Legend of the Swords: War (3 page)

Matthew grinned. “Do not worry! We’ve been calling you ‘The Sleeper.’ I think we can change that to ‘Awakened,’ what do you think?”

“Awakened?” The look of puzzlement on his face must have been clear. Matthew raised his eyebrows apologetically.

“We weren’t sure if you would awake.” He smiled kindly. “You spent nearly a month on that bed.”

“A month.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Your eyes are as big as saucers, Awakened.” The corners of Matthew’s eyes crinkled as he smiled reassuringly. “These things can take time. Rest was called for, this past month—and it is still called for. We will have you on your way soon enough, and then you can get back to what you were doing before your illness.” He sat down on the edge of the small bed. “The clothes you were wearing were unusable. Those clothes are yours to keep.” He placed his hand on the book that lay near the bed. “This book is a history, and contains many names; feel free to peruse it to help you choose a name.

“We are also cleaning and sharpening your sword. Sister Joan was sorely disappointed with your blade; she said that it appeared as if it were made entirely of rust.” Matthew chuckled. “She is polishing it up, and making a scabbard to fit.”

“If it is a blade of rust,” the Awakened grunted, “then perhaps we should just throw it away, and find a new one.”

“Do not worry for the blade, Awakened.” Matthew smiled. “I believe that Sister Joan has been chosen to heal weapons in the same way that I have been chosen to heal people. It is a valuable skill, in times like these.” He tilted his head a bit to the side, his smile broadening as he spoke of Joan. “And I believe that your blade may have been special in some way. It had writing carved in it that we did not recognize. Sister Joan will repair it.” He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. Suddenly, his face broke into a huge grin. “I believe that her reaction upon seeing it was similar to a hungry cat upon seeing a dead sparrow—perhaps a bit disconcerting to the rest of us, but a happy reaction for her. Your blade will likely be better than new.” His smile faded. “That is, when you finally receive it.”

The Awakened turned to look at Matthew, then ducked his head. “Thank you. How can I ever repay you? Did I have any money?”

Matthew chuckled. “No, sir, you did not—but we don’t need money here. The local farmers tithe grain to us, and we make some of our own vegetables. We are here to serve, our healing waters are here for whomever recognizes that they are needed. You recognized it and managed to get here, despite your condition.”

“Do you know what disease I had?” He sounded hopeful, but frightened nonetheless.

Matthew frowned. The expression didn’t seem to suit his face. “No, we don’t really know. We’ve seen this sort of thing before, but never really been able to put a name on it. I apologize.” His face lit up again as he continued. “It doesn’t really matter, though, you’re here and you’re alive. We can give you a bit of
vitlach,
the healing rose water, before you leave, and a very modest amount of money. You had a sword; there is a war in the valley, perhaps you came here from there.” His eyebrows knitted, his smile faded. “Perhaps you are still needed down there. I don’t know.”

The Awakened turned back toward the window. “Well, thank you again. I will never be able to repay what you’ve done.”

Matthew stood up and walked over to the man, sharing the view out of the window. After a moment, he spoke softly. “There is one thing that you can do, although not for us.
Help other people
, since we have helped you. Do what’s right, for them and for yourself.”

“Of course, Matthew.” The Awakened focused on Matthew’s reflection in the glass. There was something more behind Matthew’s eyes. He seemed concerned, and on the edge of speaking, so the Awakened spoke again.

“What is it, Matthew?” he asked.

Matthew’s tension increased a bit. “During that month that you were unable to wake, you spoke in your sleep. What you had to say wasn’t always … pleasant.”

The Awakened turned towards Matthew, his expression mixed with emotions. His eyebrows were knitted together with worry, but his mouth was open, eager to ask for any hope of his past life. “What did I say?”

Matthew shook his head. “You were mostly expressing regret. Saying things like ‘I should have done it differently.’ There was nothing specific, nothing to help you remember, I’m afraid.” He shuddered. “But the tone in which you said it was terrible. Full of fear.”

“Well, I certainly don’t feel that way now.” The awakened still looked worried. “I feel like…well, like a
good
person, you know? What could I have done that would engender such regret and fear?”

Matthew paused for a moment. Then, he clapped the Awakened’s shoulder. “Be light of heart, my friend. I’m sure that you will be a fine man, and you will remember what is meant for you to remember. After all,” he said, with a sad grin, “sometimes it is better to forget.” He turned to leave.

*   *   *

It took a week of recuperation to get well enough that he could walk for more than a few minutes without becoming winded. He slept a lot, and he received instruction in light stretching exercises that helped rapidly rebuild some of his lost strength. Of course, the
vitlach
seemed to help quite a bit too.

After seven days had passed, and after an exercise session, Matthew visited him again, carrying a long bag with him which he set beside the door.

“I see that you’ve recovered your color, Awakened.” Matthew smiled, his eyes crinkling. “I hear that you can touch your toes now! Now
that
is real progress.” He winked.

The Awakened laughed along with Matthew. “Yes, I can.” He bent over and leaned over, knees locked, and put his palms on the floor.

“Your palms on the floor! I had but imagined that you could touch your toes with your fingertips!” Matthew bent over, but his large belly got in the way. His fingers dangled inches above his toes. “You have achieved the Nirvana of Noodles, you are more flexible than a tired old monk!”

They both grinned, and the Awakened sat down. His smile slowly faded. “I may have recovered flexibility in my body, but my mind hasn’t recovered in the same way—I still don’t remember anything.”

Matthew sighed. “I was afraid of that.” He shook his head gently, and cast his gaze downward. “I fear that you will never know who you used to be. Or what is perhaps worse, that if your memory does come back, it will be due to a shock of similar magnitude to the one that sent you here.”

“A shock similar to the disease that almost killed me?” They stood in silence for a moment until Matthew grinned again. Somehow his grin, his crinkled light blue eyes, had the power to banish worry from the room.

“Well,” he said to the Awakened, “there are other things to worry about—and to be happy about! You must choose a name today, for tomorrow you will leave and try to find a new way in the world.” He glanced over toward the door before exclaiming, “Oh! And I brought your sword. Sister Joan spent quite a lot of time on it, and wished for you to know that she enjoyed the work. She seemed to think that it had a nearly perfect blade, before it became rusty.” He shook his head, clearly in awe of what the Sister had done. “She truly has a talent with metal.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the package he had put near the door. “Why don’t you take a look at her handiwork?”

The Awakened stood and approached the bag, made of red felt. He opened the drawstring and drew a broad-bladed bastard sword out of the bag. Its new sheath was made of thick leather, embossed with representations of knot-like patterns all down its length, along with a collar of carved steel depicting two dragons chasing each other around the blade’s entrance. The hilt was long, and was wrapped with silver wire, made of lighter gauge wires twisted together. Strangely, there was no pommel, and the slightly rounded cross guard was steel polished so that it shone. There was a small blue stone inset in the middle of the cross guard, with matching stones on the ends.

He tossed the bag onto the bed, and drew the sword from its sheath. The blade glinted and gleamed as if it held light within itself. It seemed flawless, as if no rust had ever touched it. He tested the edge with his thumb; he could feel each ridge of his fingerprint catching on its sharpness. The metal of the sword seemed to have been carefully forged: its surface was mirror-smooth and deep, as if it had been hot liquid metal one moment, then somehow frozen in time and space. The symbols reflected light strangely, their dark corners almost absorbing light.

There were markings on the flat of the blade, but in a language he did not know. He brought the blade close to his eyes, examining the runes closely. Cold seemed to flow off of the blade, making his eyes water. He turned towards Matthew and raised his eyebrows.

“As I said the other day, we do not know what language the markings are in,” Matthew said to his unasked question. “The only thing we know for certain is that if we have not studied the language here, it is a very old language indeed.”

The awakened nodded and turned back to his sword. He hefted it into the air and swung it. It made a satisfying
whoosh
, but he found himself off balance, and had to reach out to the wall to keep from falling. Without a pommel, the sword was blade heavy.

“Where is the pommel?” he asked.

Matthew scratched under his ear. “We don’t know. It appears to have a narrow socket, but the screw-hole is threaded too finely for any sword-maker we have ever seen. No one we know can make threads that fine.” He shrugged. “You’ll just have to get used to it, or improvise something.”

The Awakened took some more swings with it, but although his muscles seemed to feel at home with the sword, he couldn’t find his balance. It was clearly going to be difficult to get used to.

“It is a very fine sword," he said, nodding to Matthew. “Will I be able to thank Sister Joan in person? I had hoped that she would give me the sword so that I could thank her for her care.”

Matthew put his hands out to the side. “Alas, she has already left. She will be happy to hear of your gratitude, but she has set out for the Kingdom of Mathrekesh. They have been performing the arts of the blacksmith far longer than we have, and she hopes to find some knowledge of the markings on the blade.”

“Her work is masterful.” He held the sword up in front of his face, examining the indecipherable writing. “I would not believe that this blade had ever been used before, much less that it was in the state that you said she found it in…what did she say?”

Matthew smiled, and raised his eyebrows while quoting her words: “That it was ‘as if it were entirely made of rust’. But Sister Joan in an exceptional blacksmith.” He chuckled. “And perhaps she exaggerated the condition a bit, as well. I didn’t see the blade when you came in, I was occupied with your body.”

“That she must be a master, to have done this.” He shook his head, picked up the newly made sheath, and put the sword away.

For some reason, he suddenly felt warmer.

Matthew cleared his throat. The Awakened looked up at him, eyebrows raised again.

“Have you chosen a new name, Awakened?”

“I have.” He looked downward. “I believe that I would like to be called Renek.“

Matthew frowned. He thought for a moment before responding. “After the old king of Lerona, west of here?” The Awakened nodded, and Matthew continued. “He is mentioned in the third chapter of the book, I think. He is referred to as the ‘
breaker of worlds
,’ is he not?” The Awakened nodded again.

“That is why I thought it was fitting,” the Awakened said. “Haven’t I had my world broken?” He smiled gently. “Be it a disease or an angry man with a sword, death can come easily to all of us. Both the original Renek and I have survived at least a kind of world-breaking.”

Matthew shook his head. “But he
caused
the world-breaking wars that he survived. He was the father of death itself … he sent myriads of souls to hell, leaving their bodies unburied, where they became food for birds and dogs.” His voice grew serious as he looked away from the Awakened. “According to the text, the soil was unable to grow crops normally for three generations after Renek’s eventual death—there had been too much blood spilled!

He paused, shrugging. “I just do not think that this is a wise choice.”

“I can see that you don’t like it,” Renek said. “But for some reason, it feels right. The name does not feel evil to me, but rather feels good.” He looked at Matthew’s eyes, resting beneath a furrowed brow. “Perhaps I am here to make the name carry honor once again?”

Matthew considered for a moment, eyes narrowed. Finally, he smiled again, though weakly. “Perhaps that is the case. I hope you have chosen well, Renek.” He paused. “You should eat, and then rest well tonight. Tomorrow you can begin ‘the long walk,’ as we call it—the nearest village is many miles away, and you will want to leave at dawn.”

*   *   *

The dawn brought warmth to the abbey’s cold walls. Renek was already awake and ready to greet the Sun as it crested the horizon. There was snow under the dense firs that lined the pathway leading to the stone walls of the abbey, but the path itself was clear.

Matthew was there to see him off.

“It snowed a few days ago. It’s spring, so the armies will be on the move soon. If they aren’t already, that is.” Matthew shook his head and frowned that frown that still seemed to belong to someone else’s face. “I hope that there are not too many killed, this year.”

“Was last year bad?” He furrowed his brow in concern.

“Oh, yes, there were thousands dead,” Matthew said, nodding. “We had many wounded seek us out. It was difficult for all of us, but of course we were glad to be able to help people.”

“Isn’t it difficult, healing people who are just likely to go get themselves hurt again?” He put his hand on Matthew’s shoulder.

Matthew looked out at the valley, and was quiet for a while. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, it can be a heavy burden.” He turned to look at Renek. “That is why it is important that you remember: you should repay any debt you have with us by giving whatever help you can to help other people to have a better life.”