Blood of Quartz

Chapter 2

"Do you think we'll be gone long?" Niall asked once they were en route.

"Don't know. Hope not," Erik mumbled.

Distracted by the swing of the sword on his hip, he stayed quiet as Niall chattered on to him and some of the men around them. Quiet in the onslaught, he wondered at his mother and her surprise. He periodically slid his palm onto the hilt, testing the hum radiating up through his arm.

Donegal, another young man from the village, kept pace with him, matching his mood and silence. Donegal had just married Julie, his long-time sweetheart, and she was now pregnant with their first child. He had wanted to stay, but the posting had said "All able-bodied men" not just the unmarried or young. Erik felt for his friend. It could not have been easy to leave her side.

"Ylaine and my mother will look in on her, yeah? She'll be in good hands," he said lowly as he caught Donegal rubbing his eyes to keep from crying, the tension evident in the corded neck muscles above the dented and cracked leather cuirass his father had given him. Slightly too big, it rode low and swung with each step.

Donegal sighed heavily, then put a hand on Erik's shoulder and Erik did the same to acknowledge their undersatnding. The pain bled out his friend's eyes.

"I know she'll be fine. Julie's a hard girl to knock down. I just don't want to leave her. I want to be here to meet my firstborn child."

They lapsed into silence again, footsteps crunching over pine needles and leaves layered on the tracks of the roadway. Most of the men, once Niall had petered out his nerves by talking, attended to the walk at hand. It wasn't a long one, a day at most. They would be at Berrigan Keep by sun high next day, if they broke camp at early light. Erik cast his eye to the sky, blue peeking through the trees. Thank the Gods for no rain. He hated being wet this time of year. His bones would feel the cold.

In all, eight men from their village were reporting. Himself, Niall, and Donegal, the young brothers Lorry and Finley, with the eldest of them Paulin and Cerrin, burly Wooler bringing up the rear. All boys—now men—that he grew up with, the next crop of soldiers for whatever noble needed them. It left just older men, women, and the young in the village. He hoped it would be enough to pull in the fields for winter. They had known this was coming, garrisons marched through asking for water and food before moving on, heavily armoured and wary. None ever knew about Erik's father and brother.

A summoning usually only meant one thing. War.

Erik looked up in time to see a wagon and bony plow horse headed their way. As the men stopped to let the wagon pass, an old man, walking alongside the horse tipped his head at Erik.

"My thanks. Where are you headed this fine day?"

"To Berrigan Keep," Erik answered.

"Just came from there, I did. Quite a busy place, these days. Mind yer coin purse!" the man laughed.

"Thank you friend. Do you know what happens there now?" he asked, curious. Perhaps gaining some insight would prove helpful.

"Oh, I don't know much, I try to stay quiet, so no one bothers me. I'm just an old man. But I will tell you this, Lord Berrigan is in quite a fret, because some royal is coming to visit. I hear he wants to pledge troops to some war for the King, and the King look favourably on 'im."

Erik raised his eyebrows, and scanned his friends. Troops. They were as far from troops as Berrigan himself was a farmer. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and his cloak parted, showing the hilt of his sword. The old man looked down, then up at Erik, and his eyes widened.

"Beg your pardon, your Highness. I was not aware... Forgive my impertinence," the man said, looking up into his face, going white, and then lowering his eyes and stooping.

"What? No! Wait—"

The man abruptly gathered his cloak about him and pulled his old horse along, the wagon creaking away before Erik could get another word in.

"Wait! I'm no royal, old man, you needn't—" he said, then stopped, realizing the old man would tell him no more, already moving as quickly as he could away from them. Was the man that uneducated that he assumed royalty because of a polished weapon? Unlikely. He shook his head, and moved his hand off the hilt of the sword, not even realizing he had put it there, feeling the absence of the hum as soon as he did.

"That's a nice weapon, Erik," Finley said, pulling the cloak away to look at the scabbard. "Where'd you get it?"

"It's a family sword, apparently. My mother gave it to me as we were leaving," Erik sighed.

"This isn't just any sword, Erik," Finley exclaimed, awe evident in his voice.

"What do you mean?"

Finley looked him square in the eye and tsked through his teeth. "Did your mother not tell you? These patterns on the scabbard are protection runes. Old ones from the looks of it. And the quartz on the pommel is also protective, doubly so because it's pink and white. When they are merged, they can provide healing and clarity in thought! This is quite a gift. May I see it?"

Erik ran a hand down his face, thinking on Finley's particular affinity to all things magical and mysterious. He was forever going on about elves and wisps and other old belief nonsense, which drove his brother Lorry insane. However, part of his brain wanted to believe Finley. The hum that entered him each time he touched the sword was unexplainable.

Erik pulled the sword from the scabbard, and the men all murmured. It was a handsome blade, thankfully shorter than a massive warrior sword. Straight blue steel, rare in itself, shone in the sun. Finley reached forward and touched the etched crest.

"S'lovely, that. Your mum must've had a great father to have such a weapon."

"I have no idea, Finley. She's never once mentioned him before today," Erik answered.

Finley nodded, and Erik slid the sword away. They had wasted enough time. Absurd as it was, perhaps his mother saying it would give him passage was true.

"Well, if it is protected as you say, I should not have any worries!" he grinned, breaking the tension creeping over the group, receiving chuckles back. He pulled his cloak over the sword. "We have ground to cover, friends. Let's keep moving."

With that, they began walking again.