‘I’m not a keokum.’
Sodar laughed at the notion, and even Annev cracked a smile at that thought. ‘No, you’re not an ogre or a dragon. But there have been a few …’ Sodar looked sharply at Annev. ‘Try again, but don’t think about either the magic or the blade. Ignore the rune and its purpose. Focus on what you want the sword to do.’
Annev bit the inside of his cheek. Great. Now he thinks I’m a keokum – a sentient fragment formed from the Hand of Keos. He shook his head, finding the whole thing absurd. Why does he insist on this? My arm is a common artifact, and I have no affinity for magic. Annev looked at Sodar, prepared to say as much, then stopped when he saw the gleam in the old man’s eyes.
Annev sighed. He would try once more, to make Sodar happy. He rolled his shoulders back, leaning first left then right, feeling his muscles roll across his shoulder blades and back. He fixed his eyes on the wood, remembering the spark of hope in Sodar’s eyes, and a tiny fire kindled inside him. Determination replaced his wariness.
Maybe I can do this, he told himself. It’s just a piece of wood. I can cut wood. I’m holding a sword, for Odar’s sake, it’s supposed to cut things. And I chop firewood every day. This is no different.
Annev raised the weapon and eyed the sliver of kindling, centring the blade above it.
It’s just a piece of wood – and I’m the blade; I am the master of this sword.
Annev blinked, slicing down … and sheared off a whole corner of the table.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Gods!’ Sodar looked from the broken table to the cut kindling and triangular piece of tabletop lying on the ground. He lifted his gaze to Annev’s pale face.
‘I … I didn’t mean to do that,’ Annev said, staring at the spot where the corner of the stout oak table had once been.
Sodar was just as stunned. ‘No. No, it’s fine – more than fine. Annev, this is wonderful. That table is solid oak! That blade has never been so sharp.’ Sodar examined the chunk of wood lying on the dirt floor.
‘Do it again.’
‘What?’
‘Do it again, Annev. But this time …’ He left the room and went out into the shed. When he came back he was carrying a large rough stone in both hands. ‘This time,’ he said, ‘cut the rock.’
‘That’s impossible.’
Sodar set the stone on the ground at Annev’s feet. ‘Nothing is impossible.’ He gave Annev an excited grin. ‘Try.’
Annev studied the stone, pondering. Could he do it? If that was possible, what else was? He tingled with excitement, in a way he’d never felt when testing his magic before.
‘I’ll try.’
Sodar beamed at him. Annev lifted the sword again and slowly lowered the blade towards the rock, thinking about slicing through it. He stopped a few inches above the stone and took a deep breath.
‘Do it slowly this time, Annev. Recall what you were feeling before and harness it. That feeling should be the power of quaire – the spirit of air and water. Let it extend into the stone – but don’t rush. Just feel the magic.’
Annev slowly exhaled as the sword descended upon the rock … and slid impotently off its surface. He looked up at Sodar, frowning. The priest waved his hands.
‘Forget everything I just said and do whatever you did the first time.’
Annev snorted but did as he was told. He imagined the blade was part of him – an extension of his will – then he slowly brought the sword down. Just as the metal was about to kiss the stone, a delicate line appeared on its surface. He heard Sodar’s breath catch and stopped.
‘Keep going, Annev – but this time, don’t move the sword. Hold it still and focus on extending the magic. Find it. Embrace it. Then extend the edge of the blade as you might extend your arm.’
These new instructions seemed to resonate with Annev. He stared fiercely at the rock and sensed the power Sodar described, just out of reach.
I am the sword, Annev thought. I am the air and the water, the light and the fire. I am the earth and its blood. He felt the tingling sensation extend throughout his body, and his left arm grew warmer. He held the sword perfectly still and thought about cutting the stone.
It fell apart.
‘By the Staff of Odar,’ Sodar swore, sitting down heavily. ‘The daltas have returned!’
‘What?’
‘You cut the stone without using the metal of the sword – without even passing your blade through it! I could never do that.’ The priest bent over and picked the stone off the ground, exposing the full extent of the cut: a gash almost an inch deep had been sliced into the floor.
‘How does that even work?’ Annev asked, equally stunned.
‘The blade allows the wielder to compress the air around it into a cutting edge. When I use it, I can extend the edge by a hair’s breadth. More than enough to fight with and, while I could never cut through stone, it was extremely sharp. From that gash in the floor, though, it looks like you extended the spell straight through the rock and into the ground – that’s more than six inches! Remarkable.’ The priest carefully slid the sword from Annev’s hand.
‘It’s also very dangerous,’ Sodar added. ‘If you’re not concentrating on making the sword sharp, the magic should dispel itself, but …’ He tested the edge against the table and nothing happened; the blade was dull once again. Sodar slid the sword back into its scabbard and weighed it carefully in his hands. ‘Annev. If you were to accidentally use this magic in our practice sessions, you would slice right through my shield arm.’
‘I would never—’
Sodar held up a hand. ‘Not intentionally. But this magic works differently for you. I have to fix the glyph in my mind and think the word of power. I thought you’d take after your father – who was Darite – or maybe your mother’s Ilumite magic, but I was wrong. Your magic works …’ Sodar’s voice trailed off, but even so, Annev heard the words muttered under the priest’s breath, ‘… like a dalta’s … or a keokum’s.’ He shook his head. ‘I had no idea this could happen. For now, at least, giving you the sword may have been a mistake.’
‘No!’ Annev shouted. ‘You’ve wanted this for years! You can’t punish me for finally succeeding!’
‘I’m not punishing you, Annev. I just think it would be better to—’
‘You can’t do that!’ Annev protested. ‘Not after giving it to me. I’ve already promised not to show it to anyone. I won’t leave the house with it. I won’t even use it, but please don’t take it back.’ He lowered his face to hide the tears that were threatening. ‘It’s the only thing you’ve ever given me.’
Sodar gave a long sigh and glanced between the sword and the boy. ‘I have given you many gifts, my boy. The foremost of them being knowledge.’ He paused, carefully weighing both the sword and his words. ‘But if you will use that knowledge, then use it to temper the power of your sword. Perhaps then I could let you keep it.’
Annev hastily wiped his tears away and looked up into his mentor’s grey eyes.