The Burning Sword (4 page)

It didn’t take long for Faith to catch up with Eli, which didn’t surprise her; after all, she did have two healthy legs, whereas one of his was dragging awkwardly behind him.

As she walked beside him, he did nothing to acknowledge her presence, merely continuing to limp along.

After a few minutes of silent walking, it became apparent that Eli was not going to say anything, and seemed to be in fact rather enjoying her agitation.

“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” Faith demanded, at last.

Eli looked at her, and then at the sword, and grinned. “Nope.”

Faith clenched her fists in anger. “Why not?!”

“I don’t want to,” he replied childishly, continuing to walk along as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His limp rather spoiled the effect.

“What do you want, Eli?” Faith asked, sighing.

Whatever response Eli had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been that. He stopped, and looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, idiot,” Faith said. “Why are you still in our village, eating our food, following people around, being irritating? Why don’t you just go back to your squatter village?”

Eli paled abruptly, and had there been a chair nearby, Faith felt sure that he would have sunk into it. He swayed on the spot, deliberately not looking at her. “I’ll never go back there.”

Faith frowned. “Why not?”

Eli carried on walking. “Because I won’t.”

His childish attitude had gone too far; Faith could not contain her fury anymore. “Excuse me, but I capture the food you eat, I live in this village, and my brothers might die fighting your brothers- I think I deserve a little respect!”

Eli stopped, and whirled around to face her. “Well I’m not going to tell you! You don’t deserve respect at all, all you ever do is try to worm information out of me! I won’t tell you anything!”

They were stood face to face, both shaking with rage.

“What do you mean, I don’t deserve respect? Is this because I’m not a squatter?!” she retorted angrily.

“Of course you don’t! You’re an idiotic nosy-“

“How dare you! Don’t you dare insult me! You’re the visitor in our village, you need to respect us!”

“Why should I tell you anything about my past?!” Eli shouted.

“Fine!” Faith yelled, knowing, but not caring that her voice had screeched up several pitches. “Just explain the sword then! Why shouldn’t you?!”

Eli opened his mouth, but whatever retort he was about to come out with, Faith would never know. Abruptly, his leg buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto the floor with a thump.

For a moment, Faith was too surprised to move, but as she darted forward to help him, Eli lifted his head, and shot her a glare so full of animosity that she dared not touch him, and recoiled.

She looked away pointedly as he struggled to get to his feet, unable to watch his clumsy attempt to get up; she wanted him to see that she did not glorify in his shame, however much she hated him.

The scuffling which signified his feeble attempts stopped, and Eli gave a small cough. Hoping it was safe, Faith looked up. He was stood up, still ghost- pale, and decidedly not looking at her. Feeling guilty for having witnessed just how awkward and inept his struggles to get up had been, Faith followed his lead and carried on walking through the tunnel in silence.

The events had suitably chastened her, and she felt her anger subside and simmer down. She looked down at her hand, gripped around the hilt of the sword so tight that her knuckles were white. She hadn’t realized just how hard she had been holding it, and loosened her hand. Glancing up, she saw that Eli looked a lot calmer too, and bit her lip, wondering if now would be a good time to mention the sword again.

“Eli?” she asked tentatively, and was disappointed at just how nervous and timid her voice sounded. She cleared her throat. “Eli?” Much more composed.

He looked at her, though he didn’t meet her eyes. “What?”

“Look,” she began, and paused as she sorted through her thoughts for the right words; she didn’t want to mumble the wrong thing now. “Look. Eli, I know you don’t like me, and that’s fair enough, I can’t say I like you either. But the thing is, our entire village is looking after you, and it just seems that telling me what you know about the sword doesn’t seem much to ask.”

Eli still didn’t look at her.

She carried on, in the sort of cool, soothing voice that she had heard countless mothers use with tantrum throwing toddlers. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

Eli snorted. “It’s not that it would “hurt”,” he said, “it’s that I don’t want to.”

Faith could think of no response to that. It seemed that nothing could possibly persuade him to tell her the story, except perhaps if she kept her mouth shut, for once, and just let him think.

They continued walking. Eli looked as if he was thinking deeply. “You’re very determined, aren’t you?” Faith gathered that this was rhetorical question but was certain from Eli’s expression that it was certainly no compliment. He met her eyes at last, and sighed.

“Okay, alright, I’ll tell you.” Faith almost dropped the sword in surprise, and looked at him in bewilderment. He frowned. “But remember, this doesn’t mean I like you.”

“Or vice versa,” put in Faith quickly. Eli’s mouth twitched, as if he was about to smile, but he turned away, and looked ahead. They had reached the entrance of the cave, and stood there for a few moments as the crisp, sweet air swept over them through the dangling ivy. Holding some aside, Faith stepped through, and as the sunlight streamed painfully into her eyes, she felt the sword adjust itself, and then settle in her palm, as if it preferred being out in the fresh air, just like she did.

Eli was already climbing up the rock face, his leg seeming to hinder him majorly. Faith wondered how he coped with it. She followed, expecting the sword to get in the way, but she barely noticed it was there, and clambered up with only one hand.

Hoisting herself onto the solid ground at the top, she saw that Eli had settled himself in the grass, massaging his leg gently. She joined him, lying the sword gently down in front of them. It seemed to draw both of their eyes, as if it was capable of hypnotism. It was
mesmerizing, and Faith felt attached to it already.

Eli stopped massaging his leg, and sat forward a little, to be closer to the sword. Stretching out a finger, he brushed the hilt carefully with the tip of it and frowned.

“Well?” Faith said, unable to help her impatience. Martha and Sibyl would have been driven to madness by now wondering where she was. She’d left them in the forest; they probably thought she’d been gored to death.

He flinched. “Okay, keep your hair on!” he snapped. Faith raised an eyebrow, waiting as calmly as she could.

“Right. Well, where I live, there has been a legend about this sword ever since anyone can remember. It’s said that there is a sword on this mountain which only a certain type of people can use, and sword that’s invincible.”

Eli wasn’t exactly story teller material, but the matter of fact way in which he told the tale contrasted sharply with the its content, and Faith found herself somewhat enthralled. Did the sword really have these powers, could it really be true? In the sunlight now, it certainly didn’t look invincible at all. It just looked like a piece of metal.

“When someone of the right type uses the sword, it will become like a sword of fire: a burning sword. No one who takes on the wielder of the burning sword will escape with their life.” Eli seemed to have come to the end of his tale, and Faith couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. She had been expecting a little more than this.

“And so… the type of person it’s for could be anyone? Anyone at all?” she asked, feeling slightly deflated.

“Yes,” said Eli. “We all thought that it probably wasn’t you mountain goats- don’t tut, you still call me a squatter- because otherwise we would have seen you with it. We thought maybe it was our type who had the power to wield it.”

“So you thought it was true?” Faith asked. None of the villagers had ever mentioned anything about an invincible sword to her.

“Well, we debated it,” Eli explained. “I thought it was true, others weren’t so sure. Can I have a go?”

Faith nodded, without thinking. Eli looked delighted, and swung it up. It looked awkward and heavy in his hands, and he swung it clumsily. It certainly didn’t look as light as it had when Faith had used it and it certainly wasn’t burning. It didn’t even seem to catch the light like it had when she had tried it out.

Eli sat down, out of breath from the exertion. He shrugged at Faith ’s questioning look. “We were obviously wrong,” he said, and he sounded fed up.

Faith took it from the ground, lifting it up. Immediately, it seemed to slot into her palm, and she twirled it round, slicing a slender twig neatly from a branch. The sunlight caught it, and it glinted merrily.

Eli’s gasp distracted her. She looked round at him, wondering what was wrong with him now.

“You!” he said, pointing a finger at her, and the finger trembled.

“Me?” asked Faith . “What about me?”

“You’re the wielder of the burning sword!” Eli’s mouth was open in surprise.

“I am?” Faith stared at him, wondering if he was mocking her. “But… shouldn’t it be burning?”

“It is!” Eli pointed at the sword again, and Faith took a closer look. Rather than glinting from the sun, as she had thought it had been, it seemed to be glittering and sparkling from its own source of light. As she held it to her side, the glow faded, but as she swung it up again, it shone brightly. She gasped. She was the wielder of the burning sword. It was her.

Faith walked back to the village in somewhat of a daze. Light snow had abruptly begun to fall, swirling in flurries of white flakes which started to settle on the grass. The sword was still in her hand, and as snowflakes landed on it, they melted instantly.

As soon as they reached the village, Martha tore towards her, flinging herself at Faith , who chucked the sword at Eli to prevent it from goring her friend.

Hugging Faith with such a force that she almost toppled over, Martha buried her curly head into her shoulder. Her voice was somewhat muffled by this, but Faith could make out occasional phrases such as ‘so worried’ and ‘thought you might be dead.’

“I’m sorry,” Faith replied, patting her on the back. Martha pulled away, sniffing, flakes of snow sitting like diamonds amongst her curly hair. “I chased the boar, and then it went onto the rock face-”

“Onto the what?!” Martha’s face paled. “Faith , you didn’t.”

“She did,” Eli, who looked rather bored by Martha’s greeting, butted in. “And she almost ended up dead like the boar.”

Martha squeaked, and hugged Faith again. Other members of Faith ’s hunting group were emerging now, looking rather disappointed to see that she was empty handed. Eli poked Faith with the hilt of the sword, which was surprisingly painful, but effective for his purpose.

“Going to tell them about this?” he asked, somewhat patronizingly.

Faith took the hilt irritably, just nicking his skin with the sharp edge he was holding- quite accidentally, of course. Martha’s gaze fell on it, and Sibyl, who had just joined them, gasped.

She wasn’t sure where to begin. She certainly didn’t want Eli to tell them; she was sure he would come up with a ridiculous story that mainly glorified himself. Perhaps that was unfair. The rest of the village had come out now, and were looking at her, expectant.

Haltingly, Faith began to tell them the story. It wasn’t well told, nor was it particularly coherent, but with Eli’s frequent interruptions, she got the point across.

Everyone was highly excited to hear about this, and the sword was seized, and passed around the group.

All of Faith ’s hunters had a go with the sword, and each one felt it warm in their palm. Only some could get sparks to fly out, like Faith could, but it glowed for all of them.

Out of everyone who tried, it was Faith and Sibyl who used it the most naturally, and created the most sparks and glowing. They both used very different styles; whilst Faith used it like an extension of her own arm, barely noticing its weight, Sibyl held it delicately, moving with grace and poise, like a dancer with a streamer.

Eventually other members of the village had a go with it. To Faith ’s dismay, even Margaret managed to get it to glow, and one spark flew limply out of the tip. Her smug expression made Faith want to direct several of her own sword sparks down her throat.

A young boy wanted a go next- he hadn’t been old enough to join the army, but had very much wanted to do so. He took the sword, and stumbled because of the weight, and then dropped it.

Stooping, Faith picked it up, wondering how something so light could have prevented him from holding it.

“It was freezing!” the boy declared. “The handle bit was too cold to hold.”

“Wait.” Faith looked at him wide-eyed. “It didn’t warm in your hand?”

“No,” said the boy, also wide-eyed. “It felt as cold as the snow.”

As the sword was currently almost too hot to hold in her palm, this puzzled Faith somewhat. Striding to the nearest boy, she handed it to him, and received the same reaction. It was too heavy and too cold to hold.

Her brain ticking into action, Faith realized just what was happening. Only the female villagers could wield the sword. Only the women could do it.

Just to check that it wasn’t their age that did it, Faith handed a small girl, little more than a toddler, the sword. The girl’s mother gasped anxiously, but the girl let out a delighted laugh, as hundreds of tiny sparks flew out of the tip, mingling with the falling snow, before disappearing. The girl looked rather miffed when Faith took it away, watching the sword with eager eyes.

It was. Her theory was correct. Only women and girls could use the sword. One sideways glance at Eli told her that he had worked this out too. He did not look impressed when Faith drew near to him.

“You’ve worked out what this means, then?” he said, stiffly.

“I have,” she said, her words tentative. “Why are you in such a bad mood about it?”

Eli’s face contorted. “Idiot. I’m not in a ‘bad mood’, thank you very much.”

“Not this again,” Faith sighed. “This is ridiculous, Eli, why are you acting so disappointed?”

“I just thought that the sword wouldn’t work for you mountain goats,” he murmured, sounding irritated.

Faith let out a sigh of exasperation. “Why should the sword differentiate between villagers and squatters? It chose a gender, rather than a type of people!” she exclaimed, and at her words, Eli turned to look at her.

“So you think it works for squatter women too?” he asked. He suddenly realized what he’d called his own people, and he grew red in the face. “I mean, err, my people’s women.”

Faith decided to be kind, and not bully him about his slip up. “Yes, why shouldn’t it?”

“Well, that’s interesting,” Eli said quickly. “But there’s no way of telling, unless I take the sword down the mountain myself and try it out.”

“Ha, I’m not stupid, thanks Eli,” Faith retorted. “I know what you’d do. We’d never see that sword again.”

“It was worth a try,” Eli muttered obnoxiously.

The snow grew heavier, and they all traipsed inside, clapping their boots together to get rid of any snow, shaking their coats out. Faith ’s mind was full of her discovery. She could not concentrate on anything but what the sword’s revelation meant, and when she finally got to bed, she lay awake in the dark silence for hours.

The sword had chosen women. Why would it choose them if they could not fight?

Her father’s words to her echoed around her head. “I‘m afraid you simply wouldn‘t have the strength.” The sword had clearly subverted that idea; none of the men had the strength to wield the invincible sword. It was the women alone who could.

Her thoughts seemed to flood the dark with light, and she sat up abruptly, her straw mattress crunching with her movement. What if she created an army of women? Now that it was too cold to hunt for long, she could train them, she would do anything she could.

Ideas swarmed into her mind. She’d whipped those hunters into shape in a remarkably quick time- all of them were now at ease with weapons, and did not squeal at killing creatures. Why should they not be good at fighting also?

She rolled over to look at the sword lying next to her. Reaching out a fingertip, she reverently touched the hilt. Three sparks flew out, glowing in the dark. Now that they had the sword, they had a reason to fight. And why shouldn’t they?