Candlelight filled the room, casting everything in a yellow glow like in an old photograph. Orlovski stood at the edge of the door, chin high and eyes staring straight before him. Chaya stood to his right in the same statuesque pose, the hilt of her sheathed scimitar jutting out a little. Matt, to her right, then Luc and Malcolm completed the line. Beyond them, Masters Turgen, Schmidt, and Allan stood at the rear of the room before a white and gold banner, facing the door. Their heavily engraved breastplates glinted in the flickering light and their own cloaks were the same vibrant green as the emerald rings they wore. Schmidt wore his sword, but Turgen and Allan had none. Allan winked as their eyes met.
Luiza stepped forward and Victoria quickly followed, keeping pace. It smelled of frankincense and a strangely bittersweet aroma she couldn't place. The heavy incense smoke cast ghostly coronas around the dozens of candle flames. Passing the line of knights, Victoria couldn't help a sidelong glance, noticing the orphaned weapons from the vault proudly displayed along the wall across azure velvet.
The door groaned and thudded closed behind them and Luiza and Victoria halted before the green-clad Masters. The gilded and embossed image of a sword with a wide, tapered blade decorated Turgen's breastplate. A longer, cruciform sword decorated Schmidt's, its shape and octagonal pommel an exact replica Lukrasus. Ibenus' bowed shape gleamed from Allan's chest. The banner behind them depicted the familiar eight-pointed star, its bladed points barely protruded out from the enclosing ring.
Turgen narrowed his eyes accusingly, all grandfatherly friendliness gone. "Victoria Martin," he rasped, his voice loud as if he were speaking before a parliamentary hearing, "you stand before us, seeking entrance into our order. Do you choose this of your own free will?"
"I do."
"Who among our family speaks for this woman?"
"I speak for her," Allan said.
"Master Havlock," Schmidt said, eyes still locked on Victoria, "is this woman truly wed to a divine instrument?"
"She is."
"Have you taught her what sacrifices this vow demands?"
"I have."
"Do you find her intentions pure?"
A moment's grin pulled at Allan's lips, breaking the somber expression. "I do."
Victoria pursed her lips, fighting her own smile. There were some impure intentions for later on, she knew.
"Do you find her worthy of our order?" Schmidt asked.
"I do."
"Swear it on Ibenus."
Allan placed his hands on the gold khopesh on his chest. "On Ibenus, I find her worthy of our Order and worthy of my own divine instrument."
Schmidt gave an approving nod and Luiza stepped back, leaving Victoria alone before the Masters.
Turgen, who hadn't removed his cold gaze from Victoria during the exchange, addressed her again. "Draw your charge and kneel, Victoria."
She slid Ibenus from his scabbard and carefully lowered to the floor, a move made difficult by the rigid armor and hard boots. Knees on the unforgiving tile, she met the master knight's eyes.
"Victoria Martin, do you vow to protect your charge with your very life, to hold his well-being before your own?"
"On Ibenus, I swear it."
"Do you vow to protect the other divine weapons, holding their safety above your own?"
"On Ibenus, I swear it."
"Do you vow to protect the Order, and its secrets?"
"On Ibenus, I swear it."
"Do you vow to protect your brother and sisters even at the cost of your own life?"
"On Ibenus, I swear it."
Turgen lifted his gaze to the room. "My brothers and sisters, you have heard this woman's professions. If you accept them, seal her vow with your own."
Master Schmidt drew his sword. The faint rasp of another sounded at Victoria's back. Lifting the sword, the old man stepped forward and lowered it, resting the blade on Victoria's shoulder. Other blades came down as well, tinking as metal met metal. Luc's heavy mace head came down last, one of its iron flanges gently prodding Victoria's neck.
Hand on Schmidt's shoulder Allan took a step. The first step she'd seen him take since his injury. He'd refused to wear the temporary prosthesis around her until now. Releasing his hold, he lowered his hand and placed it on Victoria's head.
Master Turgen came last, resting his hand beside Allan's. "The Order of Valducan accepts you into our fold. Rise, Lady Victoria Martin, Protector of Ibenus, and embrace your new family."
The weapons still upon her, Victoria slowly rose to her feet. She nearly stumbled but a hand from behind caught her and helped her up. The weapons withdrew and Turgen stood before her.
The old man smiled proudly. "Welcome, Sister."
"Thank you, Brother."
Tears framed Allan's eyes. He swallowed and wrapped his arms around her, their breastplates softly thudding. "I love you, Victoria."
Victoria held him tight, her cheek against his. She closed her eyes, savoring the energy knitting between them, unhindered by the steel armor. "I love you, too."
Epilogue
"Do you know where Kerri went?" Abby asked, her already high-pitched voice rising above the chaos. Girls giggled and chatted all around them. A pack of scowling parents circled an instructor, speaking in raised, accusing whispers. Hip hop blasted through the ballroom door as someone stepped inside.
Dodging a line of Junior dancers in matching tuxedo leotards and top hats, Mei shrugged. "I think Missus Connolly asked her to help with the Jazz team."
"You want to get some food?"
A pack of young women filed out of the dressing room ahead. Their matching turquoise T-shirts read, 'D-Lite Studio - Chicago.' Tara Isom, her blonde hair wound in a tight bun, led the tittering herd, the others orbiting around her.
Damn it. Mei looked away. She wasn't in the mood for shit-talking right now. It was their last year to make it to Nationals and Tara was dead-set to dole out a lifetime's supply for their final competition.
"Aw crap," Abby muttered. "She's coming this way."
Mei spied the open door to the right, a familiar three-color logo of an elongated blowing leaf beside it. Head low, she made a B-line for the safe haven. She slipped inside, escaping the noise and gym sock stink that permeated every other corner of the convention center.
Rows of glass cases lined the meeting room's wall, each displaying a collection of antique armor and weaponry. The miniature museum was weird. Normally all the outer rooms were reserved for dressing and green rooms, but not this one. El Sable Energy Corporation, the event's largest sponsor, had brought the exhibit. Whatever medieval weaponry had to do with dancing or South American wind farms Mei had no idea. But it had instantly become her favorite place in the entire event—an island of calm and mystery among the chaos.
A few parents, mostly dads, strolled the aisles, their eyes moving across the artifacts without really seeing them. If they had, they'd be at the back corner. As if on auto-pilot, she wandered deeper, knowing where she was headed, even though she hadn't planned it.
Abby blew a sigh. "I think she's gone. You want to get food now?"
"That's okay." Mei waived dismissive hand. "You go on. I'll catch up."
"What? No come on. I'm hungry. Aren't you?"
Passing a long case containing a gold-encrusted conquistador helmet, Mei stopped before a standing suit of polished, but dented armor. A card along the side explained that it was relic from the Second Crusade. "I am. Just give me a few minutes, all right?"
Abby huffed. "What is it with you? This is our last year and you're obsessing over this shit. Come on. We're eighteen and in Vegas."
Ignoring the armor, Mei gazed at the simple broadsword before it. "I'll find you in a bit. See if you can find Kerri and we'll go out."
Abby gave one of her trademark growls.
"I'll meet you at the front in twenty minutes," Mei said, eyes still on the sword, but could see Abby's reflection behind her in the glass. "Promise."<
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"Fine." Abby tucked a blonde strand behind her ear. It fell out almost immediately. "Twenty minutes." She spun with a dramatic flourish and strode away, leaving Mei alone with the beautiful sword.
She couldn't say what it was that drew her to it. Most of the others were far more decorative, with etched gold and silver accents. But something about the simple elegance of this one enchanted her. The straight tapered blade, the rounded crossbars—it was pure function. The only adornment was the octagonal knob capping the cord-wrapped handle.
Mei knelt, leaning closer until her breath fogged the glass. What type of sword was this? There was no card saying where it was made or anything about it, only the armor. She closed her hand, remembering the feel of it in her dream last night after she'd first seen it.
"Something catch your interest?"
Flinching, Mei looked up to see the reflection of a tall, slender man standing behind her. He was old, too old to be one of the dads. Grandfather, most likely. "Oh." She smiled, hiding her embarrassment as she rose. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get in the way."
"It is quite all right." His accent sounded European, though she couldn't tell which flavor. "Do you like armor?"
"Me? No, no. I…was checking out the sword."
"Ah." He smiled. "Beautiful, isn't it?" There was something in has manner, an excited neediness.
Mei glanced behind him. A pair of dads stood off to one side, staring at their phones. A trio of younger boys were ogling a nearby case. It was safe in case this guy got all creepy or something. "Yeah. It just looks…comfortable."
"It is." The old man offered a slender hand. "My name is Max Schmidt."
"Mei Tseng," she said, accepting it. The old man's grip was firmer than she'd expected.
He nodded as if to himself. "Chinese?"
"Yeah, but I'm from Sacramento."
"And you're competing here?"
"I am. Our final round is tonight."
Max's blue eyes glistened. Was he crying? "I'm sure you will do well."
"Thank you. Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes." Max dabbed his eyes. "You remind me of someone, that's all." He motioned to the sword. "It has a name, you know? Lukrasus."
"Really?" Mei scanned the case again. "I don't see it anywhere."
"Oh it's not on there. Lukrasus is my sword."
"Yours?" she turned back to the old man.
"It is. I represent El Sable Energy."
"Oh," she said. This guy didn't look the least bit South American. It was bad to talk with the judges. What about the sponsors?
He nodded. "I was a dancer when I was younger. My late son, Jean, was as well."
"I'm…sorry." She needed to get out of here. If someone saw them talking… Missus Connolly's going to kill me. "I don't think we're supposed to be talking. You know, with the competition and all."
"There is nothing wrong with it. I am not a judge, simply a fan."
"Oh, good." Smiling, Mei began eking her way around him. "Well, I need to meet my friends. We're going for lunch. But it was nice meeting you."
"Would you like to hold Lukrasus?" Max asked, the words stopping her cold.
"Really?"
"Of course." He chuckled. "As I said, it's mine. Maybe she will give you luck."
She? The sword was obviously a he. Nothing feminine about it, but Mei wasn't going to argue with him. "I'd love to. When can we do it?"
"Right now."
Mei blinked. "Really?" Her hands trembled, just like they did before a big performance.
Max laughed. "Really."
"But…my friends are expecting me."
"And they'll be fine without you." He winked conspiratorially. "Won’t they?"
Mei nodded, biting her lip.
"It'll only be a minute," Max said. "I'll fetch the key."
Mei turned back to the sword as the old man hurried away. Her heart thudded in nervous anticipation. "Lukrasus," she whispered, savoring the name. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, Mei thought she heard the sword answer. It was beautiful.
About the Author
Raised in the swamps and pine forest of East Texas, Seth Skorkowsky always dreamed of being a writer. He gravitated to the darker sides of fantasy, preferring horror and pulp heroes over knights in shining armor. His first short story sale, “The Mist of Lichthafen,” was long-list nominated for a British Fantasy Award. When not writing, Seth enjoys tabletop role-playing games, shooting sports, and traveling the world with his wife.
You can find out more about Seth at www.skorkowsky.com
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For more information about the Valducan series, go to www.ragnarokpub.com
Ibenus (Valducan series) Page 33
