Eltava: A Sword for All Ages

By Nyki Blatchley

A swordswoman with a love of wandering, Eltava lives a nomadic life in a world of island kingdoms and mainland empires, sometimes on her own, sometimes with her immortal companion, known as the Traveller. These eleven stories chronicle her life and adventures from an adventure-obsessed 14-year-old to an 84-year-old who still has a move or two up

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing
• Release date: Aug 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781619506602

Nyki Blatchley

Nyki Blatchley is a British author, poet and copywriter who lives just outside London. Alongside a varied career that's involved selling books to royalty, care for disabled people and posing for artists, he's had about seventy stories published by, among others, Penumbra, Daily Science Fiction and The Thirteenth Fontana Book of Great Horror Stories. His novel At An Uncertain Hour was published by StoneGarden, and he's had novellas out from Musa Publishing and Fox & Raven.Nyki is an administrator for the online fantasy writers' group Fantasy-writers.org. He's also had numerous poems published and has performed poetry and music at various venues around London. This included frequent appearances at the legendary coffee-house Bunjies, which in the 60s hosted artists such as Bob Dylan, Paul Simon and David Bowie.

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Contents

Copyright Page

Previous Publishing Info

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

About the Author

Eltava: A Sword for All Ages

by

Nyki Blatchley

All rights reserved

Copyright © March 11, 2021, Nyki Blatchley

Cover Art Copyright © 2021, Charlotte Holley

Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

Lockhart, TX

www.gypsyshadow.com

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

ISBN: 978-1-61950-660-2

Published in the United States of America

First eBook Edition: May 31, 2021

Eltava—A Sword for All Ages

Previous Publication Information

Witch—first published in Aoife's Kiss © 2012

Ancestral Voices—first published in nanobison © 2007

The Singer and the Song—first published in Aoife's Kiss © 2007

Just Deserts—first published in Quantum Muse © 2007

The Golden Serpent—first published in Icarus © 2011

Heirloom—first published in Afterburn SF © 2007

The Eternal Sorceress—first published in Shelter of Daylight © 2011

The Crystal of the Spheres, The Magic of the Valley, Storm-Blown & Out of a Calm Ocean—first published here © 2021

Witch, Age 14

Eltava wanted to run down the broad, crowded street. Word had just reached her that Searcher had been sighted rounding the headland, which meant the Traveller was returning to Gar’rash. The sooner she reached the docks, the sooner she’d be reunited with the man she’d adored for all her fourteen years.

She had her dignity to think of, though. After all, she wasn’t a child anymore. The boy’s tunic, stuck with sweat against her developing body, earned her enough glares from the more stolid citizens she passed, as did the sword and dagger slung from her belt. A respectable young lady was supposed to wear a modest gown that revealed as little as possible.

Eltava cared little what boring old people thought, but her behaviour could reflect badly on her father’s business. She forced herself to keep to a quick walk, only occasionally lapsing into a half-skip, half-run for a step or two as she threaded through the crowds.

In a hurry for something, Miss Eltava?

She turned at the voice behind her to see a man in the livery of the city watch smiling at her. She was used to people recognising her: partly for her status as a prosperous merchant’s daughter, but more for her unusual looks. In a country of tall, tawny-skinned people, like her mother, she’d inherited her father’s ochre complexion and slanted features.

She did know this man, though. He was sometimes at the fields where she practiced her swordplay, and he’d sparred with her once or twice. As he was youngish and tolerably good looking, she’d made a few desultory attempts to flirt with him. He’d smiled and been polite but hadn’t responded as she’d hoped. It didn’t really matter, though.

I’m going to the docks, she explained, catching at her breath and wiping sweat from her face. A… a friend of my father’s has just put in.

Ah. The watchman nodded, his face turning grave as he leant on his staff. That would be the Traveller and his… magical ship, I reckon.

There’s nothing wrong with magic, Eltava protested.

The man smiled again, though he seemed less easy than before. Oh, I’ve only heard good of him, make no mistake, but not all magic is harmless. In fact, we’ve problems at the moment with the wrong kind of magic. Heard of As’shias?

Of course. As’shias was a criminal who’d been arrested a month before. Eltava had heard all about the arrest, but no one would tell her what the woman had done. What’s that to do with magic?

That’s because she’s a witch, you see, and she uses evil magic. A young lady like you wouldn’t want to know what she’s done, but believe me, she’s dangerous.

Well… maybe. Eltava examined his face, and he smiled at her a little nervously. Why wouldn’t they want people to know what this woman had done—or what she was supposed to have done, at least? But she’s not dangerous in prison.

That’s the thing. He stroked his sparse beard. She escaped this afternoon—probably used her magic to do it. We’ll be searching for her till she’s caught. So you be careful, Miss Eltava. Until then, nowhere in Gar’rash is safe.

I can look after myself. Eltava laid her hand on her sword-hilt. Anyway, as soon as I get to the docks, I’ll be with the Traveller. He can protect me from anyone.

The watchman’s expression was doubtful, but he nodded. I dare say. He’s a strange one, with his magic and never aging, but I never heard no harm from him. Take care, miss.

Eltava wanted to bid him goodbye properly, as befitted two adults parting company, but she couldn’t remember his name. It didn’t really matter, though. With a polite nod, Eltava walked on, concentrating more than ever on walking sedately, in spite of her urge to hurry. Her mind was instantly caught up again with anticipation of seeing the Traveller. He’d been her friend for as long as she remembered, never either condescending or trying to treat her as something she wasn’t, but accepting her on her own terms. Still, how could such a wise man not have realised yet that it was their destiny to be lifelong lovers? Maybe she could convince him this time.

It was taking so long to get there. Why did her father, a merchant who relied so much on his ships, choose to live as far as possible from the docks? Well, the smell probably had something to do with it, but still…

The Street of the Leatherworkers was as packed as always, and it looked as if a cart had lost a wheel up ahead. Two men were having a blazing row while the oxen stamped and snorted in the stifling afternoon heat, and people edged past. Perhaps Golden Street would be quicker, if only she could get there.

Looking around, Eltava found what she needed: a narrow alleyway between two leather shops whose grubby stone walls rose three storeys. She’d never been that way, but surely it would take her where she needed.

Eltava hesitated. Her parents always told her not to take the alleyways, and she had the impression that beggars and footpads lurked there. The passage was dim and gloomy.

And what if she reached the docks and found the Traveller gone, assuming she didn’t care that he’d come? Besides, she was going to be an adventurer, so she could hardly turn back from a dark alley. She had her sword, after all, and could beat most of the men she sparred with.

Walls loomed close together, and Eltava’s eyes struggled to adjust after the bright street. She forced herself to walk at an even pace, holding herself tense and ready for action. Her hand rested on the sword-hilt, and her eyes flicked across the shadows, watching for…

Something moved. Eltava spun to face it, sword out in a heartbeat, to see a rat scurrying across the baked mud. She’d barely relaxed before she met two eyes staring back at her from an alcove.

Who’s there? she demanded, keeping her voice level with an effort.

Don’t hurt me. The voice was barely above a whisper, but Eltava could tell it was female, and more cultured than was usual for a beggar. I mean no harm.

Eltava’s heart thumped, but she edged forward, sword still at the ready, till she could make out the figure huddled there in a ragged dress. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, she saw a middle-aged woman, her hair greying, with a soft face that looked wrong without a smile. A face not unlike her mother’s.

I’m not going to hurt you, said Eltava, keeping her voice soft. She lowered the blade, without resheathing it. You just startled me. Are… are you all right?

I’ve nowhere to go. The gentle voice matched the face. I’m hungry. Can you give me food?

On a closer examination of the woman, her face showed a slight pinch of hunger, though Eltava doubted she was used to it. She must have only recently fallen on hard times.

I haven’t any food, she said. I’ve some money—just a little, but you’re welcome to it.

She felt noble, offering her last money, even though she knew she could have more for the asking from her father’s steward. The woman shook her head, though.

I… I can’t go to the food-stalls—not like this. Could you go for me?

Like what? Eltava had seen all kinds at the food-stalls, and she couldn’t imagine them refusing to serve someone who was a little down on her luck.

The woman hesitated so long Eltava thought she wasn’t going to answer. I don’t want to be seen, she said at last. Not in this state.

She was starving, yet too proud to buy her own food? It didn’t make sense, unless…

Are you in trouble? I… I mean, I don’t suppose it can be anything bad, but…

The woman looked away, and Eltava wished she hadn’t asked that.

Yes. The voice was barely audible. I can’t be seen. I don’t want to go back.

Go back? Is someone after you? Or… Or back to prison? Realisation sliced through Eltava, and she blurted out, You’re As’shias, aren’t you?

The woman struggled to her feet, her eyes narrowing. Eltava glanced around, as she backed away, to see how far it was to the end of the alley. Would she be struck by a magical bolt if she ran?

A sigh softened the woman’s face, and she nodded. Yes, I’m As’shias. I’m not going to hurt you, though. I wouldn’t do that.

Why not? Eltava couldn’t move for terror. You’ve used magic to do evil, haven’t you?

As’shias shook her head, her expression sad. You believe that?

But… Eltava had been about to say she did, but could she really credit such a thing to this woman, with warm eyes so like her mother’s? Why were you in prison, then?

She shrugged. Oh, I used magic. Healing potions, spells to find lost possessions, that sort of thing. The darkest I ever went was love philtres. Even if I wanted to harm anyone, using magic like that has a tendency to rebound on the user.

That was what the Traveller always said. Could As’shias be telling the truth?

So why would they arrest you?

Just for using magic of any kind. I’m not supposed to do that.

This didn’t make sense. But, said Eltava slowly, I have a friend who does magic, and he’s never had any trouble here.

As’shias gave a bitter snort. "Oh no, he wouldn’t. You and I are women, my dear, and that’s another matter entirely. They don’t like us doing anything other than raising a family."

But that’s not true. I’ve learnt to use weapons, and I’m going to travel when I’m old enough.

Then you’re lucky—if it ever happens. As’shias’s eyes held Eltava. How many women do you know who have those opportunities?

Eltava thought about that. It was true that she’d always considered herself especially privileged, having the kind of family she did, but she’d never wondered what that really meant for other women of Gar’rash.

How many women sit on the High Council? As’shias’s voice was quiet and persuasive. Do you know any female merchants? Soldiers? Ship’s captains? Do you know of any woman with any power? Of course not. It’s the same when women practice magic, as I’ve found to my cost.

It was true; and, if so, maybe what As’shias said about magic was also true. It seemed more likely than that this gentle woman had done unspeakable evil.

Her eyes still on Eltava’s, As’shias nodded. You’ll get me food?

Eltava hesitated, but only for a moment. Both her parents and the Traveller had always taught her to help those in need, and she couldn’t just walk away.

The Traveller. Amid the fear and confusion, she’d almost forgotten that she was supposed to be meeting him. Suppose she’d already missed him?

I can’t do it now, she said. I’ve got to go, or people will notice. I’ll bring some food tonight. I’ll bring it here. Is that all right?

She felt a little guilty, since her concern was really for the Traveller, but it could certainly seem suspicious if she were late.

The woman nodded and said, Thank you, my dear.

#

Despite Eltava’s fears, Searcher was only just coming in alongside the crowded quay when she skidded onto the waterside, having abandoned all attempts at being dignified. She answered the harbourmaster’s greeting—even found the attention to answer his polite queries about her father—and greeted a couple of dockers she’d known most of her life, but her eyes were fixed on the great vessel and its sole occupant.

Any other ship of such a size would have a huge crew, but Searcher was special. Eltava gazed entranced at the tall figure who stood alone on the aft deck as sails furled themselves at his will, and ropes coiled themselves away. It had been a familiar sight for as long as she remembered, but the way the breeze off the sea blew his dark hair behind made him look especially beautiful and heroic.

She flung herself into the Traveller’s arms the moment his feet touched the quay, and he swung her up off her feet, though only for a moment.

You’ve grown again, Eltava. I’m going to have to stop doing that.

Startled, she realised that she was only looking up a little into the sea-grey eyes in his tanned, beautiful face. She knew she’d grown during the year since he’d last been in port, but her measure of her height had always been where she came to on the Traveller’s tall frame—his belly, his chest, his shoulders. Her head reached his upper lip now.

I’m grown up now. The discovery gave her confidence to announce it as definite. Would he take the hint? I’m in charge of the house, while mother and father are away.

They’re not here?

She shook her head, pleased that he hadn’t queried the statement. She was sort of in charge, though she had dared not give any orders to Meritun the Steward, unsure what the result would be.

They’ve gone to my grandparents’ farm, but they’ll be back tomorrow. You’ll still stay with us, won’t you?

The words stumbled as it hit Eltava that she might have a little more difficulty getting out to take the food to As’shias with the Traveller there. Maybe she should tell him about her. Surely he’d approve of what she was doing?

Probably, but what if he didn’t? The idea of a quarrel with the Traveller over this sent her into a panic. It would be better to say nothing.

Eltava? Are you all right?

Um… yes, why?

I just said I’d be delighted to, and you didn’t seem to hear. Is anything troubling you?

No… no, of course not. Her mind went into a spin—she’d ignored the Traveller? What would he think of her? Sorry, it’s just…

She broke off, and he smiled and kissed her forehead. "You don’t have to be sorry, as long as nothing’s wrong. Now, I’ve a few things to arrange, before I can leave Searcher. Do you want to stay for the boring bits?"

Nothing’s boring with you, she told him, determined to make up for her lapse. She took his arm firmly, and he smiled at her, one eyebrow raised.

She had the Traveller to herself all night. Something was bound to happen.

#

What’s wrong, Eltava?

She looked up, startled. After dinner, she’d settled on the floor, her head resting on the Traveller’s knees as always since she’d grown too old to sit on his lap, while they’d exchanged news. As always, he’d shown interest in everything she’d done, but there was more for him to tell.

Nothing. Why?

The corner of his mouth quirked, although his eyes remained grave. So what was I talking about?

Um… Eltava felt herself flushing. About the sorcerer in Chanaro.

The Traveller’s tale about how he’d helped put a stop to an evil sorcerer’s reign of terror had sent her mind drifting back to As’shias, wondering again what her friend would make of this situation.

I finished that about five minutes ago. His voice was very gentle. You haven’t been listening, have you? That’s never happened before.

She stared at him aghast. What would he think of her, ignoring him like that? Now, of all times.

So, said the Traveller conversationally, what’s the lucky boy’s name?

Boy? What do you…?

She broke off, as it crashed on her what he was assuming. How could he believe she’d think twice about a boy, when he was there?

He stroked her hair, sending a shiver of delight through her. Eltava, you’re not a child now, and I can’t imagine any boy in his right mind not being interested. If I… He stopped, shaking his head. Anyway, it’s all right. I know what it’s like to be in love.

You do? Fire surged through her.

Of course. I’ve told you about some of them.

Oh. Eltava felt stupid and deflated: of course he had. No. No, it’s not that.

The Traveller made no reply but held her gaze. To give herself time to think, she stood up and paced around a bit. What should she say? There couldn’t be any harm in him knowing, could there?

With a feeling of huge relief, she took one of his hands, standing before him, and related her meeting with As’shias, although without mentioning her promise. She’d tell him that when he’d had a chance to take the rest in.

When she’d finished, he said, You realise it’s dangerous? If it were found out, they could say you helped an escaped prisoner.

She nodded, although she hadn’t really thought about it like that. But I couldn’t give her away, could I? I mean, she’s a victim of injustice.

Are you sure? You believe what she said?

Well… yes. It seemed straightforward in her own mind, but Eltava found it difficult to find words to express why she was so certain. "She… I just know it’s true."

He studied her a moment more, then nodded. Well, you have a good instinct, Eltava. And yes, although Gar’rash isn’t as bad as many places I’ve been, I can believe they might treat a woman who uses magic differently than they treat a man. I still don’t like it, though.

Coldness seeped through Eltava’s guts. You’re not going to give her away, are you?

He chewed his lip speculatively. It was wrong for the Traveller to look up at her, and Eltava longed to resume her usual position, where he might stroke her hair again. It was important, though, that she felt confident.

I don’t know. It might be better. He held up a hand to forestall her protest. I know most of the members of the High Council, and I’ve quite a bit of influence. If what she’s told you is true…

"It is true," Eltava protested, determined not to let that be questioned.

Then maybe we can change things. That would be better than her simply getting away, wouldn’t it?

But… but suppose we couldn’t? The vision of As’shias in prison, or even dead, rose horrifically in Eltava’s mind. She couldn’t allow that.

The Traveller sighed. I don’t know. I’m tired, Eltava, and you’re upset. We can talk about this more in the morning, before your parents get back, and decide what to do. Maybe she’ll have escaped the city by then, anyway. There’s not much chance she’ll still be where you saw her, is there?

Avoiding his piercing look, Eltava folded back to the floor, laying her head on his knee. She was being pulled apart, and it comforted her when he caressed her hair again.

Of course not, she said.

#

Gar’rash by night was an alien place, full of smells and noises that weren’t in evidence during the day. Eltava had left it till an hour or two after midnight, assuming the streets would be deserted by then, but several times she hid in the shadows as groups of men passed. Most were shouting or singing, but one group glided by in silence. She found them the most menacing and stroked her sword hilt to stop herself shivering in spite of the sultry heat of the night.

She saw watchmen, too, and remembered the man she’d met this afternoon said they’d be searching till they found As’shias. Would he be out here somewhere, searching with the rest? Probably.

Her boots were obscenely loud on the cobblestones as she walked through streets lit only by moonlight and rare torches burning outside houses. She had to concentrate on finding the way, shifting the bag of food from hand to hand to find the most comfortable way of holding it. She’d gathered bread, cheese and cold meats from the deserted kitchen, trying only to take what wouldn’t be missed. It would be awkward to have to confess, if any of the servants were blamed.

What worried her even more was the idea of the Traveller finding out. What would he think of her? Although he hadn’t actually told her to take no further action, it was only because he assumed she couldn’t do anything that night. She desperately didn’t want him to discover what she was doing; yet it felt blasphemous not to tell the Traveller everything.

It wasn’t easy to find the right alley in the dark, and she had to flee when she investigated one where a hulking man had a woman pushed up against the wall. Eltava was torn between feeling she should help and not wanting to go anywhere near, till a coarse laugh from the woman told her she’d misunderstood the situation. The man growled at the interloper, and moonlight glinted on a blade.

Eltava ran till she realised no one was chasing her, and stopped to recover her breath. She tried to envision exactly what the couple had been doing but couldn’t, beyond a general awareness. It seemed intriguingly disgusting.

The alleyway she’d taken that afternoon framed the moon, and silver light flooded it. As far as Eltava could see, after she’d crept halfway along its length, it was deserted.

Are you there? She dared not raise her voice much above a whisper. It’s me. I’ve brought the food.

A shadow detached itself from others clinging to the wall, and As’shias approached, stopping a pace away. Her eyes, which had been soft and kind in the day, glinted in the moonlight.

You’ve come. Her low voice, at least, was unchanged. Goddess bless you, child. I wasn’t sure you would.

Of course—I promised. Eltava tried to sound confident, as if there were nothing more to say. I’ve kept it simple, so it should last you for a while. Handing over the bag, she looked