James Somers - The Sword of Gideon

The third day, when we children sat assembled at the base of the fountain, a group of the king's guards stood nearby. Rumors had circulated among the people since the storyteller's arrival in Emmanuel City, and now it seemed the king had become interested in knowing why he was here.

When the noon hour came, we searched the crowds of pedestrians, looking for the Old Storyteller, wondering if we might in some way warn him of the presence of the guards before they seized him. When people displeased the king, they often disappeared. That fact was well known.

I searched the crowds eagerly. I certainly wanted to hear the rest of his story, but now it seemed the only hope of that might be to warn the old man away to safety. I bit my lower lip anxiously, my eyes darting between the marketplace and the king's guards.

They talked amongst themselves and kept looking around, expecting him to show up at this time as he had previously. All of the guards wore swords at their sides and held spears in their hands. They seemed to believe the old man might actually be dangerous.

The children whispered their own theories: a prophet, a dissident of some sort, or perhaps even a spy from Wayland here to aid my father in a coup of some kind. I shot the guilty gossiper a hard look which quieted him temporarily. The old man had informed everyone present of my identity as the Wayland King's son, Phineas, the day before.

Finally, I spotted the old man walking with his staff through the shoppers in the marketplace. He emerged from the bustle, making his slow way toward us children gathered before the fountain. A larger crowd had come today, nearly fifty in all. The children had spread the old man's story all over the place each day after hearing the latest installment.

The king's guards spotted him and quickly walked toward him-ten men in all. When the Old Storyteller saw them coming, a look of horror spread over his face. He turned and started back into the market-his staff clicking on the cobblestones faster and faster. The guard's shouted after him and broke into a run, trying to catch up before the old man reunited with the crowd.

The guard's blocked my view briefly as the old man limped back into the marketplace again. I stood, desperately hoping to see that he'd gotten away from them, but it seemed hopeless. The guard's had nearly been upon him when he passed behind several people. They would have him in seconds, and I would never hear the remainder of his tale.

To my surprise, the guards pushed their way through the initial part of the crowd and, not finding him there, kept running after. Two hands clapped together loudly, drawing our attention back toward the fountain. "Well, children, are you ready to hear the final portion of Ethan's story?"

We gasped when we turned to find the Old Storyteller sitting upon the ledge of the fountain as he had on previous days. He'd not doubled back on the guards. There could have been no way to slip by us, and certainly he wasn't fast enough on his legs to do so. But there he sat, smiling at us. "Well, we've got a fine crowd of eager ears today haven't we?" he said. "Young Phineas, are you there among the group today?"

I stammered, but managed to raise a sheepish hand at his query. "Ah!" he said. "Good, I promised you a thorough history, and I'll keep my word today."

I smiled back, pleased that he'd remembered addressing me yesterday. "Phineas, do you recall at what point in the story we left off?" he asked.

My brow furrowed. "Yes. Gideon the priest had been captured. Mordred had killed his secret wife, Sarah, and was using his newborn son to blackmail Gideon into hunting down Shaddai's Deliverer, Ethan."

The old man pecked on the tip of his nose and winked. "Very good, and that is where we begin today."

Gideon sat dressed for combat upon the black stallion Mordred had issued him. The beast stank of evil, but it obeyed him, so he supposed that was as good as could be expected. He waved off a bothersome fly that had wondered away from the manure pile behind the animal. Across from him, in a vast training yard, sat one of Mordred's Wraith Riders astride his own massive horse.

A large man in uniform walked up to stand next to Gideon's horse. "You understand the training Mordred has assigned for you will be full contact, priest?" The grungy, unshaven man wore what appeared to be a leather harness and black breeches.

Gideon yawned. "I suppose he's trying to kill me before I can find the Deliverer for him, then?"

The man grinned. "If you can't survive a little of our training, then you've not got what it takes to do the Deliverer anyway." He shoved a long lance into Gideon's gloved hand and spat on the ground. "Personally, I'd just as soon see you run through today, priest."

Gideon took the lance. "Don't I get a shield?"

"You won't need one." The man grinned, showing his yellow teeth.

"But my opponent has one."

The man simply shrugged his shoulders. "I'm afraid we're all out at the moment."

Disgusted, Gideon goaded his horse forward into a gallop. The Wraith Rider on the other side of the field reacted instantly, galloping forward, carrying his own lance. In his other hand he held the reins and a bronze shield on his forearm.

Gideon watched his opponent closely as his stallion thundered across the yard beneath him. An unmentioned detail about the other man's lance suddenly occurred to him. His opponents lance appeared longer by nearly a foot.

The distance between them diminished rapidly. As his opponent leveled his lance, Gideon shifted his grip on his own, raising it up like a spear. As the horses closed the gap, Gideon launched his lance at the other man's horse. The lance shot down between the galloping legs, entangling them. The large animal tripped and plowed head first into the sod. Its rider flew forward out of control and smashed into the ground. His lance dug into the earth and snapped while his shield tumbled after him.

Horse and rider lay in the mangled lawn, breathing heavily, but neither attempted to get up from where they had landed. Gideon turned his animal and started back toward the stalls. The man in charge of the training yard ran out onto the field, swearing at him. Gideon dismounted as the man approached.

The man pulled a dagger and lunged at Gideon. In a single motion, Gideon disarmed the man, spun him round, and held him with the dagger to his throat. "If you're going to make these little training sessions unfair, then at least have the foresight to pair me with an opponent who knows how to make the most of his advantage."

Gideon pushed the man away. He heard a click from behind, then spun and threw the dagger. A soldier with a crossbow screamed in agony as the blade pinned his trigger hand to the wooden stock of his weapon. More soldiers in black rushed out of their seats in the stand where they'd been spectators. They started onto the field when a voice bellowed out above them. "ENOUGH!"

Mordred stood before his seat with his hands gripping the railing before him. "I've given you all strict orders to assist in Gideon's training. I think now you can see why I want him tracking the Deliverer for me. If you cannot get it through your thick skulls, then I'll have each offending party skinned alive and fed to the dogs."