The Archon's Apprentice by Neil Breault Page B

father, gave a small bow, and waited for acknowledgement.
    “Mikol, it’s always good to see you. Have a seat.” Raifaran indicated Arceri’s chair. Mikol nodded and smiled at his father. He took a step forward but hesitated. “It is only a chair, it won’t bite. Besides, your brother is not here to throw you out of it.”
    Mikol sighed and sat down next to his father.
    “How are you doing? Keeping up with your swords, I see. Going to win the tournament again this year?”
    Mikol looked down at himself and realized he still wore his training garb. He smirked to himself and nodded to his father.
    “I’m fine. I should win again if the tournament happens, which is why I came to see you. I need to leave the city and speak with Voletain.”
    “You cannot. Have you been so focused on your training you have forgotten the war raging outside the city?”
    “Outside the city? I don’t recall seeing any soldiers past the walls. I must speak with Voletain about the war. I think I can stop the war from actually reaching us.”
    “If you recall, it was Voletain who forbade anyone from leaving the city. Now, being the king, I could go against the Archon and let you go, but I happen to agree with him. Especially since you are my youngest and probably only son left.” Raifaran winked at Mikol. “Though I’m not so old I couldn’t try for another son.”
    “You would disgrace Mother’s memory by siring a bastard?”
    Raifaran flinched away from Mikol’s words.
    “What is so important that you need to risk yourself to speak with Voletain? What could you tell him that he doesn’t already know?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not something I can tell him but, rather I could help him remember something he forgot. I am sure he has forgotten more things than either of us has ever learned.” Raifaran grunted in agreement. Mikol drew Raythrael partially. “What if all of our soldiers carried swords like this? Nothing could stop them!”
    “Hmm, Voletain gave you his sword. I had only heard about it many years ago. He never showed it to me.”
    Raifaran held his hand out to Mikol. Mikol drew the sword out and placed it in Raifaran’s hand. Raifaran examined the blade closely. He ran a finger down the fuller slowly and held the sword with both hands. He deftly handed the sword back to Mikol.
    “It is a beautiful sword, Mikol. But it is only one sword. What can it do for us?”
    “It is not the only sword. There is a hidden cache of ancient runic weapons waiting for us to find it.”
    “I see. You’ve been reading about King Ioyan? Those stories are just that, stories. The Sundering was a devastating war between brothers. Many people died during that time. Very few died to the likes of your weapon or any like it. They died because of greed and power.”
    “But, my sword ...”
    “Is truly a remarkable weapon, but it is one of a kind. It has been passed down from Archon to Archon. I hope it serves you well in the future.”
    Mikol sheathed the sword and sighed.
    “I still would like to speak with Voletain.”
    “No, Mikol. Even if I allowed you to leave the city, it would cost us too many Wardens and soldiers to take you to Sanctuary. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you are my only son that I know is alive. I would not allow you to leave even if we were not at war. We will have much to discuss after this army has been dealt with, but for the time being you can continue to do as you wish as long as you remain safe and in the city.”
    “Yes, Father. I understand. May I be excused?”
    Raifaran nodded and Mikol left the throne room. He took off down a hallway and took corners at random. He did not have a destination. He barely noticed anyone else in the halls, and it slowly dawned on him people were avoiding his path. He stopped abruptly and made a servant wince and run away. There was a pain in his hand. Looking down he saw he was holding his sword tightly. He released the white-knuckled grip on Raythrael