The Ivory Knight

Chapter 10

Adeleina snatched her sword from where it lay on top of her dresser. The well-worn leather grip and the familiar weight felt comforting in her hands. She stuck the sword in the hook at her hip, then bounded down the stairs. Her eyes were still smarting with the hastily-wiped tears, and her cheek felt sticky with the drying liquid. Adeleina scowled and seethed as she leapt the last few steps of the stairs, her loose breeches allowing her an easy freedom of movement.

She stomped through the deserted corridors. Outside, the sun had risen, and the twittering birds that rose with it were jabbering in full song. Adeleina slammed through an exit door and squinted at offending sunlight. Her eyes watered.

She hurried towards the patch of stiff yellowing grass where she knew her burlap dummies awaited her. A soft thudding sound and an exerted grunt stopped her.

Adeleina froze. She was not alone in this area of the grounds; someone was using her dummies! Adeleina stalked forward, an irritated scowl on her face, and stopped in her tracks.

A lean, broad-shouldered figure with gleaming hair that matched, in color, with the straw that littered the ground was swinging a broadsword at Adeleina's mock enemies. His back was turned to Adeleina. She could see the outline of the muscles on his back; his tunic clung tightly to his body. A thin sheen of perspiration coated the back of his neck, and his hair stuck up at odd ends on the back of his head. The corners of Adeleina's turned downwards in a disaproving frown. Who on earth was this man, and why was he using Adeleina's equipment?

"Hey!" she shouted, her eyebrows drawn into a irked expression. The man stopped swinging his massive sword and jerked around in surprise. Adeleina's eyebrows went from furrowed to high on her forehead. Damien of Dale stood before her, burlap heads and loose straw strewn around him. His startled demeanor resembled that of a spooked rabbit. Adeleina fought the urge to giggle.

"Those are mine," she told him, pointing at the mutilated scraps of burlap hanging limply in their frames.

Damien's own eyebrows shot up.

"These are yours?" He repeated incredulously. Adeleina scowled at him good-naturedly.

"That's what I just said," she replied coolly.

"Are you any good?"

Adeleina wrinkled her nose at him, a slight smile on her face.

"I'd wager I could match that monstrous blade of yours, Your Highness," she said, drawing her own thin-bladed sword for him to see.

"You wield a bastardsword?" Damien's incredulity increased. Adeleina glared at him and brandished the sharp tip of her sword.

"I daresay they're quicker and much more agile than your bulky broadsword," she told him defensively. She flicked the point through the air to demonstrate. It made a sharp zing as it whistled through the air.

"This is a rare specimen of a broadsword!" Damien patted the blade of his sword, careful to avoid the razor-like edges. "This is a Scourtish Claymore," he continued, a gleeful edge to his boastful words. Adeleina blinked in confusion.

"A what?"

"A Claymore!" Damien shook his head at her ignorance. "A sailing merchant from Scourtland brought a few to Dale. He had a funny accent, but the swords he shipped in were undeniably superior to those forged in Purlei."

Adeleina nodded, slightly impressed. Her own sword had been made in the smoky and faraway kingdom of Purlei. The kingdom, which specialized in coal and metalworks, was rumored to have tens of thousands of mines dotting the soot-coated land. Men from all corners of the earth flocked like geese to Purlei in attempts to become rich digging for precious metals; many of them succeeded. It was even said that the ever-present ash there had permanently coated the skins of the people of Purlei, so that their skin became dark and tanned.