Richard. “Everyone has their opinion.”
“And you do magic?”
“Once I did, but no more. It has become too…costly…to do so.”
“So there is no way for you to prove it then,” Bran said, shaking his head. He looked at the knight. “What does Richard have to do with this?”
“Call Arondight,” Merle directed the knight.
Richard sighed but was happy to prove to Bran the reality in which the boy found himself. He put his right hand out with palm toward the floor, closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. He made his call. Without a word or a sound, the sword made of gleaming steal and silver etched with marvelous runes appeared in his hand, its point resting on the floor. The runes glowed azure with inner flames. Bran stared at him in disbelief. The knight gripped the blade and stared hard at the boy, twisting the sword so Bran could see the beautifully crafted weapon clearly.
“How did you…?” Bran asked, bewildered.
“This is Richard McAllister,” Merle began. “The sword he holds is Arondight, the weapon Lancelot of Camelot wielded once upon a time and which has been passed to worthy men through the ages. Richard is one of seven knights who protect the portals between this world and Annwn. It is his role to keep this world safe from the other and vice versa.”
“The other night, when I was attacked, I saw a burst of blue fire,” Bran said, looking at Richard. “It came from you then?”
“From Arondight,” Richard corrected.
The sword disappeared like smoke.
“It comes and goes that easily?” Bran questioned.
“The knights have been given certain attributes to carry out their duty,” Merle said. “Richard can call Arondight at will, as well as enact a few other forms of magic.”
“And the dog that tried to kill me? It came through a portal?”
Merle nodded. “One such portal gave those Celtic gods and goddesses—along with many of their followers—the chance to flee Rome’s new Christian rule. The Celtic mythology didn’t disappear. It merely moved. The cu sith and the fairies that controlled it are part of that world—and they were after you. At the peril of those around you, they will continue trying to kill you unless you find out why.”
“How can you know that?” Bran asked. “Do you have one of these mirrors or whatever?”
“Fairies are tricky things,” Richard muttered, seeing an opportunity. “They have no allegiance. But I am convinced they were after you. That is why you should flee this bookstore, the city, and maybe the country, right now. Having failed it is certain they will try again.” “You say certain.” Bran turned to Merle. “What do you think?”
“I think you are important in what is to come,” the old man said. “It is that reason for the attempt on your life. And no matter how Richard desires to save you from some imagined fate, I agree it will happen again.”
“Why am I important?” Bran asked, frowning.
“I see much,” Merle said. “It is but a promise of a shadow, but I sense it about you.”
“Wait,” Richard said. “Who is the boy to you, Merle? I have no doubt you are playing games, as usual, but what makes him special that Annwn would attempt to kill him? That you would recruit him?”
Merle chewed on his pipe stem, thinking.
“Well?” the knight pressed. “Who is he?”
“He is Bran Ardall,” Merle said simply.
Richard couldn’t believe what Merle had just said.
“What are you playing at?” the knight hissed.
Merle never took his blue eyes from Bran. “To protect yourself, you will have to do what is necessary. It will not be easy.”
“You think they will come again?”
“Eventually, yes. It is unavoidable,” Merle responded. “Tonight. Tomorrow. A year from now. Every once in a while, one of them gets past the knights. When that happens, you won’t have Richard to protect you again, I’d wager. Might not happen tomorrow or the next day, but it will happen.”
Arrow Jack
“And you do magic?”
“Once I did, but no more. It has become too…costly…to do so.”
“So there is no way for you to prove it then,” Bran said, shaking his head. He looked at the knight. “What does Richard have to do with this?”
“Call Arondight,” Merle directed the knight.
Richard sighed but was happy to prove to Bran the reality in which the boy found himself. He put his right hand out with palm toward the floor, closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. He made his call. Without a word or a sound, the sword made of gleaming steal and silver etched with marvelous runes appeared in his hand, its point resting on the floor. The runes glowed azure with inner flames. Bran stared at him in disbelief. The knight gripped the blade and stared hard at the boy, twisting the sword so Bran could see the beautifully crafted weapon clearly.
“How did you…?” Bran asked, bewildered.
“This is Richard McAllister,” Merle began. “The sword he holds is Arondight, the weapon Lancelot of Camelot wielded once upon a time and which has been passed to worthy men through the ages. Richard is one of seven knights who protect the portals between this world and Annwn. It is his role to keep this world safe from the other and vice versa.”
“The other night, when I was attacked, I saw a burst of blue fire,” Bran said, looking at Richard. “It came from you then?”
“From Arondight,” Richard corrected.
The sword disappeared like smoke.
“It comes and goes that easily?” Bran questioned.
“The knights have been given certain attributes to carry out their duty,” Merle said. “Richard can call Arondight at will, as well as enact a few other forms of magic.”
“And the dog that tried to kill me? It came through a portal?”
Merle nodded. “One such portal gave those Celtic gods and goddesses—along with many of their followers—the chance to flee Rome’s new Christian rule. The Celtic mythology didn’t disappear. It merely moved. The cu sith and the fairies that controlled it are part of that world—and they were after you. At the peril of those around you, they will continue trying to kill you unless you find out why.”
“How can you know that?” Bran asked. “Do you have one of these mirrors or whatever?”
“Fairies are tricky things,” Richard muttered, seeing an opportunity. “They have no allegiance. But I am convinced they were after you. That is why you should flee this bookstore, the city, and maybe the country, right now. Having failed it is certain they will try again.” “You say certain.” Bran turned to Merle. “What do you think?”
“I think you are important in what is to come,” the old man said. “It is that reason for the attempt on your life. And no matter how Richard desires to save you from some imagined fate, I agree it will happen again.”
“Why am I important?” Bran asked, frowning.
“I see much,” Merle said. “It is but a promise of a shadow, but I sense it about you.”
“Wait,” Richard said. “Who is the boy to you, Merle? I have no doubt you are playing games, as usual, but what makes him special that Annwn would attempt to kill him? That you would recruit him?”
Merle chewed on his pipe stem, thinking.
“Well?” the knight pressed. “Who is he?”
“He is Bran Ardall,” Merle said simply.
Richard couldn’t believe what Merle had just said.
“What are you playing at?” the knight hissed.
Merle never took his blue eyes from Bran. “To protect yourself, you will have to do what is necessary. It will not be easy.”
“You think they will come again?”
“Eventually, yes. It is unavoidable,” Merle responded. “Tonight. Tomorrow. A year from now. Every once in a while, one of them gets past the knights. When that happens, you won’t have Richard to protect you again, I’d wager. Might not happen tomorrow or the next day, but it will happen.”
Arrow Jack
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