Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [54]
“It is a beautiful day,” Lea said, throwing out her hands and whirling about in a little dance that took her to the edge of the stream. She jumped its narrow expanse—her skirts flying up to show off the red leather boots she wore—and clapped her hands from the opposite side. “Come!”
Smiling a little, he followed where she beckoned, climbing up the opposite bank with his breath streaming white about his face.
“Where are we going?” he called after her. “I don’t want to get too far from ...”
His voice died away as he reached the top of the bank and found himself looking at a herd of nordeer. The animals were pale and stately, gathered just at the edge of the clearing.
They peered back at him, their long, narrow faces solemn as they flicked long ears and chewed their cud. There were perhaps a dozen of the animals, a tiny herd containing what looked like an even mixture of does and bucks. The latter carried tall, racklike antlers with a graceful air of nobility. It was strange that all the nordeer were of similar size, and each rack of antlers showed an identical number of points. Caelan had never before seen a herd like this. Usually they migrated in vast numbers, bunching protectively around the old, weak, and young ones.
As he stared in wonder, some of them dropped their heads and pawed the snow for grazing. Caelan laughed aloud, and their heads snapped back up to look at him. They were alert, poised as though to leap away, and yet they seemed remarkably unafraid.
Lea was watching Caelan closely. When he smiled, she did too. “Are they not beautiful?” she asked.
“Magnificent,” he said, thrilled by the sight of them. Glimpses of wild nordeer this far south were rare.
“They came for you,” Lea said.
His gaze swung away from the animals, and he frowned at her. “What?”
She pointed, and he turned to see two shaggy mountain ponies saddled and tied in readiness.
Caelan did not understand, but he did not want to. He moved back a step. “No.”
“It is time you learned the truth,” Lea said.
“I can’t leave Elandra alone here.”
“She won’t be alone. The spirits guard her.”
Caelan scowled stubbornly, but Lea did not argue further. Instead, she walked over to the nearest pony and untied a long, narrow bundle wrapped in bright cloth. Bringing it back with her, she held it out to Caelan.
He made no move to take it.
“This is a gift,” Lea said. “Look at it and you will understand.”
His frown deepened, but he took the object and stripped away the wrapping. He held a sword sheathed in a scabbard of beautifully stamped leather. The hilt was wrapped in gold wire; the guard was carved with strange symbols that seemed to dance when he looked at them too long. A large square emerald winked from the end of the hilt. Despite his suspicions, he could not resist the sword.
His hand closed around the hilt, and it seemed to arch itself into his palm as though alive. Startled, he tightened his grip and found himself pulling off the scabbard with a swiftness that made the blade sing quietly.
Its length flashed in the sunshine like white fire. When he swung it, the blade moved true. It was perfectly balanced, a thing of joy in his hand. He had never held such a sword, had never felt so totally attuned to a weapon. It was virgin steel, not yet bloodied in combat. The edge was honed to razor sharpness, the metal satiny smooth and lacking any nicks or blemishes. He knew instinctively that he would be the first warrior to fight with it. Its blade would sing with the strength of his arm, and no one else’s.
It sang to him already, a low hum that seemed to vibrate in his very bones. “I am Exoner,” it told him. “I am true.”
Looking up in wonder, he found Lea watching him with something like hope in her face. “This was made especially for me?” he asked, astonished.
“Yes, Caelan. It was made for you.”
He ran his finger down the center of the blade, admiring it anew. “Choven steel,” he said aloud, then frowned.
Lea was nodding. “You have never held such a weapon before,