Stone of Tears

Across the clearing they spun, like leaves in a gale, one avoiding the blade, the other, the claws. Lunging and ducking, they used the trees for cover and attack. Richard let the spirits of the sword dance with him. He immersed himself in the magic’s mastery, he let himself do as the spirits counseled, and he watched, almost in a detached state, as they spun him this way and that, had him skim across the ground, dodge right then left, leap and thrust.

He hungered to learn the dance.

Teach me.

Knowledge, like memory, flowed forth, forged by his will into the completing link.

He became not the user of the sword, the magic, the spirits, but their master. The blade, the magic, the spirits, and the man were one.

The dark shape lunged.

Now. With a solid thwack, the blade halved the shape. A spray of blood hit the trees close by. A death howl shivered the air, and then all was still.

Richard stood panting, almost sorry it was over. Almost.

He had danced with the spirits of the dead, with the magic, and in so doing, had found the release he sought; release not only of some of his feelings of helpless frustration, but release, too, of darker needs deep within himself that he didn’t understand.

The sun had been up for nearly two hours when he heard her coming. She was blundering through the brush, huffing indignantly at branches that snagged her clothes. He could hear twigs snap as she staggered up the rise. Tugging her skirt free from a thorn, she stumbled into the clearing before him.

Richard was sitting cross-legged, with his eyes closed and the sword resting across his knees. She came to a panting halt before him.

“Richard!”

“Good morning, Pasha.” He opened his eyes. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

She held her long, brown skirt up a little in her hands. Her white blouse was damp with sweat. Her hair had burrs in it.

Pasha blew a strand of hair from her face. “You have to get out of here at once. Richard, this is the Hagen Woods.”

“I know. Sister Verna told me. Interesting place; I rather like it.”

She blinked at him. “Richard, this place is dangerous! What are you doing here!”

Richard smiled to her. “Waiting for you.”

She peered around at trees and dark shadows. “something smells awful in here,” she muttered.

Pasha squatted down in front of him, smiling a little smile as a person might to a child, or to someone she thought was insane. “Richard, you’ve had your fun, your nice walk in the country; now, give me your hand and let’s get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving until Verna is restored to Sister again.”

Pasha shot to her feet. “What!”

Richard took his sword in hand and rose in front of her. “I’m not leaving here until Verna is restored to the rank of Sister, the same as she was before. The palace must choose what’s more important to them—my life; or keeping Sister Verna a novice.”

Pasha’s mouth fell open. “But the only one who can remove Verna’s sanction is Sister Maren!”

“I know.” He touched his finger to her nose. That’s why you’re going to go and tell Sister Maren she must come here, in person, and give me her solemn pledge that Verna is once again a Sister, and agree to my terms.”

“You can’t be serious. Sister Maren will not do that.”

“I’m not leaving this spot unless she does.”

“Richard, we’ll go back and see if Sister Maren will discuss this, but you can’t stay here. It’s not worth dying for!”

He regarded her with a cool expression. “It is to me.”

Her tongue wet her lips. “Richard, you don’t know what you’re doing. This is a dangerous place. I’m responsible for you. I cannot allow you to stay here!

“If you won’t come away with me, then I will have to use the collar and make you come with me, and I know you don’t want that.”

Richard’s grip tightened on the sword’s hilt. “sister Verna is being punished in retaliation against me. I have made a vow to myself to restore Verna to Sister. I can’t allow the sanction to stand. I’ll do whatever I must, die here if I have to.

“If you use the collar to hurt me, or drag me off, I’ll fight you, with everything I have. I don’t know who will win, but if that happens, I am sure of one thing: one of us will die. If it’s you, then the war will have started. If I die, then your test to become a Sister will end on the first day. Sister Verna will still be a novice, but that is where she stands now. At least I will have done my best.”

“You would be willing to die? For this?”

“Yes. It’s that important to me. I will not allow Sister Verna to be punished because of what I have done. It was unjust.”

Her brow wrinkled. “But… Sister Maren is the headmistress of the novices. I’m a novice. I can’t go to her and tell her she must reverse the order—she’ll skin me alive!”

“I am the cause of the trouble; you are simply the messenger. If she punishes you, I would not stand for it, any more than I will stand for what was done to Sister Verna. If Sister Maren wishes to start a war, then let it start. If she wishes to keep my truce, then she will have to come to me, here, and agree to my terms.”