The Sword of Einiko (Swords of the Bloodline Book 2)

by A. R. Wilson

  The sound of running pricked his ears, and he spun to find Kidelar and Arkose racing towards him. Arkose raised an arm and jabbed at the air as though pointing to something behind Jurren. Then he heard it. The thud, thud, thud of the wingless dragon.

  He turned to run. For several minutes, he pushed onward as the thuds behind him occasionally signaled the snap and crack of a fallen tree. A branch caught him in his chest. He registered the evil smile of a goblin as he tumbled to the ground. Rolling onto all fours, he set the arrow in his hand and fired. The goblin’s head snapped back and the creature slumped away. Arkose rushed past them, sword ready to swipe. Jurren glanced around and saw dozens of goblins coming out from behind the trees in the distance.

  Where’s Kidelar?

  The scholar broke through a shrub, then screeched to a halt.

  Jurren slipped two daggers from his belt and held them out to Kidelar. “Just like the griffin in the swamp.”

  “Are you insane?” Kidelar recoiled from the offer, clutching his hands to his chest.

  “That wingless dragon has spines up his back. You can climb up and take out its eyes.”

  “Jurren, I can’t.”

  Inner knowing slapped Jurren in the face. All in one motion, he turned around, pulled out his sword, and slashed a goblin through the middle. Another charged on all fours right behind it. Taking a deep stance, Jurren sliced off its head as it leapt to attack.

  Jurren pulled Kidelar aside as a tree came down next to them. “I’ll cover you.”

  Red arms scooped up a boulder and hurled it at them.

  Jurren slammed into Kidelar, rolling both of them out of the way. “Where are the daggers?”

  Trembling, Kidelar scanned the ground. Jurren spotted them several feet away. Scurrying to gather them up, he gestured hard for Kidelar to follow. He thought he heard stuttered noises of Kidelar mumbling a protest, but the sound of another fallen tree covered it. When the scholar caught up, Jurren thrust the handles into Kidelar’s hand.

  An inhuman howl came from above. Jurren swung upward, cutting a gray leg in half. The goblin tumbled against a tree. Springing onto its remaining three limbs it jumped towards him. He cut open its chest then twisted to strike at another one slithering towards him on the ground. The goblin rolled, lurched up to grip the trunk of a tree, then dove with arms forward to reach Jurren’s throat.

  “Yah!” Jurren voiced his frustrations as he aimed his blade, watching it disappear into the goblin’s neck.

  Yanking it free, he glanced to see what happened to Kidelar. A leafy branch caught him in the face, and suddenly, he was pinned to the ground. Cracking and popping followed as a tree completed its fall. He pressed hard against the weight on his chest. The branch gave only a little. Wriggling as much as the pack on his back allowed, he worked his way free.

  Standing up he scanned again for Kidelar. Digging beneath the pile of branches, he pulled up his sword, then climbed on top of the fallen trunk. Three goblins advancing on him, but no Kidelar. One by one, he killed them then moved to seek out what happened to the scholar. He paused. The thud noise of the wingless dragon were decreasing. Following the path of destruction, Jurren ran in pursuit. When that red tail came into view, it wasn’t Kidelar he saw ascending the spines. The man wore a drab gray cloak like Azredan, but had much lighter hair. The wingless dragon stopped and tried to reach at the intruder. Its arm was too thick with muscle to twist at the needed angle.

  The hand of a goblin grasped Jurren’s leg, pulling him into a bush. Thorns scraped along his hands and face as his stomach dragged through the bramble. He twisted his leg only enough to know the angle of the hand wrapped around him. Adjusting the position of his other leg, he kicked hard. The goblin crawled onto Jurren’s back and bit into his shoulder.

  He pulled up onto all fours, using the burning in his skin as fuel for the anger in his belly. Reaching up to grab a wad of wiry, matted hair, Jurren pulled the goblin off his back. With a jerk of both hands to the sides of its head, he snapped its neck. Gray skin twitched as the thing initially tried to fight the motion, then fell limp. Hot pain, like a glowing poker from a branding iron, radiated through his shoulder. He reached to pick up his sword with his left hand and glanced around. A loud snapping, cracking, boom shook the ground. Jurren ran in the direction of the noise.

  Up ahead, he found a red tail between two red feet sprawled on the ground. The beast had fallen. Near its head, a man rose to a stand, put two fingers to his forehead then pivoted them towards Jurren in some kind of salute.

  “Help me!” Kidelar’s voice pierced into the quiet.

  Jurren veered in its direction. He found Kidelar curled into a ball, with two goblins fighting to claw at his face. Two arrows shot forward. The goblins stiffened, then slid away. All the while Kidelar continued to cry out.

  Ignoring where the arrows might have come from, Jurren rushed to the man’s side. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It burns!” The strain in Kidelar’s voice raged with fear, his whole boy shaking. “I’m infected. I can feel it!”

  “Me too. It’s going to be all right.”

  Kidelar shook even harder. His hands trembled as though he were flicking off excess water. “It’s spreading.”

  Jurren put a hand on Kidelar’s head. With considerable pain and effort he managed to move his other hand to the scholar’s hip. “By the power of the Ever One, I declare a fullness of healing. Restore this man to what he once was.”

  Kidelar’s shaking didn’t slow.

  “You are in communion with the Ever One?” A male voice spoke in a hushed tone.

  He turned to see the man in the gray cloak standing a few steps away, his hood pulled up. “Yes, but it’s not working this time.”

  “Try again.”

  Without moving his hands, Jurren tried again. And again.

  “Nothing. He’s not getting better.”

  “Jurren!” Arkose called to him in the distance.

  “We’re over here.”

  The man took a step closer. “Try again.”

  “It’s no use. The Ever One isn’t listening.”

  “He always listens.”

  “How would you know? Who are you?”

  “My name is Tohni-Mykuhl. I too belong to the Roan Order.” He pulled back his hood. “I am an elf, like you.”

  He felt the heat pour into his ears above the burning in his shoulder. “I have not committed to the Roan Order.”

  “But you’re fighting goblins in the labyrinth. Why else would you be here?”

  Arkose stopped short when he saw the man standing near Jurren. “Who is this?”

  “My name is Tohni-Mykuhl.”

  “Another elf. Great.”

  “And your name is?”

  Rather than answer, he stooped next to Jurren. “Do the thing. Say the words that heal.”

  Jurren sighed, putting his left palm to his forehead. “I tried. Nothing happened.”

  “You’re bleeding too.”

  “I know.”

  “Both of you are infected.”

  Turning his eyes towards Arkose, he set his jaw. “I know.”

  Standing, Arkose took a step and pivoted to show the back of his leg. Two puncture wounds on his calf had caused blood to soak through.

  “Now that you know who I am, may I ask who you are? And why are you here?” Tohni-Mykuhl moved to lay his hands on Kidelar.

  “My name is Jurren. I’m searching for my daughter. She was captured by Einiko.”

  Tohni-Mykuhl’s jaw fell slack. “It’s you.”

  Considering the number of times people knew about his quest before meeting him, Jurren didn’t bother asking the man what he meant. “I was traveling with Azredan, until he left us.”

  “Why would he abandon you, and this journey?”

  Kidelar’s grunting screams turned to moans.

  The elf shook his head as though distracted. “First things first.”

  Tohni-Mykuhl put his hands on Kidelar in place of
Jurren’s. “Ever One, we thank you for wholeness. Yes, and let it be.”

  Kidelar’s shaking lessened. Black ooze squeezed out of the wounds on his side.

  “Did I recite the wrong prayer?” Jurren stared baffled at the elf.

  “There is no one right way to speak to the Ever One, as long as there is respect for Who and What He is when we speak to Him.”

  The elf motioned for Jurren to lean closer. Steadying himself on one knee, he complied.

  Tohni-Mykuhl placed a hand on Jurren’s head and one on his shoulder. “Infection be gone, by the power of the Ever One.”

  Jurren felt the burning in his shoulder lessen. As the pain subsided, the trickle of thick wetness spread along his back.

  “You used different words both times.” Jurren undid the clasps at his shoulder to expose the healed wound and wipe off the poison.

  “It is not the words themselves that have power. Rather, the understanding of the one who speaks them. Knowing why the words mean what they mean. There is a great rift in the difference between wisdom and knowledge.”

  “That is amazing.” Kidelar pushed himself into a sitting position. “Azredan always used the same words.”

  “It is the only area of his life where his words are few.” Tohni-Mykuhl helped Kidelar up to a stand.

  “So you do know him.” Arkose snorted a laugh.

  “We each have our place in the Roan Order. My heart is bound to these people, so this is where I serve the Ever One.”

  “Why was that beast coming to attack this place?” Jurren brushed a few twigs from his hair, then secured his clothing back in place.

  “It is the season of burning. Every summer, Einiko sends a wave of creatures to set fire to their crops and fields. I do my best to minimize the damage, and help them rebuild.”

  “I didn’t know elves were welcome in this land.” Arkose rubbed the back of his neck.

  “These people were once elves.”

  Jurren’s stomach sank.

  “Would you like to meet them? Or at the very least allow them to bless you with a good wash?” Tohni-Mykuhl held out his arm in a gesture of greeting.

  “We could definitely use a bath.” Jurren pulled another cluster from his hair.

  “And a hot meal would be lovely, too, if they can spare it.” Kidelar glanced at the ground as though embarrassed he had even mentioned it.

  “You three helped to stop the firewalker before he even reached their village. I am certain they will be honored to bless you will a meal.”

  Arkose finally smiled. “Then lead the way, my good man.”

  Jurren grinned as they walked towards a clearing in the woods.

  CHAPTER 14

  Tascana sailed through the rest of her reading that day. Believing she was close to finding that missing piece gave her a peace and a calm that almost transcended the negative effects of reading the book. In one day, she finished more than the previous two days combined.

  Completing her studies at an increasing rate did little to negate Jerricoh’s wary stare. He dragged his chair back to its original place across the room, and brooded in her direction. No doubt he wondered if her display before The Master held any truth. And even more likely, he wondered if he should or could do anything about it.

  Good, let them both keep guessing.

  The next morning proceeded with the usual routine of Rothar bringing her breakfast, followed by Jerricoh leading her to the library. Reading became easier with each passing hour. By mid afternoon, she had read nearly halfway through the book.

  “I believe you have earned that walk through the gardens.” Jerricoh stood, scooting back his chair.

  “Are you sure it’s all right to take a break so soon?”

  “In three days you’ve done more reading that you did in the previous two weeks. I think you can afford a few hours outside.”

  They walked the maze of corridors, hallways, and stairs out to the gardens. This time, she allowed herself to enjoy the fragrant aroma. The beautiful rows of perfectly arranged flowers. Up ahead, she caught sight of a servant stepping behind a hedge. Everyone gave Jerricoh a wide berth wherever he went.

  Walking through the stone paths, completely devoid of anything one might consider a weed, Tascana marveled at the amount of work it must take to maintain the gardens. She wondered how many people it took to keep everything in such a state of perfection. Or was it a spell? The Master had power over so many things, perhaps the servants in the garden were merely there to wait for orders.

  Jerricoh navigated the maze of trimmed hedges. Something inside her felt the need to memorize the path, but Tascana was only able to remember the first three turns. On the other size of the maze were more perfect rows of amazing foliage. At the far end ran a wild bramble of thorny hedges. A block of ornate iron stood back among the thicket. Jerricoh reached in to it, keeping his back to her. The gate squeaked as it swung open.

  Green grasses spilled out ahead of them. This time, the freedom-shaped hole inside Tascana didn’t tear a deeper wound. Rather, it calmed at the sight of a world beyond the stone walls of the castle. There was still life outside the will of The Master.

  Jerricoh walked into the field and looked around at the empty valley. “They may have moved on to graze elsewhere.”

  Tascana waited a few minutes before walking out to join him. A tuff of white crested the rise of a hill a few hundred yards away, bobbing as it moved. The same mare approached with her foal. She came right up to Tascana, and pressed her into an embrace. Without reservation, Tascana wrapped her arms around the strong neck. Comfort bathed over her. Such a relief to be in a space where she felt safe. Even if only for a little while. The mare raised her neck and bumped a muzzle into Tascana’s shoulder. She placed her hands on either side of the unicorn’s face and leaned in until their foreheads touched. As she closed her eyes, the world melted away. Nothing existed but the two of them and a small foal standing nearby.

  When Tascana lifted her head, she wasn’t in a green pasture anymore. Stone walls surrounded them, forming a passageway.

  “What happened?”

  The mare tossed her mane. “You must learn how to see.”

  The unicorn is talking to me...

  “Tascana, you must see beyond the illusion.”

  She swallowed hard. “What illusion?”

  Lifting her head, the mare angled to make direct eye contact. An almost human-like gaze. Or at the very least, something resembling human intelligence. But it was more than that. As if this were the soul of the most ancient of beings ever created. Such wisdom and yearning empathy.

  The mare pointed her nose down the corridor. “This is the world beyond the castle. You can see it, if you look for truth.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Right where you stand.”

  She furrowed her brow. “You’ve taken me away?”

  “Tascana, listen. You must see beyond the illusion.”

  “So this is a spell?”

  The mare tossed her head again. “Look beyond your feelings to the truth around you.”

  The vine of dread within Tascana’s gut rolled on itself. She didn’t understand any of this.

  “Tascana, place your hands on your belly.”

  Her face went cold. Nausea burned up her throat.

  “You must trust me. I am doing this to help you.”

  “No one can help me.”

  “There is always hope for those who have the courage to hold on to it.”

  She clenched her hands at her sides, trying to control the quivers in her arms.

  “Trust me. Put your hands over your child.”

  Thinking the mare wanted to encourage her to accept the pregnancy again, she shook her head. “I’d rather die than love this thing.”

  “Would you rather die than be set free?”

  “This pregnancy is its own prison. Who knows what The Master will do with me once it’s born? My freedoms died when I started reading that first scroll of magic.”


  “His name is Einiko.”

  She almost asked who Einiko was, but instead clamped her hands tighter. If the unicorn knew of the name The Master picked for the pregnancy then the true intentions of this meeting were obvious.

  “You must remember that name, Tascana.”

  Giving a single nod, she breathed long and slow to bring the tremors under control.

  “Come to me again in a few weeks.”

  Again, she gave a single nod.

  The mare closed the distance between them, and pressed her into another embrace. Tascana kept her hands at her sides. The strength of the unicorn’s body reminded Tascana of her father. In particular, the last time Father held her close. Standing there on the steps to the Council of Hess-Bren and feeling the first strings of regret at keeping a secret from him. The look in his eyes when Kidelar mentioned a goblin sighting. That stark change from horror to relief at seeing her safe. All Father ever wanted for her was to keep her safe.

  Tascana placed her hands on the sides of the mare’s neck. A single tear ran down to her chin. She pushed her face into the mare’s coat to wipe it away.

  Jerricoh’s voice cracked through like a bolt of lightning. “She has taken quite a liking to you.”

  Pulling her gaze up, Tascana saw she was back in the grassy field. The mare’s eyes had returned to their simple, vacant expression. A bump at her hip showed the foal wanted some attention, too. She rubbed the underside of his muzzle, noticing a tiny lump forming at the forehead. With a toss of her mane, the mare stepped away to graze on the waist high grass.

  “This is the first I’ve seen of a foal up close.” Jerricoh moved shoulder to shoulder to her. “Normally, the mares keep their distance until their young are weaned.”

  “Maybe it’s because I’m a girl.” Tascana felt desperate for words. Something, anything to keep him from guessing what happened. “Every person in the castle is a boy.”

  He grinned, folding his arms. “Astute observation. Perhaps you’re right. I’ll have to bring you with me when I want to come out here again.”