Spirit Sword

By Sam Ford

Where does myth end and truth begin?

A boy and his… Sword?

Thirteen year old Cale Tannor has always dreamed of finding adventure. When a Spirit Sword, the last of an ancient race of sentient weapons, falls into his hands, adventure finds him. Now infernal hordes are stirring in the dark, and this adventure may be more than Cal

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Ford
• Release date: Sep 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781617044021

Sam Ford

Inspiring Novelist & Furtive WordsmithNovelist, author and historian, Sam Ford crafts thrilling adventures for all ages. Honing a voice over two decades, he brings stories that resonate as cultural touchstones.World traveler and incorrigible geek, Sam Ford lives in Houston Texas.

Book preview

Chapter I

The Pig Boy

The morning was a bright, sunny day in late summer. Cale had wanted to see the village before it roused itself, but that seemed a tall order. The sun had already risen above the Fog Hills, and people were surely already outside working.

The village of Urt, nestled beneath the Fire Mountains of Nubia to the north, lay quiet and still. Not once could anyone recall a single exciting thing happening there. The wheat and maize were sewn in the spring before the rains, and harvested in the fall when they were chest-high and golden. There was a blacksmith, a butcher, a baker, and a mead hall. The children ran through the woods barefoot, grew tall, got married, had children of their own, and died. Occasionally a traveling merchant would visit and make the rounds through the valley, but little beyond that happened in the village of Urt. It was a frightfully dull place.

Cale Tannor longed to see it more than anything in the world.

Once a month, their father sent his eldest children into town to trade for supplies. This month Cale had been allowed to travel with them halfway. He would finally have a chance to lay eyes on the village after so long. Though small for thirteen, he did not let fatigue or his frail body stop his excitement or dreams.

He raced his sister Tully up the hill. Come on, we're going to miss it!

Yeah, yeah, Aaron, the oldest, answered back. Always in a rush with nowhere to go.

The Tannor family farm was less of a farm and more of a scar upon the earth, every crop planted destined to fail. Cheap, rocky soil ensured the earth was not fit for growing. Their father instead had chosen to raise one of the gods' most ungrateful animals; hogs. Raising pigs was not an entirely undignified profession and was only the second-worst job in the world, if one counted latrine cleaning amongst the list. Rendering the meat and selling the tallow turned only a tiny profit. However, it ensured the family would not starve to death come winter. If only the rest of the village appreciated their work, as well.

Look! Cale exclaimed, cresting the ridge. There it is!

Laid out before them, Urt consisted of perhaps a dozen wooden structures, with only the small mountain shrine formed from stone. Another two dozen farmhouses spread across the valley. The Tsarogota River twisted between farms before rounding a bend and leaving the valley to the south.

And in all that space, there were precisely three books. Cale had read them all multiple times. Occasionally, a fur trapper would come into town selling supplies, and another book would pass hands. Cale always made sure to read it before it left town.

I told you you'd see it one day. Tully smiled, touching his shoulder.

Cale was so excited he tried to take in everything at once. Tully stood beside him, practically bouncing as well. A year older and a head taller, they had the same face and chestnut brown hair. Out of all their siblings, the pair looked the most like their mother.

Their older siblings slowly trudged their way up the path, Aaron and Byron pulling the cart loaded half full of tallow. Regina helped push from behind, mindful not to step on stones or thistles with her bare feet.

Look at him, Byron mocked, his pudgy face red with sweat pouring into his eyes. He thinks he gets to go.

I'm the only one who hasn't been. Cale tried not to whine, but the exertion of the climb had worn him out more than he'd expected.

I've only been once. Tully blushed shyly.

He tried to run away once, but he was too scared to leave home. Too scared to leave his mamma. Byron leaned in close. Cale turned red, but Tully lightly squeezed his hand.

You can see the old tannery, Aaron said, then trailed off.

The building was dark brown and covered in lichen. Even from this distance, there was no mistaking the aged weathering and rot that had set in. Half the roof of the beamhouse had collapsed, and the older tanning pools had long since dried up, or the river reclaimed them.

Farther down the river, across from the dilapidated dwelling, stood a new tannery, lively with action. Tanners and their apprentices scurried about like ants. Having doubled both the lime pools and the footprint of the property, the new tannery breathed life into the old business.

Did we truly used to live there? asked Cale.

"Well, you never did, runt." Byron pushed his brother, causing him to stumble. Cale pushed back, but Byron didn't even budge.

Aaron and I did, Regina put in. When we were very little. Before Father... lost it.

You mean it was stolen, Aaron muttered under his breath.

Since generations before Cale had been born, his family had owned and operated a tannery in the village. However, with the seasonal nature of the sleepy mountains, and business being what it was, their father had developed a penchant for whoring, drinking, and dicing.

Then, at the start of winter almost two decades prior, the Simmons family had arrived in town. While strangers were rarely welcome in tiny villages like Urt, the strangers' hospitality and cheerfulness brought an openness and warmth to all the villagers  all save the Tannor patriarch. A drunken insult, a foolish wager, and an unlucky roll of the die later, the Tannors and their two young children were cast out into the harsh beginnings of winter.

Cale did not truly understand what the problem was. Though their father always threw a mighty tantrum when the Simmons came to call, they had never been anything but kind to Cale. Once they even let him borrow the book they owned. Perhaps everyone else was being too hard on them.

Take a good look, and then head back. We've got to get this into town before nightfall, Aaron urged.

Regina craned her neck to observe the sun's position. It's past noon. Let's take a break.

But  

We can eat the lunch mother packed for us. It's all downhill from here, so we will make good time.

Regina had a face bearing sharp features that brooked no argument. About the only thing she shared with Cale and Tully were their green eyes. Beyond that, she was Aaron's twin in every way. Even their father sometimes forgot who was older.

Lounging in the soft alpine grass, Cale reclined his head in Tully's lap while Aaron and Byron fought over the last of the salt pork. Tully offered him one of her slices, but he simply shook his head. With a diet consisting of little more than salt pork, the smell of it tended to turn his stomach more often than not. Such was the case of the barley bread and bone marrow pudding for breakfast that morning  it still sat heavy on his gut.

Instead, he enjoyed the early afternoon sunlight in the late summer. Chewing on a blade of grass to calm his stomach and aching legs, Cale lazily closed his eyes and slowly drifted off with his hat across his eyes.

It was a big floppy straw hat, easy to make, and even easier to use. It kept the sun and rain off Cale's head well enough, but he was never allowed anywhere without it. That was the problem. As the youngest child, their mother worried so, fearful he might become sunburnt or catch a cold.

Tis a good day. Tully pulled the hat from Cale's head, lightly brushing his hair through her fingers. Shall we play a game?

We don't have time for games, Aaron groused.

Yeah, Byron muttered around the pork in his mouth. We have work to do.

How about a story? Regina offered.

Storytelling was an activity the children often partook of together. Tully clapped her hands in delight, but Cale could picture Aaron's eyes rolling.

Once upon a time... Tully began with a smile.

Aaron continued. There was a great man who owned a strong and thriving business. One day it was stolen from him.

By his own foolish choices. Regina sat on the cart as Aaron scowled at her.

And he had five children. Cale put in.

Four. Byron interrupted, laughing. The fifth was a pig boy!

Dour, Cale remained silent while his brothers laughed at him. Even Regina smiled lightly while trying to kick Byron. Only Tully didn't react. She kept gently brushing his hair, bleeding him of his worries.

And what is wrong with being a pig boy? For most legends begin with the unlikeliest of heroes. Tully spoke. Her beautiful, kind voice silenced them all. The brook continued to babble, and the wind blew the scattered shrubs hither and to, but even so, Cale thought the world itself fell silent to listen to his sister. This pig boy, with a kind heart and a sharp wit, outshone all his brothers and sisters. Surely he was destined for grand adventures.

His father, Aaron continued, narrowing his eyes on Tully, Fearing the boy might grow an ego, sent him away into the cold world, where none of his siblings could follow. There he would be alone.

Completely alone, said Byron with a grin.

But he wasn't alone. Not truly. Tully stared her brothers down. He had always longed to see the world, and this was just the first step. And adventures are nothing without companions. As long as one has stories, they are never alone.

What's so great about stories? Byron asked Aaron, who only shook his head. Aaron could barely write his name. Byron couldn't even manage that.

Stories are everything. For without stories, how would we find our way forward? Tully smiled sweetly. We might lose our place in the world, and without them be left in darkness.

Finding your way is easy, Tully. You just look where you're going, and then move. Aaron was growing angry.

Tully reprimanded their oldest brother with the softest smile. Some things you see with your eyes. Others, with your heart.

Some people think the gods are with us when we read, Regina offered.

I doubt the gods have any power outside the mountains, huffed Aaron.

What is beyond the valley? Byron asked. It was unlike Byron to be so inquisitive.

More mountains, likely as not. Aaron answered knowingly.

Cale grew excited. This was something he knew about. I read there's another land beyond the Fire Mountains, a land kissed by the sun, with golden beaches and seas as sweet as honeyed wine. They have lizards as big as houses. And the men have skin as dark as soot, and wear practically nothing. Nor do their women. They don't know what snow is. They wear golden jewelry and carry red swords they worship as their god.

Sounds like the Red Witches. Aaron spat over his shoulder. Byron did so as well.

I thought all the Imperial Knights were gone? Byron glanced around nervously, as if one of the sword-wielding witches might crawl out from the underbrush looking to skewer his stout belly.

I guess some of them survived, Regina answered in a quiet tone.

No. They didn't. Aaron stood, glaring angrily at Cale. His book was wrong. Paper lies. It lies about dead witches, and it lies about deed ownership. The only thing you can trust is another man's word. Your word is your bond. Understand?

Cale and Tully both nodded slowly. Cale had been feeling better, but facing down his eldest brother sent him white as linen. Aaron stared at them for a moment, then walked to the cart.

We're heading down now. You two should go back. We should return after dark or on the morrow.

Regina leapt off the cart as it lurched forward. Aaron and Byron crested the ridge and were already starting down the other side. Standing with her hands clasped behind her back, her curly black shoulder-length hair fluttered round her face as she smiled sadly. Waving to her youngest siblings, she turned, following after their brothers.

You ready to go? asked Tully.

Cale sighed deeply.

I know, but I have mending to tend to, and you have to mind the hogs.

Cale crawled to his feet before offering his sister his hand. She took it gratefully, offering a little curtsy. Cale bowed slightly, and she curtsied again. Both of them giggled at the silliness of it.

Come. Tully offered her hand in turn.

Did you mean what you said earlier? In the story?

Of course. Books are wonderful adventures and true friends for life.

No. Cale stopped walking, letting a little distance form between them. About me being destined for greatness?

Tully looked away, a finger to her lips, a gust of wind stealing her thoughts as well as her words. She took a moment to compose herself. I think, perhaps, in your own way, that you may be great, yes.

That doesn't sound like demon slaying to me.

Mother says there are many kinds of demons and many kinds of bravery. Father has his own kind as well, I believe. After a fashion.

But I don't want to be like Father  that's Aaron. I want to go on adventures and save princesses and see the world, Cale whined.

Tully thought for a moment before walking over and embracing her little brother. Lifting his hat, she looked him in the eyes. Fine. We'll go together, you and I.

You mean it?

Yes. Someday, we will leave this hill and valley behind and strike off on our own adventure. Sound good? Tully smiled.

Yes. Cale smiled in return, taking her hand in his once more.

Somehow, when he returned home to the pigs, things didn't seem quite so bad. Maybe pig farming wasn't the second-worst job in the world. Perhaps it was only the third.

Chapter II

The supper, like the conversation surrounding the table, was sparse. It was a humble meal consisting of pork and beans, with a single loaf of cornbread to share amongst seven people. Aaron, Regina, and Byron had returned that evening, excited with news from the town. Byron would not stop pestering Cale with tales of his excursion, teasing him about being left behind.

Meanwhile, Cale was exhausted from tending the pigs all day, a job he was not typically required to share with his father. Blistered, sore, and too tired to move, he picked at his food with little enthusiasm. Their father, who had spent his day plowing the rocky soil and cursing another failed harvest, was already at his cups, listening sourly to his children prattle on.

I negotiated the best price I could for the tallow, Pa. Aaron put in, eager for any measure of approval. Their father only grunted. Also, I met Jenny at the store.

Jenny was their cousin who worked at the general store. Cale had never met her. Their fathers had arranged a marriage between her and Aaron in one of Pa's gambits to get back into town. She was Byron's age, and friendly enough, Cale had heard. The only problem was, he knew Aaron was sweet on the towheaded girl at the bakery, and Regina said Jenny was in love with a woodcutter. Not that either of them had any say in the matter whatsoever. Young men and women alike were bound by the wishes of their parents.

The supplies in town are running a bit low, Regina quietly told their mother.

Trouble in town?

They said there's going to be a war! Byron laughed. Cale and Tully both perked up at this.

They did not. Don't be telling fibs. Regina smacked her brother. The folks at the store said there's to be trouble, but they didn't say anything about a war.

Oh my. Should we be worried? asked their mother. Is it the Plains People?

Could be. But more likely than not it's just a border skirmish. Aaron tried to soothe her nervous disposition. But just to be safe, they did call in a Ranger.

A Ranger? Oh, my! Their mother flushed.

I don't think it can be Indians, Cale offered meekly. He read that the nomadic tribes usually stayed near the Indus River, and rarely crossed the mountains. Indian raids were a common fear for villagers, but a rare thing in reality. We're kinda far for them. Maybe they're just regular bandits?

Shut up, runt. What do you know? You weren't there, Aaron jeered.

Yeah, Byron joined in, punching Cale in the shoulder. Hard. Cale rubbed his arm and tried desperately not to let his brother see the tears in his eyes.

The people in that town are damned liars. Their father spoke, his voice like the rumbling of a mountain. Those people can all rot for what they did to us. Not that it'll matter, they're nothing but liars. There'll be no trouble. There'll be no war. I don't want you going into town anymore, boys.

The table was deathly silent. Without the town, they would waste away and perish. This side of the mountain had precious little growing pasture. Without trading pork in town, the family would have no income and slowly starve.

Pa, Aaron spoke slowly. If we don't go into town  

We don't need them! Their father screamed, slamming his fists on the table, sloshing wine everywhere.

Go get ready for bed, children, their mother ordered. They all stood up from the table.

Cale. You did a man's work today. You sleep with your brothers from now on, their father ordered.

"What?" Cale, Tully, and Byron exclaimed at the same time.

This isn't fair, Byron groused.

Cale belongs with us, Tully interceded. Please.

I don't want to, Cale put in shyly.

Their mother looked on helplessly. Your father and I have been talking, sweetie. You're thirteen now. It is time for you to move in with your brothers.

But  

I didn't raise you to be a milksop, roared their father. You're a man now. Start acting like it!

Cale and Tully shirked back, fearful of their father's wrath. He did not suffer weakness well, and he considered Cale the weakest of all his children. Apparently, working with him today had set the man on a rampage where Cale was concerned.

Cale had always slept with his sisters, ever since he was a baby. He was the smallest, so sharing their bed made the most sense. And his brothers rose earlier than Cale did, a fact they both resented. To come out with such a demand so suddenly was shocking, and given their father's drunken demeanor, he left little room for argument.

Leaving the dinner table, Cale overheard his parents whispering. Useless. Everyone in this family is useless.

I know, dear.

I have half a mind to feed that boy to the hogs.

Please, dear, it will be fine. His brothers will take care of him. You'll see.

Byron is almost as useless as Cale. And Aaron has too much lip. I've seen the way he looks at me, backtalks to me, resents me. He gets that from you.

Yes, dear. I'm sorry, dear.

Cale felt his throat tighten with anger. It went on like this every night, his mother kowtowing to every insult his father threw at her. She never fought back, nor did Aaron or any of his other siblings. Cale could only stand by and helplessly try to block it out.

Cale walked down the hall, and Byron made sure to bump into him. You'll never sleep in our room, runt. You can sleep with the pigs.

Later, Cale gathered his belongings from his room. He had shared the room with his sisters for thirteen years. He wanted to cry, but he could not tell if from anger or sadness. Either way, he staved off the tears. Regina might become cross with him. Besides, he needed to be strong for Tully. She was already a mess enough on her own.

It's alright, Cale. We'll sneak you back in later, Tully reassured him, openly sobbing.

We will do no such thing, Regina stated. We're not crossing Pa. He's got his own ideas about the world, and I am not going to stand against him for one.

But Cale belongs with us!

"Tully, he's our brother, not a dog. He can sleep with the boys. He's been thirteen for a while now, nearly a man."

It's okay, Tully. Cale put on a brave face for her sake, though he was quaking inside. I'll be fine.

No, it's not fine!

We've all got to grow up sometime, Regina said.

It was not fine, though. Not really. True to his word, Byron would not let Cale sleep in the boy's bed. They would not even let him in their room. Their mother and father seemed resolute in their decision  or at least, their mother wasn't willing to cross Father.

So that left one option.

Cale shivered on the hay, pulling the blanket closer. He had never slept away from the warmth of home before. He'd read about camping, but his mother had never let him spend the night outside the house. It was a new experience, and thus far, he didn't care for it. The hay was rough and scratchy, and the smell of wet pig droppings was nearly unbearable. The pigs kept waking him up. He tried to snuggle closer to them, but they just walked away.

Even the pigs didn't want him.

The barn was little more than a lean-to, designed to keep the rain off at best. With no real walls, it offered little protection from the wind and weather. While not unseasonably cold, the night air still sent a chill through him. Cale longed for his bed, his room, and his sisters. He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he afforded himself a sniffle, just this once.

The world appeared to be changing, and people didn't react to him the same way they used to. His father was harder on him, Byron was meaner, and their mother was less protective. Only Tully's disposition toward him remained unchanged. Cale knew people had to grow up at some point, but he had never thought about what that meant when it came to him. His siblings had been helping around the house for years. Aaron and Byron handled the bulk of the heavy chores, coming in late at night completely exhausted. Cale had often been prevented from physical exertion by his mother, citing his weak nature. But Cale did things as well, housework and cooking and the like. He could also read. If only others found that particular skill to be useful.

There was a sound. Something cracked in the night.

Cale sank lower, hiding beneath his blanket. It was almost certainly a person. Or a small bear.

Cale hoped it was a person.

A branch snapped.

Nope, it had to be a bear. A big bear.

Cale? a voice called out.

Aaron? Cale answered, confused. His brother peeked his head over the half wall of the stable. What are you doing out here?

I just came to see if you needed anything. Are you alright?

Yeah, I'm fine. Cale wiped his eyes. He desperately didn't want his brother to see his tear-stained cheeks. Just peachy.

Rough night, huh?

I just don't understand why everyone hates me.

People don't hate you, Cale. Aaron hopped on the fence, staring down at him.

Yes, they do. You do. Byron does.

Byron is Byron. He doesn't always deal with stuff the right way. And I don't hate you. You're an obnoxious, annoying know-it-all, but you're still my little brother.

Then why is everyone so mean?

"Everyone has their own problems. It's part of growing up. We're