Chapter Two
The Tear, The Weeping Sword
Her weapon came to Shy over a season rotation ago, what a year was on this world, when the trees surrounding her mountain hut turned amber and gold. Faith hung out laundry while she gathered wood deep in the forest. An eerie breeze rustled the leaves around Shy and whispered to her.
"Child..." the wind spoke.
Shy paused from her work, scanned the trees, and saw no one, so she returned to her gathering.
"Child..." the whispering wind repeated.
Terrified some evil spirit spoke to her, Shy stumbled back, dropped the sticks, and then ran for the hut as the breeze chased her, rustling the leaves above and below her like a small dust devil. Faster and faster Shy ran down the mountain then froze as she came upon two horsemen who blocked the entrance to the hut. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, making sure to hide her face. Shy had yet to receive the metal veil. She looked for her adopted mother, and soon Faith walked around the hut with a laundry basket, spotting the men.
"You lost?" Faith asked them.
The large man with a bushy beard laughed as he replied, "No." He stared at Shy as he added, "We've found what we're looking for." He and the other man dismounted as he continued to speak, "The townspeople told us there was an old hag living up here with a maiden." He grinned, showing his yellow teeth and crowed, "All alone."
Faith's eyes widened as she uttered, "Run!"
Shy turned, heading up the path she had just ran down, and the man with the bushy beard chased her as the other turned on Faith. Shy's heart sped as she heard the man nearing her. He caught up to her and pushed her to the ground, and then he grabbed Shy, rolling her over. He dropped the ax he had been carrying and then laid on her, seizing her wrists as she struggled. Shy kicked, pushed, and pulled with her arms, but he was much stronger than she. He kissed her lips and neck. His foul breath was hot against her face, and he smelled of animal skins and mead. In the struggle, the hood slipped off.
"Dragon rot!" the man cursed as he lifted his head repulsed. "Filthy wench!" He got off her, grabbed the ax, then wiped his mouth, and questioned her, "Is this a sickness? Have you given it to me?" He lifted his ax above his head as he yelled, "Dreggy whore!"
"No..." the whispering wind howled, creating a funnel of dirt and leaves.
"What witchery is this?" the man shouted, glaring at the maiden as the whirlwind surrounded them. "You'll not trick me into fleeing. You'll die here!"
Shy shook her head as she stammered, "I did not..."
An angry face of a woman appeared in the whirlwind, and with the voice of a cyclone, shouted, "Child... My child!" The large face made up of clouds and white smoke, the size of a horse, moved toward the man, and he stepped back frightened.
"Leave!" the spirit face warned him.
The man started to flee, then paused, and turned as he declared, "You're but a phantom. What can you do to me?" He laughed and mocked the whirlwind, saying, "Nothing. You cannot save this wench."
The spirit woman wailed as she lifted into the air, and she continued crying till she was high in the sky as high as the clouds. Her wails ceased as a tear formed in her eye. The crystal liquid rolled down her ghostly cheek and fell off her chin. The tear transformed as it plummeted, lengthening and changing his liquid form to a solid. The droplet formed a long sword, plunging ever faster to earth.
The man raised his ax above Shy as he told her, "Now you'll die."
Before he had a chance to bring the ax over his head, the sword landed through his skull, pinning him to the ground. Shy screamed, scurrying away as his blood spilled over the amber and gold leaves. She stared at him once she was a safe distance away.
The spirit woman descended till she hovered in front of the maiden, and then she spoke, "Child..."
Shy couldn't remove her gaze from the man pinned to the ground. His dead eyes were open and staring at her.
"Child," the spirit woman persisted.
Shy looked to the cloudy face.
"Draw the Tear. Take the sword."
Shy couldn't move.
"Do not fear me. You are my child. Take the sword."
"My child?" Shy repeated, studying the spirit woman, then she stood, and asked, "Are you my mother?"
"Take the Tear..." the spirit woman commanded as the cloudy mass lifted. "My gift to you."
"Do not go," Shy called as she stretched out her hand and repeated her question, "Are you my mother?"
The spirit woman lifted higher and commanded her, "Take the Tear. From my sorrow, the sword was created."
"Do not go!"
The cloudy face dissipated as the voice faded with two last words, "The Tear..."
"Mother?" Shy called out as she searched the heavens for a long time, but saw nothing of the spirit woman.
She walked over to the man pinned to the ground. The gore made her sick, but she managed to take hold of the hilt and pull. There was no movement from the blade, so she grabbed it with both hands and pulled harder. Still nothing happened. Shy frowned, closed her eyes, and wondered how she could get enough force to remove it. She took a deep breath, gaining courage, then stepped one foot on the man's back, and his body moved with her weight. Again she pulled, but the Tear wouldn't budge. Frustrated, she uttered, "Come out!"
The Tear sprang from the man on command as if it had a will of its own. She held it up, noticing it was lighter than she expected as the cobalt-blue steel gleamed in the sunlight. She wiped the man's blood on her apron, then remembered her adopted mother, and ran down the mountain only to find the old woman had beaned the other man with a frying pan. Shy never spoke of the Tear or the spirit woman to Faith.
The present...
The Tear wailed as Vapkin took hold of it, so he dropped it and exclaimed, "Troll dung!" He turned to her and said, "The blade's bewitched. You should..."
"You do not understand," Shy interrupted him as she stood a little weak, babying her shoulder and retrieved the sword from the ground. "Bewitched... Enchanted... Perhaps, but the sword is more to me than a weapon. I shall never have it leave my side. It is just the Tear does not like anyone else to hold her. She finds comfort with me."
Vapkin raised an eyebrow, stroking his pointed red goatee as he replied, "Right... Whatever ya say." He removed his short swords from the dirt, then sheathed the blades, and collected his bow and quiver as he asked her, "Ya can make it back to the village, right?"
"I am not going back," Shy told him as she stroked the sword, calming the blade, then sheathed the Tear, and then retrieved her knife she had thrown at the dragon. "We have a man-slayer to kill."
"Yer in no condition..."
"When we partnered," she interrupted, making her way to him. "I told you, I might not be the best swordsman, but I am very determined. Once I sink my teeth into something..."
"Yeah, like a griffin with a bone," Vapkin repeated and then he sighed. "Come on then, let's go up to the horses. Ya wounded the dragon enough it won't be flying off."
She eyed his dagger as he picked it up from the sand. The blade was still red with the heat of his magic, and she spoke, "You should teach me that skill. It is a useful one."
He glanced at the dagger and informed her, "I can only teach you if you have magic within you, and I sense none. You'll have to rely on other skills than magic."