The Impossible Sword
Rinka
“What are you doing? Where did you get that?” Rinka’s eyes could not leave the sword in Drystan’s hand.
It was like nothing Rinka had ever seen. From straight on, it looked like cold metal, likely the same kind of dwarven steel that her cleavers and butcher’s knives were made from.
And yet from the side, the sword seemed to vanish. There was only the faintest shimmer where it should have been, as if the blade itself was a trick of the light.
“I’m getting ready,” said Drystan, stowing the weapon at his side in a loop Rinka would have sworn did not exist moments earlier.
“Is it magic?” she asked. Rinka had never seen the old magic used before. But she knew from Alison’s letters that it could be powerful and dangerous in the wrong hands.
She wished more than ever she knew who Drystan really was.
Drystan’s attention was focused on the approaching boat. “Yes, magic,” he said distractedly. “Can you see them? Can you tell how many there are?”
Rinka squinted into the distance. She could just make out three shapes—no, four—moving around the ship’s upper deck. It was a motorized boat of some kind like the ferry, not a wooden boat with great big sails like pirate ships always had in the picture shows.
“Four, at least. They don’t look like pirates to me,” said Rinka.
“They’re pirates,” said Drystan.
“How do you know? Are you a pirate? Or a pirate hunter?”
“Neither,” said Drystan. “I’ve just met their kind before.” He turned to her, his face deadly serious. “Head inside and warn the captain. I’d like to be here to greet our new friends.”
His entire demeanor had changed from his posture to the tone of his voice. He brimmed with an authority that felt practiced, as if situations like this happened to him every day, and he was usually the one in charge.
It mattered little to Rinka. One could hardly throw the weight of their authority around and keep their identity mysterious at the same time. “No,” said Rinka. “I want to use my second question.”
“Not right now—”
“Yes, right now.” Rinka stood firm. She wanted to trust him, but before their game had been just that—a lighthearted way to pass the time during their journey. Now that danger was on its way—if it even truly was—she needed answers. “I want you to tell me if these pirates are coming here for you. Tell me the truth.”
Drystan shifted uncomfortably. He glanced out to the approaching ship, which was close enough now that Rinka could make out its flag: black, with a white tree wreathed in red flame.
“Burning Ash,” Drystan muttered.
“Burning Ash?”
“A mercenary group. Swords for hire. No, I don’t think they’re here for me.”
“You don’t think so? But you aren’t sure.”
“I can’t be completely sure, no. It’s possible. It would be best if you aren’t seen with me, just in case.” There was a warmth in his tone, a protectiveness that touched somewhere deep within Rinka, a vulnerable place she hadn’t known existed.
“I’m not leaving you,” she said.
Drystan’s eyes widened, and Rinka felt the blush travel up her neck into her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why she’d said it—he seemed to have a handle on the situation, and she wasn’t likely to be much help in a sword fight.
But it had felt right, somehow.
“Alright,” he said, the corners of his lips turning upwards in pleasant surprise. He placed a hand on her shoulder—then withdrew it, uncertainly—and then placed it there again, gently steering her into the cabin. “You’re right. Let’s go and warn the captain.”
Just then, the ship’s bells began to ring the alarm.
“I think they already know,” said Rinka.
Several of the crew ran onto the deck, bringing the last few passengers who had been out watching the sunset back inside.
Rinka stole a glance back before she entered the door. The ship was almost on top of them now. Whatever they wanted, they would have it soon enough.
The interior of the ferry was crowded now with all of the passengers in one place. By the time Rinka and Drystan entered, there was nowhere left to sit, so they stood against a windowed wall. Rinka tried to look outside, but the ‘lectric lights inside the cabin reflected off the glass and prevented much visibility into the rapidly darkening sky beyond.
“What’s the meaning of this?” asked an older dwarven gentleman, his overgrown moustache furrowing with each muffled word. “Why have you brought us all in here? I cross this passage ten times a year at least, and I’ve never had this happen.”
“Is there something wrong with the engines?” asked a Quarterling woman of a race Rinka did not recognize. “I’m an engineer.”
A pair of human crewmen looked at each other, trying to get the other to take responsibility for speaking.
“There’s another ship out there,” said an orc when neither of them spoke up.
“Pirates?” exclaimed a fairy.
A panic rose from the crowd. Gasps, the clutching of children and valuables closer to the chest, a couple of skeptics voicing their doubt, and even a very human scream.
One of the crewmen finally found his voice. “Now, we don’t know for sure if they’re pirates. This is a passenger ferry, after all.”
“So why put us all in here if you don’t think anything is wrong?” said the old dwarf.
“Just a precaution. Let’s all keep our heads. I’m sure if we keep calm and give them what they want, they’ll be on their way, and we’ll be just fine.”
His voice wavered on the last words as the sounds of a commotion came from outside: boots on the deck and voices shouting.
Rinka looked at Drystan, who had rested his hand on the hilt of the sword. His forearm twitched with every sound from outside the cabin.
Then there was silence. A long, tense pause in which the very air within the room seemed to stand still, no one daring to draw a breath. Even the children were silent.
Then the door burst open. A member of the crew in a slightly different uniform than the others stepped in. She was human, middle-aged, and had the harried appearance of someone who had recently been in a tussle.
“’Evening, folks. We’re in a bit of a situation here. I’d appreciate it if everyone could give us their cooperation to prevent further violence. The captain is assisting these—” She cut herself off, avoiding a word that would start a panic. “—ladies and gentlemen on their mission to lighten the load of our unarmed vessel.”
A pair of people entered the door: a man and a woman, human and elf, respectively. Their clothes were well-worn and salt-bleached, their heads covered by red bandanas.
Pirates.
Drystan tensed. He and Rinka were only paces from the door, but there were several passengers between them and the pirates.
“Alright, here’s how it’s going to go,” said the elf woman. She swiped her silver hair out of her face, revealing a huge scar that crossed from her left brow to the lower right of her jaw. “My friend and I here are going to come ‘round, and you put your valuables in this.” She held up a burlap sack nearly as large as she was. “Jewelry, rings, wallets, pocket watches. It all goes. You don’t give us any trouble, there won’t be any trouble. Any questions?”
The old dwarf who had been first to speak earlier leaned forward and opened his mouth but stopped short. There were few options. While there were a handful of men and women in the crowd who looked capable of defending themselves, there were far more elderly, children, and soft-looking folks who had likely never seen a fight, much less participated in one.
“Good,” said the elf. “Let’s go.”
The room was quiet as they watched the pirates go from person to person. A human woman wept as she removed a locket. The old dwarf crossed his arms over his large belly when they reached him, defiant. But when the elf reached for the steel at her side, he handed over his pocket watch and wallet with the rest.
Finally, the pirates made their way around to the final group of passengers, the benches nearest to Drystan and Rinka and the group who stood with them against the windowed walls.
“The ring too, old man,” said the human pirate. He stood in front of an old Halfling whose feet dangled from the bench. It was the man Rinka had helped board the ferry earlier, the one who had nearly been crushed by his own cart.
“No,” said the old Halfling.
“Excuse me?” said the elf. She came around the bench to join her partner. “What did you say?”
The Halfling ignored the warning in her tone. “I said ‘no’. I won’t give it to you. It’s worthless. Just brass.”
“Must be worth something if you won’t give it up,” said the human pirate. The elf held a hand up to him, a smile twisting at the corners of her lips.
She had wanted this to happen. Rinka’s eyes caught the movement of the elf’s hand to her side and the flash of steel she produced.
The events that followed proceeded at such incredible speed, it was only Rinka’s excellent vision that allowed her to track them. The elf’s sword slashed towards the Halfling but was stopped with a clang. Drystan’s impossible blade had met the elf’s steel a moment before it could meet flesh. The human pirate, his reflexes poorer than the others, dropped the bag of stolen goods, and its glittering contents spilled over the floor, where the passengers scrambled to reclaim them. Rinka crossed the aisle in a bound and scooped the Halfling into her arms. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the human pirate fumble for his sword at his side as the elf and Drystan clashed, the force of Drystan’s large body shoving her backwards into a group of passengers who clambered out of the way of the fight.
The elf laughed.
The Halfling cowered behind Rinka for protection, but she was frozen in place. She had seen plenty of disagreements resolved with old-fashioned fisticuffs, but her normal course of action was to keep as far from the action as possible. The other passengers must have had the same instinct because they had begun to flee out the door at the back of the cabin.
“Eyes to the aft,” yelled the elf to the floundering human. “You’re losing them.”
Drystan took advantage of her momentary distraction to charge her. She parried at the last possible moment—any later and Drystan would have finished the “X” across her face.
The cabin of the boat was half empty now, leaving a large open space for their duel, which they took advantage of. Steel met whatever strange material Drystan’s sword was made from again and again with dizzying speed. Rinka felt the Halfling creep away behind her, but she stood still, mesmerized by the deadly ballet before her.
Drystan’s sword was a remarkable thing in motion. The illusion of the blade, which seemed to vanish entirely from certain angles, confounded the elf.
“What the blazes is that thing?” she shouted as she ducked another of Drystan’s attacks that she only saw coming just before it would have hit her. “I’ve never seen magic like it.”
They separated for a moment, both panting. Drystan did not answer her.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I’d love to have a sword like that. Give it to me, and we’ll forget this whole thing. You’ll be on your way, head still intact. Deal?”
She lowered her own weapon, a paltry curved blade of ordinary steel, and held out her hand to shake.
“No deal,” said Drystan, and he dove to his left just in time to collide with the human pirate who had lunged for him while he was distracted by the elf.
There was a sickening slicing sound as blade met flesh. Rinka looked away, her stomach in her throat as the pirate began to scream.
“My leg! You took my bloody leg!”
“You idiot!” yelled the elf.
Rinka dared to peek, holding her hand up to her brow to cover her eyes if she couldn’t take it. The blood ran along the floor, spreading in a strange pattern from the boat’s motion.
Rinka retched. She had been a butcher by trade, sure, but there was a difference when the blood belonged to a living being.
The human had fallen onto a bench, clutching at his missing limb and trying in vain to stop the bleeding. The elf ran over, removing her belt and tying it around the wound.
“Quit your whining. It’s your own fault. You’re lucky it’s such a clean cut.” She looked at Drystan to assess his intentions.
He lowered his weapon. At least, that’s what Rinka thought he did. She couldn’t see the sword from this angle.
“What is the meaning of this?” The voice came from the door at the back, but it was not the captain she had been hoping to see.
The man who entered, a hobgoblin with a dozen piercings in his pointed ears, did not seem especially intimidating to her considering he only came up to her knees. Yet the elf immediately jumped up and to attention, and even the human attempted to do the same before realizing he could not stand.
“Sir, the passengers—”
The hobgoblin who must have been their captain held up a tiny hand to silence her. “No bloodshed. You had only one order.” His voice was deeper than Rinka would have expected for someone his size, and the authority in it made Rinka stand up a little straighter as well.
“But sir, he started it—”
“What is the law of the sea? What were you meant to do?”
The elf kicked at the ground like a child unwilling to look into the eyes of the parent who was scolding her. “I was trying to capture him, sir, but he’s got some kind of magic weapon.”
“I see no weapon on his person.”
Drystan stood still, arms crossed against his broad chest. The sword—and the loop on his belt—had vanished entirely.
The elf made a move towards him, but the captain raised a hand again, and she stopped in her tracks. “It was there! I fought him with it. You saw it, didn’t you?”
She gestured in Rinka’s direction. Rinka looked around to find out who she was talking to, but she suddenly realized she and Drystan were the only passengers left in the cabin. “Me?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes, you. Who else? Captain, she’s acting dumb, but she’s with him. They were together at the start.”
“Then you know what to do.” The captain turned back to the door as half a dozen pirates filed in. He gestured over his head to Drystan and Rinka, and the pirates were on them. Rinka looked at Drystan, but he shook his head at her.
They were defeated.
“Yes, sir,” called the elf after the captain. She turned back to Drystan as a pair of pirates tied his hands behind his back. “I don’t know how you did what you did, but you’re about to pay for it. Do you know the law of the sea?”
Rinka held out her hands to be tied in front of her, and the pirates, perhaps seeing her size, decided it was best not to argue with her. “Please—” she began, but Drystan shook his head again.
“Out at sea, you’ve got two choices: sink or swim,” said the elf. She kicked the back of Rinka’s legs and shoved her shoulders into her, pushing her forward. Rinka obeyed. She heard Drystan receive the same treatment behind her as they were marched towards the door at the front where they’d entered.
They exited into the cool night air, the sky having gone completely dark during their ordeal, Rinka and Drystan followed by their pirate captors.
“Sink or swim,” repeated the elf as the pirates pushed Rinka and Drystan against the railing.
Rinka could swim, but she’d never tried with her hands tied before. And they were still miles from land at night with no boats in sight except the pirates’ own ship. She turned to Drystan and voicelessly pleaded with him, tears in her eyes as the fear took hold.
“Trust me,” he mouthed to her, winking as the pirates lifted them and flung them over the railing, into the inky black waters below.