The Knife's Edge (37 page)

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, lie if you have to. You already seem to have a talent for exaggeration.”

Balder rubbed his chin. “Are you sure these are your friends?”

Gray growled. “Can I trust you?

The man shrugged, “I suppose that’s easy enough. Is that all?”

“And no flirting, man or woman.” Balder opened his mouth to reply when a shriek resonated from within. It was loud even through the thick oak, and Gray threw open the heavy door.

The Keeper of the Silver

A
S
G
RAY OPENED THE DOOR, HE
was pulled, guided by a force that flowed over his arm. He flung the door wide, and it crashed against the wall. Quickly, he scanned his surroundings.

A long, rectangular table spanned half of the large library. Candles were spread out across its polished surface, casting dark shadows across the room. His friends turned to him in surprise. Ayva, the closest looked shocked at his intrusion while Mura scrutinized a cluttered pile of books in front of him. “A nice entrance,” he said. “A bit extravagant and reckless but…”

“You fool, you nearly broke the door,” Rydel said.

Gray cleared his throat, “I heard a cry. What happened?”

Mura grumbled, still riveted to his book. “A little misunderstanding.”

Ayva, her brown hair tied back in a long ponytail, gave an apologetic wince. “That was me. I’m sorry. You see, I can explain though. I was reading through this book,” she raised the dusty tome. Its spine was cracked and it had faded gold trim. On its title it read: The Lost Covenant. “I just came across the most interesting thing. It’s hard to describe. Let me show you.” She beckoned him over.

Balder hovered over Gray’s shoulder impatiently. “Ahem. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“Everyone, this is Balder. Balder, everyone.” He gestured with a hand and went to Ayva’s side. She motioned for him to take a seat on her right. In the corner of his vision, Gray saw Mura introduce himself. Balder shook his hand. It gave him a chance to rattle off his long title.

Ayva sidled her chair closer, near enough he felt her warmth. Despite days of travel, she smelled pleasantly of spice. “All right, see here?” She pointed to a thin strip of writing. “The whole book is written by a man who never mentions his name, except for right here.” She pointed to an inscription at the bottom that read:

-Renald Trinaden, Warden, and Keeper of the Silver.
16 A.L of the Second Age.

Balder give his lengthy introduction to Rydel. “Master Chief Balder of the famous Stonemason’s Guild, at your service, dear elf. We don’t get many of your kind in this city, in fact, I’d venture to say almost never!”

“Who is this man?” Rydel questioned.

“He said he had insight into the king and his councilors. I thought he may be of use,” Gray answered quickly.

“I do, indeed!” Balder said. “In fact, the King and I were once best friends!”

Gray cursed inwardly. Why did the man’s claims have to be so grand?

“Is that true?” Mura asked.

Balder puffed his chest, “Why, I’d swear my title on the claim!”

Gray coughed suddenly and the others turned, eyeing him curiously. He rubbed his throat and eyed Ayva’s water, “Mind if I? Sore throat,” he explained, she nodded, and he took a long draught as Balder continued.

“We go way back, the King and I, course’ I didn’t call him King back then! ‘Viv,’ I called him, though he hated it. Vivius course’ is his first name. Vivius Katsu! Strange name, don’t you think?” The man was good, Gray admitted.

“I suppose so,” Mura laughed. “It is a pleasure to meet you. You are a valuable ally indeed. We have dire news for the council and his majesty, perhaps you can fill us in on what to be wary of before the king.”

“Gladly!” said the stonemason, and he leapt into a long tirade.

Gray distracted himself, not wanting to catch another one of Balder’s lies. He turned to Ayva. “You were saying?”

Ayva shook her head, gathering her senses, “Right, well, at first I thought ‘the silver’ might just be referring to his money or something along those lines. But when I continued reading, the title kept coming up. I realized it was something different. He referred to it as if some sort of entity.”

Gray scratched his head curiously. “An entity… what is this book about?”

“Right, sorry, I’m jumping ahead of myself,” she said. “From what I can tell this is a journal. Renald writes about guarding his country Eldorath, which based on the map sketched…” she flipped through pages quickly, finding a page with an ancient looking map. It was Daerval by the outline, but with all the strange city names and markings it made it almost impossible to tell. “Here,” she exclaimed, pointing to the word Eldorath on the borders of the Lost Woods. “You see? Our friend Renald actually lived right where Lakewood is! Or was…” she winced, and let out a breath.

Gray didn’t know what to say, and tried to think of something to comfort her when the hermit spoke. “You’re quite the natural scholar, dear girl. One to rival the elders of Eldas, or the seven sages of Newarth.”

“I couldn’t just wait around,” she said, her head already back in the book. She continued, “And it gives me something to do, besides this stuff is really relevant I think.”

“So you said ‘the silver’ meant something different? What does it mean and what does it have to do with anything?” Gray asked.

“Gray! What happened to your hand?” she exclaimed, eyeing the wound upon his palm.

He snapped his hand back, “It’s nothing. I fell on my way here.” Gray pointed to the book again, “Go on.” In the corner of his eye, he noticed Ayva’s cloak and saw it was missing a piece and his fists clenched.

Her brows furrowed, but she continued, “Yes. All Renald talks about is his duties. The way he writes about it, he sounds like some sort of elite guard. Nearly every other word is about his duty to ‘protect the Silver.’”

Gray shrugged. “So why couldn’t that be about money then? He wants to protect his wealth, or someone else’s wealth. Guards do that kind of thing.”

She shook her head adamantly, “No. Not these men. When he talks about it, the silver sounds like the most vital thing in all of existence, like humanity depends upon it being safe.”

“You sound like you know what it is…”

Ayva gave him a serious look. “Perhaps. You see, Renald talks about ‘knights of the old code.’ I think he means the Ronin.”

Across the table, Mura perked up. Even Rydel looked up from polishing his curved dagger.

“That is a fearsome name,” Balder said.

“It is a name that only evil should fear, and with good right,” Mura said sharply.

“Continue,” Gray said. “This man, you said he mentions the Ronin?”

Ayva pulled the book closer, “Often. Here, listen to this.” She flipped back to the first page, carefully holding it down as she read:

The lands are now stripped and salted, and all who would remember those courageous battles are nearly gone. The horn of valor calls in the distance, echoing over the flat plains. Men and women rise from the ashes. But it is not gone…

There will always be the knights of the old code. I have not seen them, but know they exist, slipping between the shadows of our vision. At times I think I can feel them, a sensation rises between the blades of my shoulders, but it is gone each time I turn. They are unknown to a world that has forgotten the true meaning of a warrior.

-Renald Trinaden, Warden, and Keeper of the Silver
16 A.L of the Second Age.”

“That is a rare find indeed my girl,” Mura said.

“Someone else must have thought so too,” Ayva said and gestured to a torn page. “The page is ripped in two, which means we only know the half of it.”

“What’s 16 A.L?” Gray asked.

“16 A.L is after the First Age,” Rydel stated calmly. “It literally translates to 16 years after the Lieon.”

Mura shook his head in amazement. “Indeed. That fact, along with the desolate description of the lands, Renald seems to be a warrior in the chaos and aftermath of the Lieon. At the end of an age, and turning point of another. If I’m not mistaken, it seems our friend Renald is a Devari.” For a mere moment, as he spoke, his eyes passed over Gray, but then it was gone.

“What’s a Devari?” Ayva questioned.

“An ancient warrior,” the hermit answered, “They still exist too, on the other side of the gates, but in past times, there were more of them. The Devari took orders from only one group of men. The Ronin.”

Balder cursed beneath his breath.

Gray tensed, Devari…

All others turned to him and he realized he had spoken aloud.

He cleared his throat. “What else do you know about the Devari?” he asked.

“The Devari were elite warriors,” Mura said, “almost a class of their own in the Lieon. When the Ronin were at their most revered, the Devari were thought only one step shy of holy. They held certain powers, like their leaders, for they were the guardians of the Ronin, having sworn a sacred oath. However, I assume at the time Renald writes, the Lieon has already occurred, which means the Devari and Ronin’s bond was long broken.”

“Why was the bond broken?” Gray asked.

“No one knows for certain,” Mura said. “The bond was shattered during the war, when the Ronin were deemed betrayers of mankind. Many called it The Great Schism, when the Devari left the Ronin.”

Gray had a sudden memory. “Maris… he said something about a schism between Reavers, Ronin, and Devari.”

Karil nodded. “It is said the Reavers were a part of The Great Schism, but again, the annals of time have left out what happened exactly. You would have to ask the Ronin about that, I’m afraid.”

Gray wished he had. “The stories say the Ronin turned against their own, slaughtering those they were sworn to protect. But I always knew that wasn’t true… What happened so long ago? Do the elves know?”

“Some. It is well-known that half of the Great Kingdom’s turned against the Ronin,” Rydel said.

“Why?” Ayva asked.

“Because an object they were entrusted to guard was stolen,” Rydel replied.

“What was it?” Gray asked.

“A sword,” Rydel answered.

Darius scoffed, “The Lieon was started over a cursed sword?”

“It was no ordinary blade,” Rydel replied. “It was one of the nine great swords, each entrusted to a Great Kingdom in a forgotten time. The blade of forest for the Kingdom of Forest, moon for the Kingdom of Moon, metal for Metal, ice for Ice, and so on. The blades were a symbol known throughout the land, each a sigil of peace to bind the nine kingdoms together in peace. When the sword was stolen, the peace was broken.”

“Which sword was stolen?” Gray asked.

“Omni’s blade—the sword of sun, stolen from the golden city of Vaster.”

It made sense, Gray realized. He had seen Omni’s blade. It wasn’t unique like the others, just a simple piece of steel. “Omni didn’t have the blade when last we saw her. She couldn’t have stolen it,” he said.

“It was treachery,” Mura answered in a heated voice.

Ayva whispered in realization, “And who else to take the fall then the guardians of the blade.”

“Exactly,” Mura said.

“Who stole the blade?” Gray asked.

“A deep and dark power, something insidious.”

“Worse than the Kage?” Ayva said.

Rydel’s eyes narrowed. “Much worse. I fear it is a darkness that has had its teeth sunk deep into the lands for centuries, both Daerval and Farhaven. It is the same dark machinations of those who killed Karil’s father and put our lands in chaos.”

Silence settled as Gray took it all in, trying to connect the many pieces as his thumb absently rubbed the insignia on his wrist.

“A dark history,” Mura said. “One absent from the stories.”

Ayva cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “There’s one last thing. Something I forgot to mention. I was still curious about ‘The Silver,’ but he never says what it is. Almost as if he’s afraid to reveal its identity in his own journal.”

“But you know don’t you…” said Mura.

“I cheated. I read the end, but still it said nothing about the silver.” She flipped through the pages as she talked. “But then it had a few blank pages and on the very last page I found this…” Ayva read aloud:

“At times, I find myself drawn to thoughts of the enemy of long dead and the silver calls to me. Twice I have opened the chest to see it glow divine silver. And though, I am enchanted by its call, I fear its evil.”

Gray let out a breath. Mura leaned back in his chair, while Rydel muttered what sounded like a soft, flowing Elvish curse. Balder, however, only harrumphed. “What’s all the commotion about?” said the stonemason,” I don’t see anything so special about that.”

Silently, Gray withdrew the cloth bundle from his back. He let the wrapping fall, unveiling the sword. The blade glowed blinding silver.

“Hogsfeet! That’s… that’s… it can’t be,” Balder stammered in disbelief.

“Morrowil,” Gray answered. “The blade of wind. Kail’s sword, the leader of the Ronin and Betrayer of Men.”