Maiden's Saber

by Marion Faith St. James

  Amari decided to speak in some truths. She wanted it to be convincing. “This same wizard told a story of a Maiden; a White Witch that fought the Blood Druids many decades ago. He said she possessed a sword of great power. Many considered a myth, but this wise one spoke as if it was real.

  This is my protector” as she touches the arm of Gareth at her side. “We are both smitten with finding the truth in things. Have you heard of such a Maiden, and the saber she carries?”

  The priest’s forehead becomes furrowed as if trying to remember anything about what these two were asking.

  “I too have heard it is a myth from long ago. The story goes on to tell this Maiden was slain and lost in battle. Of it as a truth, I cannot say. We have over ten-thousand manuscripts, books and parchments here. I have sorted many of those over the years. I do not remember anything of this magic Katana blade you speak of.”

  Amari gives a slight wince. “May we come sit and look over your shelves of books?”

  “For a time lady you may. We are closing within the hour.”

  “We thank you for your help and patience kind sir.” Amari says with her sweetest voice.

  Gareth just grunts. Together, they enter the library proper.

  From floor to high ceiling, the walls are lined with shelves of books and rolls of parchments. In the center of the room are curved two-meter tall free-standing bookshelves. Several straight backed chairs dot the main room. An old man is sitting in one with a large manuscript on his lap. He is making remarks in a small notebook with a piece of charcoal.

  The cleric leaves them and sets about straightening a shelf of books that are is disarray.

  “He is lying Gareth.”

  “Yes, I know. You made no mention of Katana to him.”

  As they are feigning interest in several books on a table, Natsha enters.

  The priest hurries over to the woman who just entered and tells her the archives will close soon. “Come back tomorrow.”

  Natsha looks over at Gareth. The big man motions for her to subdue the man. As the priest takes Natsha’s arm to steer her back out the door, she spins around and comes behind him…knife at his neck. She quickly backs him down one of the aisles and out of sight.

  The priest makes no effort to resist with a sharp blade tickling his throat.

  Gareth goes to guard the door.

  Amari tells the old man still scratching notes with charcoal. “The archives are closing. Would he gather his things and mind leaving? He is welcome to return on the morrow.”

  “Where is the priest? He asks while looking about.

  Amari thinks quickly. “The cleric has taken ill. He asked that I lock the door after all readers have left the archives. You my friend are the last one here, besides the guard at the door.”

  He looks at the big man waiting at the open door. “Very well, I am tired.” He closes the manuscript and lays it on the chair. “Would you mind leaving this here until tomorrow? I hate to go looking for it again.”

  “It will be right there for you sir.”

  He nods at Gareth as he walks passed him and out the door.

  A few minutes the others knock upon the portal. Gareth lets in his companions. Once everyone is in, he sets the lock with a heavy bolt.

  Natsha comes down one of the aisles.

  “Sister, tell us you did not end that cleric’s life?”

  “No…he did not do anything to warrant death. He is tied and gagged in what must be his quarters.”

  “Good! Bring him back—he knows of Katana. He may shorten our search. Gareth, go with her.”

  “What do you want?” comes the voice of the priest as Gareth and Natsha usher him into the central room. He is brought before Amari, visibly cringing in fear.

  “Take ease priest, we are not here to harm you.”

  “Are you thieves? We have no gold or jewels here—only ancient texts and books.”

  “Ah, but that is exactly what we seek. Tell us all you know of Katana and the magic that surrounds it.”

  He relaxes a little. “I told you all I knew when you first arrived…I know nothing more.”

  “I can see even clerics can stretch the truth. We made no mention of Katana, but you did.”

  “Why do you seek knowledge of a myth? It is just an old story created by a teller to entertain and amuse. There is no substance or reality to its existence.”

  “Please sit,” as Amari points to one of the empty chairs.

  “First, you know much more than you are telling us. Second, you sought to deceive us with the belief it is only a myth. Many myths are founded in truth.”

  Amari unfolds her long skirt exposing a sword and scabbard. She pulls the blade out and grasps the blade just under the hilt. Holding it blade down, she extends her arm until the sword is inches from the man’s face. “Does this look like a myth to you?”

  The priest’s eyes go wide as he sees the ancient runes engraved in the blade and the blue sheen of magic shimmering the length of the saber. “It does exist! That means you are…?”

  “Yes, I am the Maiden of the Light. These are my companions and warriors,” as she gestures with a sweep of her arm. “Now do you wish to recount the truth of what you know?”

  The priest is trembling more as he looks into each face around him, and back to the Witch. “This cannot be. The Maiden and that sword you hold do not exist…your devils, taking the forms of humans.”

  “Devils and evil are what we fight my friend. You have heard about us; I am sure. Would devils seek to destroy their own?”

  “If what you say is true, what could you learn that you do not already know about yourself?”

  “Of me and mine…nothing…of Katana and her kin, much. Tell us of your hidden room of ancient folklore and manuscripts that contain magic spells and incantations.”

  “We have no such room here!”

  Amari nods at Natsha.

  The Mod-gin warrior goes to a back wall and stands before a floor to rafter bookcase. Where two vertical shelve join, she grasps the wood and gives it a yank. The shelves are really a door made to look like a rack of books. Behind is a steel door with iron bar held in place by a metal lock.

  Amari puts her face in front of the cleric. “One more untruth from your lips priest and this sorcerer,” as she nods to Holl-tu, “will turn you into a fat worm. You will be destined to slither upon the ground until you are in a bird’s stomach.”

  For effect, the wizard using illusions turns a book lying on a table into a crow. It even caws several times.

  “Alright…alright; don’t turn me into a creature to be eaten! I will be truthful with you. I know much about what you seek. Inside the inner room were dozens of texts dealing with what is known as the Kcaj Pentadiene.”

  “Were?”

  “Yes were—they are gone now. Over a month past, several priests came and wanted those texts for help in destroying evil worshippers.”

  “And you just gave it to them?”

  “They carried a document with the king’s own seal. My objections of anything leaving the library were overruled.”

  “Show us where these books were kept?” Amari asks, still not sure, this monk was able to speak any truth.

  From a robe pocket, he produces a large metal key.

  He slides the key into a lock attached to a metal bar as think as a man’s arm. Truk helps him to move the bar. He pulls the door open wide. The priest points to a section of shelves that are bare. “All that was written about what you seek was stored there.”

  Natsha familiar with how books are sequenced in a library archives goes to either side of the empty space. She returns to the others. “He speaks the truth. These shelves are sorted and arranged alphabetically. What we need would have been in that empty spot.”

  Holl-tu turns to the man. “What did these priests look like? Did you know them…if so, what order did they serve?”

  “No, they always had humility hoods over their heads. I never saw their eyes or faces. The voi
ces were not known to me.”

  Dian speaks to the priest. “What else can you tell us about them? The color of the robes they wore. The way they walked or talked?”

  The priest thinks for a few moments and says. “The hooded robes were of a dark-blue color. Not one wore badges of office or title. Their hands were always hidden in long sleeves. Upon their feet were the traditional sandals of a cleric.

  One thing about them does stand out. They made many trips carrying the texts to a wagon. One of them stumbled and almost fell. While trying to maintain his upright position and juggling the tomes wrapped in his arms, a sleeve caught on the corner of a book and was pulled back exposing a hand and forearm. It was only for an instant. In that moment, I saw a milky white hand and painted red fingertips.”

  “Did you says red?” Amari asks.

  “Yes. It is not normal for a priest or monk to adorn himself. I surmised; he was painting something, and it stained his fingers.”

  “Blood Druids,” remarks Holl-tu.

  “What?”

  “Blood Druids,” Amari answers. “What you saw were Druids—the worst kind.”

  “That is impossible! The Maiden…you, destroyed those followers of the dark ages ago according to the manuscripts.”

  “One would think so. It seems some may have scurried away after my last battle with them. Rumors are spreading that they have been rebuilding their ranks and mean to inflict cruel rein on these lands once again.”

  “I have heard of these gossips. It was thought only to be just that—rumors.”

  “There goes our hope of uniting the power of the Kcaj.” Mutters Truk.

  “The Kcaj?” You know where the other blades are?”

  “All about you priest.” The Maiden says with pride.

  On that, Dian forms her sword from a water basin on the floor while Truk, Natsha and Gareth unsheathe their sabers and hold them up…pointing at the ceiling with the tips. With each blade comes the color and runes of the elements.

  The priest blinks several times as if he just woke from a dream. “I may die now as I have seen what others have only dreamt about.”

  “As what we seek is no longer here priest, we will take our leave, unless of course, you have any knowledge of the sword’s enchantments you can tell us?”

  He shakes his head. “Arles, my name is Arles Nedd.” He bows low to Amari. I believe you are who you say you are—a Maiden warrior; bringer of truth; the slayer of evil.”

  “You need not bow to me Arles. I am not one that requires a man to grovel at her feet. To me, we are equals under the gods. By your leave, we will depart from here. You may go back to your tasks.”

  “Lady, I said they took all the texts and manuscripts dealing with the fabled swords from the inner room and any from this main chamber…save one. In my room under my sleeping mat lies one they missed. I felt within my heart not to reveal it.

  It is written in ancient text that I have been trying to decipher for many months. It is a puzzle, I felt compelled to solve.

  It is wrapped in a fine smooth leather with burnished metal hinges. The pages are of a material I have never seen before. It has not yellowed or become brittle with age. One word does not need translating is written on the very first page—Kcaj!”

  On hearing what the priest just said, Mimna dashes off to find his chamber and the text. She returns carrying the heavy bound book. As she draws near the others, the tome grows warm and gives a faint white glow. The closer she gets the warmer it gets and the glow brighter. She holds it up to Amari.

  The five Kcaj Sabers held by the warriors begin to hum.

  She gently takes the mystic book from Mimna’s hands. “Of all the books here or taken, this is the one of the most import,” as she opens the cover and reads the first page. “Here lies the Kcaj magic.”

  “You can read the ancient markings Maiden?” The shocked priest asks.

  “Yes, and by the way the sabers are reacting; we have found the key to unlock their powers. What the Druids have are probably just writings on the history and travels of the Kcaj through time. What we have here is the source for calling upon the magic within these mighty blades.”

  “This must be the reason why I felt compelled to keep it hidden. Fate sought that it belongs to you Amari.” From a cupboard, he secures a large cloth bag with carrying strap. “Here, this will hide the tome and keep it safe.”

  He starts to hand it to the Maiden, but Holl-tu takes it from his hand. “I suspect having it too near one of the Kcaj will cause a problem. Mimna and I will share the burden until we are somewhere safe.”

  “Wizard,” says Amari with a smile. “Yours is truly the educated mind.”

  He walks further away from them until the humming of the swords stop, and the glow about the book fades. “Here Maiden is the distance we must maintain for a time. We are still close enough to defend each other, but far enough not to raise eyebrows.”

  Amari clasps the priest on his forearm. “Arles Nedd, keeper of the written word, we thank you. The gods have put you in our path…be blessed.”

  Natsha faces the cleric. I must beg your forgiveness for treating you poorly when first we met. Know this—your name will be entered in the chronicles. Ages from now, your kin will know Arles Nedd, knew the Maiden Amari and her warriors.”

  By twos, the warriors leave the building, making their way down streets and alleyways until they have left the village.

  “Where are we going Maiden?” Dian and Truk ask in unison.

  “We must go somewhere where magic or men cannot find us. We must have time to train and learn how to bring forth the enchantments of our swords without the constant threat of attack.”

  Mimna smiles…“the three peaks of my people?”

  “No sister. We do not know what powers will be unleashed in our trials. There would be a danger for your people. I have a place in mind—the old Thunderclan’s Keep, in the Narthex Mountains. The clans no longer live there as many were killed by the Druids years past.

  The clan, were one of the few cultures who stood defiant and would not be ruled by the Druids. It was the time the dark ones rode dragons and attacked from the skies. The Thunderclan had no defense from an aerial assault. Even women and children were either killed or taken as slaves and sacrifices.

  You can see why these followers of the dark must be completely removed from this realm. Since my time as a young girl, no one ventures there as it is said to be haunted by spirits of the clan seeking revenge.”

  Gareth responds. “We are with you battle sister.”

  Amari closes her eyes, lifts Katana to the sky and swings to the right. “That is our path.”

  Chapter 22 – The Lost Legend of Aventine

  The Thunderclan’s Keep high in the Narthex Mountains in the west is a week’s hard travel. The Narthex is part of a chain of highlands and peaks surrounding Aventine; protecting it from the outside world. For the entire travel, they hid from bands of roving thieves, and the king’s soldiers. Where they could have easily decimated the enemy, the warriors chose to back away and not expose themselves and their trail.

  The mountains that once loomed in the far distance, is now before them. The warriors stand at the base of those jagged looking peaks. Razor-sharp pinnacles and keen edges to the stones would slice a man in two if one were to slip upon them.

  “Amari,” the wizard asks. “How does one climb up to where the keep is? I see no path, nor an easy way to ascend.” Holl-tu lightly touches a shiny black rock and pulls back a sliced finger. A shallow cut oozes blood. “I hardly touched this stone,” as he sticks the offending cut into his mouth.

  The Maiden does not answer right away. Instead, she is looking hard at the stone wall in front of her. She walks down to the left a short distance, returns and goes the other way. She does this many times, while her hands hovering over the rocks, but not touching.

  “What is she looking for?” Mimna asks.

  “I do not know.” Natsha responds.

 
She stops and waves to the others to join her. “I have a memory of visiting the Thunderclan’s homeland in my youth. My father brought me thrice as he was a distant kin to their leader. There is a hidden entrance just here,” pointing to the rocks in front of her. “Time and erosion have closed the portal. Gareth, it is time to put the Earth Sword to work again. As before, point your blade at this very spot on the stone and direct the saber to part the rocks.”

  Doing as she commands, Gareth says the magic words Amari taught him. The mountain rumbles and the ground vibrates at their feet. Loose pebbles slide down from above as a fissure splits the rocks. It grows and widens to a large dark entrance.

  “Well done Gareth. I will light our path.”

  Into the darkness go several of the Maiden’s illumination spheres.

  One by one, they follow Amari into the mountain. Gareth is the last to enter. Turning the sword at the opening, he commands it to close. Again, another rumble from the mountain and the portal closes. Gareth muses. “Providing no one saw them enter…they would be free of those who always seemed to be on their back trail.

  Before them are smooth black stone walls and stairs leading up. The climb is gradual and not overly hard. A light precedes Amari. One orb hovers in the center of the group between Dian and Truk…another at the rear following Gareth. The walls are smooth and cool to the touch, not sharp as the rocks outside.

  Distance could not be measured as they ascended the dark passage. Up ahead light could be seen issuing from a small opening. The opening grew larger the further and nearer they progressed. All at once, they step between carved stone pillars into a lush garden. A tangle of leafy and flower covered vines hanging over statues and the path in front of them. With no gardeners left to tend to the greens, the shrubbery and grasses are overgrown and wild.

  Tree branches hanging down form a wall of green going from either side of the path. Amari parts the curtains as if they were a bedchamber’s linen and steps through.

  Before them, a path continues up more stairs. They pass between two small stone buildings made from the black stone of the mountains…the doorways cold and dark. The sharpness of the rock has been chiseled and polished.