Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (3 page)

He could imagine the feints and
strikes he could deliver with these weapons
.
Suddenly his blows were felling giants and deadly creatures of the night, the
blades glimmering with power and purity. No evil beast or man could stand
before him with his enchanted blades and practiced movements.
Master
Silverwing pulled him from his reverie as quickly as Gregor had become lost in
it.

           
The
ranger smiled at the smith, removing the huntsman's knife, and the belt where
he had carried it, from his waist. “Won't have much use for this knife any
longer, I suppose. Pass it on to one of the local huntsmen when they come to
have their weapons tended. It has served its purpose well over the years and I
would hate to see it go unused.”

           
Silverwing
secured the belt and scabbards that were meant to carry his weapons as he
placed his order with the blacksmith, restoring his swords to their proper
place. “Master Ian, I need a chain mail shirt and two properly balanced long
swords crafted for this young man. Please take his measure and I will have him
pass by again for proper fitting in a couple of weeks. Would you be able to
forge these in a month’s time?” Silverwing smiled briefly, awaiting the smith's
answer.

           
“If
it was anyone else asking me, they would be told it would be done when it was
done. It will be ready for you in three weeks, Sir Galant, and the boy will
bear weapons and armor worthy of his mentor.”

           
“You
will need a bit of coin for the sweat of your labors, Master Ian.” Silverwing
drew several coins from a small leather pouch at his side, only to receive a
hard look from the smith before he could place them on the counter.

           
“Do
not insult me with the offer of payment. Your service to these lands is payment
enough.” The smith's crossed arms and furrowed brow showed he would hear no
more such nonsense from Silverwing on the matter, and the ranger respectfully
dropped the coins back into his purse.

           
The
smith bowed to the ranger. The bow was returned in kind with the respect
usually reserved for the meeting of kings. These were both men of honor of a kind
few common people could understand. Gregor felt humbled to be in their
presence.

***

“Well, I guess you want to know about
the blades and how I came to have them?” Gregor felt that he might just have
heard the biggest understatement ever from Master Galant. The ranger may just
as well have said he was only a fair shot with the bow.
 
“The story is a long one, but we have time
until proper blade training can begin. Sit on the stone and practice listening.
It is one of the most useful skills I can teach you.” Sir Galant began to
relate the story of the creation of the Golden Dragon, Keepers of the White
Light.

           
The
Order of the Knights of the Golden Dragon had taken their name from the God of
Light they served and the beast whose hide was formed into the armor they
originally wore. Gregor learned from Silverwing's story that the original
warriors were drawn from an elite guard unit in service to a Lord of the House
of Materon. “The dragon-scaled armor worn by the first
knights
remains in service, worn by elite guards of the House of Materon to this day.
No one dares to challenge the guards that wear the armor, and the lands
overseen by the House of Materon enjoy peace and prosperity even at the worst
of times. Perhaps you will see the great keep where we originated one day in
your travels.”

           
The
knights had always numbered ten, men and women chosen from the strongest and
most devout warriors the lands had to offer. The first ten warriors shared a
vision from the God of Light, and were drawn to the Temple of Light by their
dreams. The head priest who oversaw the temple at the House of Materon educated
the holy warriors as healers and bestowed the power to channel divine blessings
from the God of Light. Holy weapons were granted to each of the first warriors,
and they were charged with protecting all the lands from the evil of men and
beasts. Priests gifted with special sight were dispersed to the various Temples
of the Light. When any knights left the Order, these priests trained the
replacements before they took their place among the Knights.

           
Tradition
dictated that the blessed weapons were passed from the fallen or retiring
members to the new warriors, and in this manner the Order remained strong for
400 years. “The breaking of the sword carried by Lord Clamine has never
happened. Only a terrible curse of unknowable strength could have torn the
sword into two parts. The other weapons were retired with their owners when the
Order of the Golden Dragon was broken years ago. It has been thirty years since
the last of the knights, besides Lord Clamine and myself, were committed to
their final rest and their weapons sealed within the tombs. Lord Clamine went
to the God of Light without his weapon, the blade of which you bear. The sword
still has some role to play in destroying the evil responsible for this
tragedy.”

           
Gregor
was moved to ask Master Silverwing how he had been separated from Lord Clamine.
“You were the last of the Order. What could have made you leave the Knights of
Bella Grey?”

           
“I
was following the path set before me as Lord Clamine was following his own.
Neither of us knew where our paths would carry us, but we both trusted our
faith to sustain us. Lord Clamine established the Knights of Bella Grey to
train warriors from across the lands the Knights of the Golden Dragon once
protected. Many of these holy warriors still train orders of knights of their
own and protect the lands as we once did. I chose to study with the priests of
nature, the druids as they are called, to gain greater insight into the workings
of the world as a whole. My heart is heavy with sorrow wondering if I might
have made some difference, but the God of Light had other reasons to keep me in
this forest. We cannot possibly understand why all things happen as they do.
Many knights were killed in service to the God of Light; they gave their lives
for their brothers and sisters within the Order, and we made terrible
sacrifices to save the common people in the time the Golden Dragon existed. I
have little doubt that you, Gregor, will come in time to question your own
faith as I have, but know this; it is when you would most easily turn from your
faith and the God of Light that you must find your own strength and carry on.
The God of Light never loses faith in you. I have watched you, fueled by anger
and hatred for the loss of Lord Clamine. I share your sorrow, but we cannot
live in the past and progress toward the destiny set before us.”

           
Gregor
reflected on these words for the first of many times. It was much to bear for
one so young. Gregor had somehow been drawn into the service of a God he did
not know, to serve a purpose he could not begin to guess. He could not believe
the potential Silverwing seemed to see within him was there at all. He vowed to
honor the loss of Lord Clamine and raised his head to the God of Light who had
touched him so long ago. Gregor
would
find the power and faith he needed. He could find no peace until he did.

2

What Goes
Up

The time of harvest had come, and
Gregor spent a few weeks helping his father take in the produce of their
farmlands. The young warrior felt the call of the earth as he and his father
drew the bounty of the rich soil, and wondered if he was really meant to pursue
great deeds as a sword bearer. The vegetables and grains he had harvested every
season from these fields gave him comfort in their ability to be known, to be
understood and appreciated. His rough hands were better suited to a hoe and
fishing pole than the hilt of a sword, as Lord Silverwing would remind him all
too soon.

           
"Oh,
how I grieve for your lack of dexterity. Is there no amount of balance forced
into you that your limbs cannot undo? God of Light, please bless and keep this
boy untainted by war so that he might not injure those nearby that would aid
him! Once more, Gregor, and for all that is pure, concentrate!" Master
Silverwing was a weapon master the likes of which Gregor had never seen, even
among the best of the sparring warriors that had numbered among the Knights of
Bella Grey. It seemed Gregor's strength training with the practice swords was
of little use in preparing to actually wield true weapons. The swords prepared
by the village's blacksmith were art in steel, but no special prowess was
bestowed with the care in their creation. The first weeks of hacking at stuffed
practice dummies had tuned his muscles to some extent. Nightfall after each
sparring match with Master Silverwing brought aches where Gregor had not known
muscle existed. Still, the dance of his mentor's blades was an
inspiration.
 
The slow movement as he
would parry aside Gregor's awkward thrusts only enhanced the beauty of the two
blades. Those swords were weapons made for the valiant, and Master Silverwing
seemed impervious to attack with the weapons in hand. Gregor often found
himself distracted with dreams of wielding such fine blades with the grace of a
true warrior.

           
"Master
Silverwing, I am never going to be able to bear the blades as you do. My
strength is the strong assault, the swift cleave that takes the enemy by
surprise with the muscle of the attack. You are a dancer and I am a clod. You
strike from a natural place of balance honed by years of practice, and I strike
with the swing of a smithy." Gregor was sad to admit it, but certainly his
mentor must see this obvious fact.

           
"There
is truth in your words, Master Gregor, but the failure in your ability is a
lack of insight into the trainer. You do not have the hands for two blades.
Sheath one of your weapons and follow me." Silverwing turned to travel
deeper into the tall trees. The ranger paused at the base of one of the oldest
oaks in the wood and gazed skyward toward the blended yellows and reds coloring
the leaves above him. "Beautiful, isn't it? No man could match the burst
of color that nature produces without any effort. This one should serve our
purpose." Silverwing began climbing into the giant tree that would have
taken ten men touching wide spread hands to measure its girth at its lower
trunk, his grace all the more apparent as he ascended into the upper branches.
"Come up, Gregor! The view from here is beautiful! Leave one of the swords
at the tree's base."

           
Gregor
could not imagine what the ranger had in mind, but he allowed his curiosity to
propel him into the tree's branches to join him near the upper portion of the
tree. It had been a long time since Gregor had climbed up into the higher
reaches of any of the great oaks, and he had to admire the profusion of leaves
that formed the canopy. Silverwing stood on a thick branch near where it
emerged at the center of the tree, extending outward to form a portion of the
crown. Its branches divided at Gregor's back a few steps behind the shaking
warrior. Despite the thickness of the branch Gregor's legs were splayed across,
the young student felt certain it was best not to look down, and he had no
intention of standing up.
 
"What is
so fascinating way up here?” Gregor focused on his mentor as he posed the
question, not wanting to dwell on the distance to the ground from his high
perch.

           
"Everything!
The smells, the sights, the colors as the sun's rays come through the leaves of
the season! Look around you!" As if to illustrate his point, the hunter
spun around in a tight circle on the narrow branch. Gregor felt dizzy just
watching.

           
"I
will take your word for it, Master Silverwing." Gregor had not released
his grip on the branch where the ranger stood, and felt no hurry to do so.

           
The
ranger obviously had other plans for his student and turned toward Gregor,
pulling him up by his chainmail chest piece. Gregor marveled at the man's
strength as his feet dangled just above the branch where Silverwing stood.
"It is time for a lesson in balance, Gregor." The ranger smiled as he
gently lowered Gregor's feet to the branch. "The thing to remember is that
if you trust your balance, you can focus on the defense and offense you use
against your opponent. Just have faith in what I have taught you, Gregor, and
you should be fine."

           
Gregor
extended his arms briefly and tried to breathe, still focusing on his
mentor.
 
"What? You want me to spar
with you? Up here?"

           
"Exactly,
this time using one blade instead of two. I am sure you would fall out of this
tree if you tried to fight me with two blades. In fact, I should probably only
use one blade, too. Even the odds a bit." Silverwing leaned into the air
and dropped one of his swords toward the earth. A solid thunk indicated the
blade had landed well into one of the tree's roots.

           
"You
can't be serious! What if I fall?" Gregor's voice, which had only recently
lowered in tone to that of a man, chose this moment to resume the fluctuations
of the boy he once was.

           
Silverwing
looked at the young warrior as if he were amazed at the question. "Well,
no doubt it will hurt quite a lot. Still, falling from a tree is not nearly as
bad as being stabbed to death by a sword. Come on, then, arm yourself or see
how well you fall. Try to miss the root if you slip." The ranger slapped
the flat of his blade at each side of the tree branch where they stood,
bringing his sword up to the ready.

           
Gregor
felt he had little choice in the matter and brought his own sword up to the
ready as well. The melee had begun. The young warrior decided to open with a
direct thrust. Silverwing answered the attack by gently deflecting Gregor's
blade and replying with a feint to the young warrior's throat, causing Gregor
to lower his sword and step back. "Well done, Gregor! There is no room for
powerful swings here. Losing your balance when crossing swords leaves you
defenseless. Notice your feet have not betrayed you in your retreat."

           
Gregor
smiled. "Master Silverwing, how many knights have you trained in this
manner?" The warrior's blade feinted in an attempt to take his Master in
the shoulder.

           
His
mentor swept the incoming blade into the air past his shoulder, taking a step
closer to Gregor before speaking. "You are the first I have trained in
such a manner, and no doubt will be the last. This is terribly dangerous,
wouldn't you agree?" Silverwing brought his sword up defensively, awaiting
Gregor's next move.

           
Gregor
decided to assume a more aggressive posture, matching Silverwing's step forward
with one of his own. The two swordsmen stood dangerously close to one another,
their blades touching to form an X between them. "What now, Master? I will
take you if you back away and you will take me if I step back. Let’s call it a
draw and end this madness."

           
Gregor
realized his error when Silverwing grinned at him. "You assume one of us
would be willing to give way. You may find the drop to the left the more
favorable." As he finished speaking, the hunter shoved Gregor backward,
causing the young warrior to lose his footing. As Gregor spun his arms trying
to regain his balance, his mentor slapped his unstable student's right shoulder
with the flat of his blade. Gregor had no time to look before his feet were
leaving the safety of the narrow branch. 'Jump and bend your knees! Trust your
feet and you will be fine!"

           
Gregor's
first action, based purely on faith, was to follow the shouted directions of
his mentor. He was shocked to find that he did not plummet to the earth and
break his neck as he had expected. After a remarkably short fall, Gregor's feet
struck a branch slightly broader than the one he had fallen from, with a handy
limb extending just at the right height to give him something to grab. "I
bet you are a heck of a dancer, too!" Silverwing shouted as he leapt down
to the branch where Gregor had landed. "Shall we continue?"

           
Gregor
grinned at his mentor, despite the hammering in his chest. "Do I have a
choice?"

           
"You
always have a choice, Gregor. The thing that makes it matter is that you make
the right one." Silverwing sheathed his sword and extended his hand to
help Gregor back to his feet. "There is an easier way down if you trust
yourself enough to follow my step." The hunter stepped off the branch and
jumped down through the branches until he rested on the ground.

           
Gregor
held on to the branch that had saved him from a more rapid descent as he waved
to his mentor, shouting his reply, "I think I will take the slower path,
Master Silverwing."

           
Master
Silverwing had sheathed his blades, waiting while Gregor climbed to the ground.
His mentor's words were unexpected as Gregor moved to join him. "I have
other duties outside this forest that have been too long neglected. You have
learned
much with me, but I feel only time and the road can
teach you more of the skills you need. You are an adequate swordsman and even
your bow skills have improved, though I would not think you are ready to
survive with your abilities as a hunter alone. I must deliver you to the Temple
of Light at Nactium, and there we will part company for a time. The city is
down the west road, about five days' travel if you push. Prepare your pack and
take as little as you can. I will come to your parents' home to get you
tomorrow. Pray for safety and guidance tonight and sup with your mother and
father. It will be some time before you see them again."

           
Gregor
made no effort to mask his confusion at the ranger's words. "Why are you
taking me to the temple?"

           
"It
is where you will learn the ways of the warriors of the God of Light, Gregor.
The God has chosen you for some purpose that I cannot prepare you for, nor even
guess what it may be. Only the God knows why you have been called. I have done
all for you that I can, and you are a man worthy of the honor of the Golden
Dragon. The priests must educate you further to prepare you for the title of
knight you are meant to bear."

***

           
The
dawn and Master Silverwing came too soon. The young man had risen early to
dress in his armor and secure at his sides the swords Master Ian had crafted.
Despite Gregor's lack of prowess wielding two blades, he took some comfort
knowing he had them both. Gregor kissed his mother good bye, and hugged his
father tightly, promising his parents he would return when he could, despite
his mentor's words the day before. The road from the village seemed dark with
the unknown, and even though strength emanated from Lord Silverwing beside him,
Gregor was afraid. It was an insidious, penetrating fear that leeched into his
very bones with each step down the road through the forest.

           
The
pair spoke little as they made their way, with the knight of the forgotten
Golden Dragon educating Gregor in the worship of the God of Light. Silverwing
explained that the knights were more than just warriors, often assuming the
role of healer and sometimes priest to those who were isolated from their
faith. There was much the boy, who had so recently reached manhood, did not
know of life.
 
Master Silverwing prayed
faith could carry him. He would feel much better once Gregor had been educated
among the priests in a proper house of worship. So much depended on Gregor, so
much Master Galant could not tell him. The burdens of these lands would be too
much for shoulders so slight, and there was still time, Lord Silverwing
thought. He could not have known how short time really was, or how shadows drew
closer to striking every day.