Venantial.”
“A princess princess?”
“Yes. In the same way that you are a prince of House Talantial.”
“What?” Not very eloquent I admit. “I think I’d know if I was a prince.”
“How? Have your parents, or your grandmother, ever told you anything about your family history?”
She had a point there.
“No.”
Ivy looked even more upset.
“I’ve left this too late,” she said. “It would have been hard to tell you everything—if I’d started on the first day as I was supposed to.”
“Start at the begi
nning and we’ll get as far as we get,” I said.
“It might be hard for you to believe what I tell you…”
“Try me,” I said. Heck, I’d fought demonic wolves and a crazy silver-haired lady, with what was unquestionably a magic sword, out in the woods last year. Not to mention the other impossible stuff I’d seen. Bring it on Princess, I thought.
“The beginning,” Ivy said. “Very well. The World Tree ties the Seven Worlds to each other. The First World, where I’m from, is at the base of the World Tree. As the name implies, it was the first of the seven to come into existence. This world is the Seventh World. It resides at the furthest tip of the Tree and is the youngest world.”
OK, I didn’t see that coming.
“How can worlds be on a tree?”
“It’s not an actual tree,” Ivy said, “that’s what the interconnections between the worlds are called. I’ll have to come back to the details another time.”
“Hold on,” I said, as I put two and two together. “Are we going there? To this First World?”
“Yes, that’s why I started with that, try to hold your questions until the end.”
“OK.”
“The First World is your world too, as much as this one is, which is what tonight is about. I’ll come back to that. Unlike this world, many intelligent races inhabit the First World. You, your parents, your grandmother, and I, are of the Fae.”
“Fairies?”
“Yes and no,” Ivy said. “I’ve read some of the stories told here. Very little truth is contained in them. In most cases I wouldn’t have known they were about our kind if I hadn’t recognised a name or detail that was correct. Our people are closer to your conception of elves. Even then, the comparison is poor, and the Dark Elves of the Third World would not recognise themselves in the stories told here.”
“There are actual elves?”
“Yes, but forget I mentioned that. Two worlds are more than we have time for. Our people are diverse and ruled by three great houses. To outsiders, we are so different that we might appear to be different races, but this isn’t so. I’m a member of house Venantial, we are Florathen—growers and tenders of living things. My people are closest to nature and living creatures, the plants and the animals. Your father is from house Talantial. They are Petrathen, and are tied to the fires of the earth and stone. The Petrathen are the greatest craftspeople and warriors of our kind. Your grandmother and mother are of house Aerantial. They are the Winathen, masters of the sky. They whisper to the winds and sing for the rain. The Winathen are our most gifted mages and weavers of enchantment. The most important thing you need to understand is that each of the Houses hates the others. They are also entirely reliant on one another. Many checks and balances are in place to keep our society functioning.”
