Venom and Song (21 page)

It wasn't long until each of the Seven felt they were becoming close friends . . . family. The shared experiences, the connection to their ancestors, and the excitement of what lay ahead all forged a bond that they realized was more valuable than any they had ever known.

It was in these late-night gatherings that a new tradition was incorporated into their ever-widening schedule: music and dancing. After the trenchers had been cleared and the goblets returned to the kitchen, Grimwarden would pull out a hand drum and Mumthers her wooden flute. Lively music filled the grand hall within moments. Goldarrow and Claris would gather the Seven in the center of the room, just in front of the hearth fire, and demonstrate the tune's required steps.

At first the boys were far from enthusiastic, contesting with a wave of their hands, moving toward their seats. But Grimwarden would have none of it and stopped playing at the first sign of their resistance. “Goldarrow has told me that men care little for dancing in most of your modern Earth cultures,” he said. “Here, you will find yourselves among the chickens and the barn animals if you decline a lady's hand.” The boys could practically feel the girls glaring at them. “Real Elf men
dance
.”

The small, closely-knit group carried on long into the night, dancing and laughing. The girls twirled through the dining hall as if it were a grand ballroom; the boys did their best to pick up the steps from Goldarrow, and tried not to disappoint their fearless leader who watched on from his drum, betraying more than one grin at their folly. By the second week, the boys had at least six different dances memorized and actually began to enjoy themselves and dancing with the beautiful company that whisked around them.

It was in this second week that something else began. . . .

Just after chores, and just before dinner, Grimwarden escorted the Seven down a corridor of the castle that they had previously traveled only to clean off dust and rodent excrement. Here he stopped at a large door. The lords remembered it because it had been locked, frozen shut either intentionally or, more likely, through lack of use. But when Grimwarden produced a long and rather ancient-looking key, the teens knew whatever was behind this door was important. And it was apparently meant for them.

“Today, my young lords,” Grimwarden said with his hand resting on the iron handle, “you will be introduced to a world of secrets known only to a chosen few.” A silent wave of exuberance rippled among the Seven.

“Behind this door lies the courtyard of the Seven Oaks, birthplace of Vexbane, and training heptagon of the Kings of Berinfell.”

“Hepta-huh?” Johnny asked.

“A seven-sided polygon,” Autumn explained.

“Right.”

Grimwarden continued. “From now on, you will rise one hour earlier.” A soft moan rippled through the group. “During this hour you will conduct physical training of my bidding: running, push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and swimming.”

“Gym,” Tommy muttered.

“I hate gym,” Kat said, but not too loud.

“When you have broken fast and cleaned, you will report here at once . . . in these.” Grimwarden pulled a set of clothes from behind his back: black breeches and a matching tunic, each with silver stitching and strange knot work that reminded Jimmy of artwork in the Celtic tradition.

“Uniforms!” Kiri Lee exclaimed, probably the first time she was ever enthusiastic about the idea. “Like a work-out version of our ceremonial robes.”

“Those are really cool, Guardmaster,” Jimmy replied, asking to hold them.

“Nike's got nothing on us now,” said Jett.

“I'm not sure about this
Nye-Kee
you speak of, Lord Jett. But these are the training uniforms of all who endure the Vexbane path,” said Grimwarden, handing the garments out. “A badge of honor to all those who recognize their design. And they will serve you well.”

“Endure?” asked Kat. “What do you mean?”

“Have you noticed that
not
every Elf in Allyra is a Sentinel or a Dreadnaught? Why is that?” he asked.

“Because they didn't sign up?” answered Jett.

“Because they would never pass,” corrected Grimwarden. “It is an arduous affair, and only a few ever prove themselves worthy.”

“And the Lords of Berinfell?” Tommy spread his arms.

“Have no choice. It is your destiny. But as with all others who have walked out from among these trees with the Vexbane ring on their finger”—he brandished his right hand on cue and flashed a single-jeweled ring on his index finger—“you will have to contend for it, fighting only yourself for the honor.”

Autumn broke the silence with, “Whoa.”

“But what you find behind here”—Grimwarden tapped the wood—“is not for the faint of heart, nor the weak in spirit. For you will be tested in ways unimaginable, tried to the point of breaking . . . and then some. If it weren't for the noble blood that runs in your veins, I would advise each of you against passing through this door.” He paused a moment, looking at the Seven and remembering when he was called to service. . . .
No one would say
yes
to the call, if they knew the cost ahead; such is the blessing of ignorance and the reason for many an unanswered prayer
. “Once you have entered, there is no going back.”

“Still interested?” Kat nudged Tommy, knowing she was the only one who actually knew what Grimwarden was thinking.

Bring it on!
He winked.

“You will learn the secrets to your powers and face a test unlike any other.”

“Test?” asked Jimmy.

Grimwarden eyed him, staring hard into his face. And with that he turned and walked back down the corridor with his key.

The lords stood awestruck.

“Um, where are you going, Mr. Grimwarden, sir?” asked Kiri Lee.

“To the kitchen.”

“And the door?”

“Who said you were going in now?” Grimwarden was nearly to the end of the hall.

“Uh, well . . .” Kiri Lee and the others stood dumbstruck, and rather let down.

Grimwarden stopped and spun back around. “Oh, stop moping, we start tomorrow morning! You all can stay here if you like, but Mumthers's cooking is calling me!”

The next morning, after a long run through the lower valley, a quick bath, and a bowlful of cream and oats, the lords converged in the hallway. As before, Grimwarden was standing with the key in hand, this time with Goldarrow right beside him. They huddled around the door dressed in their uniforms, eager to see what was behind it. Grimwarden twisted the key through the archaic mechanism within and unlatched the iron handle. Then pushing forward, he led the teens out into a lavish courtyard as Goldarrow checked the hallway a final time and latched the door shut behind them.

Seven white oak trees lined the perimeter, creating a large, green canopy overhead. The ground was polished marble, white overall with black lines running from the trees to a black center circle, creating seven distinct pie pieces. The entire space was encircled by a high wall now drenched in thick ivy and not overlooked by a single window from the rest of the castle. It was by all means hidden.

Grimwarden instructed each of them to be seated among the white sections. They hesitated a moment, each pupil mesmerized by the courtyard's beauty. Despite the rest of the castle's utter disrepair, this place seemed vibrant and well kept.

Grimwarden instructed them to close their eyes. And then he began to talk. Softly. “Here,” he said, “everything is about the one we call Ellos. Everything.” He let the last word hang, and Tommy found himself immersed and somewhat overwhelmed by the sweeping claim.
Everything?

“From the distant stars,” Grimwarden went on, “to the roots of the mountains, and beyond, to the very heart of this world—it is all a testament to Ellos. He created, he sustains, and he renews. And why? For his good pleasure. You, too, young Elves, are his pleasure.” He paused. “This is no small detail. You are the joy of he who created everything, and so you have a reason for being alive. All power flows from him. Without him, we have nothing . . . are nothing. In him, we have all we will ever need and are all we were meant to be.”

When he stopped speaking, none of the young lords moved.

The last few minutes had taken them all by surprise, drawing their collective mind's eye on a journey to an undiscovered country. But it was more than just their teacher's words or their own youthful imaginations. There was something else. Or
someone
else. It was almost as if Ellos himself had showed up in their midst, walking among them in the training circle.

The lords sat and looked at each other. Staring.

“I think we just had church,” Jett said, remembering going with his parents to church every Sunday in North Carolina. He always left there feeling inspired . . . but nothing like this.

Tommy had been to church before, who hadn't? Stained glass, smelly hymnals, and the lady with the blue hair behind the organ. But this . . . this was something altogether new. An experience unlike any other . . . like, instead of hearing
about
God, he had actually
met
God.
If that's church, I want more
, Tommy thought.

“Me, too,” said Kat.

Tommy snapped his attention to her. “Oh, right.”
Cool
.

They all wanted more.

Grimwarden stood, gathered something from among the trees, then prompted the teens to sit back off the circle. He moved about in the middle of the Seven Oaks, wielding a long staff. Their teacher seemed oblivious to the lords now, his body spinning through the plane of the fighting circle as if he were dancing with the staff, much as Tommy had seen him do on the first morning. He twirled it about his head one moment, only to thrust it forward the next, followed by a lightning-fast change in momentum as he lunged backward. Each movement, each action, was an intentional thought practiced over years and years.

The teens moved forward, more than a few with mouths agape, lining the fighting circle's perimeter. Grimwarden jumped and rolled, twisting through aerials like a gymnast. Faster and faster he went, yet all the while as agile as a wildcat bounding through the jungle.

“That is so cool!” Autumn remarked.

“Can you teach us, Grimwarden?” Jett asked.

Grimwarden stepped away from Johnny and lowered the staff. “Places, each of you.” The lords wasted no time stepping onto the seven sections.

“Guardmaster Grimwarden?” Kat raised her hand.

Grimwarden looked to Kat, and then to Goldarrow who stood against one of the oaks. “What's she doing?”

“Kat,” Goldarrow stepped forward. “You don't need to raise your hand here.” She looked back to Grimwarden. “It's an Earth thing. In class they do that to ask a question.”

“Right,” said Grimwarden, looking back to the young lord. “Yes, Kat?”

“I thought we were here to learn how to use our gifts?”

Grimwarden looked to her, then studied each of their faces for the briefest of moments. “Before you learn about what makes you unique, you must learn what makes you common. It is not what differentiates you that binds you together, but what you share. So before we learn to cast fire, or read minds, or heal others, we learn this.” He spun the wooden shaft through his fingers with the ease of a skilled baton twirler.

Grimwarden walked over to Jett. “They say you're the strongest one, Jett. Do you feel strong?”

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“Step forward.” Jett took a step forward as Grimwarden handed him the staff. “Hit me.”

Jett stared at him blankly.

“Hit me.”

“But I—”

“Hit me before I hit you.” Grimwarden raised his fists. But still Jett hesitated.

Grimwarden threw a punch aimed right for Jett's face. Jett barely avoided the blow, but it sent the message: Grimwarden was not playing. Feeling a surge of anger mixed with fear, Jett lashed back. He held the staff with two hands and swung the long end straight down on top of Grimwarden's head. Only the staff passed right through the space where Grimwarden stood and collided with the ground, sending a jolting rattle up Jett's arms. “Owww!” he stammered. A second pain came from a hand slap on top of his head. “Double owww!” He rubbed it.