CHAPTER 9: Olau
Olau was endless acres of golden beauty. Although Alanna's first thought was of how little trouble an enemy would have raining arrows upon the unprotected mansion set in such a low valley, she then realized that Olau didn't have any enemies. Unlike Trebond, this fief was not built to fend off bloodthirsty Scanrans. Instead, it was simply a calm, peaceful home for a tired man to return to after months of interminable work.
"This is lovely," she whispered, awed.
Myles beamed. "You caught her at a good time: just before harvesting season. Nothing's brown. Now, come with me—my servants should be expecting us."
After long, warm baths, the three of them supped, chatted, and then slept, not willing to do much more after their day-long ride. Alanna slept warm and comfortably that night, and was much peeved when she awoke at four-thirty the next morning. After practicing her fencing, she headed down to the morning room Myles had pointed out to her the night before. It had the largest windows in the house and, as not many people were up at this hour, she could enjoy the magnificent views in silence for a little bit. To her surprise, though, the vast room was already occupied.
"Ah, good morning, Alanna," Myles greeted cheerfully. He sat in one of the room's four armchairs in front of a blazing fire. "Sit down! Have a cup of apple cider, made from Olau's best."
Alanna obeyed. The sweet, warm liquid made her tongue tingle, and she murmured her approval. "Do you often come down here so early in the morning?" she asked curiously.
Myles laughed. "Hardly. I was waiting for you, actually. I want you to go walking with me."
"Myles, it's six o'clock in the morning," she reminded him gently.
He laughed again. Alanna found she liked making him laugh. "I know. We'll leave after breakfast—that is, if you want to go?"
"No, no, no, of course I'll go! I need to get out more, and it's so nice here. Where are we going?"
Myles shrugged. "I have some ruins from the Old Ones—"
Alanna jumped to her feet in a breathless wave of excitement. "Really? Well, then, let's go!"
"Alanna, it's six o'clock in the morning," he reminded her gently.
---
The half-hour walk to ruins proved well worth the work. Alanna could only gasp in awe when they arrived. Crumbled marble gleaming in the bright sunlight stretched out before them for a breathtaking distance. A black wooden gate dangling on its bronze hinges opened into what used to be a castle in the time of the Old Ones.
"It all looks so new," she whispered, stepping forward as she stared around with wide eyes.
"I noticed that too," Myles agreed. "My guess is that they—the Old Ones—coated everything in something that would make it appear new because they were afraid of aging. Now, don't be afraid to explore—it's fun. I've found the kitchen, and I think the armory—"
"Oh, look, here's the armory!" Alanna called, and then sneezed. She rubbed her nose and sneezed again. "See these brackets on the walls? Those would fit weapons perfectly. And lookit here—a spearhead!"
"Exactly what I thought," Myles agreed, laughing. "You're too quick at this kind of thing. Don't bother with that." Alanna was hauling on the handle of a black stone board. It wouldn't budge. "I tried to move it years ago, and I had a friend with me. It didn't even twitch."
"Oh, well, it couldn't hurt to try," Alanna wheezed, sweat forming on her brow as she strained.
Myles had a feeling her pride—so very like Thom's—would not be satisfied until the slab had at least shuddered, which he knew it wouldn't. Shaking his head, he reached down to help her.
Suddenly, an earsplitting screech sliced through the air, and Alanna jumped backwards as the slab slid towards them, uncovering a dark hole. Myles stared at it, dumbstruck.
"How in the world...?" he murmured numbly.
"Look, there's a staircase! Let's go down!" Alanna suggested gleefully.
"Wait, Alanna— " he began. Alanna was gone. He blinked stupidly at the space where she had just been, and then shoved his head into the tunnel to bellow, "Alanna, get back here!"
Her voice was hardly audible as she shouted back, "Hold on! I just want to see what's down here!"
"Alanna, I want you back up here right now—"
---
Darkness surrounded Alanna as she descended the spiral steps. Out of habit, she raised her hand, palm up, and sprouted a ball of violet flame to guide her way. It hardly helped. No matter how much she strengthened it, all she could see were the steps she walked on. Her extra hand held a handkerchief to her mouth, which was issuing a violent torrent of sneezes.
It was strange, in the darkness. She felt as if she were walking through cobwebs, like some shadowy being lay just beyond her Gift light, beckoning to her. Her soul would make her follow it, even if her body didn't want to. And there was also a singing, an eery singing, one that made her skin crawl. She swallowed nervously and continued down the stairs, ignoring Myles' faint pleads for her to return.
Suddenly, as she turned a corner, her Gift blasted into a hundred different beams and spots, like sunlight reflected off a multilateral mirror. Before her, a crystal lay on a stone step. Curious, she bent to pick it up, not noticing as the lights around her dimmed.
The crystal was attached to the hilt of a light sword. Although enshrouded by a battered leather scabbard, the blade's even weight manifested its professional creator.
"Myles, I found a sword!" she shouted excitedly.
"I don't care if you found my gods-cursed mother in that rat-hole—get up here now!" Alanna started and glanced back towards the knight as she caught the fearful tone in his voice. "I have a stormcloud on my back, and we need to get home now!"
It was then that the shadow got her. She tried to shriek as invisible icy fingers laced around her throat, but the darkness clogged her mouth the moment she parted her lips. It seeped up her nose and slammed against her chest, knocking the breath from her body. She was without air in her lungs and unable to breathe.
Bright lights popped behind her eyes, and she panicked. She tried to scream, tried to breath, tried to do something, but couldn't.
Sinking to her knees, Alanna realized she was dying. This was it; this was the end. She was done with life. Now was time for death.
She allowed the darkness that filled her every pore to weigh her completely to the ground. She didn't notice how she clung to her sword's hilt with white-knuckled fingers. All she knew was that she wanted to sleep, and sleep wasn't very far away.
All of a sudden, something as bright as the sun exploded, and air slammed its way into Alanna's body, stunning her for some seconds. She gasped, astonished by this old use of her lungs. What was she doing? She wasn't supposed to be breathing: she was dead! Blinking rapidly, the first thing she saw was the crystal of her sword, blazing blindingly from just below the hands—her hands—squeezing its hilt. She faintly glimpsed Myles shouting for her over a huge roar of thunder. Without thinking twice and still panting heavily, she threw herself up the stairs, dragging the sword numbly behind her.
"Are you insane?" Myles demanded furiously, grabbing her when she appeared out of the tunnel and, half dragging her, raced back to the castle. It was only later that Alanna recalled the torrents of rain riding strong blasts of wind, the sky black with storm clouds except where sliced by streaks of lightning accompanied by the deafening bellows of thunder.
Back at the castle, after a warm bath, Alanna returned to the morning room with the sword. Again, Myles awaited her, sipping a mug of steaming cider. But, this time, Daughter Marinstha sat at his side, her face dangerously impassive. She nodded to another chair; Alanna sat. Myles pushed a brimming mug towards her, but she could only stare at it, forgetting what it was for.
"So," Marinstha began coolly, setting her own cup on the table so she could give Alanna her full attention. "I send you with a friend of mine and you refuse to listen to him. A reasonable explanation would be highly regarded, Trebond."
"I—I died," Alanna excused herself faintly.
"You died," she repeated. "Maybe you should start from the beginning, because I feel as if Myles and I have missed something."
Slowly, Alanna obeyed. She told them everything, and then they sat silently, listening to the fire crackle hearteningly beside them as the storm raged outside. Alanna managed to get her numb fingers to clutch her cup with both hands, raise it to her lips, and hold it there as she sipped. Only when her fingers began to burn from the heat of the mug did she replace it on the table and look up at her elders. "I apologize for not obeying you," she said honestly. "I don't know why I didn't. I'll do my best to mend my ways and, of course, I'll willingly accept any punishment you feel fit to give me."
Marinstha sighed. "I would tan your hide until you couldn't sit for another year, but Myles has managed to talk me out of the idea. Now that I hear what happened, I agree with him. You have been punished enough, I think. Now;" Marinstha glanced around her as if to make sure no one was listening and then leaned forward, her blue eyes intent, "you say the crystal came to life?"
Myles snorted into his cider, and Alanna rubbed her mouth vigorously to hide a smile. Nothing could keep Marinstha away from new magic, it seemed.
"It brightened up. The darkness killed me, and then the crystal blazed, and the darkness left. I could breathe again." Alanna shuddered at the memory.
"So when you accepted death—" Marinstha calculated slowly.
"The sword saved you," Myles finished. "May I see it?" Alanna shoved it to him. He turned it slowly in his fingers, studying it carefully from the crystal to the tip of the brown, antiquated scabbard.
Marinstha watched him for a moment before remarking, "Doubtless the sword called up the storm. It's most definitely magic. I can see it—I can feel it."
Myles nodded and handed it back to Alanna. "Very nice blade, my dear. I'd keep it near me always, if I were you."
"Oh, but Myles, it's not mine! It's yours, came from your ruins—" Alanna protested.
"But you found it," he explained patiently. "That makes it yours. What's more, I have no need of a magic sword. It would be foolish and haunting to keep it for myself."
Alanna stared at the sword with wide eyes, hardly able to believe she finally had her own blade.
"Why don't you unsheathe it?" he suggested.
Alanna glanced up at him and Marinstha. He looked expectant; her eyebrows were raised. Licking her lips, she took hold of the scabbard in one hand and the hilt in the other, squeezed her eyes shut, and pulled. After a moment or two of silence, she opened her eyes again. Both adults were watching her with amused expressions. She frowned.
"Was something supposed to happen?" she inquired quizzically.
"I was expecting something a bit more godly myself," Myles admitted.
"I wasn't," Marinstha said bluntly. "Why should it do something 'godly'? Alanna hasn't accepted death in the past couple of seconds, has she?"
Myles shook his head, smiling at Alanna. "Sometimes I feel really childish around her. I can't imagine what it's like for you—you live with her!"
Alanna laughed as Marinstha glared at him.
He nodded to the blade. "What are you going to name her?"
Alanna bit the inside of her cheek, thinking. Finally, she replied, "I was thinking about 'Lightning,' since she brought on the storm, you know?"
Marinstha nodded. "That's reasonable. Now, we have to establish some rules. Just because you have your own sword doesn't mean you can go bragging about it and carrying it everywhere you go. And you definitelycannot boast that it's magic, if you must say that you have a sword at all. You'd attract too much unwanted attention."
"Right. You got her as a gift from me," Myles agreed.
"But I have to tell Rowanna and Kevin!"
"Fine—you can tell them, and I should probably tell Daughter Rinnesia, but no one else, understand?"
Alanna sighed at the thought of keeping more secrets, and then shook her head. Whatever. Turning to Myles, she asked, "I keep seeing you play chess. Could you teach me, please?"