The Four Swords - Chapter 95: The Sword of Stag

Chapter 95: The Sword of Stag

I fell to the floor. All of the willpower I had to continue through this day seemed to vanish with the Norads. I looked down at the sword in my hand. The red stain across its blade was the only thing that told me I did not dream what just occurred.

I struck the Autarch. All my worries of facing an indestructible force faded. The Norads were not immortal. If you can bleed, then you can die.

Lord Bleddyn was released from the frozen state he had been held captive in the moment the Norads disappeared. He stumbled forward from the momentum of the step he took before he was immobilized.

Casimir fell back to his knees. It was a wonder that he had stayed upright so long in the first place. He needed medical attention.

I always assumed that after a battle that stretchers and healers would be needed for all who remained. How had four of us survived without a scratch? Well, physical scratch. I should count myself lucky to be the only one not related to the Autarch in some capacity to make it out unscathed.

I looked toward my father again, somehow hoping that the disappearance of those women would make him well again. It was only then that I realized the ice that barred us in the great hall vanished. The chill in the room dissipated, slowly filling with warmth.

My father did not warm. My stomach wretched. The contents of my stomach spilled to the floor. I was grateful I had not eaten many rations.

Trying to regain some dignity, I avoided eye contact with everyone in the room. Cali came and stood next to me. I could tell she was debating what to say and do. I do not think there was much she could do to comfort me.

I looked back at my father’s sword. The forger delicately inscribed ‘Caperolinae’ down the length of the blade. It was still legible even with the deep red stain along its edge. The hilt twisted into two strong antlers of a stag. Its pommel was ornately stamped with the crest of my clan. I never looked at the sword this closely before.

Lord Bleddyn came up beside me, opposite Cali. He seemed weak, barely holding himself together. But something seemed important to him to say. I recognized the expression on his face from similar ones his daughter expressed in the past. He placed his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes.

“Welcome to the brotherhood,” he said, motioning to the weapon still in my hands.

I did not understand his words for a moment. What did he mean? The brotherhood? No. No! I looked down at the sword in disbelief. I tossed it from my hand as if it was suddenly white hot. I shifted my heels to further my distance between the blade and myself.

“I can’t be a Swordsman! It’s Fathers’! I cannot take it. I can’t,” My voice trailed off. A sword cannot have two wielders.

Cali finally sat next to me and placed her arm across my shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” she managed, straining to try and keep her own sorrow from her voice. For a moment shame filled me. She had gone through so much today as well. Should I be comforting her instead? I managed to put my hand on hers.

This action gave her the courage to continue. “He’s gone,” she managed in pained tones, holding back her own tears for my sake.

“I do not want it. I can’t want it! It isn’t mine! Not yet. No. I’m not ready. It’s Uncle John’s! Give it to John,” I started in a frenzied panic. I could not even form thoughts before words fell from my mouth.

As if summoned by my rantings, Alejo and Marta ran into the room with weapons drawn. Alejo looked at Casimir’s broken form and the two fallen men. His fierce expression that long to join in the fray of battle, sobered.

He further assessed the room. His face fell as he saw the weapon at my feet. He knew he would no longer be guarding a future prince. What was I? How could I train without my father’s guidance?

“Lord Bleddyn, the Norads have disappeared from the castle. At least none have been found so far,” Alejo reported to the highest ranking individual in the room.

Looking toward Casimir, he continued. “I will get the doctor for the King’s guard. Maybe I should take Sir Jacobson to the infirmary to rest while I’m at it?”

The question was mainly a courtesy to make his superior think he was not dictating upward because after he said it, he gave me a hand up from the floor. Taking a handkerchief from somewhere on his person, and with as much respect as he could give he gingerly picked up my father’s discarded sword to take with us.

“Very well,” Lord Bleddyn agreed. He was in no state to take control of the situation himself.

Alejo led the way for Cali and myself. Marta raced ahead of us all to get the doctor for Casimir. I was moving at a slow pace and the wounded man needed help fast. We entered the infirmary and my blank mind flooded.

“Alejo, Alina and Lord Holden need to be checked on. Finley knows where to find them. I hope they are alright. My mother! My siblings! Has anyone seen them? Who will tell them that..” I choked. “And my uncle! Where is he? Alejo I have too much to do to…”

The faithful friend put his hand on my shoulder and settled me. “Jack, it’ll be alright. I will handle things.”

How could it be alright? My father was not here. How could I rest? “But,” I objected before Marta interrupted.

“Sir Jacobson, the doctor left this for you. Please drink it,” Marta offered me a drink that looked cloudy and not quite gray.

I don’t know what it was. I drank quickly to get back to my point. Suddenly my body felt tired. I sat on the cot nearest to me. Cali sat next to me, slowly helping my head hit the pillow. Sleep claimed me.