Legend of the White Sword (Books 1 - 3)

by P. D. Kalnay

  “Why are you here?” Mr. Ryan asked. “There must be more.”

  “Yes,” Sir Andriel said. “After the duel, much speculation—concerning young Jakalain—circulated throughout the court. The notion that he might return unexpectedly, all things considered, was distressing to some. That he wrought so powerful an enchantment in the Seventh World, produced sleepless nights for those with reason to fear.” He looked meaningfully at Mr. Ryan. Then he turned to Gran. “The message I carry is for Jakalain.”

  Gran nodded for him to continue, and Sir Andriel turned back to me.

  “The message is as simple as it is cruel. You may stay in the Seventh World and live out your life as your parents do. The vine will not affect you unless you travel down the World Tree.”

  “What about Ivy?” I asked.

  “The previous caretakers of the island left on the same boat that delivered her there. In a few months, the time of burning will come. Before that, the fae in residence will abandon Knight’s Haven. A brief time of lawlessness will follow as others arrive to take what they can before Sirean wreaks her vengeance. Alone on the island, Ivangelain will be hard pressed to survive.”

  “But they’d lose Knight’s Haven,” Gran said. “If none are there to can calm the volcano, the damage may be irreparable. I can’t believe they’d risk it.”

  “Only for a few years,” Sir Andriel said. “Others would be sent later, to calm the island and restore the status quo. They’ve determined that the lost revenue is an acceptable compromise.”

  “And if I go?” I asked. I wasn’t about to leave Ivy, to die, on some stupid island.

  “Then you too will be trapped on the island and forced to maintain it to survive. The ruling houses would likely be satisfied with either outcome.”

  The silence that followed lasted for a minute. Then Mr. Ryan spoke.

  “You said she’ll be alone on the island?” he asked.

  “Yes, every seven years the island is abandoned by all but the caretakers. They typically lock themselves in the Great Hall to wait out the raiders and the dragon. Sirean can’t bring herself to destroy the Hall it seems. After she scorches the fields, and burns the orchards to the ground, it’s inhospitable for a minimum of a year after, depending on the talents of the caretakers. Each cycle, a new noble bids for the opportunity to control the port and make their fortune. Knight’s Haven has become a cruel place.”

  “And, in a thousand years, none of these caretakers have simply shut the gates?” Mr. Ryan asked. “Were I stranded into servitude on a scorched rock, the first thing I’d do is shut the sea gates.”

  “Ivy said the sea gates haven’t worked in over a thousand years.” I said. “Would they be enough to keep people out?”

  “The Order never held Knight’s Haven by force of arms,” Mr. Ryan said. “Our mandate meant most of us were out in the world fulfilling our vows at any given time. In the middle of a vast ocean, it was unnecessary to keep a standing army. The only place to anchor was in the harbour, and the harbour mouth was flanked by two tall towers, guarding the gates. The mechanism was so ingenuous, and the enchantments so powerful that the gates could be closed by a single man at the wheel. No fleet, however large, could mount an attack against the island.”

  “You don’t know?” Sir Andriel asked Mr. Ryan.

  “Know what?”

  “The gates have been wedged open for over a thousand years. The Three Houses hold Knight’s Haven by the strength of their fleet.”

  “Wedged how?” Mr. Ryan asked. “Who could do such a thing?”

  “The Blackhammer,” Sir Andriel said, glancing sidelong at me. “Back when I truly was a boy. When… Janik was banished and the betrayal complete. Marielain quit Knight’s Haven. He closed the doors to his smithy and locked them tight with enchantments. Then he opened the gates wide and set Arath in between the teeth of the largest gears. He said the gates hadn’t been made as a symbol of tyranny, and he wouldn’t let them become so. I watched him sail alone through those gates, and as far as I know, I was the last to set eyes upon him.”

  For a moment, Mr. Ryan sat speechless. Then he started laughing. He laughed until tears came out of his eyes, and he held his side in pain. I waited until he’d finished, before asking my question.

  “What’s an Arath?”

  “His war hammer,” Gran said. “The Black Hammer.”

  “It’s like the sword,” Mr. Ryan said, back in control of himself. “Only more so. None but Marielain could lift the damn thing.”

  “Like Thor’s hammer?”

  “Who’s Thor?” Sir Andriel asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Mr. Ryan said. “Just like that, Jack.”

  He laughed a little more.

  “So, if I went to Ivy…”

  “Yes,” Mr. Ryan said. “If you go to Knight’s Haven, you can pick up the hammer and slam the gates shut.”

  “That won’t solve many of our problems,” I said.

  “No,” agreed Mr. Ryan with a delighted grin, “but it’d make a very fine start.”

  Chapter 5 – No Real Choice

  I already knew what my decision would be.

  “I’m going. I’m not leaving Ivy on her own.”

  “Think carefully,” Gran said. “You’ve been given a chance to live a quiet life on this world. Others have paid high prices to gain such.”

  I knew she was talking about my parents. How they’d married each other, and essentially sold me, to do just that. Their reasons (and my grandmother’s reasons) for leaving the First World, were still a mystery. Even if I wasn’t in love with Ivy, there was no way I could pretend that I didn’t know what I knew and live a normal life. Plus, I was certain, right down to my bones, that I’d made myself different in the process of crafting objects with the Blood of the World Tree. No part of me believed that not going was a real choice.

  “I think betrayal is not an unlikely prospect if you return with me,” Sir Andriel said. “You’ll be incapacitated by the vine when you arrive. I’d do my best to protect you, but I’m an old man. The journey to Knight’s Haven is three months long, with good weather, and a full crew of Wind Weavers.”

  “Plenty of time for an accident,” Mr. Ryan said.

  Sir Andriel nodded.

  “The pact has been broken,” Gran said, “as far as Jakalain is concerned. He is no longer bound to serve on the island. This offer is mere sophistry.”

  “Yes,” Sir Andriel said. “However, with the planting of the vine, the legalities of the matter become irrelevant from Ivangelain’s, and Jakalain’s, point of view. Refusing to go to Knight’s Haven is only a theoretical option.”

  “What if he went to a different gate?” Mr. Ryan mused. “He doesn’t have to go to Talanth.”

  “All ports on the sea are equally far from the island,” Gran said. “And the gates in the other lands are controlled by those hostile to the Fae. He’d arrive weak and in certain danger—instead of weak and in likely danger.”

  “I was thinking of a more direct route,” Mr. Ryan said. “We have an old gate a short distance away.” He nodded towards the back of Gran’s house.

  “Problematic, but possible,” Gran said. “And the destination?”

  “Knight’s Haven.” Mr. Ryan smiled.

  “I think I’d have heard if there was a gate on the island,” Gran told him.

  “I know of no such gate,” Sir Andriel added.

  “It’s not so much a gate… as narrow crack,” Mr. Ryan said. “It’s well hidden. As far as I know, it was never used for travelling, but Marielain theorised it might be possible.”

  “The island isn’t so large,” Sir Andriel said. “I’d swear on my life I saw every inch of it in my youth, being something of a nosy lad.”

  “Are you sure there wasn’t one place you never visited?” Mr. Ryan asked.

  The old knight’s eyes widened, and a look of understanding spread across his face. It was followed by a smile.

  “There was the one place,” he said.


  “What place?” Gran asked before I could.

  “The one place that even now, according to Sir Andriel, remains securely locked,” Mr. Ryan said.

  “Ah, Marielain’s workshop.” Gran nodded. “And you say he found a gate in there and kept it to himself? That information alone would begin new conflicts over the possession of Knight’s Haven.”

  Mr. Ryan said nothing, and looked as though he was deciding whether he should.

  “What more is there?” Gran asked.

  “He didn’t so much find the crack,” Mr. Ryan said softly, “as make it.”

  Everybody turned to look at me like I’d tried to pick their pockets.

  “What?” I said under the intense scrutiny. “It wasn’t me. It was this Marielain Blackhammer guy. Ivy said people are reborn so they can start over… isn’t that right?”

  “Most people are,” Mr. Ryan said. He was rubbing the sleeve that hid his golden tattoo. “You seem to have jumped right back in where Marielain left off.”

  “Has he crafted more than the necklace?” Sir Andriel asked.

  His enthusiasm made him seem younger.

  “A few other things,” Gran said.

  “I can show you my knife and shield after, if you want,” I said.

  The old man looked genuinely excited at the prospect.

  “I would be honoured,” he said. His hand strayed to his side and stopped short. “I have proudly carried Finistar, one of the Seven Silver Blades, for the last nine hundred years.”

  I’d used the library sword, which was a brother to Sir Andriel’s sword, and had also been forged by my former self in the distant past. It was well made, and the balance was perfect, but the sword had no cool enchantments that I’d noticed.

  “Yeah those are nice.” I shrugged. “My other stuff is more like Mr. Ryan’s sword.”

  The old man had just taken a sip of his tea, and when I spoke, proceeded to choke and cough until tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “That was a jest, young Jakalain, was it not?” he asked.

  “You won’t be laughing when you see the things he’s made,” Mr. Ryan said.

  “Indeed,” Gran added.

  ***

  Sir Andriel was looking tired by the time we finished the tea. He had instructions to return in three days with my answer, so Gran told me to show him to one of the empty bedrooms on the third floor. There were still a few hours till dinner, and he looked as if he could use a nap.

  “Did you want to see what I made?” I asked as we reached my bedroom door.

  Sir Andriel nodded, and I let him into my room. He hovered politely by the doorway as I grabbed my knife from the sock drawer.

  “Nobody else has wanted to touch it.” I held it up for him to see and drew the blade from its sheath.

  “No, I imagine not,” he said, leaning back. “That is a terrible weapon. I can feel its enchantments here. What will it become in the First World?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “The enchantments were unintentional… like Ivy’s necklace.”

  “You made the necklace by accident?”

  “No, but I didn’t know it’d do stuff.” I sheathed the knife and tossed it on my bed. Next, I opened my closet and pulled out the shield. “This is different. I’m not sure if they all worked, but I tried to do specific things with the shield.”

  With only a little hesitation, he took the round shield from me and examined it. My shield was fairly cool looking (if I do say so myself). The black hammer and the green-gold leaves created a nice contrast with the rest of the metallic red.

  “It looks as though it would bend with the softest touch,” Sir Andriel said. “It’s also the lightest shield I’ve ever held.”

  “I broke a hammer trying to dent it. The lightness is one of the enchantments I put on it. I can’t tell yet if the others will work.”

  “Extraordinary, and the hammer and leaves?”

  “Just decoration.”

  “Did someone show you this?” He touched the black hammer in the middle of my shield.

  “Nah, it’s just a random hammer. Ivy told me about the whole Blackhammer thing, so I went with it. I don’t even know if people in the First World decorate their shields.”

  “They do. The symbols have great meaning and often serve as a warning to enemies. All of the Order, who carry shields in battle, have their personal crest in the centre, and the leaves of the World Tree painted around the edges, to mark them as Knights.”

  He handed me the shield.

  “Huh, that’s quite a coincidence,” I said. It really was.

  “I think I am ready to rest for a time, if you would show me the way,” Sir Andriel said.

  He was looking tired.

  Chapter 6 – Unhatched Plans

  At dinner, the conversation continued where it had left off. Sir Andriel looked more rested, and I had questions that occurred to me during the hours he’d slept.

  “Ivy said the old gates don’t work as well as the new ones,” I said.

  “They have many restrictions on their use,” Gran said. “The worlds must be aligned properly to allow travel along the World Tree. Did Ivy explain the fundamental differences between the circle in the basement and the ring of stones in the forest?”

  She hadn’t, but I suspected it was more from ignorance than neglect.

  “No.”

  “The circle in the basement is new, and by new, I mean only a few centuries old. It is, for lack of a better term, modern technology from the First World. Unlike the old gates, it can be operated by a person of limited abilities, and it provides a smoother transition from world to world. Using an old gate at a random time, or with insufficient power, can have unexpected consequences, or even leave the traveller stranded along the Tree itself.”

  “Stuck between worlds?” I asked.

  “Some have been lost, never to return. Occasionally, they’ve been spat out on a world that wasn’t their destination. Those who travel carelessly—rarely arrive unaltered. The alterations are typically permanent.”

  “It sounds complicated,” I said.

  “About as complicated as putting a man on the moon,” Mr. Ryan said. “Regular people aren’t travelling the World Tree.”

  “As I said,” Gran continued, “the new gates are comparatively simple and use little of the operator’s power.”

  “Why aren’t there more gates around?” I asked. “If they can make these point-and-click gates now, why haven’t they made more of them?”

  “The gates are not easily made, and they do not represent new paths along the Tree, only slightly shifted end points. Each new gate uses most of the… middle parts from an old gate.”

  I couldn’t remember my grandmother ever telling me as much in a single sitting.

  “So, the gate in the basement branches off from the one in the woods?” I asked. My grandmother nodded. “How do the standing stones work?”

  The old gate in the forest looked like a miniature Stonehenge.

  “The stones don’t form any of the gate itself,” Gran said. “They’re part warning—of the gate’s location, and part calendar, to be used in calculations. Think of it this way, the old gate is akin to doing mathematics with pencil and paper, and the new gate is more an electronic calculator.”

  It sounded as though the new gate was more like using a computer to do math, but I didn’t think my grandmother would get the differences.

  “You said there are two more gates on Earth, right?”

  “Yes, or technically four, if you count both the new and the old, but they’re close enough in location that, from a practical standpoint, it’s really only two. Three gates in total that connect to the First World.” Gran ate a bite of her meal.

  “Are there three gates per world?”

  It had sounded as though the First World had more than that.

  “Ivy explained that a person or thing can only travel up the World Tree from the world of origin?” Gran asked. I nodded. “The math is s
imple for determining a world’s gates. This world is highest on the Tree and has no upward gates. The First World is lowest on the Tree and has three gates for each of the other six, totalling eighteen gates. Three gates for the Second World, three gates for the Third, etc. The old gates and the new can only connect to a specific world in the upward direction. The gate you visited in Talanth connects to the one in the basement, obviously. All old gates can receive a traveller from any higher gate. Which—in theory—means you could return to the First World via any of the eighteen. The newer gates are restricted to a single route.”

  “And Mr. Ryan has been blocked from travelling through the gates?” I asked.

  “More than that,” Gran said. “His very being… his soul, if you wish, has been cut loose from the First World. Little is truly understood about why a soul is sometimes reborn on a higher world, but people usually stick to their own world, life after life, typically within a relatively small geographic area, and tied to others from previous lives. Janik Whiteblade was so feared that he was banished not only for the rest his current life, but for all that followed.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know,” Gran said.

  She looked to Mr. Ryan. He just shrugged.

  “I only remember up to the trial,” he said. “When I touched the sword, my memories returned, but the ending is a blank.”

  “How did Marielain make a crack in the fabric of reality or whatever?” I asked. “Has anybody else ever done something like that?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Mr. Ryan said. “He did it with the White Sword, although he had no memory of doing so. The sword contains information on breaking the barriers between worlds… and time itself.”