Maiden's Saber

by Marion Faith St. James

  Amari yells to her while trying to stand on unsteady feet. “Has our sister gone to the other side?”

  Looking to Amari, as she moves toward her, Mimna says. “Breath is still in her body, but the wound is grave.”

  Amari still worn-out from the endless battle passes her hands over the prone form of Dian. The arrow quivers for a brief moment, then disappears. The blood seeping from the wound stains Dian’s tunic.

  Putting hands upon the wound, Amari closes her eyes and looks to Dian’s insides. The Maiden sits back on her legs. “The arrow pierced her stomach. I can heal this, but I need my bag of medicines and potions hidden behind that large rock,” as she points. “Mimna, please fetch it for me.”

  The warriors gather around their fallen friend.

  Mimna asks, after returning to Dian’s side. “What of Holl-tu and Fin? Have they also fallen in battle?”

  “I am here as a feeble voice comes from behind.”

  Gareth runs to help the wizard who is walking with the aid of a tree limb. He sits next to the prone Dian with his left leg outstretched. His face is covered in blood from tiny shallow scratches on his skin. The wizard’s teeth are showing as his lips are pulled into a grimace from the pain in his leg.

  “Your lovely sister Urel flung me over the trees when I confronted her. Fortunately, those same trees broke my fall, and also my leg.”

  It is then the others see the leg bone sticking through his trousers, jagged and bleeding.

  Amari gives him a quick glance. “Fear not my friend, you wound although looking vile, can be healed. The small amount of blood issuing from the jagged cut means no major vessels which carry blood are injured. I must attend to Dian first as the wound threatens her life.”

  “By all means,” says Holl-tu as a twinge of pain causes him to wince. “This I can endure—save our sister.”

  Amari goes back to Dian’s wound. Pouring water upon the hole where the arrow pierced, she speaks an ancient healing magic once again. “The water will wash out the dirt and infection. The spell will purify and heal the wound and her stomach.” She takes one of the pouches of herbs from her bag and pours the entire contents on the wound. It bubbles when it contacts the water and seeps into the arrow hole and surrounding skin. “This will also speed recovery. She should be able to move in two-days.”

  A loud tramping sound can be heard far off down the road.

  “Now what confronts us?” Gareth says drawing his sword.

  Mimna runs down the road and around the bend. She returns several minutes later. “A vast army of the king’s soldiers is approaching on the castle road. They probably are here to retake the fortress for the king.”

  Amari pushes sweat matted hair from her forehead. “Vast army; are there too many to fight?”

  Mimna looks at her companions. Amari and Truk are fatigued. Dian and Holl-tu are wounded. Fin is missing. “Amari, only Gareth, Natsha and I are able to fight. We three cannot defeat what I saw coming.”

  Amari eyes tell her what Mimna has said is indeed truth of their fighting strength. “Then we must retreat into the wood and wait for them to pass. We will need to find a place to hide until we gather our strength and heal our wounds. There is also the matter of Fin. I am sure he has fallen in battle, or he would have joined us by now.”

  Natsha stands and faces the others. “Amari, will this blade provide a good defense.” She draws the Fire Sword. It pulsates with red and white lights.”

  “Natsha, you have Pyrestorm? What became of Urel? No wait—tell me later when we are safe.”

  “Maiden, teach me how to call the fire from this blade, and I will scatter those soldiers before they get near.”

  Amari quickly gives Natsha the magic words that will form the fireballs and send them toward an enemy. None too soon as the first line of soldiers…six abreast turn the bend with long lances lowered and pointed at the warriors.

  Natsha waits for another two lines to come into sight before acting. Pointing her newly acquired Kcaj at the advancing soldiers, she whispers the magic spell to the blade. A ball of red-hot fire forms at the tip of her saber. Another learned command and the fireball arcs toward where she told it to go.

  Fiery flames trail the orb as it crashes into the first line of men. No sooner do they drop writhing in pain and flames, then another ball of death is dispatched; then another. The soldiers do not have any time to organize, as their comrades are engulfed in fire. Those who survive turn and run back the way they came.

  Natsha walks slowly after them still sending balls of fire into their receding ranks. Several horsemen have almost trampled their own men trying to get away. They do not get very far as Natsha’s sword magic overtakes them. Man and horse fall to the ground. The smell of burning flesh and hide fills the air. She stops when she hears Amari calling from behind her.

  “Enough sister, they are in full retreat and will not return.”

  Natsha returns to her warriors. “Amari, the power that fills me is great. I feel invincible.”

  “Sister, we will talk on this later. For now, do not let the power govern your actions. You are the master of the saber, not the reverse.

  With Amari comforting Dian and Holl-tu, Gareth, Mimna and Natsha go off in search of their little friend and warrior. The one who finds him is the one who cares for him the most.

  All at once, he sees Fin lying in a thicket. The elf’s brown tunic torn front and back from the knife that must have pierced him. Gareth realizes that Fin was attacked from behind. “The cowards” he says in a scream.

  The sadness of his lost friend turns to rage quickly, as he swings his earth sword against the trunks of several trees. The wood cannot stand his onslaught as timber fall like sticks in a wind. When his anger slackens, he returns to the body of Fin.

  Picking up the elf in his arms, he walks by two of the soldiers Fin dispatched. He sees the leg wounds Fin would have caused, then the killing marks at their necks.

  The others hear him yell and start to go and give aid when Amari holds up her hand.

  “He is not injured, at least not physically. Wait, he will return to us.”

  It is several minutes before Gareth comes tramping through the trees and brush with the little elf in his arms. Even in death, Fin still has his sword tightly gripped, as it bangs against Gareth’s hip while he walks. The little one is like a ragdoll as his head sags down along with his legs while the big man carries him. Gareth lays the elf down before Amari and looks at her pleadingly.

  The Maiden moves her hands over the still body and shakes her head. “Our warrior brother is no more of this realm. Whatever pierced him cut his heart. I cannot heal who has already passed on.”

  “He fought valiantly.” Gareth says to the others. “I saw the soldiers he killed before they could outflank us. Whoever delivered the death stroke did so from behind like a coward.”

  “It had to be the evil witch as she came from his direction.” Natsha offers.

  “Gather him up Gareth, we must be going.” Amari says.

  “I will carry him,” Mimna says. With your great strength, you must carry Dian.”

  The big warrior picks up Fin and places him gently into Mimna’s waiting arms, while he takes Dian in his.

  Amari is once again in the lead. The Maiden’s depleted strength and energy are returning slowly. She still has some power left. She is using her keen senses to reach ahead as they walk.

  Unknown to the others, she used magic to protect them as they fought. The formation of this spell only works when they are in her sight. Fin and Holl-tu were deep in the woods, away from her vision. This use of protection magic weakened her considerably. It took a lot of concentration to keep the spell alive and fend off attackers with slashes of her own saber.

  If Natsha had not returned when she did and let loose the barrage of arrows, Amari did not know how much longer she could have stayed the enemy. More of her companions would have died this day.

  Gareth follows carrying Dian while her head rests
against his broad shoulder. Mimna has Fin and Truk at her heels. Natsha has stationed herself as a rear guard, making sure none come up to their blind.

  “Where are we to go?” Truk asks when he catches up to Amari. We need somewhere where we can heal, regain our strength and is safe.

  Amari points off into the distance; “if it still exists—the home of my youth. It is a land I know well and will afford a defendable keep.

  Chapter 19 – The Kcaj Reunited

  The journey to Amari’s lands took a full seven days of travel. Each night, they hid in old barns and secluded meadows. Dian was able to walk on her own after three days of Gareth carrying her. All regained much of their depleted strength. Holl-tu is still showing several bruises, but otherwise, he was as before Urel sent him crashing into the trees.

  They performed the warrior’s ascension to the heavens for Fin, as they did Roarken. They all agreed that he is in a better place, but he will be missed.

  The first night of camp, Natsha retold the story of her battle against the evil Urel.

  Amari listened intently and only asked a few questions. Her comments when Natsha finished the telling, was the Fire Sword had chosen wisely. “Sister, remember when the Wind Sword stood above you before selecting Truk as its master?”

  “Yes.”

  “Once Pyrestorm was in your grasp,” Amari says to her. “I knew that was the reason the Wind Sword hovered above you in the Golden Sea cavern. The Mystic Wind knew the Fire Sword would select you as its master in a time to come.

  Remember, these blades are cast from the same metal, so they are spiritually connected. The saber knew you would possess another of the Kcaj. I thought it had to be something like that, as it hesitated over you before selecting our brother dwarf.”

  Natsha could only nod while rubbing her fingers across the hilt of the famed Fire Sword lashed to her side.

  On the seventh day after cresting a flower-covered hill, they looked down into a serene valley. Waves of grasses stirred by the wind carried the impression of a moving sea. Further, is a forest of tall trees; beyond is the Narthex Mountains looming and partly hidden by wispy clouds. Nestled by a small meandering stream is a little cottage of white field stone; the rough-hewn wooden roof showing holes and disrepair.

  Amari closes her eyes and searches. “I sense nothing there to do us ill my friends. Little is known of this secluded valley else, others would have made it their home. I have not been here in over sixty years. Let us venture closer.”

  Amari waves her hand as they draw near, and the ornate wood door opens to reveal a dark interior. Creating a light orb, she sends it in first. Mimna and Natsha are at the Maiden’s back as she enters.

  It appears the last occupants left a long time ago, as dust covers every surface. A hand-carved table sits in the center with four chairs. One of the chairs if lying on its side as insects chewed two of its supports to splinters.

  A large rusted iron kettle is suspended on a wrought-iron bar over blackened and burnt logs. There has not been a fire lit here for decades. Three small rooms with doors open are off the main room.

  Amari goes into one of the dark rooms and returns holding a small raggedy doll. She holds up to the other women. “This was mine when I was a child.” While cradling the toy of her youth, she points to the room she came from. “This was Urel’s and my room. I miss the times we were young and did not have a care. If she had not been swayed by the shade, we would be together now, a sister to me and thou.”

  Natsha looks to her feet.

  “Natsha, do not be of sorrow. You did what needed to be done. If not you, then I would have to fight her. I may not have been able to defeat her as she is kin and my mind would be clouded with our younger days.”

  “I often think about that last battle. Maybe we could have turned her to the side of light. I never had the chance.” Natsha admits.

  Amari takes Natsha’s arm in hers as they both look about the room. “I doubt Urel could have returned to the light as her soul was too black from doing evil all those years. If there was a spark of goodness within her, the shade would have crushed it long ago.”

  “Help me sisters to make this cottage livable again.”

  The three women went about dusting and throwing out old rags and food that were lying about. They opened the shuttered windows to allow light and the fresh air to clear out the staleness of years.

  Truk and Holl-tu went into the forest in search of game.

  Gareth felled several old trees with the Earth Sword and cut them into smaller size for the fireplace. He brought in armloads and placed them next to the hearth. He started a roaring fire which not only warmed the cottage it also produced a sweet-smelling aroma that lingered.

  Finding a straight live oak, he toppled the stout tree with one swing of the enchanted sword. After skinning the bark, he cut the log into planks. The boards were split into two-foot long wooden shingles. These he used to patch the holes in the roof.

  Mimna brought him nails and a hammer she found in the third room.

  He climbed on the peaked roof from a low side and went about patching the holes.

  Dian waded into the stream and using the water sword speared a dozen thick bodied trout. After cleaning the fish, she gave the filets to Mimna, who dropped them in a hot skillet setting upon the fire. The smell of trout touched everyone’s nose.

  Truk and Holl-tu returned with four fat hares, and a small tusked boar. They took the game to the stream to butcher and wash.

  While tending to the steaming fish, Mimna looks around for Amari. She searches in the three rooms that are now cleaned and the bed linen hanging outside, after Natsha washed them in the stream. Amari was not in any of the rooms. Mimna goes outside and sees her a short distance away on a small knoll kneeling on the ground.

  As she nears the Maiden, Mimna sees two grave markers in front of Amari. Mimna slowly backs away, leaving the Maiden to her deceased kin.

  From his position on the roof, Gareth can see Amari as well. She appears to be talking to the upright stones which mark graves. He goes back to his task of repairing the roof.

  Amari returns and they gather around the table. Gareth has dragged in tree stumps to serve as seats as the table only has four chairs.

  After the Maiden blesses the food and thanks the Gods for their victories…they eat in silence. The food disappears quickly as everyone is famished. The only food sources on their journey here were berries and nuts.

  After everyone helps to clean up, Amari asks her companion to join her outside. The sun has set, and the night sky of stars gives a weak illumination.

  Gareth has piled several logs with smaller kindling in a fire pit. Natsha puts the tip of her sword into the center of the wood and utters several mystic words taught to her by Amari to create flames. The fire roars to life. Its dancing flames are calming and welcomed to those seated about it.

  Everyone sits on the grassy ground and stares into the fire. Amari speaks to them. “We have lost friends and warriors along the way. We will remember and recite their names to our kin who follow and to those we meet on the path. As long as we remember them, they will never die.

  Natsha’s writings will tell of the deeds and valor of all those here and gone. The eons will pass and we will be returned to the land, but those who read the chronicles will allow us to live again.

  The group all acknowledge with an “aye.”

  “Lend an ear each of you, and I will tell of the Kcaj Pentadiene. As we hold all five of the enchanted blades, we are duty-bound to continue the fight these blades were created to do. There is a great power within our collective grasps. We cannot let this force tempt us to corrupt and lead to the shade.

  Defeat can descend on us if faith in our quest is fractured or lost. Even though Mimna and Holl-tu hold native steel, they are no less warriors who lend their blades to the Kcaj. Each of us brings skills and magic to serve each other. As long as we fight as one, those who oppose the light will be reduced to ash.

 
; I do not profess to know the whole power of these sabers when they are brought together. The man and woman who gave me birth let the swords select us as the next holders. They were old and only taught my sister and me a little before they past to the heavenly realm. I knelt at their earthly graves in hopes of reaching their spirits, as I have many questions. Alas, none came to my calling.”

  “You can speak with the dead?” The wide-eyed Natsha asks.

  “In the past I have done so with my mother. It was before the time of my half-sleep of death brought on by the Druids.

  “How do we learn the full potential of these enchanted sabers?” asks Truk.

  “I will tell you what I know—maybe it will jar some memory in myself, or one of you? Amari sits a little straighter and looks out into the night. I sense magic at work.”

  “That would be me Maiden.” The wizard says. I have put an enchantment about this valley. Anyone looking down into this meadow will only see a multitude of brambles and silver-thorn bushes. It will not be an inviting place to venture.”

  “Well done sorcerer. Your skills are what I was talking about earlier. Now to the tale I promised.”

  The others get comfortable and move closer to the warming fire.

  Amari collects her words and begins the telling. “The Kcaj Pentadiene is said to be without equal in the realm of sword magic. The magical power the sabers’ possess will increase the wielder’s strength and grant supernatural capabilities far beyond the durability of the enchanted metal from which they were formed. The roots of these sentient weapons were thought to be born of myths.

  Legend holds that the great sword smith was actually the Goddess Aurelia, who cast these swords with her own hands thus imbuing the blade with an essence of her spirit. Each was given a particular power of the elements. She supposedly plucked a star from the heavens and forged it into five sabers of the Kcaj; having their own unique magical ability.