Silver Sword: A Realm of Weidmoor Novel

By Katheryn Hazlett

Andre di'Corsovas isn't your typical Weidmoorish lady. She has no patience for needlework and no ear for music. Fashion and cosmetics and jewels hold little interest for her. The future countess feels more at home in the training yard, sword in hand, than gossiping in the parlour.

Following a prophecy, the Lady of Earth claims

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katheryn Hazlett
• Release date: Sep 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781838160012

Book preview

Part I

Heir

The sun shone warmly through the Great Inoah’s canopy of leaves, casting everything below in dappled green light. The Lifeblood River burbled as it ran over pebbles and fallen branches. It was just a stream here, not yet the roaring force it would become as it flowed from the northern part of the forest southward, through the Southern Marshes, until it emptied into the Uncharted Ocean beyond.

Terra, the Lady of Earth, walked leisurely along the bank, her bare toes digging into the soft soil and loam. She wore a short, knee length skirt today. The longer gowns she wore back at her home in The Hollow were easily ruined by dirt and snagging branches. A songbird’s trill floated on a breeze that tousled the Lady’s copper curls, held in check only by a slim bronze circlet around her brow. She smiled and closed her eyes, breathing deeply of the forest scents and basking in the warm kiss of the afternoon sunlight and the merry burbling of the stream.

The sound grew louder, and she opened her eyes to see a small whirlpool sprout in the middle of the water. As the whirlpool swelled and grew, she sat down on a fallen tree trunk and waited. Eventually, a silvery head emerged, followed by a long, slender body clad in shimmering blue satin that flowed down and became one with the water itself. Nerissa, the Lady of Water, stepped up onto the bank, hands outstretched in greeting, and the whirlpool shrank into nothing behind her.

Welcome, sister, Terra said with a smile as she stood and took Nerissa’s hands in her own. I was not expecting to see you here. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?

I have had a vision pertaining to you, the Lady of Water replied, and time is of the essence.

Oh?

Yes. Nerissa turned back to the stream. To the west of here, in the County of Corsovas, at the very northern reaches of the Realm of Weidmoor, a child will soon be born. The birth will be difficult for the mother, but if you save the child and teach her, she will champion your will. Nerissa gestured, and a jet of water rose from the surface of the Lifeblood. It twisted and morphed into the shape of a sword. In my vision, I saw a silver sword that will shine through the ages, wielded by your Champion.

And the name of this child? Terra asked, staring intently at the other Lady.

1

Andre! Please stop fidgeting! Karin, tugged at my hair as she plaited it. I turned to look out the window, but my maid yanked my head back to the mirror.

Why can’t I wear my hair like Leon's? I whined. He doesn’t have to have it redone a hundred times a day!

Your lord father would scold us both if he saw you wearing your hair in the Mahrian style. She tied the end of my braid with a red ribbon. I pulled it over my shoulder and undid the bow, replacing it with a sloppy knot. Karin sighed in frustration.

Bows are so girly, I said. We both turned as the door opened.

You done primping? Leon stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. His red hair was separated into a multitude of braids plaited close to his head in an intricate criss cross pattern. The creamy linen shirt he wore made a sharp contrast against his brown skin. Even though he was a Mahrian, he dressed in the Kwesaran style here in Corsovas. I stuck my tongue out at him and tossed my braid back over my shoulder. Ol' Tiergan said he’d be finishing up our swords today, Leon told me. Wanna go watch?

Yes! I exclaimed, bounding from my stool. Karin tsked as she stood and shook out her skirts. Leon and I raced down the corridor and took the spiral staircase two steps at a time. Karin shouted after us, but we were too far ahead to hear. We ran through the lower part of the household, dodging servants and laughing as they scrambled out of our way. As we burst outside into the main courtyard, we stopped short.

The three dark haired boys huddled on the ground before us looked up from their dice and fixed us with icy glares. Unlike Leon and me, these boys wore the Awyrian style of dress. Their wool tunics were each a different colour and trimmed with a different pattern to denote clan and social ranking. The oldest and biggest sneered at us.

Where you off to in such a hurry? he asked in a thick Awyrian accent.

None'a your business, Damien, Leon replied tartly. Damien's sneer turned into a snarl, and he stood, towering over us. He was three years older than Leon, four years older than me, and bigger and stronger than both of us.

My lord father will be displeased when he learns you’ve been dicing again, I said as Damien advanced on Leon. He turned to me.

Yer lord father, he said, imitating me, ain’t gonna know. Yeah? I swallowed my fear and stared him down, balling my hands into fists. Damien laughed then. Tell him, little girl! See if I care! He made as if to hit me but stopped short, laughing with the other boys as I flinched and Leon moved to protect me. One of Damien's companions said something in Awyrian, and they all laughed again as they gathered up their dice and left. Leon rested a hand on my shoulder, and I allowed myself to relax.

As we watched them go, Karin finally caught up with us. Her long, blonde hair was in disarray. Several curls had escaped from their pins and played around her shoulders. Her fair skin was flushed, both from annoyance and the effort of hurrying after us. I felt a little bad for her, but I was also glad she had not been here for the altercation with Damien. He bullied her even worse than us, since she was only a servant.

Well, Karin huffed, I feel I’ve had plenty of exercise for today. She gave us a stern look as she repinned her curls. I’m surprised you didn’t run all the way to the forge. Did something happen? Leon nudged me. I nudged him back harder. Andre? Karin folded her arms.

Damien and some of his friends were dicing, I replied sullenly. He threatened to hit me if I told Father. Karin sniffed.

Then I will tell him, she said primly, tossing her head as she turned back toward the house.

No! Leon and I cried in unison. She turned back to us and cocked an eyebrow. Karin was a pretty young woman, slim and fragile looking, but she really was not afraid of anything, it seemed, especially when it came to protecting me. I could not find a more stalwart defender in the whole garrison. But I was older now, and I wanted to protect her, too. She was like family to me. She was the only motherly figure I had ever known, though I thought of her more as an older sister, as she was too young to be the mother of an eight year old.

Come with us to the forge, I said finally. I’ll tell Father myself later. She smiled and stroked my hair.

How responsible, she said warmly. I’m proud of you. I grinned at her and took her hand. The three of us made our way to the cluster of workshops at the far end of the courtyard. We could hear the dull roar as Tiergan and his assistants stoked the forge fire and pumped the bellows to bring the flames to life.

Good morrow, M'Lords, Tiergan greeted us. He bowed low when he saw Karin was there, too. Miss Karin, you look lovely as ever. He winked at her as he straightened, earning him an amused chuckle, then gestured broadly to his forge. Well Young Masters, pull up a stool and stay back a bit. Wouldn’t want a stray spark to be kissing your fine clothes here.

Leon and I eagerly complied, perching on two of the tall wooden stools Tiergan always kept at his forge for visitors. A surprising number of people liked to come and watch our master smith work, and he loved to have an audience. Karin sat primly on her own stool, farther away but still under the shade of the canopy that kept the sun off the smiths as they worked. Tiergan pulled a long wooden crate from beneath a workbench and laid it across the anvil so Leon and I could look inside.

Nestled in a bed of straw lay two black and pitted bars of iron, each about the length of my arm. I could just tell that they were our swords, though they lacked any sort of hilt. I looked at Leon, confused, but he was staring wide eyed into the box with a broad smile spreading across his face.

Well now, what think M'Lordships? asked the old blacksmith.

They're so... I searched for the right word. Ugly. I heard a cough of admonishment from Karin behind me. I turned to look at her over my shoulder. Well they are!

I think they're wonderful, Leon breathed, reaching into the crate and carefully lifting one of the iron blades. He hefted it flat across his palms. They'll be more balanced than the old wooden practise swords we've been using. He looked over at me, grin still in place. And they'll be ours, Andre! Swords of our very own! I had to give him that. Knowing I would soon own my first sword caused my breast to swell with pride.

Sure an' you're right about the balance there, Master Leon, Tiergan said, taking the blade from his hands and hefting it himself. And Lord Andre's right as well. All ironworks are ugly to start, but they just need a little polish. Just like the warriors who wield them, you could say. Ya don' wanna watch the polishin', though, so we'll do that part later. Shall we talk hilts now, M'Lords?

Don't polish mine to a sheen, Leon said.

Why not? Tiergan and I asked him in unison.

The Mahrian navy leaves their cutlasses and sabres black, so they don't reflect light and give 'em away, he replied. Picked that up from the pirates they're always fightin'. Of course he would think of that. Leon's family owned an estate at the mouth of the Bay of Shells that included the major Mahrian port city of Cape Christeh. They see a lot of pirate activity in that area, or so Leon told me. I think if Leon were not going to inherit from his father someday, he would join the navy and pursue pirates himself.

I'll leave it black for ya then, Tiergan said. And what about yours, Lord Andre?

I want mine to shine like silver, I said immediately. He nodded and hefted the crate back to the ground, then he removed one of the blades and laid it across the anvil.

I thought I'd use a mould for the hilts, the blacksmith said, gesturing to the naked tang that protruded from the top of the blade. I've a couple to choose from. I'll be pouring 'em from brass, so it'll be light but sturdy for M'Lords. As for the grip...

He crossed to the other side of the smithy and pulled another wooden case from a cubbyhole. He returned and opened it, showing us the contents with the same flourish and pride as I have seen merchants display their wares for customers at faire time. Inside were strips of leather in various colours, as well as different types of rope. Each item was bundled and tucked carefully into neat rows inside the box.

Each bundle will wrap one handle, so pick what ya like, Tiergan said. Leon immediately plucked out a hank of thin rope. My hand lingered over first one bundle of leather, then over some of the rope like his, before I thought of what that would do to my hands and went back to the leather again. Leon sighed and handed me a bundle of leather dyed the same colour as the red roses that grow wild around the manor, sometimes even climbing up the defensive walls. It was also the same colour as the ribbon in my hair.

This one, he said, thrusting it at me. I took it and nodded to Tiergan, who held out his hand. We passed him the bundles, and he replaced the wooden box in its cubbyhole before bringing over another, heavier one, which he set on the floor next to the sword blades. After rummaging around a bit, he finally stood up, groaning and stretching his back, and set three hilt moulds onto the anvil, each with a heavy clank. Just like with the grip binding, he asked us to each choose the hilt design we liked best.

After an hour of watching Tiergan heat and pour molten brass into the moulds we chose for our swords' hilts, which mostly involved just waiting for the brass to melt, I got bored. Leon was so engrossed, though, asking Tiergan all manner of questions about his trade and swords and this and that, that I could not bear to say anything, so I just sat there trying to look interested. Karin must have noticed my fidgeting, because she suddenly stood and clapped her hands.

Time for lessons, she said brightly. Leon groaned and slumped over the anvil in front of him, but I was glad for the chance to do something more interesting, even if only marginally so. Come along now, she said, put the stools back and leave Master Tiergan to his work.

Take care, M'Lords, Tiergan said with a bow, and you too, Miss Karin.

We headed back toward the main house. As we reached the top of the stairs that run from the main hall to the second floor, we saw my lord father talking with one of his aides. He waved the man away, and the aide went scurrying off. Karin dropped a deep curtsey, and Leon made a short bow. I wrapped my arms around my father's waist. It was like hugging a tree trunk.

Out for a walk?Father asked.

We went to see Tiergan at his smithy. He's almost finished our new swords, I said with much more excitement than I felt just a few minutes before. But the idea of having my own sword was exciting again, especially since I was telling my lord father about it.

I see, he said simply. Father is a man of few words.

There was something else you wanted to tell Lord di'Corsovas, right Andre? Karin asked softly. I swallowed hard, suddenly remembering my encounter with Damien and the other Awyrian boys. I looked around to make sure they were not nearby, but they were probably with their own tutors in the south wing, where the guest apartments are. My father raised an eyebrow but waited patiently for me to speak. I shuffled my feet a bit and looked down, intent on the toe of my boot, which had gathered a fine coating of dust from the courtyard as well as some soot from Tiergan's forge.

Damien and his friends were dicing! It came out as a rush. The soot smudge on my boot showed no reaction, and I did not look up to see my father's. The displeasure in his silence, though, was palpable. Time and again, he had forbidden their dice games. Gambling of any sort in my lord father's household was a punishable offence. Father was of the firm belief that gambling was the ruin of men, and here, he strove to raise upright and strong young lords who would one day rule their own estates. The Count of Corsovas's success in such efforts attracted the attention of families throughout the Realm of Weidmoor, as well as in the neighbouring Nation of Mahria and Territory of Awyria. They sent their young boys here to become men, and my lord father would not tolerate men base enough to stoop to gambling, even just for entertainment.

What did you tell them? he asked me finally in a low voice.

That I would tell you, I replied just as quietly. He grunted, though I was unsure whether he approved or not. But at least I had followed through on my word to tell him. That was something, right? Damien was so much bigger than me, and the one thing Father hated more than gambling was infighting, so preventing a confrontation was the right thing to do, wasn't it?

We stood there for a long time, and when I finally looked up, I saw that he was regarding me silently, without expression. I hoped one day I could be as commanding and hard to read as my lord father. He could cow even the most confident of men with just a look, and I was only an eight year old child. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Karin was still in her curtsey—How could she hold it for that long?—and Leon was glaring down the hall that lead to the south wing.

Take an order to the Awyrians for me, my father said finally. It was so sudden that it startled all of us, and Karin nearly toppled out of her curtsey.

An order, Father? I asked.

Inform them that this is their final warning on gambling, and if you ever catch them again I grant you the authority to send them home, for that is what I would do. He regarded me a moment longer then looked to Karin. I think Andre should have her lessons with the Awyrians today so she can learn some of their history and geography. My jaw dropped. Take lessons with Damien? The thought on its own was unpleasant, but the fact that I was also to give him Father's order made the idea downright dreadful. Karin nodded obediently.

Why do I— I started to complain, but he raised a hand to silence me.

Andre, sometimes you must deal with people you do not like, he replied coolly. And to make my point abundantly clear, Leon will have lessons with only his own tutor today, instead of the two of you sharing as you usually do. I made to argue, but he continued to talk over me. I cannot teach you this lesson early enough. While it is good to have strong and capable friends to stand up for you, and to stand with you, you absolutely must be prepared to rely on yourself should the situation require it. While you are learning about Awyria, you will also be learning politics. Awyria's border is not far away. Corsovas serves as the Realm's main stronghold on that border. You need to know how to effectively deal with the Awyrians, whether they are your allies or your foes. I nodded, defeated. At least he wasn't asking me to make friends with them.

Karin will stay with me, though, right? I asked.

Of course. With that, he strode down the stairs. Karin curtseyed again as he passed.

Good luck, Leon said, pulling me into a tight, one armed hug. Then he left, too. His tutor was going to teach him about winds from atop the south tower. How I envied him and wished this could have waited at least another day so I could join them. While he would be out in the open air, I would be trapped indoors with four Awyrian boys who all detested me.

2

The Awyrian tutor fell silent as Damien’s manservant ushered us into the room. He and his four students looked at us with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

Please excuse our interruption, Karin said, dipping a curtsy. Lord di’Corsovas requests that the lessons be taught in Weidmoorish today, so that Lord Andre may join you. The tutor nodded and began writing translations under the words on the slate behind him.

We’re learnin’ laws and punishments today. Those kinda things get violent, not fit for a girl, Damien sneered, dragging out the word girl as if I would miss it. I bristled. So what if I was a girl? I would inherit Corsovas anyway, and Damien had no say in that.

The Awyrians inherit only through the male line, but here in Weidmoor inheritance is up to the lord or lady and what they deem most appropriate for their lands. The reigning monarch of the Realm of Weidmoor has always been a queen, a woman, since the Realm’s founding, so many noble families at least allow the eldest child to inherit, no matter their sex, though some of them still hold to long traditions of men only from before the Realm was founded.

My family was one of the former, and therefore I would eventually be Countess of Corsovas, after my lord father deemed me ready and retired from his duties.

My hands balled into fists. I was as smart and strong as any boy my age, even some of the older ones, and I was determined not to let Damien intimidate me. My lord father had set me a challenge, and I would rise to it.

What is the punishment for defying the rules of your host’s household by, let’s say, gambling? I asked the tutor over Damien’s shoulder. Damien’s eyebrows rose, and the other boys ooohed. The tutor stopped writing but said nothing and only briefly glanced my way, then at Damien, before turning back to the board and staring at it in silence. Damien stood, towering over me, and I took a step backward.

Got any guesses, there, smart little girl? he hissed. I thought for a moment, then I had my answer.

Perhaps not for Awyria, I replied, but I know the punishment here. One of the other boys snorted a laugh, but Damien glared him into obedient silence. There is no precedent for my lord father’s orders being disobeyed so blatantly and so often. I took a deep breath. But the next time I catch you, my lord father has given me the authority to send you home. Being sent home by the ‘little girl’ you like to taunt would be a shameful way to go.

Damien took a step toward me, but I held my ground, staring into his furious brown eyes in a way I hoped imitated my lord father. Finally, with a huff, he turned and flopped back onto his cushion on the floor.

We’ll just have to not get caught, he said with a sly grin. Then he said something in Awyrian which caused the other boys to erupt into laughter. I made a mental note to ask that the Awyrian language be added to my normal curriculum. Surely I should learn the language of our neighbours, especially if I expected to be insulted in it.

Two days later, one of Tiergan’s assistants found me in the training yard. The other boys gathered round to watch as I unwrapped the cloth bundle the young man carried. I gave a small cry of glee as my sword glinted in the early summer sunlight. No longer the ugly, pitted iron bar I had seen in the blacksmith’s forge, the blade gleamed like silver, just as I asked, casting reflections when I turned it this way and that. The bronze hilt balanced it perfectly, even in my still inexperienced grip, and the supple crimson leather moulded itself easily to my hand.

I gave the weapon a few slow test swings, earning ooohs and aaaahs from the boys around me. The assistant was just helping me fasten the sword belt and scabbard around my waist when Damien strode over, his three companions arrayed behind him.

It’s made of metal! one of them sneered.

What’re you doin’ with a man’s weapon, little girl? Damien demanded. He kept a straight face, but I saw humour dance in his deep brown eyes. Humour at my expense.

Tiergan, our smith, made it for me, I replied.

Did he now? That explains the shoddy workmanship. The assistant and the other boys gathered around me moved back to give us some space. I felt my hand tighten around the leather grip. You sure you’re ready for a real sword? Damien asked me.

Sir Connall says I am.

Let’s find out then! He drew his own, Awyrian made practise sword. Though it was also metal and polished to a shine like mine was, there was something sinister about it. Perhaps it was the way in which the metal seemed to shift with colours and patterns. All Awyrian blades were like that, and it was well known they could outlast other swords in sharpness. In skilful hands, it was said they could even break blades forged by Weidmoor’s smiths.

I won’t fight you, I said firmly, sheathing my sword and tilting up my chin in an effort to look authoritative. I maintained my grip on the hilt, though, just in case.

What’s wrong? he mocked, Too afraid without yer little Mahrian bodyguard and yer nurseymaid? Karin never attended me in the training yard. Even the thought of practise fighting horrified her, let alone the thought of training for real battle. Leon had stayed up late the previous night with his tutor, learning about astronomy, and was sleeping in. I glanced behind Damien at his companions.

What about you? I asked. I was proud of how calm I sounded. Inside, my heart pounded against my rib cage, and my mind was struggling to think of a way out of this, a way to avoid fighting this much bigger opponent I knew I was not prepared for. Damien looked behind him. The other three Awyrian boys stood at his shoulders with eager grins, gripping the handles of their own blades. He barked something at them, and they dropped their hands and stepped back sheepishly.

They’re dutiful at least, he sighed. Now, are we gonna fight? Or are you gonna talk yer way around it like a proper little lady?

Something in me snapped, like a blow to the face with the flat of his blade, though that remained casually brandished at his side. I felt the heat of my anger and embarrassment surge up from my belly and into my arm as it drew my sword. I had proven yesterday at lessons that I was Damien’s match in learning. That was only a tiny victory, though, since he put little stock in using his brain. Fighting was what he lived for, and in drawing my sword, I had played right into his hands. But though he started this fight, goading me to join him, I was determined to finish it. Damien laughed as I levelled my blade before me in a defensive stance.

Well, come on then, he taunted, waving lazily with his sword. I held my ground. Sir Connall’s lessons in swordsmanship ran through my mind as I stood there with my naked blade.

Do not draw your weapon unless you are prepared to fight the opponent before you.

Damien had caused me to forget that important lesson, but there were others I could use to beat him.

When fighting defensively, hold your ground. Don’t needlessly exert yourself.

We stared at each other for a long time. Damien realised I would not be goaded further, so he took his own stance then immediately lunged at me. I sidestepped and swatted his blade away with the flat of mine. The ring of steel echoed through the training yard, and the boys around us began to cheer for one or the other of us. I was surprised to note that some of the other boys from Weidmoor, especially several older ones from the southern province of Dureia, were actually cheering for Damien.

A horizontal slash flashed toward my middle, and I leapt back just in time. I reminded myself not to get distracted.

The only opponent you should focus on is the one in front of you, the one actively attacking you.

I could deal with the traitorous spectators later. We danced around, Damien attacking while I dodged or defended.

Come on! he roared as he brought his blade crashing down at my head. I brought my own up to block and felt the impact vibrate along my arm. My left hand came up to brace the flat of the blade, and I shifted to the side, deflecting his