***
Returning to their quarters to collect their belongings, the departing guests decided to honor their hosts by remaining attired in their new armor, with Steve and Rhenyon both displaying their new swords. For Steve, however, it was a little more difficult. Wanting to display both of his new weapons, the avid sword collector decided to wear both on his back, each handle over a shoulder. As they left the chamber that they had thought of as home for the last two weeks, Sarah snorted, stifling a chuckle.
“What is it?”
Sarah glanced at her husband, eyeing the two swords strapped across his back.
“I feel like I’m following a walking map.”
“What?”
“You have a big ‘X’ on your back. ‘X’ marks the spot!”
“Zip it.”
“What are you going to do with two swords?”
“Well,” Steve admitted, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a smile, “actually its three swords and an axe. Rhenyon gave me his old sword and Breslin gave me his axe.”
“What in the world for?”
“Are you kidding me? Authentic Lentarian weapons. I’ll put ‘em on the wall in my office back home! How cool will that be?”
Sarah shook her head. “Men.”
Arriving at the plaza where they had previously partied all night, Steve and Sarah bowed to the dwarves, who reciprocated the gesture. Rhenyon and his men arrived moments later, each carrying their belongings in a type of duffel bag slung across one shoulder. Saying their final goodbyes to their new friends, the small group assembled in front of the teleporter.
Sarah chuckled, shaking her head.
“Guys, guys, this will never work. We can’t have you gentlemen arriving back at the castle decked out in that fine armor, with your dirty clothes slung across your back.”
The soldiers all grinned at her, inspecting their own appearance and that of their companions.
“Drop your bags in front of you,” Sarah ordered.
Without waiting for their captain’s approval, three bags plopped unceremoniously onto the ground. A moment later, they all vanished, having been transported back to the castle. Smiling, Sarah looked at Rhenyon, who sheepishly held out his own pack. It vanished moments later, joining the others back in the throne room of castle R’Tal.
“I’ve charged several more crystals,” Steve informed her, automatically patting several of the pouches along one strap of the nohrstaf harness. “I have plenty in case you need to use them for this jump.”
“Thanks, I’m pretty certain that I will.” Sarah turned to the men, who were now trying to suck in their stomachs. “Okay, who’s first?”
“I will be the first,” Rhenyon declared, stepping forward.
Taking Rhenyon’s arm, they vanished. One by one they were teleported back to the castle, taking only enough time for Sarah to recharge her jhorun between each teleportation.
With Sarah gripping his arm tightly, Steve materialized in the Great Hall, being the last to make the journey. Both thrones were currently occupied, and the entire hall was filled with the castle’s nobility, all wearing their finest. Either they had just interrupted some important function, or –
The room erupted into cheers as everyone started clapping and whistling, hailing the famous Nohrin and their brave companions. When the exuberant applause finally died down, Kri’Entu stood.
“Made some new friends, did ye?”
Grinning sheepishly, Steve nodded, while Sarah smiled at the queen.
Directing his gaze over to his captain of the guard, the king grinned.
“Looking good, captain.”
“Thank you, sire.”
“May I see… what was it called again? Mythron? May I see Mythron?”
Shocked, Rhenyon unsheathed his prized sword and presented it to the king. “How did ye learn of this? We only received them no less than an hour ago.”
“I make it a point to stay informed, especially when denizens of this castle are guests in another city.”
“Someone told you what was going on?” Steve asked, shocked. “Who? I thought it was supposed to be an unknown city!”
Enigmatically, the king smiled at Steve. Returning his gaze to the magnificent blue sword, he sighed. This was truly a masterpiece, the king thought. They could not have selected a more deserving person to give this to.
“Would his majesty care to see Mythrin?” Steve reached over his right shoulder and started pulling the sword free of its scabbard.
Sarah giggled. “Wrong shoulder, honey.”
His hand freezing in mid pull, Steve sighed. Naturally. He had had a fifty-fifty shot of executing a move he’d only seen in movies, where the hero gracefully reaches over his shoulder and pulls out his sword. Returning the sword he’d had helped create back into its scabbard, he reached behind his other shoulder to unsheathe his gift from the Kla Guur clan. Presenting it hilt-first to the king, Steve gave a small bow.
Returning Mythron to its owner, the king admired its green twin.
“These are truly magnificent. Yer other sword, is that the sword that ye had a hand in fashioning?”
Steve pulled the dragon sword free, electing to hold it himself rather than tie up both of the king’s hands. “This sword was the result of sheer curiosity.”
“Oh? Please explain.”
“We were exploring the city and decided to check out one of the numerous workshops. It turns out that the place we stopped was the workshop of master Kharus, who apprenticed under Maelnar himself. I wanted to see what it was like to be a blacksmith, so he had me strike a few blows on a shield he was just starting to create. Liked what he saw, so I was drafted into service.”
Ny’Callé stifled a chuckle. “Ye would make a good bard, sir Steve.” Smiling at Sarah, the queen leaned forward. “I do like yer gown, Sarah. A gift from the dwarves?”
“Yes, it is. I love it. Believe it or not, it provides the same amount of protection that a suit of armor does. You should feel this material!”
Forgetting that she was formally addressing a queen, Sarah hurried over to Callé’s throne. More interested in the dress than the story Steve was relaying, the queen rubbed a piece of the fabric between two fingers.
“It feels like silk. This has the strength of armor??”
Sarah laughed. “That’s exactly what I said after Kharus told me the same thing.”
“Impressive. I am glad ye have returned safely, Sarah.”
A sudden disturbance attracted everyone’s attention. Several of the soldiers let out shouts of surprise. Darius had emerged, slowly limping towards his companions.
“Darius! Are ye well?”
“How the ruddy hell are ye, Darius?”
“Ye have a gift from the dwarves,” Rhenyon stated, turning to go through the pile of belongings Sarah had teleported back. “Hold still for a moment.”
With Darius outfitted in his new armor, the injured soldier moved to stand next to his captain. “Why did they gift me with armor?” Darius asked miserably. “I lasted all of, what, ten minutes into the first battle? What kind of soldier is that, anyway?”
“Join the club, mate,” Pheron whispered back. “We were sent away during the heat of the battle.”
“What? Who eradicated the guur then?”
“Sir Steve, the captain, and Breslin. It was sir Steve who destroyed the female guur.”
While Pheron attempted to restore Darius’ self-esteem, the queen sat, mesmerized, while Sarah recounted some of their more harrowing exploits.
When their story had been told for what felt like the hundredth time, the king and queen both took their respective places on the thrones. Kri’Entu leaned forward, addressing Steve.
“Ye may be interested in meeting the newest liaison to this castle.”
“Umm, okay.”
“May I present Pheris, newly-appointed liaison to the griffins.”
“Pheris? The
same Pheris who –”
“The very same. A contingent of griffin visited the castle not long after yer skirmish to express their gratitude for yer gift of the elixir and the meal. We started a dialogue, and am now pleased to say a new human-griffin alliance has been forged. Ye have my thanks, and the thanks of the kingdom of Lentari.”
A familiar griffin appeared, quietly taking up residence close to the queen. Pheris bowed in Steve’s direction. Bemused, he returned the bow.
“May we see the portal key, please.”
Always the smart-mouth, Steve blurted out his response before his mouth could censor itself.
“Which one? The new one or the old?”
“Sorry? Have ye more than one?”
Nodding, Steve pulled out the green portal key, presenting it to the king. Still standing beside the queen’s throne, Sarah retrieved the sparkling purple key and handed it to Ny’Callé. Confused, the queen met Sarah’s eyes.
“Ye need two keys to activate the portal? I thought ye needed just the one.”
“They do,” the king confirmed. “This,” he held up the key he was holding, “is the key that my father presented to the Scribes nigh thirty years ago. I do not recognize the purple key.”
“That is the new one,” Steve explained. “It wasn’t until the purple one there was practically finished when Sarah somehow managed to teleport the gate key from our world to here.”
The king’s eyebrows shot up. He turned to Sarah. “Ye teleported that from yer world? How?”
Sarah shrugged, spreading her hands. “I wish I knew. I’ve tried countless other times to see about teleporting something else, but nothing has worked. I just don’t know what I did to do it the first time. It’s very frustrating.”
“I will consult Shardwyn. The level of jhorun necessary to move an object between worlds, no matter how small it may be, is unheard of. There must be some type of explanation.”
“Well, when you figure it out, please let me know, too.”
“I will, Lady Sarah.”
Steve stepped forward and bowed to the king and queen. “Umm, I don’t know if this is a good time to ask this, but is your son packed and ready to go?”
“Mikal is indeed ready to depart, and depart he will,” Kri’Entu said, “but that will be tomorrow. Tonight, we feast in yer honor.”
A small groan sounded from somewhere behind Steve while several soldiers snickered. Careful to hide his rolling eyes from those of royal persuasion, Rhenyon sighed.
The celebratory feast held in the Great Hall was no less spectacular than those held by the dwarves. Musicians lined the hall, encouraging passersby to dance a jig or two. Heavily laden tables of food were everywhere, tempting even those with full bellies to have another morsel or two more. Everywhere they walked people stopped what they were doing and bowed, murmuring their names as they passed.
Rhenyon surprised Sarah by asking her to consent to one last dance. Giving the grinning captain one of her famous million-dollar smiles, and a small curtsy, Sarah allowed herself to be led out into the throngs of people, all dancing a slow waltz.
Feeling a small tap on his shoulder, Steve turned, surprised to see the queen before him. She gave him a small curtsy as well, holding out her hand for him to escort her to the dance floor. Swallowing loudly, Steve bowed in return, and took the queen’s soft hand in his. Thanking his lucky stars that his wife had talked him into taking a ballroom dancing class several years ago, Steve managed a passable waltz, guiding the smiling monarch around the dance floor without once stepping on her feet. He even spun her through one turn, much to the queen’s delight, her eyes opening wide with amazement.
Feeling another small tap on his shoulder, Steve turned again, discovering himself face-to-face with the king.
“May I cut in?” Kri’Entu politely inquired.
“By all means, your majesty.”
Finally able to breathe again, Steve ran a shaking hand through his hair. Where was his wife? A quick scan of the dance floor provided the answer: dancing with the young prince. Mikal, it would seem, had been well trained in the finer art of dancing, leading a laughing Sarah through several styles of dance, even spinning her much more elegantly than he had ever been able to.
“Show off,” Steve muttered, chuckling.
The following morning found everyone assembled in a smaller chamber off the Great Hall. Looking around the richly decorated room, Steve realized he hadn’t ever been in this part of the castle before. Tapestries lined the walls, and numerous tables were scattered about. Maybe this was a conference room of some sort? Steve shrugged inwardly. Giving his immediate surrounding a quick, cursory glance, he was startled to discover that the room didn’t contain a portal or at least something he could recognize as one.
Walking over to the far wall, Kri’Entu gave several tugs to the huge floor-length twenty foot tapestry that was hanging unobtrusively from several pegs. Dislodged from its holders, the tapestry plopped to the ground, revealing a ten foot tall door frame, complete with ancient runes carved onto every square inch. This time, the carved relief depicted castle R’Tal, in its entirety. There, smack in the middle of the closed drawbridge was a hole. A keyhole.
The king turned to the Nohrin. “Sir Steve, if ye please.”
Figuring this would be a great time to test their new portal key, Steve stepped forward and inserted Maelnar’s latest creation, automatically twisting it clockwise. Returning to his wife’s side, together they watched as the newly activated portal rapidly came to life. Grinning like a couple of enthusiastic school kids, Steve and Sarah each held their breath as the familiar chiming was heard. The surface of the wall fuzzed out, replaced by a very welcoming scene: a comfortable sitting area, with a window overlooking an immense Victorian garden.
“Okay, kiddo,” Steve said, grinning down at an amazed Mikal, “ready to check out another world?”
Nodding his head in wonder, Mikal looked back at his parents. The king was smiling, nodding his head in encouragement while the queen was doing a remarkable job of not bursting into tears.
Taking Mikal’s hand in her left, while simultaneously taking her husband’s in her right, Sarah led them into the portal, leaving the Kingdom of Lentari behind.
The Prophecy Page 52
