Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One)

by Reaves, Troy

  The knights had always numbered ten, men and women chosen from the strongest and most devout warriors the lands had to offer. The first ten warriors shared a vision from the God of Light, and were drawn to the Temple of Light by their dreams. The head priest who oversaw the temple at the House of Materon educated the holy warriors as healers and bestowed the power to channel divine blessings from the God of Light. Holy weapons were granted to each of the first warriors, and they were charged with protecting all the lands from the evil of men and beasts. Priests gifted with special sight were dispersed to the various Temples of the Light. When any knights left the Order, these priests trained the replacements before they took their place among the Knights.

  Tradition dictated that the blessed weapons were passed from the fallen or retiring members to the new warriors, and in this manner the Order remained strong for 400 years. “The breaking of the sword carried by Lord Clamine has never happened. Only a terrible curse of unknowable strength could have torn the sword into two parts. The other weapons were retired with their owners when the Order of the Golden Dragon was broken years ago. It has been thirty years since the last of the knights, besides Lord Clamine and myself, were committed to their final rest and their weapons sealed within the tombs. Lord Clamine went to the God of Light without his weapon, the blade of which you bear. The sword still has some role to play in destroying the evil responsible for this tragedy.”

  Gregor was moved to ask Master Silverwing how he had been separated from Lord Clamine. “You were the last of the Order. What could have made you leave the Knights of Bella Grey?”

  “I was following the path set before me as Lord Clamine was following his own. Neither of us knew where our paths would carry us, but we both trusted our faith to sustain us. Lord Clamine established the Knights of Bella Grey to train warriors from across the lands the Knights of the Golden Dragon once protected. Many of these holy warriors still train orders of knights of their own and protect the lands as we once did. I chose to study with the priests of nature, the druids as they are called, to gain greater insight into the workings of the world as a whole. My heart is heavy with sorrow wondering if I might have made some difference, but the God of Light had other reasons to keep me in this forest. We cannot possibly understand why all things happen as they do. Many knights were killed in service to the God of Light; they gave their lives for their brothers and sisters within the Order, and we made terrible sacrifices to save the common people in the time the Golden Dragon existed. I have little doubt that you, Gregor, will come in time to question your own faith as I have, but know this; it is when you would most easily turn from your faith and the God of Light that you must find your own strength and carry on. The God of Light never loses faith in you. I have watched you, fueled by anger and hatred for the loss of Lord Clamine. I share your sorrow, but we cannot live in the past and progress toward the destiny set before us.”

  Gregor reflected on these words for the first of many times. It was much to bear for one so young. Gregor had somehow been drawn into the service of a God he did not know, to serve a purpose he could not begin to guess. He could not believe the potential Silverwing seemed to see within him was there at all. He vowed to honor the loss of Lord Clamine and raised his head to the God of Light who had touched him so long ago. Gregor would find the power and faith he needed. He could find no peace until he did.

  2

  What Goes Up

  The time of harvest had come, and Gregor spent a few weeks helping his father take in the produce of their farmlands. The young warrior felt the call of the earth as he and his father drew the bounty of the rich soil, and wondered if he was really meant to pursue great deeds as a sword bearer. The vegetables and grains he had harvested every season from these fields gave him comfort in their ability to be known, to be understood and appreciated. His rough hands were better suited to a hoe and fishing pole than the hilt of a sword, as Lord Silverwing would remind him all too soon.

  "Oh, how I grieve for your lack of dexterity. Is there no amount of balance forced into you that your limbs cannot undo? God of Light, please bless and keep this boy untainted by war so that he might not injure those nearby that would aid him! Once more, Gregor, and for all that is pure, concentrate!" Master Silverwing was a weapon master the likes of which Gregor had never seen, even among the best of the sparring warriors that had numbered among the Knights of Bella Grey. It seemed Gregor's strength training with the practice swords was of little use in preparing to actually wield true weapons. The swords prepared by the village's blacksmith were art in steel, but no special prowess was bestowed with the care in their creation. The first weeks of hacking at stuffed practice dummies had tuned his muscles to some extent. Nightfall after each sparring match with Master Silverwing brought aches where Gregor had not known muscle existed. Still, the dance of his mentor's blades was an inspiration. The slow movement as he would parry aside Gregor's awkward thrusts only enhanced the beauty of the two blades. Those swords were weapons made for the valiant, and Master Silverwing seemed impervious to attack with the weapons in hand. Gregor often found himself distracted with dreams of wielding such fine blades with the grace of a true warrior.

  "Master Silverwing, I am never going to be able to bear the blades as you do. My strength is the strong assault, the swift cleave that takes the enemy by surprise with the muscle of the attack. You are a dancer and I am a clod. You strike from a natural place of balance honed by years of practice, and I strike with the swing of a smithy." Gregor was sad to admit it, but certainly his mentor must see this obvious fact.

  "There is truth in your words, Master Gregor, but the failure in your ability is a lack of insight into the trainer. You do not have the hands for two blades. Sheath one of your weapons and follow me." Silverwing turned to travel deeper into the tall trees. The ranger paused at the base of one of the oldest oaks in the wood and gazed skyward toward the blended yellows and reds coloring the leaves above him. "Beautiful, isn't it? No man could match the burst of color that nature produces without any effort. This one should serve our purpose." Silverwing began climbing into the giant tree that would have taken ten men touching wide spread hands to measure its girth at its lower trunk, his grace all the more apparent as he ascended into the upper branches. "Come up, Gregor! The view from here is beautiful! Leave one of the swords at the tree's base."

  Gregor could not imagine what the ranger had in mind, but he allowed his curiosity to propel him into the tree's branches to join him near the upper portion of the tree. It had been a long time since Gregor had climbed up into the higher reaches of any of the great oaks, and he had to admire the profusion of leaves that formed the canopy. Silverwing stood on a thick branch near where it emerged at the center of the tree, extending outward to form a portion of the crown. Its branches divided at Gregor's back a few steps behind the shaking warrior. Despite the thickness of the branch Gregor's legs were splayed across, the young student felt certain it was best not to look down, and he had no intention of standing up. "What is so fascinating way up here?” Gregor focused on his mentor as he posed the question, not wanting to dwell on the distance to the ground from his high perch.

  "Everything! The smells, the sights, the colors as the sun's rays come through the leaves of the season! Look around you!" As if to illustrate his point, the hunter spun around in a tight circle on the narrow branch. Gregor felt dizzy just watching.

  "I will take your word for it, Master Silverwing." Gregor had not released his grip on the branch where the ranger stood, and felt no hurry to do so.

  The ranger obviously had other plans for his student and turned toward Gregor, pulling him up by his chainmail chest piece. Gregor marveled at the man's strength as his feet dangled just above the branch where Silverwing stood. "It is time for a lesson in balance, Gregor." The ranger smiled as he gently lowered Gregor's feet to the branch. "The thing to remember is that if you trust your balance, you can focus on the defense and offense you use against your opponent. Ju
st have faith in what I have taught you, Gregor, and you should be fine."

  Gregor extended his arms briefly and tried to breathe, still focusing on his mentor. "What? You want me to spar with you? Up here?"

  "Exactly, this time using one blade instead of two. I am sure you would fall out of this tree if you tried to fight me with two blades. In fact, I should probably only use one blade, too. Even the odds a bit." Silverwing leaned into the air and dropped one of his swords toward the earth. A solid thunk indicated the blade had landed well into one of the tree's roots.

  "You can't be serious! What if I fall?" Gregor's voice, which had only recently lowered in tone to that of a man, chose this moment to resume the fluctuations of the boy he once was.

  Silverwing looked at the young warrior as if he were amazed at the question. "Well, no doubt it will hurt quite a lot. Still, falling from a tree is not nearly as bad as being stabbed to death by a sword. Come on, then, arm yourself or see how well you fall. Try to miss the root if you slip." The ranger slapped the flat of his blade at each side of the tree branch where they stood, bringing his sword up to the ready.

  Gregor felt he had little choice in the matter and brought his own sword up to the ready as well. The melee had begun. The young warrior decided to open with a direct thrust. Silverwing answered the attack by gently deflecting Gregor's blade and replying with a feint to the young warrior's throat, causing Gregor to lower his sword and step back. "Well done, Gregor! There is no room for powerful swings here. Losing your balance when crossing swords leaves you defenseless. Notice your feet have not betrayed you in your retreat."

  Gregor smiled. "Master Silverwing, how many knights have you trained in this manner?" The warrior's blade feinted in an attempt to take his Master in the shoulder.

  His mentor swept the incoming blade into the air past his shoulder, taking a step closer to Gregor before speaking. "You are the first I have trained in such a manner, and no doubt will be the last. This is terribly dangerous, wouldn't you agree?" Silverwing brought his sword up defensively, awaiting Gregor's next move.

  Gregor decided to assume a more aggressive posture, matching Silverwing's step forward with one of his own. The two swordsmen stood dangerously close to one another, their blades touching to form an X between them. "What now, Master? I will take you if you back away and you will take me if I step back. Let’s call it a draw and end this madness."

  Gregor realized his error when Silverwing grinned at him. "You assume one of us would be willing to give way. You may find the drop to the left the more favorable." As he finished speaking, the hunter shoved Gregor backward, causing the young warrior to lose his footing. As Gregor spun his arms trying to regain his balance, his mentor slapped his unstable student's right shoulder with the flat of his blade. Gregor had no time to look before his feet were leaving the safety of the narrow branch. 'Jump and bend your knees! Trust your feet and you will be fine!"

  Gregor's first action, based purely on faith, was to follow the shouted directions of his mentor. He was shocked to find that he did not plummet to the earth and break his neck as he had expected. After a remarkably short fall, Gregor's feet struck a branch slightly broader than the one he had fallen from, with a handy limb extending just at the right height to give him something to grab. "I bet you are a heck of a dancer, too!" Silverwing shouted as he leapt down to the branch where Gregor had landed. "Shall we continue?"

  Gregor grinned at his mentor, despite the hammering in his chest. "Do I have a choice?"

  "You always have a choice, Gregor. The thing that makes it matter is that you make the right one." Silverwing sheathed his sword and extended his hand to help Gregor back to his feet. "There is an easier way down if you trust yourself enough to follow my step." The hunter stepped off the branch and jumped down through the branches until he rested on the ground.

  Gregor held on to the branch that had saved him from a more rapid descent as he waved to his mentor, shouting his reply, "I think I will take the slower path, Master Silverwing."

  Master Silverwing had sheathed his blades, waiting while Gregor climbed to the ground. His mentor's words were unexpected as Gregor moved to join him. "I have other duties outside this forest that have been too long neglected. You have learned much with me, but I feel only time and the road can teach you more of the skills you need. You are an adequate swordsman and even your bow skills have improved, though I would not think you are ready to survive with your abilities as a hunter alone. I must deliver you to the Temple of Light at Nactium, and there we will part company for a time. The city is down the west road, about five days' travel if you push. Prepare your pack and take as little as you can. I will come to your parents' home to get you tomorrow. Pray for safety and guidance tonight and sup with your mother and father. It will be some time before you see them again."

  Gregor made no effort to mask his confusion at the ranger's words. "Why are you taking me to the temple?"

  "It is where you will learn the ways of the warriors of the God of Light, Gregor. The God has chosen you for some purpose that I cannot prepare you for, nor even guess what it may be. Only the God knows why you have been called. I have done all for you that I can, and you are a man worthy of the honor of the Golden Dragon. The priests must educate you further to prepare you for the title of knight you are meant to bear."

  ***

  The dawn and Master Silverwing came too soon. The young man had risen early to dress in his armor and secure at his sides the swords Master Ian had crafted. Despite Gregor's lack of prowess wielding two blades, he took some comfort knowing he had them both. Gregor kissed his mother good bye, and hugged his father tightly, promising his parents he would return when he could, despite his mentor's words the day before. The road from the village seemed dark with the unknown, and even though strength emanated from Lord Silverwing beside him, Gregor was afraid. It was an insidious, penetrating fear that leeched into his very bones with each step down the road through the forest.

  The pair spoke little as they made their way, with the knight of the forgotten Golden Dragon educating Gregor in the worship of the God of Light. Silverwing explained that the knights were more than just warriors, often assuming the role of healer and sometimes priest to those who were isolated from their faith. There was much the boy, who had so recently reached manhood, did not know of life. Master Silverwing prayed faith could carry him. He would feel much better once Gregor had been educated among the priests in a proper house of worship. So much depended on Gregor, so much Master Galant could not tell him. The burdens of these lands would be too much for shoulders so slight, and there was still time, Lord Silverwing thought. He could not have known how short time really was, or how shadows drew closer to striking every day.

  3

  Divided Highways

  Something in the darkness of the nearly moonless night set Gregor's teeth on edge. Silverwing and Gregor were a little over halfway to the city of Nactium after three days’ hard travel, and there was no reason to think anything would keep them from entering the city in a couple more days at their current pace. Still, this deep night caused a tightening in the chest of the young swordsman that he had not ever experienced. Gregor had learned not to dismiss the warnings his instincts offered, and he brought both his blades from their sheaths even before Silverwing's voice broke the silence of the night.

  "Stop," Lord Galant's bow appeared in his practiced hands as if by magic. "Ready your weapons and put your back against mine. Bring them up but not too high. There are two at my back and four more at either side, moving in pairs. If you strike to kill, you will expose yourself. Parry and feint as best you can, and for God's sake stay at my back. I can't help you if you move away from me."

  Gregor moved as instructed and two forms clothed in shadow appeared from the trees near the road. He was steady at his mentor's back though he wanted desperately to charge his attackers. A droplet of sweat trickled down his cheek slowly as the figures approached. He could barely discern their forms in t
he night that held only a sliver of moon. They had obviously planned their ambush carefully. "Watch their feet and remember our training. These are professionals, not mere road thugs. They must have been following us for some time." Gregor was amazed at how calmly his mentor was considering the current state of affairs. The first arrow Master Silverwing loosed was whisper quiet, and the only indication it had struck true was a ragged moan followed by a soft thud to Gregor's rear. There was the sound of rapid movement in the direction Silverwing faced, indicating the ranger's attackers had grown bolder, or more desperate, at the loss of one of their number. A rush of footsteps sounded as Master Silverwing drew his blades, dropping his trusted bow to his side. Gregor took no time to check who his mentor faced, bringing his blades up as he snarled deep in his throat at the approaching pair of brigands.

  The hooded figures moved cautiously toward him, taking the measure of their victim. Each bore a vile dagger in their right hands, with a jagged edge made for tearing. There were wicked spiked balls, roughly a quarter stone's weight to Gregor's trained eyes, which were hanging from the left hand of each attacker, attached to one another by thin metal links of chain. Gregor could only guess at the purpose of these strange weapons. His enemies paused as they entered the road, planting their feet and slowly spinning the odd weapons in their left hands as if the killers were a matched pair of jugglers. Gregor brought up his blades defensively as the pair pivoted onto their boot tips to release, and the missiles flew from their hands in unison. Gregor realized the purpose of the missiles too late as the thin iron chains between the spiked orbs encircled his blades and moved down toward the hilts of the swords. He managed to drop the blade of his stronger arm quickly enough to shed one of the vicious missiles, but the other stuck true to its purpose. His weaker hand took the full impact of the spikes and the weight of the metal balls buried the spurs in his hand. He had no time to dwell on the excruciating pain. The work of their initial attack complete, the killers moved to engage him. The first strikes were easily parried as Gregor gave himself over to his training and the protection of his swords. The pair before him moved into and out of his reach with cunning and patience, as if he were a mouse cornered in a barn when the cats had come to play. The blood dripping from his left hand told them all they needed to know of his wound, and they seemed to be enjoying wearing him down.