Light & Dark: The Awakening of the Mageknight (23 page)

"No, my friend, your beard is really on
fire," said Calador after a slight sniff and a twitch of the
ear.

"By da forge!" the Dwarf yelled. He stopped
in mid-laugh, looked down at his burning beard and patted out the
flame. "I must've gotten a wee too close ta da flames," he said
with a laugh, as a whiff of smoke swirled past his head. "Ya have
me thanks, young squire. A wee longer and me prized beard would've
been nutten but ash." He turned toward Danny.

"My pleasure…"

"Sir Bartlett Firebeard!" the Dwarf roared in
a deep and jovial voice, "Knight o da Light and Master o da
Forge."

"Bartlett Firebeard, my name is Danny Firoth,
Squire."

"When addressing a Knight of the Light, it is
a sign of respect to use their title, Squire Firoth," said
Calador.

"Sir Bartlett Firebeard," said Danny,
correcting himself.

"Firoth, eh?" Sir Bartlett stroked his beard
in thought. "Dat name sounds mighty familiar. You a Lightborn,
lad?"

"…No, sir."

"No matter, Squire Firoth, 'tis a pleasure ta
meet ya," extending his stubby hand forward in greeting.

Danny took the Dwarf's arm in a shake and
winced in pain as his wrist was nearly crushed by the strength of
Sir Bartlett's grip.

"Sorry, ma boy, don't know me own strength
sometimes," reading Danny's expression, releasing his hold.

"We have just come from the Pool of the
Mageknight," said Calador.

"Ah, and was da Mageknight among dis here
group o squires?"

Calador shook his head.

"Shame," grumbled the Dwarf, once again
stroking his beard. "But, no matter," he said, shrugging off
whatever idea had troubled him. He addressed the group of squires
as a whole. "I'm Sir Bartlett Firebeard! I'm da master o dis here
forge and on dis day, you squires will receive a sword forged
either by mine own hands or da strong lads and lasses ya see behind
me. You'll treat me creations with respect, for a blade is no mere
toy. These here hands," continued the Dwarf, raising his left hand
skyward, "create works o art dat are designed for one purpose
only—ta kill. Make no mistake, da weapons ya are ta receive dis
here day are tools of war and should be treated as such. Are der
any questions?"

The group remained silent.

"Good," said Sir Bartlett in a roaring voice.
"Step dis way, please." The Dwarf turned and walked back into the
forge.

Danny, being the first in line, hesitated for
a moment before following behind.

Sir Bartlett turned and walked around what
looked like a large pool of lava. The bricks containing the glowing
amber liquid radiated a soft light, heated by the sweltering
contents. Arranged around the lava pool were a series of anvils,
where a group of Dwarves worked tirelessly, banging out blazing
pieces of metal.

"Dis here forge was built on top of an active
volcano. Da lava flows up from a fissure deep below us and would
have blown dis here island sky high generations ago if it weren't
for a few tricks we Dwarves used ta tame da volcano ta our
will."

Waves of heat washed over Danny's face as he
attempted to peer into the heart of the lava pool. His eyes
watered; he glanced away from the scorching intensity, unable to
bear the hot blaze. "How can they stand that intense heat?"

"We Dwarves possess a thicker hide den ya
Humans, Squire Firoth," said Sir Bartlett, leading them beyond the
bubbling lava, away from the banging of his kin. "Thicker dan dat
of da Elves as well," he added, winking in Calador's direction as
he led the group down a wide set of stone steps.

Calador kept any comments to himself.

Sir Bartlett passed through a pair of large
iron doors, large for Dwarves anyway. Beyond the threshold, the
huge room opened up with a vaulted ceiling, held up with eight
thick pillars. On the opposite side of the room rested a pair of
large golden doors, now closed. Displayed on various racks
throughout the middle of the room was a collection of weapons in a
variety of shapes and sizes.

"Welcome ta me armory, squires," said Sir
Bartlett in a booming voice that echoed throughout the room.

"There must be over a thousand weapons here,"
whispered Matt, adjusting his glasses, peering about the room.

"Der is a bit more dan dat here, Squire,"
assured Sir Bartlett.

"Did you make all of these?" Doug asked.

"I got by with a wee bit of help from me kin,
but yes, I see ta all da final touches of every weapon ya see
here."

Before any more questions could be asked, the
golden double doors across the way opened up and a smaller version
of Sir Bartlett Firebeard stepped out. Perhaps the most obvious
difference between the two were the pair of axes strapped to the
shorter Dwarf's hip, the hefts carved from solid ivory, the blades
crafted to resemble the head of a ram. The doppelganger closed the
doors behind him and twisted a golden key. The locking mechanism
caused a rhythm of grinding gears to rumble deep within the stone
of the surrounding floor and walls. Then, he retrieved the key and
secured it around his stocky neck.

"Ah, der ya are, Fredrick," said Sir
Bartlett, turning toward the sound of the echoing doors.

"`Tis done, Father, da Bondeds have been
cleaned and secured," said the smaller Dwarf as he crossed the
room.

"Good, good," said Bartlett with a slight
series of nods. A moment passed as he dropped his head in thought
and stroked his beard. Then, he raised his head and placed a
steadying hand on the slightly shorter Dwarf who had since stopped
at his side. "Allow me ta introduce Squire Fredrick Firebeard, me
apprentice and me son."

The other Dwarf bowed in greeting, sporting a
matching fiery red beard, though not as long as his father's. "`Tis
a pleasure ta meet ya, fellow squires."

"Are you a squire, like us?" Danny asked.

"Yes, though I am allowed ta train under me
father in order ta learn da ways of da forge. Dis is me fourth year
at da Academy as a squire."

"Do you belong to an army?"

"No, I am afraid most of me time is spent
here in da forge, learning."

"Well, now dat introductions have been made,
it's time for all of ya ta find your blade," said Sir Bartlett.
"Spread out and find da best fit possible. Every weapon in here is
different in some way, shape or form. Some are heavier on da end,
some are heavier at da hilt and others balance toward da middle.
'Tisn't me lot ta teach ya squires technique, but as a master
craftsman, I know a little. Just as every weapon in dis vault
differs, so does da way ya will wield it. Once ya believe ya have
found ya a good match, come and see me."

Unwilling to wait to be told twice, the group
of squires scattered.

"And use some sense when handling me blades,"
added Sir Bartlett in response to the sudden chaos.

Danny moved off to the right, toward a rack
of polished longswords. To his untrained eye, the majority looked
the same. He chose the blade nearest him, one with a wire-wrapped
hilt. Hefting the sword, his first conclusion was that it was
heavier than he would have thought. Pulling it free from the
scabbard with a soft chime of metal gliding along metal, he held
the blade before him. The brand was wide at the tip and slender at
the base, making it heavier toward the head. Danny concluded that
this wasn't the sword for him, as the point wavered in his unsteady
grip.

Sheathing the blade and placing it back on
the rack, he chose another farther down with a hilt of iron. It
felt cool in his hand and much lighter than the first as he pulled
it free with the familiar ring of steel. The blade was slender and
had the same width from base to tip, making it heavier in the hilt.
With a simple twist of his wrist, he caused the sword to arc down
faster than he'd expected, hitting the stone floor with a soft
clang. Deciding that, once again, this wasn't the blade for him,
Danny sheathed it and placed it back upon the rack. After trying
sword after sword, he came to stand before a single stand with a
silver-hilted longsword wrapped in supple black leather.

When he hefted the blade in his hand, the
weight felt evenly distributed from the pommel to point. Pulling
the brand free, he admired the blue tinged steel as it reflected
the low torchlight. After a few practice swings, he knew that he'd
found his sword. Making his way back to Sir Bartlett, he presented
it as his own.

"What ya got der?"

"I believe I've found my sword, Sir
Bartlett."

"Well, take her out and let's see den,"
encouraged the Dwarf.

Danny pulled the blade free.

"Hold it out in front of you," instructed Sir
Bartlett, modeling the motion by holding his right arm straight out
in front of him, as if he held a blade of his own.

Danny mimicked the movement and held his new
sword in front of him. Sir Bartlett tested his arm with a few
strategically-placed squeezes.

"Good," grumbled Sir Bartlett with a
satisfied nod. "Now, let's see a one-handed swing."

Danny was about to raise the sword above his
head and ready a swing, but stopped in response to Sir Bartlett's
deep and rumbling voice.

"Wait!" the Dwarf grumbled.

Unsure of what he did wrong, Danny eyed Sir
Bartlett, eyebrows raised.

"Safety first, lad," said Sir Bartlett in a
softer voice. "Look around ya and make sure der is no one else dat
might regret being so close t'ya."

Danny looked around himself completely,
finding no one in the immediate area. Turning back to the Dwarf,
Danny narrowed his eyes in question.

"'Tis a good lesson ta learn sooner ratha den
lata, Squire Firoth. Go on, and give `er a swing," he
encouraged.

Danny readied himself once again, hefting the
sword above his head and leveling it. In one quick movement, he
chopped the blade downward, causing a slight hissing sound as the
sharp edge sliced through the air.

"Good," said Sir Bartlett, stroking the fluff
of his red beard. "Now use both hands, lad."

Danny nodded and moved his right hand to the
uppermost part of the hilt, gripping the bottommost part with his
left. Once again, raising the sword above himself, he flashed the
blue-tinged brand downward in a wicked arc.

Sir Bartlett stepped forward, a rather large
smile forming upon his rough features as he placed a steadying hand
on Danny's right shoulder. "Ya have a strong swing and decent
technique, Squire Firoth," said the Dwarf. "Ya done well choosing
dis here blade. From dis point on, she belongs ta ya."

"Thank you, Sir Bartlett," Danny said,
sheathing his new sword with a subtle ring of steel, buckling the
black leather scabbard around his waist. The weight of the blade at
his side felt odd. However, there was a sense of confidence that
accompanied the feeling.

Danny watched and waited as each squire went
through Sir Bartlett's small practice session. Some passed, others
were sent back to scavenge the armory for a better-fitted
blade.

Matt chose a slender-bladed scimitar with a
subtle curve, the hilt carved from ivory. Despite the limited bulk
of his arms, he managed to wield the chosen sword with little
difficulty.

Doug chose a broad-bladed shortsword with a
wire-wrapped hilt. Heavier at the point, but light enough to wield
without difficulty, he passed Sir Bartlett's challenge without
problems.

Alonso went through several of Sir Bartlett's
tests before deciding on a serrated-edged longsword. The golden
hilt glittered in the soft torch light of the room.

Chris came before the Dwarf hefting a
hand-and-a-half bastardsword over his shoulder, holding the
leather-wrapped hilt steady in his hand despite its immense size.
Unsurprising to Danny, Chris proved his prowess with the
double-bladed sword during Sir Bartlett's test, handling the
sizable sword with ease as he swung it downward in an overhead
chop.

Anthony presented with the largest sword, a
huge greatsword that nearly matched him in height. Gripping the
two-handed hilt, he held the blade in front of him steadily, ready
for the Dwarf's test. Swinging the heavy sword through a series of
maneuvers, Anthony proved a worthy wielder of the blade despite the
disbelieving expression upon Sir Bartlett's face.

Lastly, under Doug's watchful eyes, Briza
selected a slender rapier, the blade long and petite as well as
strong and quick, mimicking her own natural strengths. The group of
squires gasped in awe as she put the sword through a battery of
agile maneuvers, her technique perfect. Like a skilled dancer, she
moved with unbelievable grace.

"Da blades ya now hold in ya hands belong ta
ya now," said Sir Bartlett, addressing the group of squires once
everyone held a weapon from the armory. "Der upkeep, care, and
responsibility rest solidly on yer shoulders. Treat dem as ya would
yer best friend, for a blade is ever faithful and will never leave
yer side." Sir Bartlett proceeded to lead them back outside, he
said his goodbyes and sent them on their way.

"Where are we going now, Calador?" Danny
asked, as he followed behind the tall Elf.

"Back to the barracks, Squire Firoth," said
Calador. "We have to prepare for a banquet with the king."

back to top

pon his return to the barracks, Danny discovered
that his uniform was waiting for him in a folded pile upon his bed.
He found three more sets placed in his footlocker as well as a set
of soft sleepwear. As instructed by Calador, Danny darted off to
the bathing chambers and relished in a steaming tub of hot water.
He suddenly became very aware that it had been days since he had
bathed and the warm water felt relaxing and refreshing.