Knight's Haven (Legend of the White Sword Book 4)

by P. D. Kalnay

  The other Jack was fast to react, stealing heat from the dormant volcano, thousands of feet below, and burning away the darts with white-hot intensity. That same heat cauterised the punctures and destroyed the poison before it could spread. All of which hurt, but only in a distant way.

  Those clansmen could have easily been killed using the same fire, but the knife was hungry…

  ***

  By the time I reached the lower end of Embassy Way, more of my consciousness flew through the surrounding air or travelled the stone beneath than resided within me. The same island that had welcomed me home now resented my presence and shook beneath my footfalls. The tremors became more pronounced when I drew in more power or expended it. Periodically, the odd building, which had survived so many rounds of dragon-fire, finished collapsing amid the quakes.

  I hardly noticed.

  Winds tore across the city throwing up clouds of gritty black dust and fine ash. Thunder boomed above in a sky without clouds, and I was struck by countless bolts of lightning as I walked. My body fed on electricity from above or flame from below in the short times when the midnight blade went hungry. By then, the part of me that usually ran the show had curled up in a back corner of my mind, like an abused child, hoping to see no more, and to go unnoticed.

  The climb to the Order’s headquarters wasn’t all that far geographically, but a fair number of clansmen blocked the way. The trip was filled with destruction as I worked my way up the city towards the Hall. I vaguely remember corpses on the streets and the clansmen I obliterated as I went. I couldn’t say if there were five or fifty. It was likely somewhere in between.

  ***

  Distantly, I felt the earth shaking beneath my feet and heard thunder crack above, and, more distantly, I realised I was naked. The flames licking across my skin had likely burnt away my clothing at some point; possibly it had been the lightning crackling along my wing tips that had done it.

  It didn’t matter.

  I finally arrived at the Hall of the Order near the end of a pitched battle. It had been a rout, and the knights had lost that battle. Only seven remained on their feet, fighting back-to-back, surrounded by dozens of clansmen and the bodies of the slain. The battle was so heated that nobody noted my arrival. I sent five more clansmen to oblivion before the rest took notice. Then everybody came for Jack. The dark blade welcomed them, and the few who made it behind me fell to fire or lightning. They were the lucky ones.

  I waded through half of the remaining Clan before the rest retreated down the road and knelt side-by-side in a semicircle. Before the other Jack decided what to do, the clansman second from the end cut the throat of the last in line. Then the woman next to him cut his throat. The mass suicide continued as one after another slumped to the ground. In death their shifting robes became purest white with bright red blood providing a stark contrast. The last assassin cut his own throat in a silently horrific finale.

  Death surrounded me.

  “Prince Jakalain?”

  I knew that name, but for a moment couldn’t think of where I’d heard it. I turned toward the speaker. I knew him too, Sir… Rathal? That was it. I recognised his sword.

  “Is that Sir Andriel’s sword?”

  “It was,” he said. “Sir Andriel fell. He passed Finistar to me with his last breath.”

  I was sure I should feel something about that, but I couldn’t remember what.

  “Ivy has been kidnapped. I need help to get her back.”

  My voice sounded cold and detached.

  “I would help, were I able,” Sir Rathal said. He sounded equally sincere and terrified. His eyes never left the monstrous thing I held. Defeated, at the end of our duel, he’d shown no fear.

  He bled in a lot of places, and the rest of the surviving knights looked no better off. None were fit to mount a rescue; some would probably die. The other Jack calculated those things and added them up without emotion.

  The final tally: Ivy could not be saved.

  The fire drained out of me, both figuratively and literally. The lighting grounded out in a few anticlimactic sparks that spread from my feet. I looked down at myself, and the reality of everything crashed in. For a time, I knelt vomiting on the blood splattered street. I continued heaving long after I had nothing left in my stomach. I felt empty inside. Whatever the knife had given me, it taken away in equal measure.

  Then I heard Mr. Ryan’s voice. It rose up from some memory of my time at Glastonbury Manor. Get up, Jack, it said. Get up!

  I got up. Illusionary Mr. Ryan was right, Ivy was in trouble. It was no time to sit around feeling sorry for myself.

  ***

  My feet took me to the harbour and my boat. I saw no more enemies, but I did see survivors from the city. It looked as if most of the regular citizens had survived the attack. I knew that should make me happy. It didn’t. I shook my head to clear the image of Aleen and Alak lying dead in the street. Nobody came near or greeted me, but the knife remained unsheathed in my hand, and I was stark-naked, so that was understandable.

  Chapter 28 – The Final Cut

  No one would help me. That was a fact. I’d made no effort to befriend the other people on the island, and it might not have made a difference, since only my boat could hope to catch the ship Ivy was on, and only I was able to pilot my boat. I stood on the shore, looking down at the boat for a time before turning back to the workshop in defeat. The vine rendered me helpless and worthless—at least for rescuing Ivy. She’d be suffering incredible pain, locked in a box, out on the ocean. Did it have air holes? I didn’t know. I desperately hoped that some piece of information stored inside One or Two would provide me with a solution, fast.

  ***

  They were waiting for my return in the front hallway. With vast relief, I finally sheathed the knife. Both followed me in silence to the apartment and watched me dress in my spare, homemade toga. Three’s body had been carefully set to one side of the living room, but I ignored him on the way by. I returned to the main hallway and collected Lyrian’s message moth.

  “Master, are you well?” Two asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve just got a lot of cuts and scratches. Do either of you know how to break the vine’s enchantment?”

  I held up my tattooed wrist. Although the arrow wound through my hand was ugly, it wasn’t bleeding. Fire had sealed a number of punctures and cuts across my body. I’d be covered in new scars if I lived that long.

  “No, Master,” One said. “As far as I know, only death can break that bond.”

  Two shook her head sadly.

  I thought of Ivy.

  One’s words reminded me of what Ivy had said about the knife. She’d said it would sever any bond. It had broken the powerful protections around the warehouse like they were nothing, and it had sent the clansman Jellan to oblivion back at Glastonbury Manor. I looked at my wrist again.

  “Master, you’re frightening me,” Two said.

  “Huh?” I looked up from my wrist.

  “Please, do nothing rash, Master,” One said.

  It was as close to disagreeing with me as he’d ever come. Maybe he guessed what I was thinking.

  “Will cutting this off, sever my connection to the vine?” I asked.

  “No, Master,” One said. “It has been tried before. Cutting at the wrist or ankle merely causes the vine to reappear elsewhere on the body. It isn’t truly a physical bond.”

  I expected his answer.

  Over countless millennia, somebody must have tried to free themselves that way. None had had a knife like mine. Anything might happen with my knife, and even if it killed me or cut me loose from the World Tree, it would be worth the risk to save Ivy. Lyrian had been right about that one thing. I’d do anything for her. Humming and hawing wouldn’t change what needed to be done.

  I drew the knife.

  “Master?” One said.

  “I give you both complete freedoms to do what you want—just in case. And, if this goes poorly, anything here that you want is you
rs for the taking.”

  They both stared up at me in silence.

  No time like the present.

  I held out my left arm and swung the blade. Even as the dark blade fell, I sensed the other Jack’s struggle to rise to the surface of my consciousness again. I could feel his intense disagreement with my chosen course of action. I also felt his weariness. He’d been out for long time that afternoon, and had exhausted himself—more things I simply understood. All of that was jammed into the time it took for the blade to fall.

  The resultant explosion, when blade met wrist, threw One and Two to the far end of the hallway. I flew a shorter distance. The wall caught me, and I smashed the back of my head as it did; then I lost consciousness.

  ***

  “Master?” Two stroked my cheek with her cool, golden hand.

  “Still alive,” I said. “Are you guys OK?”

  “We are uninjured, Master,” One said.

  I sat up and leaned a shoulder against the wall. My head ached, along with the rest of me, except for my hands. The pain in my hands that had plagued me for over a year had vanished, which was the big unexpected pro of my experiment. The big con was that my left hand had disappeared along with the pain, as though it had never existed. My left forearm ended a few inches short in a smooth stump. There was no scar, and the skin looked like it had always been that way. The nagging tug of the vine had vanished along with the disappearance of pain and hand.

  A few of my cuts were trickling blood again; none looked serious. In spite of everything, I felt strangely relieved, like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and my heart. Part of that was the vine maybe, but I was sure there was more to it. I looked around for the knife.

  I couldn’t see or sense it.

  “Did you see what happened to the knife?” I asked.

  “It was destroyed,” One said. “Your intention delayed its destruction momentarily, but no talisman can be turned against its maker.”

  I’d forgotten about that. My feelings over losing the knife were mixed. It had been equally horrible and useful. I decided not to think about my hand.

  Nothing kept me from going after Ivy, and I hurriedly gathered my shield and a length of leather cord, making a temporary sling to throw over one shoulder. Then, with hammer in hand, I raced for the harbour. Without considering the risk, I leapt from the top landing, and glided down, covering a quarter of the city. Gliding was easy and it felt natural. I just went with the flow (no pun intended). Either I’d become more able in the wind-magic department, or Lyrian had lied about that too.

  Holding my hammer wasn’t the least bit painful anymore; I felt stronger holding it and strangely refreshed. That strength came with none of the ugly wrongness that the knife had provided. Now, the Arath felt like a natural extension of my body, but I’d have happily traded it for my missing hand.

  After I unlocked and unchained the boat, I wrote a short warning and released the moth: I’m coming. The moth required a message to take flight. Refolding it onehanded was a challenge.

  I strapped the shield to my stump. It would be awkward having it on all the time, but at least my left arm might still serve a purpose. Possibly, I’d make a stylish hook later. I set the hammer in the boat and untied from the wall before jumping in. Every single-handed action was difficult. Then I cranked up the pump and shot across the harbour, chasing the fluttering moth. The message moth moved faster than I could’ve sprinted on land, and it was tireless. My boat ran on tireless enchantments too, and it went a lot faster. Keeping up in the harbour wasn’t a problem.

  The gates stood open, and I hit chop as I passed through. Following the moth became harder, out on the open sea. Some zigzagging was necessary on my part to keep from filling the boat with water. Gradually, over hours of cruising, the moth pulled ahead of me. I feared I might lose sight of it—and then I did.

  It didn’t matter.

  A ship floated ahead in the distance, a dark speck on the horizon. It only took a short time to close that distance. It appeared the ship was adrift with no hand on the wheel, but the deck stood too high above me to make out any details. I approached with shield held high, expecting arrows.

  None came.

  I heaved my anchor up and over the rail like an oversized grappling hook. Awkwardly, I tied off my boat. Something was wrong. No one leaned over to the side to investigate, let alone cut my rope. Now, for the hard part, I thought. Hammer in hand, and shield on stump, I gathered as much wind as I could muster under my wings and leapt for the railing above.

  Jumping from a rocking boat is hard. My pillars of air sank slightly into the water and moved with the waves. I didn’t come close to getting an arm over, let alone landing on the deck like an avenging angel. I just managed to hook the rail with the spike of my hammer, outstretched above me, and smashed hard against the side of the hull.

  A long, sweaty minute of slowly pulling myself up the hammer’s handle, until I got a hold of the rail, followed. I rolled over the top and fell exhausted to the soft deck. Still, nobody attacked me, which was weird.

  I soon discovered that the deck wasn’t soft, but that the bloated corpse of the sailor under me was. I scrambled to my feet and leaned over to free my hammer from the railing. A deck full of bodies surrounded me. All had looks of agony permanently etched onto their faces. Many appeared to have been fleeing the bow of the ship at the time of death. I headed there, carefully stepping around the crew. The deck was also filled with stacked cargo crates and other things that blocked my view until I’d almost reached the very front.

  Ivy sat on a small crate, framed by the sun, which was almost ready to set on the distant horizon. We’d been on Knight’s Haven for much of a year, and I’d not seen a proper sunset in that time. She held up the unfolded message moth.

  “I got your message, Jack.”

  “I sent it as a warning for the crew.”

  Ivy’s voice had a strange, brittle quality to it. My barely restrained self-pity disappeared in worry over her.

  “Are you OK?” I asked.

  “I am well.” She held up her arm. “The vine is gone. Did you do that?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t come after you otherwise.”

  “Lyrian betrayed us.”

  Ivy still hadn’t turned back to look at me.

  “You were right all along. She wasn’t to be trusted. She brought an entire Clan to take the island back for the Houses.”

  “What became of them?”

  “They’re all dead,” I said. My voice broke a little as I said it. “I used the knife.”

  Now that I knew Ivy was safe, I felt less well myself.

  Ivy finally turned back to look at me. Her face was filthy except for the trails that her tears had washed clean.

  “What have you done?”

  “I used the knife.” I swung out the shield to show her my stump.

  “Oh, Jack!”

  Ivy left the crate, and I held her while she cried. A little while later, she pulled away again.

  “I guess you didn’t need me to rescue you,” I said.

  “I was incapacitated, first by poison, and then by the vine. They took me from the box, believing I’d be no further threat, and perhaps fearing I would suffocate. When the vine’s grip disappeared, I woke, drove out the poison, and released my bees.”

  “Sir Andriel is dead,” I said.

  There was no point in waiting to tell her.

  “He was the best of them. What will we do now?”

  “I wouldn’t mind taking a break from Knight’s Haven…”

  “It would be nice to go somewhere new. Where were you thinking?”

  “Ever been to the Library of Anukdun?”

  “No.”

  “Why don’t we go there then?”

  “As you wish.”

  “I need to do some things back at the workshop, first.”

  “Let’s go back. It’s starting to smell here.”

  Ivy slid down the anchor line like an acrobat, and I
lowered the anchor into the boat, before jumping. Going down was easier than up. I was a long way from flying, but my limited mastery of the winds allowed me to fall like a superstar. Soon, we were heading south again. It’d be dark by the time we reached Knight’s Haven.

  Ivy didn’t seem to be angry, but she was silent for most of the trip.

  “Jack?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you destroy the vine itself with the knife?”

  I couldn’t breathe. Why? Because it hadn’t occurred to me. I’d still have my hand and the knife. It suddenly became difficult to steer the boat. The horizon was shifting in and out of focus, and my tears made the world hazier.

  Ivy saw the answer on my face.

  “Oh, Jack!”

  She held me tight until I pulled myself together. I’d have to accept the way things were. I could only move forward. Neither of us spoke again until Knight’s Haven began blotting out the stars on the southern horizon.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “Everything… I’ve been an idiot. Sorry.”

  “I forgive you.”

  “I’ll do better,” I promised.

  Ivy stroked her necklace and looked at where my hand used to be.

  “Maybe, try doing smaller things… on a more regular basis.”

  —End of Book 4—

  The Legend of the White Sword continues in…

  Book 5 – The Library of Anukdun

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – A Pain in the Back

  Chapter 2 – Out Shopping

  Chapter 3 – The First Cut

  Chapter 4 – Stolen Happiness

  Chapter 5 – Burning Down the House

  Chapter 6 – Old Junk

  Chapter 7 – Pumps and Plans

  Chapter 8 – Closed Circle

  Chapter 9 – Anchors Away

  Chapter 10 – New Neighbours

  Chapter 11 – Marielain’s Books