Maiden's Saber

by Marion Faith St. James

With each hammer strike upon the heated metal sent showers of sparks to earth. Some could be seen streaking across the nighttime sky. The banging was thought to be the thunder during a storm. The fog was the steam when she dipped the heated iron into the seas to cool the blade.

  These blades became a living entity, thus given the right to choose the hand they would serve. Aurelia is the Goddess of truth and light, so these blades would not serve those who followed the shadow. Although, if one were to turn to the dark after the sword chose its master as it was with Urel, the blade would still be bound to them, but its magic diminished.

  If another faced the enchanted blade and their heart was pure, and they were worthy, then the magic saber would leave the evil one and chose its new master. This is what happened with you Natsha.

  The true magic lies within the holder of the blades. The sabers could magnify those powers if the wielder knew how to use them during battle.

  Over the length of each blade are runes unknown to man as it is the ancient language of the Gods. However, the Goddess marks each saber with one word that is of man. It was the name given to each blade to unleash the magic from within.

  Katana; at my side is the fifth saber forged to join the other blades like fingers on the hand. It is the most powerful. You Gareth hold Helixx—the Earth Sword. Its magic can control the very land we walk upon; rocks, trees and soil will obey your commands. It was said to be a weapon that no armor could stop.”

  Gareth absent-mindedly fingers the sword’s hilt while listening to Amari.

  “Dian” as she touches the shoulder of the sister next to her. “You grip Hydrosin—the Water Sword. The possessor could create this blade from any water source. No metal raised against it could withstand its force. You must tell us one day how it selected you as its master.

  Pyrestorm—the Fire Sword now belongs to you Natsha. It was you and Gareth that brought me back to life those many moons ago. It is just and right it fits your hand. Its flames and fireballs would dissolve an enemy’s resolve to fight.

  Finally, we have the Mystic Wind—the Wind Sword. It selected you Truk to possess its power. It can send strong winds and storms at its foes, blinding them. We must learn how this is done.

  Although enchanted and magical, those who held them long ago were of earth and subject to the weakness of the body. As the body aged and was unable to keep a steady hand, the blade would choose a new master. Thus, this transference carried throughout the ages.

  It was the time of my kin the Djinn these blades were passed on to Urel and I. We were presented Katana and Pyrestorm. As for the other three sabers of the Kcaj, they were lost in time, until now.

  Urel could not wait for the ritual my parents were performing, so she pushed me aside and reached for Katana, but the blade danced away from her grasp. It landed in my outstretched hand.

  Urel took hold of the Fire Sword instead. She was jealous that I held the saber which governs the rest. I remember my parents saying the magic these blades held would not work until we were of adult mind and age. I gave my sister no mind at the time, as she was always head-strong and lacked any patience.

  I held to the teachings of those who brought me into this world, but Urel tried almost every day to work the magic, but to no avail. It was not until we both had our eighteenth years did the enchantment become alive. Together we vowed to do as our kin did before us and fight for those oppressed.

  As we grew, so did our battles and fighting skills. Throughout the land of Aventine, the legends swelled of our battles and victories over the shade and those of evil.”

  “It sounds like the times from their creation until this moment that the Kcaj Sabers are still shrouded in mystery.” The sorcerer says to the others. “Until I met you Amari with Katana in your hand, I had always thought the enchanted blades were just another story to entertain and mystify. Your legends of adventure and battle, is a true tale. Adding a supernatural Kcaj thought to be an embellishment by the storyteller.”

  “Now we possess all five, what be our next task?” Dian asks.

  “Even with the power of the Kcaj, we are but seven against many. Mimna and Truk, do you remember decades ago? We had the Ords who stood with us. They were fierce fighters and loyal friends to our cause. You told us,” while looking at her oldest companions. “After my defeat, the last of the Ords were hunted and slain like animals.”

  “It is true Amari,” says Truk. “To my knowledge, the last of the Ord nation was murdered over a decade ago. No other people have risen up to fight the tyrant king or the Druids. I am afraid that we are to go alone into other battles against the evil ones.”

  “I speak for the Black Angels.” Mimna says hesitantly. “My people will not leave the sanctuary of the sacred mountains. Besides, we have but a few that are trained to fight. Our warriors high up on the mountains who can do battle, stay to protect the cities of the three peaks.”

  “What about the Thunderclan in the Narthex Mountains which surround Aventine?” Holl-tu asks. “They hold no love for the king or the Druids.”

  “That tribe is well known to me,” says Amari. “I thought they were wiped out by the Druids and their sky dragons’ ages ago?”

  Mimna speaks again. “They are but a few now—mostly old men, women and children. My ancestors of the three peaks used to trade with them, as they are mountain people and not lowlanders.

  It was in my lifetime, the Thunderclan warred against the Druids and the shadows. Those that were not killed joined the ranks of the evil horde. We can find no help there.”

  Amari stares at those sitting around the fire. “It is true; we have no one who will stand with us against the evil threatening to overrun this land?”

  “It would appear our fight will be a long one.” Gareth says.

  “We have the Kcaj,” says Amari. “We must learn how to bring its full power to bear. “Remember, it was said we can control the elements through these blades. So far, besides moving rocks and casting fire, little of its supposed great power has been used.

  “Is there nowhere we can find writings that will unlock the full magic of these blades?” What about Lanz Tarris in Mimna’s land,” Asks Dian. “He once held the Mystic Wind, did he not?”

  “He is very old.” Returns Mimna. “His mind is not always in reality. He has seen days of wandering around the Three Peaks mumbling. I would say his help would be riddled with uncertainties. To tell the truth, I am surprised his riddle of the compass was accurate enough for us to find.

  The time we spent with him before leaving the peaks was one of the very few times where he was in the here and now…sorry.”

  Amari glances to Natsha. “You are a learned one in ancient writings. Your father’s library—is there manuscripts or chronicles of the Kcaj that can offer some insight of the magic which can be called forth?”

  Natsha thinks for a moment. “My father’s trove of writings, were spoils from years of thievery. His desire to know of the ancient world caused him to amass such a storehouse of manuscripts, books, scrolls and parchments. I must confess that even spending many hours within those dusty rooms; I had not read everything. There were countless shelves yet unread, even by my kin. Of what I did read, spoke only a little of the enchanted sabers. Nothing I remember on calling upon its magic. Could there be other writings unknown to my eyes that may hold secrets; I am not sure.”

  “Does your kin’s library still exist?” Gareth asks.

  “As far as I know, but I have not entered the hidden chamber in many years. After my father and brother were killed, I left my home in the village of Acredale. The lands and house of Mod-gen are rightfully mine. We can go there and search the records. Only my brother, sister and I knew how to enter the hidden chamber. Nonetheless, I must warn you. There is a price on my head if I am ever to return. It will be dangerous.”

  “And what do you call the last several weeks of what we just went through.” Gareth says. “I am sure we can handle some peasant villagers.”

  Natsha can only
smile at the big man’s comments.

  “That my friends, is our next task.” Amari says. “Let us spend the next two days of teaching basic magic spells. I can help you call forth a little power from the sabers at your sides.

  Gareth has already proven he can cleave solid rock with Helixx. Natsha has saved us with the calling of fireballs. Dian, Gareth and I joined swords to defeat the Druid’s beast. We do not know what Hydrosin or the Mystic Wind can do on their own. For those ends, we must discover what other power lie within.”

  The two days at Amari’s birth home pass quickly. Through trial and error, Dian is able to raise water from the stream, create a water spout and drive it down again.

  Truk is was able to create a light breeze with the Wind Sword. Nothing strong enough to defeat an enemy, but it did cool them down from the heat of a noon day.

  Gareth opened the solid rock portal to the underground river. He also learns how to open great holes in the ground.

  Natsha can still only do fireballs. She did master how to make them go farther.

  Thrice in the passing days, the holders of the Kcaj sit in a circle with blades before them on the ground…points touching. They sit in silence, with eyes closed waiting for a sign or enlightenment.

  Amari searches her memory for any incantation or spell that would help. She could call great power from Katana when linked with the other sabers, but nothing where the other elemental blades can evoke powerful magic.

  On the eve of the third day, the heroic warriors begin their travel to Natsha’s village in faraway Acredale. To lessen the chances of being caught, they would travel at night and rest during the daylight. Each day, Holl-tu would weave his enchantments to protect them. Once, Amari felt the presence of another’s magic. It passed quickly before she could tell from whence it came.

  Following a stream Natsha knew well, they entered Acredale from a stand of trees. It was near dawn on the seventh day. The sky was beginning to lighten and a light morning mist hung in the air. It glistened on their clothes as they crept ever closer.

  The warriors entered the Ville by twos, as not to arouse suspicion of any early risers. Natsha and Gareth went first. Fortunately, the Mod-gin holdings were near the edge of the village. As ill-fortune would have it, the house was occupied. A lantern hung outside the door and lights shown through the shuttered windows.

  Natsha peeks through the gaps in the closed shutters. She taps Gareth on the arm, as he is scanning for anyone watching from other buildings or the street. “It is Merek. You remember him from the Dragon’s Grave?”

  “You mean one of those Thieves Guild men?”

  “Yes. He deemed us dead, so he moved into my father’s house. I will cut short his days for taking what is mine.”

  “Easy sister, you just said he thought you dead. He is only claiming property left vacant, as no one else is entitled. If all of a family and kin are gone, then the law says whomever claims the properties is the new rightful owner.”

  Natsha knows Gareth is right, but it still pains her. Why did it have to be Merek? The thief used to bully her when they were children; until Natsha learned to fight and bloodied his nose.

  All the others have entered the village and gather around. Natsha tells of the squatter in her home. “Amari, it is one of the Thieves Guild men who were with us at the Dragon’s Grave.”

  The Maiden looks through the narrow opening. “He is not alone. I sense others in another room.”

  Natsha peers in again and says. “It is probably Terrin or Jarin. The three always travel together.”

  Natsha walks around to the side of the building. She finds another shuttered window and peeks through the slats. Coming back to the others, she says. “He has a cocked crossbow on the table near his arm. “His methods are to shoot first, then sort out the reasons later.”

  “The others inside are not men. I sense a woman and children.” The Maiden says holding her hand against the shuttered window.

  “They must be his kin.” Natsha says. “He has no wife or children. He really has made himself at home.”

  Going to the door, she gently raps on the wood.

  Watching through the window, Gareth can see Merek grab his bow from the table and aim it at the door.

  “Who is there?” He asks while backing toward one of the doors to another room as if to protect whatever is behind.

  “You think the owner would not return Merek. Unbolt this door and allow us to enter.”

  “Natsha is that you?”

  “Yes thief! Open this door quickly before we are seen out here. Too many are after our heads.”

  “Who is with you?”

  “My friends—hurry, people are entering the streets.”

  He unlocks the door and pulls it open a crack and steps back.

  Natsha enters first, followed by Gareth, Amari and the rest.

  “Put your weapon down,” says Amari. “We are not here to harm you or your family in the next room.”

  The arm holding the crossbow drops to his side. “How do you know about my family? Wait—I forgot you are a witch. Put no curse on me and mine sorceress!”

  Dian and Holl-tu enter next and stand to the sides. Mimna with Truk, squeezes in through the narrow doorway. Merek shuts the portal behind the last to enter.

  “You were three the last I saw of you—now you be seven.” Merek says. “How is it, you have found more fools to follow you?”

  Natsha faces the thief with just a foot between them. “I should be angry you stole my house, but Gareth reminded me that from all accounts, we were dead and buried in the Dragon’s Grave. So I will take back what is rightfully mine.”

  “No dispute from me Natsha.” Merek says while gathering items from around the room and shoving them in a canvas sack. “We will leave straight away.

  When outside the Dragon’s Grave on a hillock, we saw those hooded-figures and a woman close in on you, and then the wall of stone that sealed you inside, we thought you had reached the end of days.

  Whoever, the woman dressed in battle armor was, she burned with anger; so did her sword. It must have been enchanted, as balls of fire one after another crashed against that stone barrier. It finally collapsed and the men went inside. We left a short time later. Staying around too long might have tempted fate to overtake us. Is there anyone who is not after you Natsha?”

  Natsha offers the means of their escape. “It was the Maiden who teleported us to the seashore…away from those who wished us dead. We held and lost warriors in our travels. Pray, who is in the bedrooms of this house?

  “It is the wife of my brother Terrin and his children. He was foolish and picked a fight with one of the King’s men for looking at his wife. She is fair to the eyes, and this was not the first-time anger raised my brother’s arm to battle.

  Two other soldiers held him down while the object of his ire ran him through with a lance. Lief, Jarin and I killed them all with arrows through their hearts. They lie at the bottom of Herris Gorge. I hope crows have picked their bones clean by now.

  As Lelu and the small ones are kin to me, I vowed to protect them. I have no desires on them, save to honor my brother’s love.”

  “Merek, I am sorry for the loss of your kin.” Natsha says. “Is there a place you and Terrin’s family can stay for a time? We are only here for perhaps two weeks. When we leave, you may move back and call this home for a time. If I do not return after a year’s movement, then my home is yours. I will put this promise to parchment for any who challenges your rights.”

  “You are too kind sister thief. We can live with my sister for a short time, but she tires of me quickly.”

  “Then it is done.” She says. “Collect your kin and be off with you. The sooner we finish our tasks, the sooner we leave.”

  Merek nods his head and clasps Natsha on the shoulder in the manner of the Thieves Guild. She returns the gesture with her own hand on his shoulder. “We will leave by the rear door Natsha.”

  He enters the bedroom, after a shor
t discussion heard through the thin walls, the back door to the stone house open and closes.

  “I wonder what he told the woman of his brother.” Dian asks.

  Natsha answers. “It does not matter. Let’s hope my father’s library has not been looted.” She walks across the creaky wooden floor to the stone fireplace. Natsha reaches into the left side of the chimney corner and up into the flume, being careful of the smoldering coals. There is a sharp click sound as some hidden lever is pulled.

  A section of the stone wall next to the fire pit opens a crack. It is wide enough to slide fingers into the opening and push it aside on hidden tracks. Once fully open, she peers down a narrow staircase of stone. The steps disappear into the darkness below. Using a small broom resting against the wall, she presses down on the first step while standing outside of the entrance. There is a sharp report as a steel tipped arrow bounces against the inside of the stairwell.

  “One of my father’s many traps. There are deadfalls and pits that open if one were to put their foot in the wrong place. I will go first and disarm them. There are hidden levers, which put them on hold. Amari, can I beseech you for one of your illumination spheres to precede us down. I can light torches at the bottom and in the rooms.”

  “Of course, as you wish.” Amari with an animated wave of her slender hands; a few whispered words; the orbs of light appear and hover above her outstretched hands. The magic globes enter the doorway and travel down, chasing the darkness in front of them.

  Gareth leans past Natsha looks at the narrowness of the walls and the small steps leading a long way down. “That is too small a passage for the likes of Truk and me. We will stay and guard here.”

  “Sound idea” says the wizard. He follows Natsha down into the depths. Dian, Amari, and Mimna are close behind.

  The narrow stairs seem to go for quite a way.

  “How deep is this Natsha?” Mimna asks.

  “It is over twelve meters to the bottom. We have a total of five-rooms which house the bounty my father and brother collected over the past fifty years. This storehouse of knowledge rivals the libraries at Archkeep. Some of what my father stole came from that very archive.”