Instead, it drifted over and gently inserted itself into Rich’s hand. His fingers closed around the hilt, and he immediately felt as if they belonged there. Rich could feel the life returning to his limbs and order returning to his mind. In moments, he was able to stand, even to smile, as both the sword and his amulet glowed with energy.
He held up his hand and examined the blade. Its gold surface was mostly smooth, with the occasional ornamental pattern etched into its surface. The hilt was simple and sturdy, wrapped with black leather embossed with the symbol of a white knight chess piece, and a single red gemstone had been inserted at the end of the pommel. He flipped it over and saw a named etched into the bottom of the blade—Ernst von der Witz.
Witz? That’s my last name.
“And it is mine,” came the voice from the sword. “That was my name when I was still a man.”
Rich gaped at the sword in disbelief. “So, you are talking to me, right? I haven’t just hit my head?”
“No, no,” reassured the voice. “You are one of the few who can hear me, unless I want to be heard. Even my previous master couldn’t—and wouldn’t, even if he could. He was only interested in one thing from me—my capacity for destruction.”
Rich ran his fingers along the flat surface of the blade in awe. “But I don’t understand. You said you once were a man. How did this happen to you?”
“I was a great champion once,” said the sword. “They called me ‘Loewenzahn,’ the lion fang, for my courage in battle. Most people called me ‘Zahn,’ which means ‘fang,’ and you may too.
“I am of the Palad family, like you, and was very successful in driving back the power of the Nemes. However, no matter how many battles I won, I still felt that my fighting was futile.”
“Tell me more,” Rich said, gripping the hilt tighter.
“I made a plan to single-handedly turn the tide of the conflict by stealing a powerful artifact deep inside a Nemes stronghold. I ignored the advice of the other Paladins and my wife and went in alone. Though I located the artifact, I was betrayed, and fell into a trap. They overwhelmed and captured me, then threw me into their deepest dungeon.
“Every day for a year, they tortured and abused me until I could barely remember who I was and what had come before. The dungeon was cursed so that it gradually transformed the prisoners into an object that reflected their nature. I became increasingly violent and hateful, and in that state, it changed me into a blade. All of that hate and pain transferred into the power of the weapon, which granted the holder incredible power. And so I have remained until today, when you finally freed me of these ancient wounds.”
Rich’s eyes grew wide. “But you’re still a sword! Isn’t there anything that can be done about that? Do you think there’s someone who could change you back?”
“No, no, I don’t think so. I believe the change is permanent. For better or worse, I am a blade. Now, your blade. I have served many masters, but I am most honored that I might now have the chance to serve you.”
Rich smiled and swung the sword around in broad stokes, striking down imaginary foes. It felt good to finally have some way of defending himself, and in some ways, he felt like he might actually be a knight for the first time.
He stopped suddenly and placed the tip of the sword to the ground. “Oh, sorry. Does that make you feel sick?”
The voice from the sword laughed. “I may be conscious, but I’m still a sword. I don’t have a stomach. I guess I should be grateful for that.”
Rich joined in the laugher, but he stopped when he considered the bleakness of his situation. “You don’t happen to have other special powers you haven’t told me about, do you? I’m not sure we can get out of here. Not after that last earthquake.”
The sword glowed brighter in response. “I can light your way, and to a certain extent, I can enhance your natural abilities while you are wielding me. The question is, what can you do?”
Rich wrinkled his brow and thought hard. It was true that he passed the test of wisdom, and he figured that the power associated with it had been his ability to conjure up armor out of his mind’s eye. He wondered if something like that might work again.
“I do have an idea,” Rich said, “but I’m not sure it will work.” He thought about his inability to conjure up a sword. Obviously, there were limitations to his power that he didn’t understand. “I’m going to try to go up the way I came, as long as you can provide the light. If we meet something, I’ll try to create a way to get around it using my new power.”
“And then there was light.”
The sword glowed even brighter, and Rich had to shield his eyes. “Whoa, maybe not that much. You’re impressive, but I might as well be staring into the sun.”
“Sorry. As you can imagine, I may have keen senses, but I don’t have eyes.”
The sword dimmed to about the amount of light shed by an electric lantern and remained silent. Rich turned around and located the trail he had taken on the way down. He climbed up a few switchbacks and found that the way had been blocked by a cave-in.
“What will you do now?” asked his sword. “I may be the sharpest tool in the scabbard, but I don’t think that even I can take care of that much stone.”
Rich glanced up and pondered the darkness above him. “It looks like the trail is clear farther up. If only I had something to get me there.”
He closed his eyes and thought of what might be used. A trampoline popped into his head first, though he quickly opened his eyes to get rid of the image. That really only worked in cartoons. He closed his eyes again and instead visualized an elevator car. He jumped as something crashed in front of him.
His eyes shot open and then widened as he saw that an entire elevator car had materialized in front of him. It looked like it had come out of a fancy hotel, with shiny brass doors and a bright electrical display. The strains of bland elevator music floated through the door. The whole thing, however, was not connected to any cable or shaft.
“Uh, I didn’t really mean to do that.”
Suddenly, Rich’s chain-mail shirt disappeared. He grasped at his chest and felt nothing but his bare skin. “Uh, Zahn, you don’t happen to know anything about this particular power, do you? I’d like to conjure up a ladder, but I’m afraid I might lose my pants.”
The sword gleamed brighter for a moment. “I’m not sure. My guess is that you might only be able to create a certain number of things at one time. You did conjure up that chain mail, right?”
“Yeah, and I am wearing pants under the armor.” He closed his eyes tight, but hesitated. “I really hope you’re right.”
“Come now, Rich. Even if I’m wrong, who’s around to see?”
Rich conceded defeat and pictured a sturdy metal ladder leaning up against the wall. It came into being a moment later, and sure enough, the armor covering his pants disappeared, leaving his original pants intact. Rich heaved a sigh of relief and fastened the sword to his belt.
Rich felt the ladder, and made sure it was secure. After testing a few rungs, he scurried up the entire height before he could talk himself out of it. He collapsed on his back at the top, breathing hard.
“Wow, that took a lot out of me. I hope I don’t have to do that again.”
He looked ahead on the path and saw that it too was blocked. He groaned with exertion and drew up the ladder behind him. After taking a second to recover, he placed the ladder against the next wall and climbed it, though much slower this time. He collapsed in a heap at the top and let out a groan as he saw that he’d have to repeat the process at least twice more.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Rich muttered, “I’m so hungry and tired.”
He set Zahn on the
ground next to him and stared into the dusty darkness. “Do you think I could turn this helmet into a sandwich?”
“Perhaps. Though I must admit, it would make me a bit jealous. I haven’t eaten so much as a crumb since I assumed this shape.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t make it a good sandwich. Maybe just a PB & J or something.”
He paused only briefly to wonder if the sword had any idea what a PB & J was and visualized one just like his mother used to make him. Two slices of whole-wheat bread, cut diagonally, with homemade strawberry jam seeping out of the sides. He felt only slightly guilty as his helmet disappeared and the sandwich appeared in his hands. He bit down greedily. He couldn’t remember the last time something tasted so good.
He finished the entire thing in a matter of seconds and laid his head back. He could feel sleep knocking at his door, and he readily let it in. “Just a few minutes.” But then again, he had used that line before.
He found himself again in a misty place. This time, however, he clutched the golden sword at his side, and the mist parted to and fro around it. The massive figure of Arlenen materialized into view, giving Rich a look that let him know he would soon wish he was awake.
“Heinrich, how do you get yourself into these messes? Your weakness will be the undoing of us all.”
Rich offered the sword in front of him. “Weakness? Do you call this weakness? I have completed my quest. What more do you want of me?”
“There is a difference between completing the tasks and completing your quest.”
“What do you mean?” Rich asked, holding up his talisman with the golden pawn. “I completed all four of the tasks. Am I a knight now or not?”
Arlenen shook his head ponderously. “Of course not, Rich. That is an honor that I hope you will still earn. However, your actions today prove that you are still, shall we say, a work in progress.”
“But I found the Corridor! Doesn’t that mean something? I can go find my father now.”
“You put your life in peril after storming off like a petulant child! If Alfonds had not intervened—”
“Wait. I thought he said himself that he wasn’t allowed to do that.”
Arlenen nodded and displayed the faintest hint of a smile. “He is a scribe, but that’s not to say that others couldn’t use him as a tool of sorts. Anyway, you should ask Aaron about it. He could give you a much better account.” Arlenen blinked hard and seemed to remember his original purpose, “Rich, I am genuinely glad that you are alive, but if your current behavior continues, you will not have the strength to survive the next time you meet your nemesis.”
Arlenen stretched out his hand, and again, the mists parted and swirled to show a vision. A tall, good-looking man with wavy blond hair and an exquisitely tailored suit appeared. He walked out onto a stage and opened his mouth, and the sound that emerged was at once powerful and tender at the same time. He continued, singing with emotion and incredible talent. When he finished, the crowd rose to their feet and clapped so enthusiastically that Rich thought they might develop blisters on their hands. The man bowed and smiled graciously, displaying two rows of immaculate teeth.
“Do you recognize this man?” Arlenen asked.
“No,” Rich said. “But wow, he can sing.”
“Yes, a great blessing, and a great curse. He’s your great-great-grandfather, Hans Ulrich Witz. The stage you see in front of you is the royal opera house in Vienna. His voice made him both wealthy and popular, but also proud and conceited.”
Rich shrugged. “That happens to a lot of famous singers. I mean, most people don’t care as long as the singers keep making good music or whatever.”
“Ah, yes, Heinrich,” Arlenen said, “but most celebrities are not Paladins. You see, as knights dedicated to virtue, our strength is based on our behavior. If we do not live virtuous lives, we will grow weaker and weaker until we lose our powers completely. At that point, we fall as easy prey to the Nemes. Though many of the Nemes are gifted warriors, they’ve learned that they have another more powerful weapon at their disposal. As long as they can trick us into letting down our guard, they can pick us off with almost no effort.”
Rich shivered, and his hand grazed the hilt of his sword. “Why are you showing me this? What happened to him?”
Arlenen swept his hand across the image, and it changed. It showed the same man in tattered clothes, backed into a corner, clutching what only barely passed for a sword. It was rusted and tarnished, and had a least one spot that had been completely eaten away. The man turned to run, but stumbled and fell on his back. Another man stepped into view, wearing dark robes and encircled by shadows that billowed out around him. Dark streamers danced around him, like a mummy whose wrappings were coming loose. He raised his hands, revealing a pair of wicked-looking daggers whose surfaces were dark except for the very tips, which gleamed with intense light.
“No, no, you cannot!” Hans Ulrich wailed. “I’m a sensation! You cannot kill a sensation!”
“Watch me.”
The robed man leaped forward, and the image went dark.
Rich felt as if he had been wrung out like a sponge. He stared at the dim spot where the image had been, knowing the moral of this story without being told.
“Your ancestor’s pride and arrogance became so great that in the end, he could not even defend himself. The Nemes saw to that. They posed as admirers, inflated his ego, invited him to lavish parties and such—anything to make him forget himself and give in to his darker side.”
Arlenen turned his eyes to Rich and fixed him with the full power of his ancient stare, “Heinrich, if you do not watch yourself, you will meet the same fate. Your nemesis will try to do something similar to you. It probably already has. If you do not watch yourself, you will die at the hands of your nemesis.”
Rich’s mind whirled, retracing his steps over the past several days. He had made more than a few bad decisions, but he couldn’t think of anything that he might have been forced into by his nemesis. “But I don’t know. I mean, if there’s one thing I don’t have, it’s an ego. Everyone else seems to make sure of that.”
“It may not be the same thing,” Arlenen cautioned. “He may try to get at you in another place where you are vulnerable. You must not let down your guard for a moment.”
Hundreds of questions rose like sparks from a disturbed campfire. Strangely, Rich thought of Aaron first. He had died so young. Had something like this happened to him? Rich couldn’t see him going off the deep end in any respect … except for being a little bit of a showoff.
“Arlenen, what am I supposed to do? Go out and do service projects? Send money to third-world countries? How am I supposed to get strong enough to beat my nemesis?”
“Nothing so drastic. You possess great power, Rich, much of which you have not realized. But with that power, you bear great burdens. Look down at your hands.”
As Rich did so, a symbol which he had never seen before appeared on each. His right hand bore a symbol of a great field of stars, forming the constellation of a man. His left hand bore the picture of a lamb, its coat darkened with blood. “What do these symbols mean?”
“One a blessing and one a curse. We are all born with one of each. You will find out more about that in time. For now, you must go, and don’t worry. The power is already within you. It’s up to you to earn it.”
With that, the mists curled in thick, blocking Arlenen from view. “You can’t just leave me like this. I still have questions!”
“I know,” came the voice, “but I think you have an immediate concern right now. You’re going to wake up very hungry.”
“What?”
Rich’s eyes opened, and he rubbed his stomach. It was as if he hadn’t
eaten in days.
Chapter 6: Checkmate
The sandwich had simply disappeared from Rich’s stomach. To make matters worse, the rest of his knight’s clothes and the ladder were gone. On top of everything, he felt as if he had barely slept.
He knew, however, that he had to move quickly. He didn’t know how long he had been gone, and if it was too long, he’d probably given Aunt Laura a heart attack.
He asked his sword if he knew anything about the disappearing objects, including his sandwich. “No,” Zahn replied. “It’s one of those gifts that’s specific to you.”
Rich glanced down at his hands, “Does it have to do with the signs Arlenen showed me on the back of my hands?”
“Why, yes, that’s something all paladins have. I used to have signs like that. I believe they’ve been transferred to my hilt.”
Rich studied the sword and saw that one end showed a tiny picture of a magnifying glass, and the other end, a man on a pedestal with lifted arms. “So, one is a blessing, and one is a curse?”
“Yes. The Nemes have them too, but …” The cavern shook again, and Rich stumbled to one knee. The center of the quake was farther away, but enough to start the entire place shifting around again. Rich backed up against the wall, and at once, the shaking stopped.
“That’s my cue to get out of here,” Rich said, and drew the ladder again out of his imagination. Adrenaline coursed through him, and he made it up the last two switchbacks in record time. Without a pause, he continued up the path, using the light from the sword to help him on his way. He climbed the last slope and scrambled on his hands and knees, favoring his wounded arm. He stopped and felt an icy chill creep down his back. The way out was blocked.
Nemesis_Knight Page 5
