by D. H. Aire
A voice screamed, “SE’AND!”
The shades of the mother shamen vanished in seeming fright.
All save the other woman, who raised her sword and laughed, “I give you Hope, Sister.”
“SE’AND!”
“Je’orj?” Se’and rasped, feeling faint.
“Je’orj?” Se’and cried, almost whimpering his name.
“I’ve, uh, got you both,” George said, now trying to support both women
at once, as Raven hurried forward and helped steady them.
“Je–– a” Fri’il blinked, “Uh, Master Jeo, what happened?”
That’s when there was a scream of: “YOU WILL!”
Everyone was now staring as Katrin screamed again tearing her gaze away from Dustin’s, pulling herself out of the elfblood mage’s arms yelling, “You will!”
“Huh?” the journeyman muttered.
Katrin slapped his face, then ran from the Hall. The watching mages made no move to stop her. They were too busy staring at the sword whose tip clove the floor. It vibrated ever so slightly.
Galt said, “Well, Master Jeo, it seems we’ve succeeded a bit too well.”
George shook his head as Se’and and Fri’il leaned closer to him. Fri’il was breathing rather hard and staring at the sword in her hand.
“It seems we fulfilled our commission for a bane sword.”
“That sword was silver before, wasn’t it?” Se’and said.
“It was. Now it is something else,” Galt agreed. “And it’s keyed to young Farrel here.”
“Keyed?” George and Fri’il echoed.
“Congratulations, you’ve your very own bane sword, young man.
And we, my friends, have to start all over again. Oh, excellent work, Dustin.”
“Uh, thank you, Master.” I think, he thought, trying not to glance at the door Katrin had stormed out of. His face still burned where she slapped him.
Bane Sword
Chapter 35
“We’ll never get another sword,” one of the Faeryn masters whispered.
“The Mage Guild will see to that – certain we’ll try again after wot they done t’other,” another said.
Dustin stared at the sword keyed to the servant lad. “What have I done?”
“You repaired the sword,” George said. “That is quite the accomplishment.”
Fri’il half whispered, “It’s – it’s beautiful.”
“Sadly it is also damned dangerous,” Master Galt said. Fri’il glanced at him in concern. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. Whatever that is, however the enchantment twisted its making that is not a sword for a stripling such as yourself.”
Se’and frowned, “It’s Farrel’s sword, Master… and it is Master Jeo’s commission, is it not?”
“Certainly, but – if it weren’t keyed to the lad, it would be perfect for the Lyai. But keyed to your servant’s hand as it is? It will corrupt him. It is no longer meant for an elfblooded hand, but a human one. Please forgive me, but to be blunt, you need a soul to wield such a thing.”
George frowned, “Is that so? I had hoped that Faeryn mages might not suffer that particular prejudice.”
Galt shook his head, “Prejudice?”
Glancing first at Se’and, then Fri’il, George announced, “The sword
is yours, my dear, uh, friend… Farrel’s sword recognizes the soul of
its wielder, even a true human.”
“Its name is ‘True,’” Fri’il replied with a wry smile.
Se’and put gold coins on the damaged dais table.
“Perfect, good day to you. I leave the matter of a Faeryn bane sword to you. I’ll inform the factor.”
“But…” Galt muttered as the merchant, his lady, and two servants left
with the sword without another word.
Dustin couldn’t help but grin as the Faeryn mages stared at each other.
“Master, the Faeryn have been seen searching throughout the city.”
“For what?” he said, smiling, “another sword?”
“The Lyai lent them the four oath talismans. They’ve approached families who have key talismans.”
“They must think they know of a spell to undo our agent’s damage. But they’d need our five to accomplish it.” Archmage Constandine laughed, placing his hand on the warded box on his desk. Its lock fell open. “What?!” He flung open the box and stared at its empty contents.
His agent blanched, “Master.”
“GET OUT!”
The elfblood fled.
They returned to their rooms and Raven closed the door behind them.
“Level three rapport,” George muttered and the staff in his hands flared to brilliance. “Engage deflector.”
:Engaging camouflage mode.:
“Thank you,” George muttered, then sat down on the couch. “Okay, ladies, I think I need to know a lot more about Sire Erone and that, uh, lovely new sword. Fri’il, set it down there, please.”
Hesitantly, she did so.
George peeled the insulating hide wrapping from around the tip of
his computer staff and muttered, “Scan.”
A blue light flared from the crystalline tip and played back and forth over the length of the sword. George closed his eyes and just stood there holding the staff.
Se’and and Fri’il glanced at each other. “You’ll need to spar with it,” Se’and half whispered, not wanting to disturb the human mage at his arcane work. “I just don’t fancy it cutting my sword in half.”
“You think it could?”
“It’s a bane sword, Fri’il… All of us protecting Vyss were warned not to cross swords with one,” Se’and said.
“How do you fight against one, then?”
Se’and smiled, “Well, that’s the trick of it. Throw enough daggers at its
bearer and you’re bound to kill the fellow. Understand?”
“Uh, in other words a bane sword doesn’t make you invisible.”
“No sword does, Fri’il. It’s skill that matters; sometimes luck. So you’ll do the forms during your every free moment, not just early morning and evening as Cle’or told you to.”
“Yes, Lady Se’and.”
Se’and glanced at Raven. “I take it you’ve resistance to bane swords.”
Raven grinned.
“Of course you do. Make sure Fri’il gets really good with that sword.”
Nodding, Raven glanced at Fri’il, who paled and muttered, “Uh, Se’and…”
“Oh, think nothing of it.”
The blue light deactivated and George opened his eyes. “Well, that sword is now a variant of titanium. It’s extremely strong and has some very interesting properties. Fri’il, you won’t need to sharpen it, ever… So do be careful. Bal would be better at helping you regrow fingers than me.”
“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind,” she replied.
“Now, Fri’il, pick it up, I’ve a few questions for it.”
The young woman in the guise of a male servant frowned as she retrieved it. “You’ve got questions for it?”
“I did say it’s some interesting properties, didn’t I? Well, it seems to have, well, a rudimentary mind of its own.”
Fri’il hefted the sword.
“Close your eyes, Fri’il,” George suggested. “Just let your mind wander.”
She frowned and closed her eyes, wondering if this is what George did when he went into rapport with staff.
The hilt grew warm beneath her fingertips. The sigil of House Erone glowed. Fri’il heard herself say as if from a distance, “True’s previous owner was sent on a suicide mission to save an elf lord.”
“Master Ebrim, I presume.”
She shook her head, her eyelids fluttering, “No, someone else. Someone named Llewellyn.”
:George,: Staff whispered in his mind. :Llewellyn is…:
“The name of the ruling family of the north western province of the same name,” George said.
Fri’il gripped the swor
d hilt. “She failed. She couldn’t reach him in time…
but… but she accomplished something, nonetheless.”
Se’and asked, “What?”
The young woman swallowed and replied, “There was an old woman and a child… She saved them, and another elf lord who got in the way of the assassin.”
“Ebrim,” George suggested.
Fri’il paused, then said almost woodenly, “Yes, he who took me. I waited, and now we are together.”
“You will protect her?”
“I am stronger than before. I will not fail my wielder again. Together we are stronger than any enemy will suspect. This one has the heart of a lioness.”
George nodded, “I don’t doubt it.”
Se’and stared at them.
“Fri’il, you can open your eyes now.”
She blinked, “Milord?”
“Hell of sword you have there. Do be careful with it.”
“Uh, yes, milord.”
Keira found the innkeeper’s body in the alley, then went inside and checked the rooms the healer had recently occupied and clearly abandoned. She came down the stairs and saw a mother and child arrive. The child was coughing.
“The healer… Is the healer still here?” the mother asked, hopeful.
“No, he’s gone.”
“Where?”
She shook her head and walked outside. She stared as more of the sick and infirm trudged toward the inn.
“What have I done?” she muttered.
Swords and Conscience
Chapter 36
“Hah!” Fri’il shouted as she swung her sword in the forms in the privacy of their rooms at the inn.
Se’and chided, “Bend your right knee more!”
She did and continued the practice pattern. Se’and nodded, watching Fri’il’s new sword in motion. “It’s lighter than it looks, isn’t it, Je’orj?”
He nodded.
“Hah.”
Raven growled, then joined Fri’il’s dance. She bounded and twisted amid the young woman’s movement. Fur bent flat whenever the enchanted sword moved too close.
“Pick up the pace, Fri’il,” Se’and ordered, then leaned closer to Je’orj. “That sword is amazing.”
“As long as she doesn’t depend on it. I’m starting to regret letting her keep it.”
“Why? It’s keyed to her and you left the Faeryn mages no choice.”
“Se’and, I don’t actually trust magic.”
“But you do magery all the time.”
“No, as I’ve told you before, I don’t do magic. What I do is science,” she looked at him oddly. “Human knowledge,” he explained.
He watched Fri’il and Raven in their practice and muttered, “The question I’m dealing with is whether I should be bring more magery into my life, and that of those around me.”
:And you have not had a headache in seven point three four six days,: he heard in his mind.
He nodded, “It seems the Summoning is happy to have us here.”
:The question is why,: computer staff in his hand said through their mental link.
George asked, “Is it me or have you been, well, less irritating of late?”
:You’ve told me to keep a low profile, George,: it replied.
“Yeah, but… well, if I didn’t know better I’d think something was bothering you.”
:I am a computer, what could bother me?:
“That’s what worries me,” George muttered.
Se’and glanced at him, “Something else worrying you?”
“Let’s see, I’ve been dropped onto a world where magic rules and everyone seems interested in killing me.”
Grinning, Se’and said, “Well, that’s why you’ve got us, Milord Husband.”
“Don’t call me that… Please!” He felt a headache coming on.
“Of course, Milord,” Se’and replied, “if you prefer to think of us merely as bodyguards, that’s up to you.”
Fri’il finished the forms, breathing hard. She looked at her lord and threw him a kiss. Raven rolled over laughing.
“You three are insufferable,” he muttered as Raven shimmered and changed, returning to human form.
:Fri’il’s cute, isn’t she?:
“Oh, you choose now to return to being your irritating self?”
His foster daughter continued to giggle as he went into the suite’s study for some privacy. He gritted his teeth, planted the staff firmly on the floor and walked away from it.
“Milord!” Se’and shouted and Fri’il echoed.
Five feet six point two inches and he felt faint and the staff toppled. Raven grabbed it as her foster–father hit the floor with a loud thud.
#
He woke in bed with staff leaning against it beside it. Se’and was holding a bowl of vegetable soup; she offered him a spoonful, “Don’t do that again.”
:Listen to the woman,: Staff urged.
He opened his mouth to protest and Se’and shoved the spoon in. “Umph.”
“Now be a good boy and eat.”
Fri’il came out of the bathroom, wearing a towel, her hair wet. Se’and frowned, putting the bowl down. “Perhaps, you should feed Je’orj.”
“Uh, no, that’s not necessary!” he rasped.
Fri’il quickly came over to the bed as Se’and scooted off and said, “You really need to stop being so foolish.”
“Uh, hmm, I really can feed myself.”
“Prove it,” Fri’il said. “All you have to do is get out of bed.”
The problem was he couldn’t, not yet… That’s what he got for straining his unusually intense bond with the computer, he knew.
:Eat, George, you need to get your strength back,: Staff quipped.
Fri’il giggled as she sat beside and dipped the spoon in the bowl. “Open wide, Milord.”
“Fri…oomph,” she was quick.
“Now behave yourself, we want you to get your strength back. Oops.” He closed his eyes as the edge of her towel unraveled.
He finished the soup as quickly as he could.
“Now was that so bad?”
He found he could sit up, “No… Se’and!” He looked angrily about the room, “Where are my clothes?! Se’and!” She and Raven had fled to the next room.
Fri’il burrowed under the covers, “Oh, you are feeling better.”
“No, I can’t sell you a sword,” Master Ebrim told Master Galt. “I’ll not involve myself further in your game with the Mage Guild.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of them?”
The old elf lord shook his head, “I steer my own course in life these many years. Get a sword to enchant from someone else.”
“The Guild’s got to all the other dealers in the city.”
“Ah, then I guess the Lyai will be receiving a bane sword enchanted by the Mage Guild.”
“Why won’t you really sell me a sword, General?”
“You didn’t take care of the last one. I’ll never forgive you for that.”
“What?”
“That Cathartan sword was special. To allow treachery to ruin it, that’s something Talik wouldn’t have allowed to happen.”
Galt considered telling him the truth, then thought better of it. Jeo d’Aere leaving the Faeryn Hall with the repaired sword, which had been accidentally keyed to that servant boy, Farrel, still stung. “Talik will return.”
“He’d better. You need the wits of someone like him or that merchant,
Jeo.”
That night when everyone was asleep, staff stood sentinel. Fri’il slept nestled in George’s arms. Se’and slept on the couch with a brace of throwing knives set out close to hand. Raven was asleep at the foot of the bed.
Computers never slept. Staff couldn’t dream and its options were limited. Ward their rooms, passive scans running, and it watched Fri’il. The young woman had nearly died in Niota. She’d almost sacrificed herself for the Cathartan ideal.
She needed George’s love to save her… and Ge
orge, well, George was George. It had taken more than a nudge to get those two together. He felt guilty and, something else, the machine had no name for. He had done the unthinkable.
Fri’il’s sword twitched.
Staff focused on the movement.
Twitch, the sword turned several millimeters.
:Well, you seem to be trying to get closer to Fri’il. That’s something I can understand.:
It quivered.
Staff felt something from it. :I do, but if you fall from the table, you’re going to wake everyone up.:
It quivered again.
:You will wake up Fri’il and she seems, well, look at her.:
The sword stilled.
Staff felt… :Okay, see?:
The sword became quiescent and Staff felt something else. Together they watched Fri’il with her peaceful smile and George’s ever present frown. She kissed him in her sleep.
Se’and rolled over on the couch restless, or perhaps, fighting her nightmare.
Hoping for a Sword
Chapter 37
Raven was fetching a tray of bread and cheeses for breakfast when she saw Dustin arrive. “Uh, Miss Raven, is Master Jeo in?”
She nodded as Dustin smiled, “I need to ask him for a favor.”
Raven shook her head, gesturing at the pitcher of juice. Dustin carried it up the stairs for her. Fri’il opened the door before they reached the top step. The young elfblood frowned, “Come on, we’re all hungry.”
Se’and glanced up from the table, setting out the last of the silverware and plates, “Dustin, you’ll join us, of course.”
His stomach growled, “Uh, thank you.”
“It seems the Faeryn Hall doesn’t feed its lads well at all,” George said as they set the food on the table.
Fri’il cut the bread as Dustin said, “I hope you’re finding the sword to your satisfaction.”
She laughed, “Oh, yes.”
Se’and sliced the cheese and offered it around.
“So what brings you this time?” George asked.
“We’re having difficulty acquiring another sword.”
“That’s not surprising under the circumstances,” George said. “The Mage Guild likes their monopoly.”
