Balin and Columbine (A Children of the May Novella - Book 1.5b)

Chapter Six: The Quest Begun (part one)

‘Put the thing away,’ Columbine hissed. ‘If the guards see…’ She raised her eyebrows to impress upon him the importance of keeping the sword secret, but the dull brute simply stood there, striking a series of jousters’ poses to impress her. ‘Balin,’ she said sharply. ‘Do as I say.’

He pointed the blade at her from across the room. ‘Not until you explain what you’re doing down here.’

She tried to snatch the sword from his hand, but he lifted it out of her reach. ‘Balin.’

‘How do you know my name, girl? What are you doing here?’

‘The guards.’ The boy’s mind was as disordered as his tangled hermit’s hair.

‘Let them come. They’ll not defeat me now I’m armed. I can fight my way out of the place no trouble at all.’

Columbine crossed her arms. ‘And the whole of Camelot? Fight your way past every knight of the round table? With one sword? Put it away.’

The way he shook his head infuriated her, so she gave him a hard shove in the chest. She was pleased to see him stumble and fall. The only downside was the noise the sword made as it slid on the stone. She hoped the guards hadn’t heard.

‘There was no need for that,’ he said from the shadows. ‘I dropped it.’ His hands slapped against the stone as he searched for the sword.

‘I’m not against escaping,’ she said, using the shortest words she could find for the boy’s benefit. ‘But we’ve got to be clever about it. I’m on a quest, and it seems as if you are too now. But never forget that I’m in charge.’

‘No thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ve a quest of my own, and I don’t need any help. I’ll help you get out, if you like. I’ll even take you home. But girls don’t quest. That’s the rule.’

She snarled. The holy man had made it clear that the Dolorous Stroke’s quest was meant for two people: herself and whoever first drew the sword from its scabbard. She struggled to believe that this idiot of a chauvinist boy, who knew nothing about her, would ruin the whole thing by forcing her to go home. She knew the woods of Vellion where they would find Sir garlon better than anyone, had protected herself from bandits when necessary, and, more than anything, she had lost her best friend. She was thinking of a way to smash him into submission with these thoughts when he found the sword.

‘Good gods, look at this. The sword’s… Gods.’

Columbine peered into the gloom where he crouched. The hilt of the sword seemed to have become separated from the blade. It had fallen against the wall.

‘You’ve broken it! Where’s the blade gone?’ she said.

He put his hand to the bony hilt. The weak light glinted in his eyes as he turned his face to her. He pulled the hilt upwards, scraping it against the wall. It left a fine black line where it touched the stone. When he was standing he pulled the hilt away from the wall, and she saw that the blade was still attached – it had been buried in the wall. It had cut deep into the stone with no effort on Balin’s part at all.

The boy whistled in wonder. ‘Quite some blade, this. Cuts through stone like water.’ He looked up to the high window. ‘I think we’ve found our way out, lass.’

My blade cuts the mountains’ bones, thought Columbine, remembering the holy man’s recital of the scabbard’s inscription. That much was true at least.

* * *

They waited until it was dark, and then they waited a little more. Balin knew that the night-guards were heavy sleepers, and would be unlikely to hear them working their escape. But the two of them could hear the revels of the Pentecostal feast still going on in the city above. While drunkenness in Camelot was widespread, and would make it easier for them to sneak through the fortress, it also meant that people were awake much later than usual. Columbine suggested they sleep for a few hours, and when they woke in the middle of the night the sounds of the city had ceased.