Sword from the Sky Read online

PART OF THE MORNING’S colorful wardrobe had been replaced by a drab overcast. The air grew dense, and a hint of a fog lingered here and there, not noticeable yet—all for a reason. The crowd of people gathered outside the school, for they were not welcomed inside, and had become silent, if not completely inanimate. The wind brutally blew against the trees, as if running away from some eminent danger, and the only sound prevalent was in the distance, and it sounded to all like the clatter of hoofs; a carriage approached from the top of One’s Path as it made its way towards the front of the school.

  The top of the carriage was covered, and it was impossible to note who rode in it, but the carriage itself seemed fancy and overdone. The color of the carriage was a peculiar blood red enhanced with black diamond trimmings. It was pulled by two abnormally large white horses, and though noble, they were thin, as if elongated. Two drivers sat atop the front of the carriage, dressed in black and having the same features, like twins, yet giving out the impression they were neither kin nor acquaintances. They had the whitest hair, neatly groomed, too perfect, and had the brightest green eyes. Their faces were done up, as if makeup had been applied, and they had grins on their faces that would make one’s shadow cower into a corner.

  CLIP CLOP CLIP CLOP—the carriage rode in a perfectly straight line, and all eyes were on these unannounced visitors as they reached the great, golden doors. By this time all the students and officials had made their way inside the school, so there was no one left to greet any visitors—at least, so it seemed. The horses’ menacing look scared some of the kids in the crowd, and the families did their best to control their children’s fears.

  The two drivers dismounted the carriage, and the crowd could tell that they were strange in size, for they towered over the average man. One made his way to the back of the carriage while the other walked towards the front, taking out a bag that was slumped across his shoulder. Reaching inside, he pulled out a handful of gems. Crouching down, he let his hand swing away as he threw a multitude of gems towards the door, creating a carpet of shimmering rocks; they were diamonds of all sizes, red, white and black.

  The other man, who stood near the rear of the carriage, reached for the side door and opened it. The crowd turned their heads to look inside, and all they could see was shadow, and from the shadow came a form, and for an instance, the face of the form seemed foul, but out of the shadows it came, and now the form was that of an attractive woman, stepping out and setting her red leather boots on the ground.

  As she revealed herself, the crowd stared at her remarkable robe, which was of a blushing red color. Underneath the robe, she wore a magnificent black dress. The woman also towered over the average man, even more so than her drivers, and her hair was unnaturally red. In her right hand, she carried a scepter made of gold with a huge, black diamond adorning the top of it. She made her way to the doors, elegantly stepping on the diamond carpet laid out for her regal presence.

  In the silence of the stares coming from the peoples of Bune, only the crackling of the diamonds was heard as the women gracefully balanced her long body on the uneven jewels. Those few seconds were filled with the gallant march of the most perverted being the crowd had ever seen.

  As she approached the grand doors, the men guarded her, one on each side.

  “Get us inside as soon as possible,” the woman in red said.

  With that command, one of the men reached for the wooden doors and tried to open it but failed, as it did not budge for him. He reached for a brass handle and used it to knock on the door.

  A loud sound echoed inside, and the echo of the knock seemed to disturb the peace that the doors kept, for the school was not keen on entertaining unwanted visitors. Again the man knocked, and this time, it seemed to have sent a shiver along the lengths of the doors, for the stone bricks above the doors began to rumble, and things began to move some feet above them.

  Upon closer inspection, this movement had defined forms—two, to be exact. They were statues, one on each corner of the ledge sloping over the great doors. The statues were menacing, like ancient gargoyles guarding their home from unwanted vermin. The statues’ faces were chiseled and had monstrous features, and their eyes were closed, but swiftly opened. These monster-like statues began to increase in size, or so it seemed, since they were now stretching from their crouched position into a more humanlike form, and with catlike qualities they made their way down the stones, headfirst, towards the visitors knocking at the doors.

  As they hit bottom, the woman and her guards took a step back, and the statues stood up in front of them, using their eyes to pierce straight through the visitors’ souls. The woman, who was first taken by surprise, was now irritated, and she noticed that these two statues were actually men, Davinian Gohrgos to be exact, keepers of the doors, hosts to all men of good will—but there was nothing good about these visitors.

  In Davinian tradition, there could be only two Gohrgos at a time. When one passed on, another would be elected to take its place. To become a Gohrgo was considered a high honor, so much so, that the two in unity were second only to the Servantu Alta. They were the second highest in the Davinian hierarchy, both keepers, acting as the one right hand of the High Servant. This was always the case. The two lived as one, breathed as one, and spoke as one.

  “What wicked wind do you breathe on this school?” they said in unison, guarding the doors with their bladed staffs.

  The two men reacted as if being insulted, but the woman remained calm, except that her face hardened, and her beauty began to fade.

  “I beg your pardon,” the woman said. “Is that any way to greet a lady from a far-off land?”

  “The school is not accepting any visitors, for today is a day of ceremony.”

  “And that’s precisely why I’m here,” the woman said. “I come to have an audience with the King of Bune. There is a student I have an interest in.” She tried handing the Gohrgos a scroll neatly sealed by what looked like blood, but the Gohrgos did not move an inch. “Take the scroll,” but the Gohrgos did not heed her request. “TAKE IT!” she said once more, and the crowd gasped at her anger, and the Gohrgos’ eyes flashed in contempt.

  They stepped back from the towering woman, but not because they feared her, but because they became cautious of her presence, so they gave themselves some space just in case they had to escalate the situation.

  The woman in red, noticing the Gohrgos’ reaction, calmed herself down, for she did not want to be denied entrance to the school.

  “My apologies,” she said with a smile. “It’s been a long road to this special place, and I’ve been waiting for this day for the longest time. It’s not every day that a woman gets the opportunity to watch her nephew compete for his final blade.”

  “Nephew?” they said. “You’re kin to one of our students?”

  “Enough with the inquisition!” one of the men said. “Is this how you treat guests to the school? It’s simply unbecoming of a school of this caliber to do so. We have presented a scroll marked by the king of Corco allowing us an audience with your king, which you choose not to acknowledge. A blatant dismissal of our authority is a dismissal of the king of Corco himself. You have falsely reproached us—”

  Before the man could finish his rant, the Gohrgos flickered their fingers, as if their hands were commanded to move, but one could not tell, for their movements were quicker than a spoken word, and in this second of time, they managed to swing their staffs in a complete circle, and their blades made contact with the tiniest tip of the man’s nose, which carefully nicked him, shut him up, and left behind a small prick of a wound.

  “We find your words unbecoming of nobility, and we take your concerns with a grain of salt,” they said in unison. “Give us the scroll and mind your tongue, lest you want to lose a tip of that as well.”

  The woman’s face filled with anger, but she controlled herself, since she was determined to get into the school. Again she tried handing the Gohrgos the scroll, which this time the one o
n the right took from her. He broke the seal, which made a hiss sound, and the Gohrgos hesitated.

  “Go on, please,” the woman said. The Gohrgos continued, reading the note to themselves. Their eyes grew big with uncertainty, and one said, “This can’t be.”

  The other Gohrgo turned and scowled at him, for they were made to speak in unison and never break their oneness. “Very well,” they said. “You can pass—.”

  But before the Gohrgos could finish their last word, the man with the cut on his nose began to panic. The smallest notion of blood seeped out of his nose; it was the smallest pinprick, only visible to someone if they put their eyes no farther than a half-inch from his nose. The man began to breathe in a foul manner, and anxiety overtook him. To him, the wound could have been a gaping gash that split his face in two, for that is how he began to moan in terror. “Oh no!” he said. “What have you done?!”

  The Gohrgos did not understand why the man was overreacting to a small cut on the nose, where the amount of blood loss had yet to reach a drop’s worth.

  The man’s eyes began to shake, and he screamed, “Cursed!”

  The other man quickly stepped to him, holding the guard in such a way as to muffle his sounds. “Gather yourself.”

  “Get him out of here!” the woman in red said, taking charge. “Drag him back to the carriage. I’ll deal with this matter myself.” She turned to the Gohrgos, “Open the doors, please?”

  The Gohrgos hesitated, now spooked by the weirdness of the display.

  “Please, open the—”

  And the oddest thing happened. A large dog, something like a hound, wandered into the commotion, crossing behind the woman’s leg, turning the corner only to quickly disappear.

  The woman in red caught a glimpse of this hound. Her eyes tightened, and her urgency doubled. “Please! Open the door now!”

  Finally, and due only to the scroll’s authority, the Gohrgos opened the door, letting her pass. The woman made her way in, and the gatekeepers closed the door behind her. She could not have been quicker if she was on fire.

  Only a few seconds passed before they separated and climbed up the stones to take their places back on the ledge that sloped over the great doors. There they waited and kept their stone eyes on the two men in the carriage.