Light & Dark: The Awakening of the Mageknight (22 page)

By the time the seventeenth bell chimed,
Calador had gathered three sleepy boys and two tired girls. He
ushered them outside where the other squires waited, and, just as
he'd promised the night before, they weren't allowed to eat
breakfast.

"While you are here, you will learn
self-discipline," said Calador evenly. If he held any spite toward
the three boys and two girls who hadn't listened to his directions,
his voice didn't show it. "Punishment should not be considered a
means of cruelty, but a tool for learning. Learn from your mistakes
and take pride in bettering your performance." The Elf waited but a
moment for the message to sink in before he continued. "Now, please
follow me."

Calador turned and began walking at a brisk
pace in the direction of the distant, towering castle.

"I wonder where we're going?" Doug asked in a
whisper.

"You lack equipment, Squire Garrett," said
Calador, speaking first before anyone else could respond. "Surely,
you did not think that you would begin your training with nothing
but the clothes on your back?"

"No, I guess not," said Doug, confused about
how the blind Elf had guessed his identity.

"Do not be alarmed, Squire Garrett, I have
memorized the sound of your voice," said Calador, as if reading
Doug's thoughts. "If you recall, such was the purpose of the
introductions last night. Not only did everyone learn the names of
their fellow squires, but I can now recognize every squire here
simply by their voice."

"That's amazing," said Doug.

"All Elves have similar abilities," said
Briza. The Elvin girl walked next to Doug, matching him stride for
stride, sporting a slight smile in his direction.

Doug returned the smile, his face growing
flustered with a deep red hue.

"Indeed," said Calador. "Due to my blindness,
my sense of hearing, as well as my other senses, has been amplified
beyond those of any mortal realm. However, to answer your initial
question, we are currently en route to see the tailor. You cannot
dine with the king without wearing the proper attire."

"We're going to see the king?" Danny asked,
his voice rising in pitch.

"Indeed," said Calador matter-of-factly. "It
is a tradition here at the Academy that all squires attend a
celebratory dinner with the king before they start their training.
You will also be introduced to your instructors during this time.
However, as I said before, you must first be fitted in the
appropriate clothing, which brings us to our destination." He
stopped beneath a thick plank of wood with a needle and thread upon
it. "Please, follow me."

Danny and the other squires followed,
entering the large brick structure. Inside there was a line of men
on the right and women on the left, standing behind a series of
high wooden tables draped with assorted colored pieces of cloth,
holding tape measures at the ready.

"Good morning, Squires." A man stepped
forward, he wore a flowing blue robe of the finest weave, complete
with silver embroidering. His features were sharp, accented by his
long black hair, which was braided into three tails that draped
down his back. "My name is Mathis Charles Deandrow III," he said
with an elegant bow. "I am the head tailor and I oversee the making
of and the maintenance of all uniforms, including yours."

"Are you a Knight of the Light?" Danny
asked.

"No, Squire, I am not," said the tailor with
a slight chuckle. "My weapons consist of needle, thread and
thimble. I am afraid I would not know what to do with a blade, even
if I owned one. You will find that, like most cities, the
population of White Rock is made up of many professions, not just
knights." Mathis remained silent a few seconds before adding, "We
all fight against the Dark the best way we know how, Squire.

"Now, if there are no other questions, we
have much to do. The men and women you see behind me are my
faithful staff. They will be taking your measurements this morning
in order to fit your uniforms to you properly. Throughout your
training, you will see my staff and I for alterations in order to
ensure that your uniforms stay fitted, for your bodies will change.
Some of you will grow larger and stronger and some of you will lose
the weakness of your waists. In either case, we will make sure that
you feel as comfortable in your attire as possible. Now, if you
would, please form lines, boys on the right, girls on the
left."

Danny did as he was told and stopped before a
tall man with short brown hair.

"Your name, Squire?"

Danny said his name and watched as the man
dipped a quill pen in a small cup of ink and scribbled it on a
yellow piece of parchment. Then the man went to work, measuring
Danny's extremities and jotting down the numbers, one at a time on
the piece of paper. Once finished, the man smiled and said, "Thank
you, Squire. You may rejoin your chaperone." He pointed at Calador,
who stood quietly and patiently in front of the entrance.

Danny found a place on Calador's left side.
The tall Elf didn't seem to notice. However, Danny knew that he
had.

"Where are we going next?"

"One cannot be a knight without the proper
tools of war, Squire Firoth," said Calador with a smile. "Our next
destination is the forge."

Although Danny's curiosity felt far from
satisfied, he waited silently for everyone else to get
measured.

The moment the last squire was fitted and
joined the ranks of the others, Mathis stepped forward. "Thank you
for your time, young squires. Now, if you would kindly excuse my
staff and me, we have much work to do in order to ensure that your
uniforms are produced on time for your engagement with the king
this evening. I wish you all good luck in your upcoming training
and I look forward to overseeing your future alterations."

"Come, Squires," insisted Calador. He nodded
at Mathis and then pushed the double doors open.

Danny noticed that the tailor nodded in kind,
a gesture most likely lost upon the blind Elf.

"Follow me, Squires," heralded Calador, as he
turned in the direction of a billowing column of black smoke that
seemed to rise from the middle of the island.

"Where's that smoke coming from?" Matt
asked.

"What smoke? I am afraid I do not see
it."

"It's just ahead of us," argued Matt,
squinting through his glasses. "Toward the middle of the…" He
stopped mid-sentence when he saw the subtle smile appear on
Calador's usually straight face.

"Forgive my jest, Squire Mickler," said
Calador. The smile disappeared from his face. "It is the smoke from
the forge that you see. It is where you will receive your sword and
eventually your armor, as well as your Bonded once you return as a
second-year squire."

Danny felt the urge to question the Elf
further but he knew that it would do little good.

Calador led the party down a series of white
brick roads, winding through a city created from the same stone,
the toiling dark smoke growing thicker with every step. Rounding a
sharp corner, they came to a crossroads, each corner sporting a
high tower. Knights of the Light stood in front of each one,
wearing armored suites of polished plate mail. In the center of the
converging roads stood an intricate water fountain, the edges
marked by four statues of knights kneeling in respect, their swords
outstretched before them.

Danny felt his stomach churn. "What is this
place?"

"…The Pool of the Mageknight. It marks the
exact center of the island," said Calador, "and the location of the
Eye."

"…The Eye of Darkness?" Danny asked, his
voice growing soft with shock.

"The very same," said Calador.

"Then where is it, the Eye?" Alonso asked,
his head darting in every conceivable direction.

"Deep underground, Squire Martinez," said
Calador, dipping his head downward as if he could see it through
the white brick of the road. "The Eye is guarded by Knights of the
Light all hours of the day and night."

Creeping toward the middle of the road,
feeling drawn to the fountain, Danny asked, "Why do you call it the
Pool of the Mageknight?"

"Have a look, Squire Firoth, and you shall
see," said Calador in a cryptic tone.

Danny stalked to the edge of the fountain,
finding a place between two of the bowing statues. The water within
was a clear blue and calm, resembling glass. Just beneath the
surface of the water, and in the exact center of the pool, rested
the most beautiful longsword Danny had ever seen. The hilt, made
from what looked like pure sapphire and wrapped in silver wiring at
the grip, sparkled as it reflected the rays of the sun. The deep
blue blade appeared almost transparent; the length of the brand
swirled with a series of softer blues, like liquid distilled into a
solid form. From somewhere within the blade's depth emanated a
faint light.

Danny's hand reached out to claim the calling
blade, dipping into the water. However, his hand stayed as
Calador's voice continued just behind him.

"It is said that only the Mageknight can pull
the sword from the pool," said Calador, moving next to Danny. "Many
have tried, Squire Firoth. All have failed."

"Is it a Bonded?"

"It is."

"I can get it," said Alonso confidently,
moving to the opposite side of the fountain, thrusting his hand
deep into the blue pool of water. Danny watched as his friend's
hand passed through the glossy surface of the water, the
disturbance causing the slightest of ripples. Alonso missed the
hilt by mere inches, catching nothing but water. "It moved," he
said, looking up at the gathering faces to confirm his failed
attempt.

"No, you missed it," said Matt.

"Watch," said Alonso, trying once again, as
his hand passed just beneath the hilt of the blade. "See, it
moved."

"It didn't move," said Matt. "I was watching
it the whole time."

"Then you try!" commanded Alonso, growing
frustrated.

"Fine, I'll try." Matt adjusted his glasses
and moved to the lip of the fountain. After pulling his sleeve up,
he reached down into the water and stopped, wide-eyed with
surprise. "It did move," he said, grabbing for the hilt a second
time. Once again, his hand missed the sword by inches.

Chris decided on a strategic approach,
dipping both hands into the water. However, his effort met with the
same result. Keeping a calm head, he attempted several different
tactics, all ended just short of success.

Rolling up the sleeve of his shirt and
revealing a ripple of muscle, Anthony punched his right hand deep
into the pool. A sizable splash of water was the only result; his
balled fist missed the blade by mere inches.

Doug chose not to attempt it, his focus
remained on the mystery that was Briza.

"As I said before, young squires, only the
Mageknight may pull the sword from the pool. However, all of you
are more than welcome to try."

One by one, every squire attempted to pull
the blade from the pool and Danny watched as every attempt ended in
failure.

"It's impossible," said one squire.

"It's just some kind of trick," said
another.

"Would you like to give it a try, Squire
Firoth?"

Danny felt the eyes of the group shift to
him.

"You are the only one who has yet to try,"
said Calador when Danny failed to answer.

Danny moved back to the edge of the pool and
peered just below its glossy surface. Taking a deep breath, he
slipped his right hand into the cool water, above the sapphire hilt
of the sword. Soft ripples flowed out from his intrusion in a
series of tiny rings. Danny inched his hand toward the pommel.
However, just before he could almost touch it, the tiny waves
passed over the sword, causing it to appear beyond the reach of his
grasp. Confused, Danny pulled his arm from the pool.

"I told you it moved," said Alonso, from the
opposite side.

"It's some kind of illusion," said Matt.

"Well, it seems the Mageknight is not among
any of you," said Calador flatly. "Come, instead of bobbing for
blades, I shall take you to a place where you can simply receive
one." He turned and resumed walking toward the thick plume of black
smoke that drifted high into the sky.

The group fell in behind him. However, Danny
hesitated, lingering at the lip of the pool.

"Come on, man, you can try again later,"
Chris said, placing a reassuring hand on Danny's shoulder.

"Yeah," said Danny, mesmerized by the beauty
of the blade but encouraged to hurry with Chris' support.

Both boys rushed to join the others as
Calador led them down the road.

The tall Elf stopped before a large building
marked by a sizable wooden sign with a hammer and anvil painted on
it. The structure was the obvious source of the smoke; there were
two huge smoke stacks on the roof, the once-white brick stained
black from the accumulation of soot. Two thick iron doors stood
open in greeting, allowing for a full view of the workshop within,
where a group of squat, bearded creatures toiled with glowing bits
of metal and large hammers. Their labor produced a steady rhythm of
clangs.

"Sir Bartlett Firebeard," Calador called out.
His interruption caused the group of Dwarves to cease their banging
and look up in the direction of the Elf.

"Firebeard!" called out one of the Dwarves,
his voice deep and gritty.

Moments later, a short, robust Dwarf emerged
from the forge. At his side, a large hammer blazed red; the pommel,
grooved in an intricate depiction of flames, was crafted from a
silvery metal. His hair was long, unkempt and fiery red, matching
the beard that draped just past his belly, which was currently
smoldering.

"Calador, me old friend."

"Your beard is on fire!" Danny pointed
out.

"Aye, it does get quite red dis time o year,"
said the broad-shouldered Dwarf with a smile and a hearty
laugh.