The king swords, p.1
The King Swords, page 1
The King Swords
N. V. Gerhardt
Copyright © 2023 N. V. Gerhardt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN 978-1-7394314-0-2
Edited by Lolli Molyneux
Cover design by Kayleigh James
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
For Nick, Alex and Charlotte.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Acknowledgement
Prologue
The first One sat down heavily on a mossy rock, elbows on knees, chin cupped in hands, and with eyes closed, gave out a long sigh.
“I am so, so tired.”
“Well, I suppose this place looks as good as any!” said a decrepit Second standing nearby, leaning heavily on a staff.
“Have we decided then? Will this do?” said the Last, joining them.
“It will have to. We need rest, we need strength, and it’s never far behind.”
The ancient One, reaching for its staff, rose from the rocky resting place and, with bones creaking and popping, stood unsteadily.
“Well, let’s get on with it then,” it snapped.
“I have the strangest feeling we’re being watched,” said the Last, looking around.
“Nonsense, the Old One here has slept too long, its web is all but dead. It’ll never wake now, there’s nothing to fear,” replied the Second.
“Come then,” said the Last, impatiently, “I want rid of this creaky old body, I want to live anew!”
The Three stood facing each other and drove their staffs into the soft earth. Pulses of energy erupted, lightning arced overhead as the Three disappeared one by one, leaving behind three perfectly formed wooden swords.
A bear roared in a forest, an eagle cried on the wing and a wolf howled from a mountain top fusing the newly formed swords with their images, and just as the Last slipped away the mistake became clear.
“Oh bugger!”
In the beginning…
The swords waited, waited for millennia until the time was right, the time for revelation.
From the beginnings of time, people had come together for security, safety, shelter and warmth, growing into families, or clans, as they came to be known. The land was bountiful, and the hunting was easy. And the clans grew, spreading out over their land to accommodate their growing numbers. Soon clans found themselves vying with their neighbours over land or hunting grounds. And if no peace could be found, skirmishes would break out.
Over the years as the demand for land grew, alliances and pacts were formed leading to an upsurge in violence. Disputed lands were fiercely protected as their strength grew.
And still the swords waited.
Over the centuries some clans grew in power and strength while others fled or disappeared altogether. Castles and other fortifications were built, militia were formed, including town guards to protect and defend against attack. Until, inevitably, all-out war swept the land.
War raged for years, devastating the land and its people. The smaller clans were overrun and annihilated until the three largest clans and their allies were all that remained. Then, one night, the three leaders of the great clans all had an identical dream…
A long way away three magnificent swords glowed in the setting sun. Their revelation had begun.
Chapter One
With the bow string stretched taut over the limbs of the bow, and her breathing kept to minimum, her dark blue eyes under arched eyebrows watched, alert to any movement, waiting for the right moment. The gentle breeze softly ruffled the long dark hair that tumbled over her shoulders, and her sculptured figure stood motionless, with controlled breath and the gentle rise of her chest the only sign of life.
Inhale, exhale.
Steadying herself, she watched as her prey came out of hiding and into view.
Inhale, exhale.
With a slight furrow in her brow, she fixed her aim, waiting for the target to still.
Inhale, exhale, release.
Allowing her fingers to free the tension in the bow string, she sent the arrow flying silently towards its target, and felt a smirk spread across her face when it hit its mark with a thud.
“Well, that’s supper sorted,” Kalldaria announced, lowering her bow.
“What, one rabbit to feed four?” asked her twin brother, Severin, nudging her in the ribs.
“And this one,” she replied, pointing to another dead rabbit near her feet.
“Still, two’s not enough,” Severin replied.
Kalldaria tutted her disgust before responding.
“Well, at least I can hunt and kill a rabbit, unlike some. Honestly, how do you cope on your own without me?”
“Don’t worry about me, little sis, I do just fine,” he replied.
“Does that mean you’re cooking tonight?”
“Well…” he sniffed, “I must admit, you are the better cook.”
“High praise indeed,” she teased.
Severin picked up the rabbit, removing the arrow as he did.
“I suppose you want this back,” he said, waving the bloody arrow at her.
“Well, it’s no good to you, is it?” replied Kalldaria. “You boys were always too busy playing with your pretend swords to learn a real skill.”
“I’ll have you know I was quite the swordsman when I was young,” he answered, pretending to swordplay with the arrow.
“Come on, idiot, let’s get back to camp,” she said, snatching the arrow from him“Hopefully they’ve got a fire going and water boiling by now.”
Kalldaria mounted her horse and watched her brother follow suit, laughing to herself as he climbed onto his horse, sweeping back his thick, dark hair and running his hand across the dark stubble on his strongly defined jaw. He took a moment to pull his clothes straight and check himself, as if getting ready for a night out with whomever had taken his fancy that day.
“You really are in love with yourself, aren’t you?” Kalldaria said sarcastically.
“The girls love me, what more can I say?” Severin joked, smirking and removing the hair that had fallen into his face with a flourish.
“Come on, you smug git,” Kalldaria said. “I’ll race you back to camp.”
“You’re on,” Severine answered. “On three, two, one…”
Kalldaria raced away down the forest track, not waiting for Severin to finish the count.
“Cheat!” he shouted, before urging his horse forward.
“Olgarin, they’re coming!” shouted Pennrin. “Do you think she’s caught anything?”
“Course she has,” replied Olgarin. “There’s not many better with a bow than our Kall.”
“Good,” said Pennrin, “I’m starving.”
“I don’t know where you put it all. You eat like a horse and there’s nothing on you,” said Olgarin, looking at his youngest brother.
Pennrin, at just sixteen, was tall and gangly, with a mop of mousey brown hair, the first signs of fluff evident on his spotty chin.
“If you’re that hungry put that pan on to boil,” urged Olgarin.
The campsite was a small clearing in the forest; two fallen trees provided backrests and shelter from the breeze, which was just strong enough to take the smoke away from the fire. Rabbit stew was cooked and eaten with the usual laughs and jibes, Severin moaning of how little meat he had compared to everyone else, Pennrin complaining about the bugs and having to wash up again. But when everything was done, all four of the siblings settled down with a brew of tea in hand, and quiet came across the camp, for all there was to do now was wait.
Olgarin took out his pipe. His large, callused hands packed it with bacca, and he leaned over, lighting it with a part-burnt stick from the fire. He leaned his big, heavy, muscular frame back against one of the fallen trees and blew out a thin line of smoke that seemed to hesitate in the air before the breeze took hold of it, carrying it away. The sun was setting on a cloudless sky, the last golden rays of light filtered through the trees as the stars above them began to reveal themselves.
“Well, Kall?” Olgarin asked, heavily puffing on the pipe. “Is this the tree that will deliver tonight then?” He nodded his head towards the edge of the clearing, where a small tree, not much bigger than a bush, stood on its own. “It would be nice to have more moonberries for the King Choosing, and this is our last chance,” he added.
“I know. I hope so,” Kall answered. “It’s the last one on Ma’s map. I can’t understand it though,” she added. “She said they’d all be blooming, and that picking the moonberries would be easy, but so far, scarcely a handful.”
“We’ve had to come a long way out, too,” sighed Olly, brushing his hand through his thinning fair hair.
“Why are moonberries so important for the King Choosing anyway?” asked Pennrin.
“Because, Penn, it’s the Forge Master’s gift to the Old Kings as they depart on their journey. It’s supposed to bring them good fortune,” Olgarin replied, drawing on his pipe.
“Where do they go?” Penn asked, quizzically.
“No one knows,” Olgarin answered, “but they’re never seen or heard of again.”
“That’s why the Old Kings need the moonberries,” Kall chipped in. “Ma told me one berry will last a whole day.”
Penn pondered for a while before answering. “I don’t think one of those little things would see me right for the day.”
“No,” Olgarin tutted, “not the way you eat!”
“I hate camping,” Penn moaned, flicking a beetle off his pants.
“You and me both, kidda,” replied Olgarin, stretching out his aching limbs. “I don’t know why Da sent me with you in the first place,” he went on, “I should be at home with Frieda and Allgrin, not looking after you lot.”
“We don’t need looking after,” replied Kall, trying to stop Severin from throwing a centipede at Penn.
“Hmm, I’m not sure of that, Kall,” he replied, watching his brothers begin to squabble. “If we left you three on your own for any length of time, you’d end up throttling each other. Mind you,” he pondered, “might not be a bad idea. At least I’d get some peace and quiet.”
“Do you think we’ll make it back in time for the King Choosing?” Penn asked.
“We’d better,” Olgarin replied.
“Never mind that, I’d like to get back for all tomorrow night’s festiv-itities!” Severin chirped.
“Festivities,” snorted Kall. “More like you want to get back for all the new girls in town!”
“And what about you, sis? Is it true about you and the butcher’s lad — what’s he called? Ah yes, Dreu?” replied Severin, watching her cheeks redden. “And you thought I didn’t know,” he said, laughing.
“Just shut up!” Kall shouted. Blushing furiously, she threw the largest stick she could find at him.
“Now, now children,” Olgarin said in a paternal manner. “That’s enough.”
Peace and quiet descended on the camp again as Olgarin blew out a smoke ring, much to Penn’s delight. He watched the ring wander across the camp, getting bigger and bigger until it broke and drifted away.
“Did you see those people with the masks?” Penn said eventually, desperate to talk about the King Choosing again. “What’s that all about, and those bouncy folk too?” he asked with a look of wonder on his youthful face, his blue eyes gleaming in the firelight.
“Jugglers or something,” answered Severin. “They come from all over for the King Choosing,” he added.
“They’re not jugglers, they’re acrobats,” corrected Olgarin.
“Ahh,” Severin sighed. Lying back and stretching out his long limbs in front of him, he looked up at the ever-darkening sky. “All the wonders of the world will be in our little town tonight, and we’re stuck out here.”
“How do you know? You’ve never seen one,” snorted Olgarin.
“No, but, well…” stuttered Severin.
“Go on, Olly, tell us about it!” cried Kall.
Olgarin stood and stretched, his bones clicking as he moved, revealing a slight paunch to his muscular frame. He settled back down, adjusting the saddle he had propped against the fallen tree which was serving as a cushion.
“I was only a child at the time, but I remember it well,” he began. “Father had only just taken over the reins as Forge Master after Grandpa passed away.” He paused, puffing on his pipe, letting go another smoke ring. “I remember Mother had to search for the moonberries on her own.”
“Then why couldn’t Kall go on her own?” whined Penn.
“Pennrin,” Kall said strongly, not liking where the conversation was heading. “I might not have liked it, but I would have come on my own. But Da insisted we all go together. So if you want to blame anyone for you being here, blame Da.”
Pennrin, his face reddening, diverted his eyes back to the fire.
“Alright, alright, settle down,” Olgarin said, getting annoyed. He took another puff from his pipe and carried on. “As you know, people come from all over, not just Isterthurea, but from overseas as well. Our little town was bursting to the seams with people. Large, tented camps sprung up in the fields around Kingstown and beyond to accommodate them all. There were peddlers and traders selling fabrics and silks, and ornate jewellery of all kinds, and they brought with them exotic goods from near and far,” he said, catching Kall’s enthusiastic eye. “Everything you can imagine and more. The sights and the sounds, the hustle and bustle, the smells, and the vivid colour of it all were overwhelming. Then there was the entertainment — showmen, musicians, dancers, acrobats, actors and magicians. It was quite a spectacle,” he mused. “And of course, the day of the King Choosing, and the pomp and ceremony that goes with it.”
“And here we are missing out on everything,” Severin moaned again, stoking the fire.
“Well, let’s hope this tree blooms tonight,” sighed Kall, dreaming of the wonderful things she could buy if she had any money.
“And if it doesn’t, what then?” asked Penn.
“We’ll just have to go back with the scant few berries we’ve got,” replied Olgarin. “We’ve got no choice, we have to get back to Kingstown by late tomorrow afternoon anyway.”
“Let’s just hope it does bloom tonight. I don’t want to let Ma down, never mind the Old Kings,” said Kall.
Soon dusk had fallen into night, and Penn and Kall had drifted off to sleep, leaving the two brothers talking.
“Come on, Olly, tell me more about the swords,” Severin urged his brother. “What do you do with them? It’s strange to think these bloody great swords are in Da’s keeping just now.”
“As the Forge Master’s apprentice,” Olly replied smugly, “I can’t say anything.”
“Oh, come on,” goaded Severin, “Da’s apprentice! You’ve got to be the oldest bloody apprentice in Isterthurea; you must be knocking up thirty-odd summers or more.”
“Better than being a Jack the Lad,” snapped Olly.
“Ahh, you’re just jealous,” smirked Severin. “Nothing to tie me down.”
“That’s just it. You don’t take responsibility for anything. One of these days, Sev, you’re going to have to grow up.”
“But not today, Sev joked, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “So, go on then, tell me about these swords, Mr. Responsible.”
“I told you, I can’t,” replied Olly angrily.
“That’s ‘cause you don’t know,” jibbed Sev. “I bet I know more about the King Swords than you.”
“No, you don’t,” Olly replied.
“Bet I do.”
“Then tell me about them,” Olly snapped.
“The blades are made from the finest steel known to man,” he answered.
“Well, that’s wrong for a start - it’s wood!”
“Wood?!” Sev shouted, astonished.
“Shhh! Keep your voice down!”
“Fucking wood!” Sev half-whispered, amazed. “Really? They’re made out of wood? You’re joking!”
Olly sighed loudly, admitting defeat and feeling he had already said too much.
“No, no I’m not,” he said, stoking the fire, “but it’s nothing like any wood you’ve ever seen. It’s as light as a feather, but it can cut through anything — steel, rock, you name it.”
“Bloody hell,” breathed Sev.
“But keep it to yourself,” said Olly, “we don’t want everyone knowing.”
“But…” started Sev.
“No, enough. I’m serious, you mustn’t breathe another word,” Olly snapped back firmly.
The pair sat in silence, each musing on their own thoughts as the moon started to rise. The fire popped and cracked, throwing sparks up into the cool night air. Olly puffed gently on his pipe as Sev gazed over towards the moonberry tree.
