“Then I shall serve you here, if that is your wish. I am bound to you, and I cannot think but thoughts of you.” Dellawynn’s hands slid up his legs and found his groin. Less than gently, she tugged at him and reached for the twist of rope that held his trousers.
“Wait!” Keaf sprang to his feet and pulled his belt tight. Dellawynn’s boldness scared him worse than demons. “I think I need to tend the fire…. I have a grave open…. I have to wait….”
Dellawynn managed to look understanding. “I have offended you, my Lord. I will go make myself better able to serve you.” She stood and bowed like a noble. “May I have your leave, my Lord?”
“Please,” Keaf stammered. “Don’t go on my account. I mean you… you can if you want, but you don’t have to.”
“I think it best for now,” she said. She marched to the door and was gone.
Keaf was nearly done refilling Wend’s grave when a stone hit him in the back. The pain made him turn, cursing, and he saw Lane, fat Evar, and three other village boys at the cemetery fence.
“Digging up your supper?” Lane sneered. He reared back and let another stone fly, sailing it high over Keaf’s head. Evar’s throw was better, but Keaf deflected it with his shovel.
“Is that shovel your sword?” Lane asked. He kicked at the fence and knocked loose the top rail.
Keaf dropped his shovel, ready to fight. A stone caught him in the elbow, and a sting ran like fire up his arm. He snatched up the rock and hurled it back as hard as he could. It caught Evar square in the forehead, and the boy dropped to the ground.
“Damn you!” Lane shouted, and they charged.
Keaf dashed for his hut and slammed the door behind him. As he leaned against the coarse wooden slab, he looked desperately around the room. The hut had no other exit, no windows, and only a small chimney hole in the roof. And he could never hold the door against four people. Pushed by fear, he grabbed the Sword as the door burst inward.
The boys stopped, Lane with his fist raised to throw, as Keaf held up the Sword. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Keaf pleaded. “It was an accident. I’m sorry….”
Lane lowered his hand, a look of surprise plain on his face. “We should be sorry, Keaf. I mean Master Keaf. Can you ever forgive us for attacking you?”
Keaf couldn’t discern any sign of a trick. The other young men dropped their stones and cowered behind Lane with their heads lowered. One of them began to recite a prayer of repentance. Keaf had never held a real sword before, and he understood suddenly why Templars and knights garnered such respect. The mere sight of the weapon could cow one’s enemies. “I’ll use it,” he said uncertainly.
Lane turned pale and backed into the others. “We’ll do anything,” he said. “Just tell us.”
Keaf wondered if he’d changed somehow, if the weapon in his hand made him look bigger and stronger. He took a step forward and leveled the blade. “Get out of my hut and my cemetery, and don’t come back.”
The group rushed to depart, knocking the door off its hinges. Keaf hurried out and called after them. “Don’t forget Evar. Make sure he’s all right.”
One of the young men darted over to Evar’s side and helped him up. Evar staggered sideways, blood flowing down his face. “Damn,” he cried. “Did you see what he did to me?”
Lane rushed over, nearly choking with horror. “Quiet, Evar! Can’t you see that he’s a great warrior? You’d be lucky to lick his boots!”
Evar paused, holding his head, and then remarkably, he agreed. “Oh… I see. I didn’t know….” The others hurried him away, glancing backward as they went down the trail. Remorse filled their eyes, and something akin to sorrow.
It was a look that Keaf knew too well.
Keaf sat in a patch of warm sun on the hillside above the cemetery, the Sword across his lap. Confusion twisted his thoughts like wind swirling through the fir trees. If there was magic within the blade, it seemed to affect everyone but him. Or perhaps only him. Would he know if he were under an enchantment?
Learn to use it, or get rid of it as quickly as possible. Two choices, one hard decision. Krohn, Evar’s father, would have the money to buy it, but Keaf didn’t think it wise to approach the man just now, not after this morning’s fight. Use it, then. But he was no warrior, and he had no desire to be one. If this blade could win him friends, well, that would be one thing, but he suspected that the sudden change in Lane and the others wouldn’t last, and they would be back, angrily in search of vengeance.
Best then to put the Sword away, somewhere safe and well hidden, and search out a buyer. Three days east, there were mages in Arnon City, and there was the Red Temple a week to the north. It would be a long trip, but frozen ground would soon idle him until spring, and he could hunt along the road as easily as here, perhaps better.
His plans set, he started down the hill. Halfway to his hut, he heard a whining voice and spotted two people coming up the path from the village. If they were coming to punish him, they were fewer than he’d expected.
He hid in the shadow of the trees until he recognized Dellawynn’s long black mane. She’d found other clothes, leather skirt and laced sandals, a sleeveless tunic of purple cloth, and a wide belt that glinted with silver. And a sword that she held at a man’s back. It was Krohn, Evar’s father, and he whined steadily about abduction and false pretenses.
Keaf trotted down to the cemetery fence. At the bottom end of the graveyard, Dellawynn stopped the little man’s crying with a poke of her sword.
“My Lord,” she called to Keaf, “I have brought you this swine from Palmora. He’s the richest man I could find in that sty of a village, and he can help build your castle.”
Krohn looked around for someone other than Keaf. “You said he was a king. You forced me all this way to meet this worthless gravedigger?” He turned red with anger. “I demand you release me. I am a powerful man….”
Dellawynn poked him in the chest with a finger, and he stumbled and landed on his backside. “What shall I do with him, my Lord Keaf?”
Keaf hurried over, hoping he could make amends with Krohn before the whole village was up in arms. The little man scooted backward from Dellawynn and bumped into Keaf’s legs. Keaf could smell his fear like oily sweat.
As Krohn looked up, he spotted the Sword in Keaf’s hand, and his expression changed. “My dearest young man!” He climbed to his feet and clasped Keaf by the shoulders. He was a full head shorter, in part because of the crook in his back that some said was from hunching over his money box too long. “I had no idea that you wanted a castle. I think it’s the finest idea I’ve ever heard.” He turned a rusty smile on Dellawynn. “And you! You might have told me that this fellow was royal blood. Obviously, he’s been sent out to prove himself among us common folk.”
Keaf thought he’d been confused before, but this was unbelievable. “I’m sorry about Evar. I didn’t mean to hurt him….”
Krohn’s laugh grated like the chatter of the crows. “Forget that lazy boy. He needs to learn manners, and he should know better than to bother a gentleman like you.”
Dellawynn prodded Krohn again. “What about that treasure?”
“Certainly. If Master Keaf would like, I can bring it up here. It’s quite a pile of gold.” Krohn’s face pinched in thought. “It might be safer to keep it in my strong boxes and simply give you the keys.”
Keaf had heard of insanities and maledictions of the mind, but he’d never seen anyone afflicted. Maybe this was Krohn’s secret to wealth. Total madness. “You’re most kind,” he said as he detached himself from the small man’s grip. “But maybe you’d better go home now. Your family will be worried.” He looked at Dellawynn, hoping she’d understand. Sooner or later, Krohn would come to his senses, and then…