Shadow Dagger Ch. 09

After several minutes, he pushed her faster than they had gone before. She kept poised and matched him stroke for stroke. After several lightning-fast exchanges, her eyes widened in surprise. A smile spread across her face as her body moved faster than she thought possible.

"Your body grew use to the weight of your clothing," he told her between parries.

Her eyes gleamed as she eagerly pressed him faster. Slowly, he let her batter down his defenses. He saw the flash of triumph in her eyes as more openings appeared in his defenses. He almost felt guilty about the next lesson he had to teach her.

Her eyes widened as a noticeable gap suddenly appeared in his defense. In her eagerness, she forgot to maintain her own defenses as her sword thrust through the opening. Her thrust was faster than most people could follow. But Jon was much faster.

She stumbled as her sword did not meet the resistance she thought would be there. Jon planted his boot on her ass and shoved her across the room. She stumbled to the floor. Before she could turn over and get back up, Jon's sword was lying against her neck.

He tapped her twice. "You're dead."

She grunted and dropped her head back to the floor. "Bastard," she mumbled.

He reached down and helped her back up. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. "What did you just learn?" he asked.

She rubbed her ass and grimaced. "That you kick like a mule."

He shook his head but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "You were overconfident. A true master swordsman would never fall for that trick. I let you believe you were wearing down my defenses."

She hung her head. "I know, I let my eagerness dull my wits, you don't have to tell me."

"I'm glad you recognize that. Never underestimate your opponent and, conversely, never overestimate your own skills. When you find an opening, maintain your balance and keep your defenses tight, just in case it is a trick. You will be slower but you won't be risking your life."

She bowed low. "Thank you, Master."

Jon waved his hand. "I told you not to call me that."

She shrugged. "That is how I was taught. You are my master and I am your student."

"You know you got Ashford calling me that now? Thanks a lot." He chuckled as he said it.

Sophina frowned and twisted her wooden sword in her hand. Something was obviously bothering her. "What's wrong? You can call me that if you really want to."

She threw the sword down and sighed. "When you mentioned Ashford, it reminded me of your training this morning."

"Yeah..." Jon said slowly. Was she jealous?

She toyed with the floor with her boot and didn't look up. "It's just that...what you two were doing was so beautiful and so...powerful. Those spells were awe-inspiring, really. And it makes me wonder...what am I doing here? Not that I don't appreciate your training!" she added hastily.

"What are you getting at?"

She looked up at him then. She looked scared. "I'm just a soldier. We're about to head into a middle of a war with Magi and Magi Victus. A soldier doesn't stand a chance in a war like that."

"Sophina, there aren't that many Magi and Magi Victus alive in the world today. Most of the fighting will be done by the Magi's soldiers."

"Yeah I know," she sighed. "But I'm not fighting in that war. We are going to have to fight Magi. I'm...not going to be any use to you." She hung her head.

Her desperation to fight touched something inside of him. He suddenly knew what he had to do. Marcus had once told him a moment like this would come. He told him this after he asked the same old question. It was the same question Jon had been asking himself lately.

A voice rose up from the depths of his mind. Why did you keep the sword? Jon never wanted to contemplate the answer to that. But he suddenly knew what he had to do.

"Wait here," he told her. She looked up at him, hope flaring in her eyes. He turned away from that look and walked toward an old chest in the corner of the room.

The chest seemed out of place compared to the wealth that surrounded it. It was made from an unremarkable wood and showed the ravages of age. Still, it was sturdy enough to fit its purpose. He grabbed the chain that hung around his neck and pulled out a rusty key from underneath his tunic. He inserted it into the equally old lock and turned it.

Flakes of rust drifted off the lock as it finally let go of its burden. He pulled it off and it practically crumbled in his hand. It might not have been smart to keep that same lock for so long. He tossed it aside and opened the lid of the chest.

Dust of many long years floated up into the air. The chest held a long object wrapped in a material that no longer existed. Now that the moment had arrived, he was suddenly hesitant. I think it's time, Jon. The voice sounded like Sarah's.

He suppressed an old ache in his heart and pulled the object out. He blew the dust off the cloth. It was a shimmering red color with tiny sparrows of gold thread wound through it. He walked back to Sophina, holding it out in front of him.

"What is it?" she asked eagerly.

"Open it," he told her. He held it out in his hands.

She reached a shaking hand out and pulled on the ribbon that tied it shut. It slid apart smoothly. She gasped as the cloth fell away and fluttered to the ground. Jon held out the sword to her, hilt first.

The hilt was wrapped in a red and gold thread. The sheath that covered it was red with gold sparrows. Jon hadn't looked upon it for many years. It was still one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

Damn you, Berrick.

Sophina continued to hold the sword up to her eyes as she drank in the sight hungrily. She looked up at him. "May I?"

"Of course." She held out the sheath to him. He held it firmly as she slowly pulled the blade free. It came out at as silent as death.

"Oh, God," Sophina breathed. The mage-light in the room shone off the silver blade brilliantly. Even Jon stood in awe at the sight. He had only allowed himself to look upon it once, a long time ago.

The blade had been folded more times than Jon could count. It held a single edge and curved upwards, just like their practice swords. Sophina held the blade by her side. It reached all the way from her heel up to her elbow.

"I have never held such a magnificent weapon," she said, her voice filled with wonder. She took an experimental swipe. The blade sang as it whipped through the air. "It's so light!" she exclaimed.

She held up the blade to her eyes and ran her thumb along the edge very lightly. It sliced through her skin as easily as it would through air. She sucked her thumb and continued to stare at it in awe. She gasped as her eyes trailed along the blade.

"Yes?" Jon asked, knowing full well what she saw.

"I know what this is!" She stared at Jon, her eyes wide. He nodded for her to continue. "These markings that run up the blade? They're those magical runes you and Ashford talk about! I've heard about weapons like these! Every soldier dreams about the weapons the Magi blacksmith enchant with their very lives. How did you get one?"

"From a friend," Jon replied somberly.

Sophina nodded, not really paying attention to his words. "I can't believe I am holding this. It feels like I can almost feel the magic humming in it. What does it do?"

Jon shrugged. "I never tried it out."

Sophina stared at him incredulously. Then she slowly frowned in thought. "I can see why. This weapon is too beautiful to mar with blood. So you have no idea what magic it possesses?"

"I can guess," he offered. He examined the runes on the blade. He had seen them only once. And in all that time since, he could never figure out what they meant. "The runes resemble the ones for protection. But they are slightly different. It's more...pointed. Or sharper, if you will."

"It's beautiful," she said again.

"Dance with it." Jon stepped back and gave her the center of the room.

"No, I couldn't! I'm not worthy of this sword!" But her eyes shone with a different light. She longed to use it.

"Please," Jon replied.

She didn't need to be asked again. She strode to the center of the room and took a deep breath. He gave her a nod of encouragement. She soon lost her nervousness in the dance he had taught her over the last month.

The sword hummed and buzzed as she increased her tempo. To Jon's eyes, the runes began to shine with power as the sword whipped through the air faster and faster. Some instinct took over him at that moment. Before he knew what he was doing, he had embraced his magic and flung a fireball at her.

What have I done! His body seemed frozen as the fireball traveled the short distance toward Sophina. She was so lost in her dance that she didn't even notice the ball of fire flying toward her. Before the fireball struck, she turned in her dance and slashed downward, right into the path of the fireball.

The runes on the sword flared and the fireball split to either side of her and turned into smoke. To Jon's eyes, the runes that made up the fireball were sliced.

He stared dumbfounded at her and the sword. She looked back at him in shock. Neither of them moved. She still held the sword down in the slashing motion and he still held his hand out from where he threw the fireball.

"What in the nine hells?" she breathed.

Jon blinked. "Unbelievable." He had never seen anything like it. He had bought several swords made by the modern Magi blacksmiths but they were practice swords compared to the one she held in her hand.

"Did you just...did I...what happened?" she asked desperately.

"The sword sliced through the spell," Jon told her in disbelief.

"It...it sang triumphantly when it sliced the fireball. I don't know how to describe it..." She stared at the blade in awe.

"Beautiful." It was an understatement, but Jon's brain was overloaded at the moment.

"He must have been a very good friend," Sophina said.

Jon shook his head. "No, actually, he wasn't."

Sophina rocked back at the venom in his voice. "Then why would he give you this sword?"

"He...sought to buy my forgiveness."

Sophina glanced at the sword. "But...don't the Magi who make these weapons die in order to permanently enchant it?"

Jon nodded. "He arranged for it to be delivered to me. Like I said, I never used it. I never forgave him."

She looked at him sadly. "Then why did you keep it?"

The question jolted him and echoed in his mind. It reached down into his dreams and begged answer to the question that haunted him. He turned his head so he wouldn't have to see the sword. He felt something tear inside of him as he began to speak.

"He was my best friend. He betrayed me and stole everything from me. I...I couldn't forgive him but...I couldn't get rid of the sword either. It's his soul in there...As much as I hate him, I love him just as equally. I..." He bit his lip to keep his tears from falling. Nobody would ever see him cry. That part of him was dead.

"I could see him dead but I could never see his soul disappear from this world. He was a good man, despite what happened." He couldn't talk anymore; his throat had seized up. His eyes burned painfully with unshed tears.

Sophina walked over to him and forced him to meet her eyes. "I don't think that's why you kept it."

He stared at her and refused to let the tears fall. He silently begged her not to say anything more, but at the same time he longed to hear her answer. She reached out and stroked his face. "I think you kept the sword because, deep in your heart, you already forgave him."

He closed his eyes and was ashamed to feel the tear escape from under his eyelid. She was right. He had forgiven him a long time ago. But the pain from his betrayal allowed him to go on, so he used it and milked it. He convinced himself that he hated Berrick with all his heart. He did not. And just like that, he was ready to face Evelyn.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely. He was shocked to see tears falling down her cheek.

"You're welcome." She smiled tremulously.

He felt his heart ease inside his chest. She had given him more peace than he had felt in over two thousand years. It felt strange to have an old part of himself back. He felt more alive now. "I have something I need to do."

She nodded and handed the sword toward him. He took it and sheathed it. He handed it back to her. She gave him a confused look. "I thought we just solved this? You can carry it now."

He smiled. It felt good to really smile again. "It was never meant for me."

Sophina covered her mouth with her hand. Jon looked down and coughed as Sophina began sobbing. "You deserve it," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Besides, you don't have to worry about being defenseless against Magi now, remember?"

"Thank you," she sobbed as she hugged him. He patted her awkwardly on the back. She sniffed loudly and stepped back. She took the sword in trembling hands.

"Wear it proudly," he told her.

He made sure she was ok before leaving. He walked down the hallway with renewed purpose. He opened the door to Evelyn's room and closed it behind him. She sat in her chair, unmoving.

"It's time to come back, Evelyn."

***

It was cold. And dark. And she was so very tired. The pain came and went like the tide. She cradled Daminus' head in her lap and stroked his hair. Blood hung thick around his mouth. No matter how hard she tried to clean it, it would never come off. As always, she ignored the pool of blood beneath them.

"I'm tired, my love," she told him, absently stroking his face. She was use to his silence. It just made her feel good to talk to him. She hugged him tighter as the pain came roaring back. Her heart tore apart in her chest, leaving her gasping for air. She coughed up blood.

"It hurts," she whimpered. The wound in her back pulled painfully on her muscles. Her lungs were full of blood. She had to cough up great amounts of blood just to draw in a breath.

"I want to go home. Why can't we go home?" She shook him gently. He made no response. She wailed, the breath gurgling in her lungs.

It's time to come back, Evelyn.

The thought floated through her mind. That was odd; it didn't seem to be her thought. She must be going crazy. She ran her fingers through Daminus' hair again. "I think I'm starting to go crazy." She laughed and then winced at the pain.

"No, you're not."

Evelyn gasped and looked down. Daminus' eyes were open. He was looking at her. "My love!" she screamed, burying her head into his chest.

He patted her head. "Sit up. We need to talk."

She sat up and wiped her eyes. Her tears were blinding her. She wanted to see her husband again. There was time for tears later. Oddly, she felt no pain at the moment.

"You are so brave," he told you, shining his beautiful smile at her.

We need you to come back.

Evelyn cocked her head and smiled, unsure. "Why do you speak in my mind? I can hear you perfectly."

"That's not me," he told her gently. "You need to listen to it."

"Bah!" she snorted. "I have my husband back. Why do I need to listen to some strange voice?"

He looked aside. "I don't have long, my love. Let's listen to the voice."

"Ok," she said. She always had faith in him. If he said the voice was important, who was she to disagree?"

I know you must hate me...for what I did. And I know what kind of pain you are in.

Evelyn bristled at the presumptuousness of the voice. Who was he to say he understood her pain? He had no idea!

I understand why you went away. That kind of pain...must be unbearable. I can't even begin to imagine what you must feel. I won't lie to you, Evelyn. The pain will never completely go away. The loss of a soul-mate will forever change you.

Evelyn shifted uncomfortably. She looked at her husband. "What does he mean by the loss of a soul-mate? You are right here!"

Daminus held up his finger to his lips. She scowled at him but focused on the voice again.

Most people think that the surviving member of a soul-bond will waste away and die shortly after their partner. For the most part, that's true. But...I think there is a way to continue on. But what it requires of you is a great sacrifice.

"Do we really have to listen to this?" she asked Daminus irritably. Something about this was scaring her. She couldn't put her finger on what, exactly.

"Please," he begged her. She sighed and did as he said.

Death is easier. Death is always easier. And nobody understands that better than I. I have lived a long time, Evelyn. There are nights when I just want to close my eyes and never have to open them again. You see, I have experienced a great loss like you. And I think...I think it's time I shared that with you.

"I don't want to listen to this!" Evelyn demanded suddenly. She felt memories start to seep in around her awareness. She thought she almost knew who the voice belonged to. Daminus held out his arms to her and she collapsed into them. He stroked her hair and she forced herself to continue listening.

I thought I had met my soul-mate. She was as beautiful as the sun. And she loved me just as much as I loved her. I married her against the wishes of my father. But I didn't care. I knew love like most people could only dream about. Then the war started. I fought and beat death countless of times. But I didn't care. I had my Sarah.

Evelyn felt her fear recede. Maybe this would just be one of those romantic fairy tales. Daminus kissed her head and she smiled. His heart beat was strong.

Then came one of the happiest days of my life. Sarah gave birth to our son. Our little Mathus. I brought them both with me to the war. It was an ill place to raise a son, but we did our best. At that time, I introduced her to my best friend, Berrick. They got along well, I thought.

This was a fairy tale, Evelyn decided. A woman must always have other suitors before the hero ultimately wins her heart.

Out of the corner of my eye I would catch hidden glances between them. I thought nothing of them. Sarah was my heart and I was hers. The war was getting better for our side. The tide was turning. Our son grew older under the shadow of war but we were happy. Then I began notice that Sarah would always have an errand to run everyday. It was unusual because she was always so vague about where she was going.

Evelyn twisted around but Daminus held her tight. She didn't like where this story was going. Daminus began humming and Evelyn relaxed in his arms.

I grew suspicious. Her behavior changed. She always seemed distracted and would never meet my eyes. Our lovemaking slowly faded away. I knew then, I think, but I didn't want to admit it at the time.

"Daminus, let's go home," Evelyn pleaded. The story was turning ugly. Daminus said nothing but continued to hum. Evelyn was getting scared.

Eventually, our base was attacked in surprise one night. I was at the command tent preparing the strategy for the next day. I didn't know where Sarah was. She said she had another errand. As I ran out of my tent when the alarm sounded, I saw her. She stood outside Berrick's tent, half-dressed. Berrick followed her out, his sword in his hand. They both saw me.

"Let me go!" she pleaded with Daminus. He was holding her too tight.

"We're almost there, my love," he whispered brokenly. Sobs racked his chest. The voice even sounded like it was crying.

That night, when our camp fought for their lives against the enemy, I fought my loved ones. I charged Berrick and fought him. Sarah screamed at us but we were too focused to hear her. Berrick was good but I was the best swordsman in the world. I was surprised he fought me honorably and didn't resort to magic. I eventually wore him down. I disarmed him and laid my sword along his neck.