During the night, while all were sound asleep, a figure robed in black walked softly down the halls of the castle. He entered Windsor’s room. The old wizard was fast asleep. He rummaged through his satchel, retrieving the key. Then, he quietly climbed the stairs. Seeing a guard by the door, he smiled and approached him coming across as though in need of his guidance. Lending him assistance, the knight left himself vulnerable, and the dark figure thrust his sword through the trusting but deceived guard.
With the stolen key, he opened the door, slid the murdered guard into the room, and shut the door behind him. The culprit unlocked the lock to the security casing that housed the Sword of Power.
His eyes grew wild as he stared at the sword. Touching the rubies on its handle, and running his hand down the edge of the blade, he felt the sword grip his soul like a vice, stirring the latent sin within him.
He would have sold his soul to the devil if he had to if it meant that he could have that sword.
Mesmerized by the power of the sword, he continued to stroke it, pleased by how it made him feel: strong, brave, important, and indestructible. He whispered to the sword. “You’re such a beautiful sword. I doubted your powah until I touched you. But now I know and you are forevah mine!”
He grabbed the sword and ran from the palace. Mounting a black high-spirited horse, he fled the castle, riding fast and hard down the path. Riders of Quadar were lurking in the forest waiting for him. Their decaying faces were only partly hidden by the black hoods on their capes. Galloping along the outer realm of the castle property, his appetite wetted for power and his ego primed with lust to rule, he rode down the path past the dark riders. Holding the Sword of Power tight in his right hand, he waved it victoriously above his head. The Riders of Quadar rode out and joined him, falling in behind as he led the way, declaring himself the new possessor of the sword and the new ruler, having been called and chosen for the position.
But he didn’t go unnoticed. A set of eyes witnessed it all. Now, this one set out to follow the culprit.
The Search Begins
A knock on the king’s chamber door came before the crack of dawn while the king was still in bed.
“We have a problem in the dungeon.” The guard opened the door and entered the king’s chamber at his permission. A lesser guard followed.
“What sort of problem?” The king sat up on the side of his bed and rubbed his eyes.
“Pip has escaped.”
“What do you mean? How did he escape?”
“We believe he nabbed the key from a guard last night as he was changing his pot out.”
Enraged, the king spewed belligerent remarks at the knight. “What kind of idiots do I have guarding the dungeon? How can someone steal his key without his knowledge of it, when all he was doing was changing his pot? How bloody long does it take to change someone’s pot? What kind of dullard moron is guarding the dungeon, and gets his key swiped?”
“Actually, I saw the guard playin’ cards with Pip,” said the guard accompanying the dungeon master. The dungeon master elbowed the guard.
“What? What? Playing cards?” The king was irate. “Since when did a guard’s duties include playing cards?”
As he was ranting over Pip’s escape, two other guards entered the room abruptly and in a panic. “Claudius is dead, Sire, killed with a sword,” said one, “and the door to the security chamber has been broken into.”
“What?” He was now fully awake. The Sword! O God, please tell me someone hasn’t taken the sword! He brushed through the guards and ran for the Hall of Defense. All four of the guards followed on his heels.
They rushed into the room and found the man, Claudius, a deep wound in his chest where a sword had been thrust. His body lay in a pool of blood. Stepping over the body, the king brushed his eyes up to the safety chamber that housed the sword. The door stood wide open. When he looked inside, his suspicions were proven correct: the sword was gone. The sword! The sword is gone! He whispered the words almost audibly.
The guard saw the look on his face, “Is somethin’ missin’, Sire?”
“Yes, yes!” the King replied. “Wake our guests. Tell them to go to the dining hall. And take Claudius downstairs, that we might prepare him for a proper burial. Oh, and lock up that dumb guard who played cards with Pip. I will deal with him later. He has cost us much harm— much, much harm!”
He reached for the door. “And clean up this bloody mess as quickly as possible.” He slammed the door behind him.
A rude awakening befell the riders as a rasp on the door called them forth and barked orders for them to go to the dining hall. Obediently, they pried their bodies out of bed and dressed.
There was much commotion for such a dark hour and all were wondering what was going on. As Nuvatian walked down the corridor, he spotted a friend, a knight.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s been a muhdah.”
“A muhdah? Where?”
“Here. Last night.”
Alarm shot through Nuvatian’s mind. A member of the circle? The king? Nadora? He felt his heart pounding in his chest. O know, the sword. His mind was racing. “Who?” he finally asked.
“Claudius, the knight.”
Nuvatian wasn’t sure why that was significant but he ran to the dining hall, eager for more information. His first thought was that a dark rider had killed him. Perhaps he was guarding on the battlement and was shot with an arrow.
“What’s going on?” Nimri asked him, meeting him in the hallway in a half run.
“Claudius, the knight, was murdered last night.”
Nimri was shocked and ran hurried alongside Nuvatian to the meeting.
When they got to the dining hall, about half had heard the news and the other half was eager to know what all the commotion was about; but, they all quickly got informed. Windsor and Gilmanza held the inside scoop.
An early morning rush had been put on breakfast preparations so some food was already on the table. Spotting the grub, they grabbed and began eating as they awaited the king.
The king entered, face flush and red with anger. He barked a command for everyone except for the riders to leave the room. This was a private matter for trusted ears only. After the doors were shut, he explained the events from the night before.
“After killing the guard, Pip stole the sword,” he concluded. “Apparently, he was more of a threat than I had thought. Eat your breakfast and then ride out in search for him. What you do with Pip is up to you; just bring back the Sword of Dahvan. ”
A spying ear pulled away from the door of the dining hall. A smile arched his face. He had heard everything.
There was little talk among themselves. The riders were shocked and disappointed at the news. Now, they had lost a colleague, a fellow knight, and the prize possession. They wondered how much worse it could get: the Immortal King refused to ride and now they had lost the sword. But experience told them that it could get much worse; ancient prophecies told them that it would get much worse. There would be war—that much they knew. They braced themselves now as they wondered what was ahead of them. But they anticipated retrieving the sword quickly, that much encouraged them.
Halfway through breakfast, someone noticed Cozbi’s seat was empty. “Where is Cozbi?”
“He probably fell back asleep. I’ll go get him.” Nimri pushed back his chair and rushed out of the dining hall and up the palace stairs.
Nimri rapped on the door and waited. “Cozbi! Cozbi! Wake up, you slugabed!” There was no answer so he opened the door. Cozbi wasn’t there, but his belongings were: his bag and bed clothes. But, his sword was gone.
Nimri returned to the dining room and explained the assumption of his friend’s whereabouts. “He wasn’t in his room. He’s probably in the toilet chamber. He’ll be here shortly.” The riders accepted this, finished their breakfast and began discussing where to begin searching fo
r Pip.
Cozbi’s plate sat vacant, still awaiting his arrival at the breakfast table. Navi stood up from the table and chuckled. “Cozbi must be having some serious issues this morning.” The riders had a short laugh at Cozbi’s expense, glad to have something to laugh about in spite of the bad news.
Everyone began quick preparations to ride out. Nimri and Nuvatian went to check on Cozbi, certain he was in the toilet chambers. Not finding him there, they returned to his room, but he wasn’t there, either. They then went back to the dining hall assuming that perhaps they had strolled down different hallways and missed each other, but Cozbi wasn’t in the dining hall either.
“I bet he’s at the bahn getting a jump on things,” Nuvatian said. “Probably couldn’t sleep.” But he was now concerned for his friend. There had already been one murder.
By now, just about all the riders had made it to the barn. They were scurrying around, preparing their beasts for their ride and loading up extra supplies.
“We can’t find Cozbi,” Nimri said.
“Where’ve you looked?” Navi asked.
“We’ve looked everywhere.”
“He’ll turn up,” Ozni remarked.
“Yes, but we want him alive. What if somethin’ has happened to him?” His best friend, Nimri, was obviously concerned.
Looking around the barn, Navi opened the door to the stable where Cozbi stabled his horse.
“Looks like he’s gotten a bit of a head staht, crony.” Swinging open the stall door beside that one, Navi found another empty stall. “One of the king’s horses is missing too,” he noted, beginning to see cause for concern.
Gilmanza wanted answers.
Various scenarios of the event of the night before were in the making.
“M-maybe C-Cozbi h-heard the c-com-motion last n-night, and he w-went up st-stairs to ch-check it out. M-maybe he f-found the knight k-killed and s-saw Pip, and so he r-rode aftah him on the k-king’s mount,” suggested Skeener.
“I’d say that could be,” Windsor said. “But if that’s the case, then where is he now?” There was reason to be concerned now that something sinister had played out. If Cozbi rode after him and has yet to return, they pondered if Pip had killed him too like he did Pete and Randolf.
Nimri didn’t want to think about it.
Another suggestion arose. “What if Nimri stole the sword? What if he’s the betrayah.”
Nimri stuck up for his friend right away. “Cozbi wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t care anything about that sword.”
Nadora rode up in front of the barn on Orpah, herself donned in her chain-mail. Now the discussion took a new turn.
Windsor shot an inquisitive look at the king. He wondered how his friend was going to react to this.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing?”
“Nadora, I don’t know how to tell you this,” her father explained, “but I only intended for you to ride in the rounding up of the riders. I nevah expected this. I—I don’t think you should ride this time.”
“What do you mean?” She was irate. “Of course I’m riding! I’m riding, and we’re goin’ to bring back the Sword of Dahvan. This is what you trained me for, fathah!”
“I didn’t train you to be a warrior,” he said curtly. “I trained you to run a kingdom.”
“And that includes war!”
“But a kingdom is not built solely on war.”
“But now the kingdom is at war, so I am at war.”
“Nadora, I didn’t teach you to fight so that you could be a warrior. I taught you to fight because I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t know what to do with a gihl. All I knew I taught you: the sword, the bow, horse riding—and yes, fighting! I did this with you because I didn’t know anything else. I didn’t know how to sew and knit and dress for balls. I never meant to make you into a warrior. For heaven’s sake—you’re a princess!”
“No fathah, I’m a warrior,” she asserted. “Whether you meant for me to be or not, I AM a knight. I thought this was what you wanted!” Her mouth opened without words now, as though she were stunned at her father’s disapproval of her fighting.
“You’re not going,” snapped the king, having exhausted both logic and patience. “I forbid you to go!”
“Well, I refuse your forbiddin’.” Her horse pranced in front of the barn. Holding the reign steady, she looked at her father. “She will be a delicate pearl among warriors and will be gifted with the pulling of a string. She will perform her duties more efficiently than any son you could have had and she will play a key role in the unfolding of major events.” She quoted a second but similar prophecy Windsor had spoken to her father about her when she was merely an infant:
“A child shall be born, an only child. She will be a delicate pearl among warriors, gifted with the pulling of a string. A diplomat, she will perform her duties more efficiently than any son and will be more precious to you than ten. Her place in history will be unique, ushering in the reversal of things to come. Courageous as a lion, gentle as a fawn, wise as an eagle, shrewd as a fox, a matron of the kingdom. You will be her strength and she will be the strength of the kingdom.”
“How do you know that?” Her father had never shared this information with her.
“I read it. You wrote it down. Do you think that by sheltering me or keeping words of the wizards from me that I will not fulfill my purpose?”
“I…I only wanted to protect you, Nadora. You’re all I have.”
“You can’t protect me, fathah. I must do what I feel is in my heart. One day, I won’t have you and I will be queen. But today, today I am a warrior.” She turned her mount towards the gates and rode off.
“We’ll look out for her,” Gilmanza assured him, returning to the group. “She has proven to be very valuable to us. She is the best ahchah in the kingdom.”
The king was disconsolate. “I don’t think I could live with myself if something happened to her.”
Putting his hand on his shoulder, Windsor said simply, “We’ll all look out for her.” Navi urged it on, assuring the king that he would keep a sharp eye on her. Navi patted the king on the shoulder, enjoying watching him squirm. King Chess gave him a sharp eye of reproof.
“The guard manning the door said that two people rode out last night He didn’t get a good look at either, both were in a rush and called for the door to be opened.” Gilmanza so much as figured that but he hoped they could tell him who left first.
Nuvatian mounted Valor, Nadora’s stelleto, recognizing the added value of a flying beast. Gilmanza leapt atop his stelleto. “Come on!” he cried. “There’s no time to waste. We must catch up with him. Ridahs of Quadar will soon be all ovah him—if they aren’t already.”
King Chess watched helplessly, as Nadora rode out of the gate and down the dirt road.
They had not gotten far from the castle, when along the path in the midst of the tree line they spotted a sword, the blade still holding onto its blood. Nimri and Nuvatian recognized it, assured them that it was Cozbi’s.
“Search around the trees here,” Gilmanza ordered. He feared they might find Cozbi’s body in pieces.”
It only took a few steps behind the trees for them to discover a body. Blood pooled on the ground from a single stab wound to the abdomen. His face was twisted in both the agony and surprise of death. This knight had finally met his match. In his hand, was the torn piece of a black cape.
Now things were looking clearer.
“Cozbi must have chased aftah Pip and ran into trouble along here,” Nimri offered. “He must have ran into a dahk ridah here aftah he had killed the king’s man. ” Nimri paused to take a closer look. “There’s a few blood drops going in this direction.” Nimri followed the trail. “But it ends here.”
“Dahk ridahs must have taken Cozbi captive,” Nuvatian concluded.
Concern forced wrinkles into Ormandel’s fore
head. “Bettah the poor lad had died now, here, than latah with them.” His words silenced everyone, but just for a moment.
“B-ut why w-would they t-take him and not j-ust kill him?” Skeener wondered aloud.
“Information,” Gilmanza answered.
Another scenario was offered. “What if Cozbi stole the Sword of Powah and killed this knight because he challenged him for the sword and Cozbi left his sword behind in exchange for the sword of powah?”
“Cozbi wouldn’t have done that,” Nimri argued vehemently. “You’re trying to make him out to be a betrayer and I’ve known him my whole life.”
“I-I’m just saying…” Buldar said.
“No, you’re accusing. Maybe you’re the betrayah,” Nimri said.
“We can speculate all day,” Windsor said, bringing a hault to words that could turn into a fight. “Wait right here.” Windsor turned Moridar around and flew back to the castle to inform the king of the news.”
“I will call for a search of the premises, just in case he got away wounded.” The king didn’t want to say the words, hinting that he might have wondered off and died. But the most reasonable conclusion was that Cozbi had been injured and taken captive, a worse fate than death. “Just find the sword.”
Moridar soared through the air and dropped down alongside the other riders.
Nadora had a plan. “Windsor, Gilmanza, Navi, Amase, and Nuvatian and I will take the dragons by air,” she said, looking at Nuvatian. “Binko and the rest of you on the ground. We can cover more area like that.”
“Good idea,” said Nuvatian.
“You stay on the ground with them, just in case your group needs to relay a message to us,” Nadora said to Binko.
First, the mounts circled the immediate area where the attack took place, hoping to find Cozbi alive. But they turned up nothing.
“The king is sending out squads to search the area. We will let them do this and we will focus on finding Pip.”
Gilgore peered over the landscape, but could see no one in the near distance. Feeling certain Pip would have ridden south, likely toward Quadar in the southwest, the riders rode south, anticipating veering southwest later after searching the southern regions first.