Nedehaven.
“This truly was it,” he whispered.
Dalton followed Mister Sejus through the ruins to a back courtyard, where the remnants of a stone walkway wound its way through an abandoned garden. Mister Sejus stopped and knelt down. He placed his hand on the stones, now nearly overgrown with moss.
Dalton knelt beside him.
“The King walked with Peyton and Dinan here,” Mister Sejus said quietly.
Dalton looked once more at the ruins and realized that this truly was the place of beginnings—the place where the King first established his perfect kingdom under the rule of Sir Peyton and Lady Dinan. He looked at the charred remains of the palace and imagined it burning as Lucius and his Shadow Warriors brought the terror of their battle to Arrethtrae. He was kneeling in the heart of the kingdom… and of the King himself
“I doubted that such a place existed.” Dalton hung his head, ashamed. “It seemed too far-fetched to be truth, and yet…”
Mister Sejus turned his head and looked at Dalton. “The Prince came to Arrethtrae because of the failure here long ago. Through Peyton’s failure, all people of Arrethtrae were doomed. Without the resounding truth of this place, this story, there is no foundation for the truth of the Prince, or even the King, for that matter.”
Mister Sejus looked deep into Dalton’s eyes. “If you don’t believe in the beginning, you can’t believe in the Prince or in his mission to rescue the people of Arrethtrae from the clutches of the Dark Knight.”
Dalton was crushed by the force of the man’s words.
“I’m such a fool. Why did I doubt so?” Dalton said, fighting back his emotions.
“It is such with so many,” Mister Sejus said sadly as he looked at theruins of the palace. His sadness seemed to come from deep within his heart.
Dalton put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. What had unnerved him about the man before now sparked a desire to know more.
“How do you know such things, Mister Sejus?” he asked, slowly shaking his head. “How?”
Mister Sejus looked at Dalton again. “Come back with me and work on my sword, and I shall tell you more.”
Dalton nodded. He thought about how his perception of this old hermit had changed over the past week, and with it his perception of the kingdom… of everything.
DIVIDING THE CODE
The journey to Nedehaven had proved a strain for Dalton, and he needed a few days to regain his strength. But Mister Sejus was true to his charge and helped Dalton fully recover. Dalton was now feeling nearly whole again. When Mister Sejus removed the bandage one evening, Dalton was shocked to see that there was hardly a scar to show for the steely invasion just three weeks earlier.
“It seems impossible!” Dalton exclaimed as he felt his stomach and his back at the same time.
Mister Sejus peered closely at the wound site. “Your healing is not yet complete, so you must not strain too much.”
Dalton nodded as he donned his torn and bloodstained tunic. “You are a remarkable old man.”
Mister Sejus ignored the comment. “Let’s see how your sword is coming.”
The blade was now completely polished, and it reflected the light of the nearby lamp with a spectacular sheen. The edges still needed work, and the guard and handle were clean but not polished yet. Still, Dalton was pleased, and so was Mister Sejus.
Dalton picked up the sword and moved into a hanging guard stance. It felt good in his hand. The balance was perfect.
“Set your feet here and here,” the hermit said as he tapped the floor with his toe. “And you must turn your wrist a bit more.”
Dalton furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to shoot out a barbed comment. After all, he had been trained at the haven in Salisburg and in the advanced training class at Brimwick Downs. Who was this old man to tell him anything about sword fighting? Then he realized that whenever he said such a thing in the presence of this peculiar man, he usually ended up embarrassed and
“This truly was it,” he whispered.
Dalton followed Mister Sejus through the ruins to a back courtyard, where the remnants of a stone walkway wound its way through an abandoned garden. Mister Sejus stopped and knelt down. He placed his hand on the stones, now nearly overgrown with moss.
Dalton knelt beside him.
“The King walked with Peyton and Dinan here,” Mister Sejus said quietly.
Dalton looked once more at the ruins and realized that this truly was the place of beginnings—the place where the King first established his perfect kingdom under the rule of Sir Peyton and Lady Dinan. He looked at the charred remains of the palace and imagined it burning as Lucius and his Shadow Warriors brought the terror of their battle to Arrethtrae. He was kneeling in the heart of the kingdom… and of the King himself
“I doubted that such a place existed.” Dalton hung his head, ashamed. “It seemed too far-fetched to be truth, and yet…”
Mister Sejus turned his head and looked at Dalton. “The Prince came to Arrethtrae because of the failure here long ago. Through Peyton’s failure, all people of Arrethtrae were doomed. Without the resounding truth of this place, this story, there is no foundation for the truth of the Prince, or even the King, for that matter.”
Mister Sejus looked deep into Dalton’s eyes. “If you don’t believe in the beginning, you can’t believe in the Prince or in his mission to rescue the people of Arrethtrae from the clutches of the Dark Knight.”
Dalton was crushed by the force of the man’s words.
“I’m such a fool. Why did I doubt so?” Dalton said, fighting back his emotions.
“It is such with so many,” Mister Sejus said sadly as he looked at theruins of the palace. His sadness seemed to come from deep within his heart.
Dalton put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. What had unnerved him about the man before now sparked a desire to know more.
“How do you know such things, Mister Sejus?” he asked, slowly shaking his head. “How?”
Mister Sejus looked at Dalton again. “Come back with me and work on my sword, and I shall tell you more.”
Dalton nodded. He thought about how his perception of this old hermit had changed over the past week, and with it his perception of the kingdom… of everything.
DIVIDING THE CODE
The journey to Nedehaven had proved a strain for Dalton, and he needed a few days to regain his strength. But Mister Sejus was true to his charge and helped Dalton fully recover. Dalton was now feeling nearly whole again. When Mister Sejus removed the bandage one evening, Dalton was shocked to see that there was hardly a scar to show for the steely invasion just three weeks earlier.
“It seems impossible!” Dalton exclaimed as he felt his stomach and his back at the same time.
Mister Sejus peered closely at the wound site. “Your healing is not yet complete, so you must not strain too much.”
Dalton nodded as he donned his torn and bloodstained tunic. “You are a remarkable old man.”
Mister Sejus ignored the comment. “Let’s see how your sword is coming.”
The blade was now completely polished, and it reflected the light of the nearby lamp with a spectacular sheen. The edges still needed work, and the guard and handle were clean but not polished yet. Still, Dalton was pleased, and so was Mister Sejus.
Dalton picked up the sword and moved into a hanging guard stance. It felt good in his hand. The balance was perfect.
“Set your feet here and here,” the hermit said as he tapped the floor with his toe. “And you must turn your wrist a bit more.”
Dalton furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to shoot out a barbed comment. After all, he had been trained at the haven in Salisburg and in the advanced training class at Brimwick Downs. Who was this old man to tell him anything about sword fighting? Then he realized that whenever he said such a thing in the presence of this peculiar man, he usually ended up embarrassed and
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