Wayne Batson - The Rise of the Wrym Lord

Kaliam certainly hadn’t given away much. He had told her that it would be a very personal test, and that the difficulty would be more than physical in nature. Great. But then she had a change of mind. Maybe I can study for this test!

Antoinette threw off the downy comforter, hopped out of bed, and grabbed a tall candle from the silver stand nearest her bed. She opened the chamber door and peeked both ways up the hall. No one in sight. She crept along the stone passage until she came to a torch, and held the candle’s wick to the fire. Cupping the candle’s small flame with her hand, Antoinette slowly made her way back to Gwenne’s room.

Back in its holder, the candle cast flickering pale blue light upon the bed. Antoinette opened The Story and began to study. It was like visiting with a cherished old friend, and soon Antoinette was lost among the many adventures within the book’s pages. Through every story, she found the steadfast presence of King Eliam’s will. And there was great comfort in that. Whatever the third test would be, Antoinette knew she would not be alone.

Hours later, a breath of wind blew out the candle near the bed. And for the first time in many days, Antoinette slept without the invasion of a nightmare. No, instead, she saw visions of rolling green hills blanketed with patches of white flowers, under a sky so blue that it must be from another time and another place.

N ow, that is the proper way to break the fast, eh, m’lady?” Elspeth asked, beaming with pride.

“Mmmm, yes,” Antoinette mumbled, her mouth full of sweet, flaky goodness. Elspeth had prepared a plate full of triangular golden-brown biscuits called scones. Antoinette was already on her third.

“I added a touch of molasses, I did,” Elspeth explained. “That is the secret, really. Like having the best of gingerbread and shortbread all in the same mouthful. Me mum always made them that way. She learned the art of scone-baking from a splendid old Glimpse from the Blue Mountain Provinces, and now she could ma-”

There was a firm knock on the door. Elspeth opened the door. It was Aelic.

“Good day, m’lady,” he said, forgetting that Antoinette preferred to be called by her name. “Kaliam wishes me to inform you that your final test will be made ready late in the afternoon. I thought in the meantime you might like to see a little of this fair city.”

“I would,” she replied. “I would indeed.”

After a few passages and flights of stairs, Antoinette found herself walking the cobblestone streets of Alleble, Aelic by her side.

“Thanks!” she said.

Aelic’s eyebrows rose in puzzlement. “Why do you thank me?”

Antoinette grinned. “You saved me!”

“Saved you? From what?”

“From Elspeth telling me the entire history of scone-making, that’s what!”

“I thought I smelled scones!” Aelic laughed. “Yes, Elspeth does carry on a bit, but she means well. Though it may seem otherwise, she will listen more than she speaks if you have a need. And within that kindly mind of hers there is wisdom beyond that of pastry lore.”

Antoinette smiled. “So where are we going?”

“To Kindle’s place,” Aelic replied. “To the Armory of Alleble. Then, if there’s time, the market!”

The Armory of Alleble was a place that instilled quiet. Visitors spoke in whispers out of respect, but Antoinette was speechless at the threshold of the great domed hall.

“But a small portion of the might of Alleble,” Aelic said proudly.

Small portion? Antoinette wondered. To her it looked like enough armor and weaponry to equip an enormous army. Barrels full of spears, swords, and broad-bladed battleaxes, great casks filled with iron gauntlets, and row upon row of suits of gleaming armor that were mounted so they looked like scores of knights frozen in time. Antoinette wandered between them, here and there running a finger over the edge of a blade she fancied. “Will I get a sword soon?” she asked.

“Kaliam will provide you with a blade when you pass the third test,” Aelic answered.

“Right,” Antoinette replied. The test. She had put that out of her mind, enjoying the sights of Alleble-and the time with Aelic.

Aelic strode toward a high counter in the back of the armory. “M’lady, if you please,” he said, motioning for Antoinette to join him.

“Would you please call me Antoinette?” she asked, feigning anger.

“I beg your forgiveness, Antoinette,” he said. “But do come and look. Here you will see swords of special prominence.”

Behind the counter, displayed in a case lined with lush red velvet, hung five spectacular blades. Antoinette gasped. Every one of the swords looked hard and strong, and each showed tremendous craftsmanship. Two were long-bladed broadswords of silver. Each had a dark wooden grip carved with intricate designs. The other three swords each had a single groove running from blade-tip to its massive winglike golden crossguard. Their grips were black and ribbed, a little longer than one hand, but shorter than the broadswords. The three blades were identical and matchless in splendor, though in some ways plainer than the others. Antoinette noticed that there was space in the display for more swords. “Where are the others?” she asked.

“They are with the knights who use them,” Aelic said.

“And Kaliam owns one of them!” bellowed a stubbly-bearded Glimpse, and his voice echoed in the hall. He was clad in chain mail and possessed a stocky girth that gave him a squared appearance. He leaned on the other side of the counter as if he had been there all along. “The other belongs to Prince Aelic here!”

“Kindle!” Aelic objected.

“What?” complained the stout Glimpse, holding up his hands. “It is true.”

Antoinette stared at Aelic. “You’re a prince?”

“Not in Alleble,” Aelic replied, glaring at Kindle. “My father is King of Mithegard. It is only there that I wear that title. And even there, I would rather not make much out of it.”

“You’re too humble,” Antoinette said. And she laughed. “Prince Aelic. It has a good ring to it!” Aelic’s cheeks reddened.

“Since the prince here has been rendered rather speechless,” Kindle said, “I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Kindle, the keeper of this fine armory. And you must be Antoinette.”

“How did you know?”

“Well, Sir Tal was here last night, shopping for a new lance. When I asked him why, he told me he was bested by a swordmaiden from the Mirror Realm… called Antoinette, with red hair.”

“Oh,” Antoinette replied. “These swords are amazing. Did you make them?”

“Me? Nay, m’lady. I make a fine buckler shield, and no one can surpass my skill with chain mail, but those blades are far beyond my reach. Those were forged and fashioned by Naysmithe, the second Sentinel of Alleble-now the chief metalworker to King Eliam.”

“I really like them, especially those three,” Antoinette said, pointing. “Do those belong to the Elder Guard?”

“Those three?” Kindle asked. “Those are Naysmithe’s newest swords. But they do not belong to any of the Elder Guard. Naysmithe says they are to be wielded by the three heroes who are to come.”

“Three heroes?”

“The Three Witnesses,” Kindle explained. “There are some in Alleble who take to a legend about three mighty warriors who will save The Realm. I do not really hold to such tales, but Naysmithe does.”

Kindle was quiet for a while, staring at the three identical swords. Finally, he said, “Did you notice, magnificent and strong as they are, the three swords have no engraving, no emblem, or mark? Naysmithe says the swords are not yet finished-that they will only be completed when the time comes for the Three Witnesses to appear.” Kindle shook his head and laughed. “Naysmithe and his tales.”