Damion Forthin's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Damion did not reach the training room. A figure in black plate armor stepped from a side hall, purple cloak dragging the stone. The knight's helm tilted down at Damion's belt. The gauntlet rose, then froze. Behind the visor, breath came short. "Where did you find that sword, Your Highness?" The voice cracked once. Damion's hand closed over the ruby hilt. The knight pulled a yellowed scroll from a hidden pouch. Old calligraphy ran down its edge, listing names Damion had only seen carved into family tombs. "I guard the tower where this blade was logged as buried," the knight said. "My post exists because of it." A gloved finger tapped one line on the scroll. The ink there matched the runes along Damion's blade. "Walk with me," the knight said. "Now. Before someone else sees it." Damion did not walk. He set his feet. "My sister Damina is in the next corridor," he said. It was a guess, but a useful one. "Speak here, or speak in front of her." The knight hesitated, then lowered the scroll. "The king already knows the blade left its vault. A page ran past the throne room an hour ago." The words landed harder than a strike. Damion felt the tattoo over his heart pulse. His father would be waiting. Not summoned later. Waiting now. Footsteps came down the corridor. Slow, even. A small figure rounded the corner, crown catching the torchlight, green eyes fixed on the sword. Vladimir did not raise his voice. "Give it to me." Damion's grip tightened. He shook his head once. Vladimir's mouth did not move. "Then you will carry it to the room where it last killed. We go now." Damion followed his father toward the throne room, the knight three paces behind. The sword stayed at his belt. He had wanted a chance to wake the magic in private. Instead he was being marched to the place it had last burned three men alive. The chapter of hiding was over. Whatever came next would happen in front of the king.