“I am sorry about that. But my answer remains the same. Do you remember why you gave it to me?”
“I didn’t give it to you, Guardian. I left it in your keeping.”
“Semantics. You knew what you were doing. But do you remember why?”
“I do.”
“Then you know that out of all the things left here, that is the one that I can’t allow to leave. Especially with you.”
“Isn’t there an easier way of doing this?” Solomon asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then I am sorry too.” Solomon sprang forward, moving as quickly as he could to get past the huge being in front of him. But no matter how fast he was, the Guardian was quicker.
His long arms caught Solomon by the back of his shirt, and with an almost casual toss, hurled him back down the tunnel in the direction that he had come. He crashed to the floor in a heap, lay there for a moment, and then climbed to his feet with a groan.
He turned and grinned at the Guardian. “Didn’t think that would work, but had to give it a shot.”
This time, he strode forward more purposefully, hands up and balled into fists. He stayed on his toes, ready to move. The Guardian watched him come, his head tilted to the side.
“Do you mean to fight me, Solomon? As great as you are, surely you know you have no chance.”
“Maybe. But I need that sword, so I’ll do what I have to.”
The Guardian made no move to defend himself, but let Solomon come within striking range. He took advantage of it and unleashed a haymaker, aimed for the Guardian’s chin, with all his considerable strength behind it. It landed with a sound like a piece of meat being slapped onto a table.
His hand felt like he had smashed it into solid rock, and he jumped back, shaking it furiously. The Guardian looked at him, then slowly rubbed his chin. “I felt that,” he said, and then punched Solomon in the chest.
This time, he flew even further back down the tunnel, feeling as if his chest had caved in. Sparks danced in his vision as he tried to draw breath into lungs that felt like they would never inflate again.
“By the way,” the Guardian said. “While I’m sure it’s vexing to you, the one-eyed look is a good one for you. Very rugged.”
“Thanks,” Solomon wheezed, picking himself up and bending over, hands on his knees. “Have you had enough?”
“I think I can take a little more.”
“Great.”
This time, when he stood, he had his dagger in his hand, glinting in the yellow light of the cave walls.
“Oh, Solomon,” the Guardian said, sounding incredibly sad and disappointed. “A weapon? But you know the rules. Hand to hand is fine. But a weapon means that now our fight is real. You know this.”
“I do. That should show you how serious I am.”
“It does. But it changes nothing.” The Guardian sighed, his huge shoulders rising and falling. “Very well, then. Come ahead. And know in advance that the Greenweald will be a much sorrier place without you.”
Solomon came in low, trying to make as small of a target of himself as he could. The Guardian was too fast, too strong, and too tough for him to take on directly. He hated what he had planned, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He hoped that it wouldn’t back-fire on him.
The Guardian reached down, trying to grab hold of him again. Only this time, Solomon knew he wouldn’t be tossed back down the tunnel. No, him taking out the dagger had changed that. Now the Guardian would pull him into his embrace, and squeeze until Solomon passed out, and only then, if he was lucky, would he let him go.
But he was ready for it, so when the enormous hands came near, he dropped even lower, down onto his knees and slashed with the blade, catching the Guardian squarely across his left palm. The giant drew his breath in sharply and pulled his hand back, drops of green blood flecking the cavern floor.
“Ouch! Why you nasty, little…” His voice had become rougher, more bestial, and his eyes glowed with an inner light. This time, when he moved closer to Solomon, it was with a growl from deep in his chest.
Solomon had leapt back to his feet when the Guardian pulled his hand back. He waited, still crouched low, knife at the ready. This time, the Guardian lashed out with a fist, intending to catch Solomon full in the face, but he twisted to the side, feeling the disturbance in the air on his cheek as the massive fist went past. Again, the dagger flicked out, this time scoring a hit across the back of the Guardian’s hand.
“Blast and damnation!” the Guardian roared, and spun on Solomon, who had taken the brief opportunity to slip past him.
Now was the most dangerous time. The Guardian glowered at him, sucking at the back of his hand, his eyes aflame. Suddenly, he sprang forward, that same hand coming around in a vicious back-hand slap, almost too fast to follow. It caught Solomon full on the shoulder, and with a grunt he hit the floor hard.
“Hah!” The Guardian leapt forward, foot raised high, ready to bring it down on Solomon’s chest, crushing his heart and lungs.
But as his foot descended, Solomon rolled, holding the dagger point up, hilt braced against the cavern floor.
The Guardian’s own great strength did what Solomon couldn’t. The dagger pierced his foot, driven clean through. The howl from the Guardian was loud enough to shake rubble loose from the ceiling, which rained down on them both.
“Ohhh! My foot! Nasty little man! How dare you?”
Solomon looked up from where he had been shielding his head against the falling debris. The Guardian was sitting on the floor, holding his foot in both hands, with huge tears rolling down his hairy cheeks.
“I need the sword,” Solomon said. “I’m sorry it had to come to this.”
“You’re a nasty little man,” the Guardian repeated.
“Maybe so, but I have to get moving. Are we through?”
The Guardian nodded, sniffed loudly and pointed at the door he had come out of. “In there,” he said, then returned to examining his foot and moaning loudly.
Solomon took a quick look at the giant’s foot before he walked away. It was bloody, but the flow was stopping already. In minutes, at most, the Guardian would be able to pull the dagger free, and would be up and walking like normal in no time. He healed even more quickly than one of the Folk.
With the Guardian defeated, Solomon entered the inner chamber.
There were weapons and treasure everywhere. It hung from or leaned against the walls and was stacked in heaps on the floor and shelves. Gold, silver, armor, swords, axes, shields, cups, plates and all manner of things. It was like a fabled dragon’s horde.
But there, set off by itself, almost glowing in the dim light of the cavern was a lone sword. It was about a yard long, slim, and made of beautiful burnished steel. The hilt was unadorned, merely wrapped in leather to provide a good grip. The edges gleamed, giving a hint of its sharpness. Next to it was a simple belt and sheath, made of serviceable, but non-ornate, leather.
“Justice,” he breathed, and crossed the room. He reached for the sword, but stopped, hesitating. The last time he had used it had almost been his downfall. Would now be any different? Now, when he would have to use it so much more?
But what choice did he have? None. Not if he wanted to save his friends and the Greenweald. He had no doubt that this man who lived with the Soul Gaunts was up to no good. Jediah’s and Florian’s mission would do no more than stall the inevitable, then it would come down to him.
Grimacing, his heart racing in his chest, he grasped the hilt, not lifting the sword, only holding on to it. The feeling that surged through him was not unexpected, but it still took him a moment to fight down the urge to run from the cave, cutting down the Guardian if he stood in his way, and take the fight to the Soul Gaunts immediately. Plans be damned. With this, the only plan he needed was to have them in his sight. No one could touch him.
His arm trembled as he released it, blowing out a sigh as he proved to himself that he could. He let it stay where
it was while he donned the sword belt, and adjusted the sheath so that it rode at his side comfortably. Only then did he pick up the sword.
Sweat broke out on his brow as he raised it before him. He told himself to put it away, slide it safely into the leather sheath, but instead he stared at it. Tiny tongues of white fire curled along the length of the blade, fascinating in their patterns and power. With an effort of will that was almost too much for him, he lowered it, and then slid it home at his belt.
The feeling of invincibility was still there, but muted now. More like an inflated sense of confidence. There was no foe too great for him to defeat, no enemy that could stand against him.
“Solomon,” the Guardian’s voice said from behind him. “What will you do?”
“I’ll kill them all if I have to.”
“You know you’re not really invincible, right? It's the sword that makes you feel that way.”
“Hmph. And how would you know that, Guardian?”
“It’s my job, and my nature. And you know I’m right.”
Solomon fought down the arrogance that he knew he was exhibiting. “I’m sorry. Of course, it is. I’m trying to get a handle on this feeling again.”
The Guardian regarded him for a long, slow moment. “If anyone can, it would be you. When this over, will you return it here?”
“If I’m able. I need it now, but you’re right. It doesn’t belong in the world.”
“Then I wish you luck, and will be here to receive it when you’re done.”
“Thank you, Guardian,” Solomon said, bowing. He straightened and walked to the door of the chamber.
“One more thing,” the Guardian said, stopping him.
Solomon turned back.
“Are there really a lot of them? I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”
“There are. Far too many. Even with Justice…” He let the statement trail off, unfinished.
The Guardian sighed, and held up a finger for him to wait. He rummaged around on a shelf, until he turned with another object in his hand.
It was an ancient lantern, the type that you opened and placed a flame inside of, then closed and focused the light through the cloudy glass on the front.
“Take this too, then.” The Guardian held it out to Solomon.
“What is it?”
“What’s it look like? It’s a lamp. It lights things up.”
Solomon took it, but felt nothing special about it. “I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps you will,” the Guardian said. “Oh, and take this as well.”
He handed Solomon the dagger that had been lodged in his foot. He took it with a small smile. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s over. And not a trick you’ll be able to use again with me.”
“I sincerely hope that I’ll never again have need of any tricks with you.”
“Good luck, Solomon. I hope to see you again.”
With that, the Guardian turned and walked away, no sign of a limp hindering him in the least. Solomon stuck the dagger through the belt opposite of Justice, glanced at the lantern in his hand, and walked from the cavern.
CHAPTER 53
Shireen couldn’t believe her eyes. What was house Glittering Birch doing here? And why had they stopped the Whispering Pines soldier from getting to his own House? Sedition? Treason? It was all so ridiculous that for a moment, she doubted her own ears.
“Lord Jamshir,” Lawrence called out. “I’m afraid you’ve taken us unawares. Lord Jediah isn’t here at the moment, but even if he was, he has never been anything but loyal to you and your house. I don’t understand.”
Jamshir sat astride his horse, looking around as if he were bored by what Lawrence was saying and merely waiting for him to finish.
“If Jediah does not come out of the gates within the next five minutes, my House will be forced to come in. Is that really what you want?”
“Of course not, Lord Jamshir, but again, Jediah is not here. He and Lord Florian went off together.”
Jamshir snorted. “You expect me to believe that? The two hate each other. Why would they be together now?”
“You know they’ve put aside their differences,” Shireen shouted, forgetting herself in her outrage. “They visited you together! To warn you about the Soul Gaunts!”
Lawrence grabbed her arm and spun her toward him, his eyes blazing with anger. She felt herself blush, but it was too late. The murmuring had already started on their side of the barricades. She could hear the whispers of “Soul Gaunts?”, “What is she talking about?”, “What does she mean, Soul Gaunts?”
“You forget yourself,” Lawrence growled. “Remain calm!”
“Is this what House Towering Oaks has descended into?” Jamshir called out, amusement plain in his voice. “A common soldier speaks over her commander, out of turn?”
“A momentary lapse, Lord Jamshir, I assure you,” Lawrence replied. “However, her point is valid. I believe that Lords Jediah and Florian did visit you together, not so long ago. That fact may have slipped your mind, but it does speak to the truth of what I say. Lord Jediah is not here.”
“I see,” Jamshir said. “Well, fine. Let’s say that I believe you.” He made no concession that the visit had taken place. “In that case, it seems to me to that the best course of action would be to occupy this compound, so that I can deal with his crimes immediately on his return.”
“This is ridiculous,” Shireen said, her voice coming out in a sharp whisper. “We can’t let him in!”
“I don’t know that we have a choice,” Lawrence mumbled, keeping his eyes on the soldiers arrayed before them. “That’s Glittering Birch out there.”
“We’re Towering Oaks. We are the strongest House when it comes to fighting. It’s what we do! We can hold them until Jediah returns.”
“Are you suggesting we openly disobey Jamshir? That would be treason.”
“Then let it be. I’m telling you, if we let him in, Jediah, Solomon, you, me and everyone we hold dear will die.”
Lawrence looked into her eyes and must have seen the resolve in them. He was well aware that she had seen and been through things recently that he hadn’t, that she had been in Jediah’s confidence. Her esteem for her commander rose even higher when she saw that he took all that into account, ignored any personal feelings that he may have had about it, and trusted her, as he always had.
“Lord Jamshir!” He turned back to the ruler of the Greenweald. “I am sorry, but I can’t allow you to enter the compound. Not without express orders from Lord Jediah. If I could simply ask you to be patient, he’ll be back shortly, I’m sure.”
The look of shock on Jamshir’s face faded to one of contempt. “You believe that, don’t you? You know, I was always somewhat unnerved by Jediah. I don’t mind admitting it. Not only because of his personal prowess, and the way in which he turned his House into the…well whatever it is, that he has. But because I always thought he was smart enough to surround himself with competent aides. I see now that I was jumping at shadows.”
“I’m sorry? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Jediah will not be returning. Surely you realize that? If not, ask the scout next to you. She knows where he went. Although, by the look on her face, she’s surprised that I do.”
Again, the murmurings started from the soldiers around them. Lawrence gestured for silence.
Shireen was proud of the discipline that the Towering Oaks soldiers were showing. They had just heard of Soul Gaunts being in the Greenweald, learned that Jediah and Florian were once again allies and had gone on a mysterious mission together, and been informed that the ruling House of the Greenweald was here to take them over. But they still obeyed their acting commander, gave him the same respect they would a true Head of House and stayed ready.
Then, she looked back out over the soldiers of Glittering Birch and her blood cooled. They too were showing remarkable discipline. They stood, row upon row, silent and expressionless. None of what they h
eard was causing any of them to whisper, or to even glance at the one beside him. They acted as if they had heard it all already, and were here to do an ordinary job, like it was any other day.
“Ah,” Jamshir said with a smile on his face. “Yes, you get it now, do you? My House is prepared for this. We have had time, and my commanders have been readying their troops. They know where the traitors lie, and that we have no choice but to root them out.”
“You know we’re not traitors, Lord Jamshir,” Lawrence said. “And neither is House Whispering Pines. Please, is there any way that we can discuss this calmly?”
Jamshir seemed to consider. “I’ll tell you what,” he said after a moment. “I’m feeling generous. Let’s say it’s for past services rendered. I’ll have a pavilion set up, right here, and I’ll draw my troops back. Since you seem to be the current mouth-piece, I’ll meet with you and one other. That one next to you will do fine. I’ll bring one of mine.
"One hour. You’ll have a few minutes to convince me of why I shouldn’t raze your House to the ground, or for me to show you the wisdom of simply surrendering. If not, an hour’s delay before I begin won’t matter. Agreed?”
“Agreed. And thank you for your courtesy.”
Jamshir bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement, wheeled his horse around and rode slowly away. There were calls from commanders and the army turned and retreated, showing their backs to the soldiers of Towering Oaks without a care. Minutes later, several servants came forward bearing a roll of canvas. They began to set up a pavilion within easy bow shot of the Towering Oaks barricades. Jamshir was showing that he had no fear of their House.
Soldiers crowded around them as Lawrence and Shireen climbed down from the platform. They stayed quiet but Shireen could see the questions in their eyes.
“Company commanders to the war room,” Lawrence said. “We don’t have much time.”
Although she wasn’t a commander, Shireen accompanied Lawrence to the briefing. She had more knowledge than he did about what was going on, and had been there when Jediah and Florian met with Jamshir, and had been rebuffed.
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