Free Sword Bearer (Return of the Dragons) by Teddy Jacobs Page B

with the taste of salt still in
my mouth.
    “Anders, it’s me.”
    I opened my eyes.
    Kara stood over my bed, looking down at me.
    “The council needs you, Anders. They want to see you, the
three-blooded prince. They say the Dark Lord is approaching, and he may be
strong enough this time to enter the city. They are forging your sword as we
speak, but they need the hilt.”
    I sat up, and couldn’t keep from groaning. I’d never been
this sore.
    “Yesterday I was locked in my room with green gunk all over
my face, preparing for a birthday banquet. And now, I’m a prince? I mean, I’m
sixteen years old and a day.”
    Kara sighed. “Look,” she said. “Life has thrown me my share
of surprises too. Not all of them pleasant, either. Anyhow, you’ll have a real
sword. Isn’t that exciting?”
    I smiled wryly. “I just received the wooden one. That was
supposed to be my first step to manhood. My face is still pimply. If I get a
steel blade, and I become a prince, will my face magically clear up? Will my
voice deepen? Will I suddenly grow chest hair? I mean, what are they going to
call me, the pimply prince?”
    Kara sat down next to me on the bed.
    “It doesn’t really look that bad, right now.”
    “What?”
    “Your face. Maybe if you tried the charcoal soap? Or some
goat’s milk?”
    “Any other ideas?”
    “Well…”
    “I was kidding,” I said. “I’m actually sick of talking about
it.”
    Kara smiled. “You know, a lot of the Kriek have problem
skin.”
    She put her hand on my shoulder, and I felt suddenly warm in
the face. All she had to do was touch me and my stomach started doing flips.
    Kara smiled and kissed me lightly on the forehead.
    It was fireworks once again. My body was ablaze. I felt her
sending me energy through her kiss.
    She pulled back and sat there, looking at me silently,
waiting for me to speak.
    “I just don’t feel ready,” I said finally, surprised I could
still speak. “Everything is happening so fast.”
    “Great changes come quickly in times of trouble,” she said.
“You may be a prince or even a king before your body is really ready. Your mind
and your magic will grow faster, and your body will have to wait to catch up.
That’s how it was in the times of the ancients.”
    I felt a lot of doubts. I wondered if maybe I was just
delirious, if Giancarlo had hit me too hard on the head in practice and I was
really in the infirmary. A day ago I was just a slightly out of shape boy who
knew a little magic and wasn’t too bad at swinging a staff.
    But was that even true? How many boys did I know who were
locked in at night? Who was I, really?
    My body ached. I had gotten more exercise in the last
twenty-fours than in the last month. Twenty minutes of swinging a staff every morning
hadn’t prepared me for this. No wonder I felt so sore.
    I decided not to share any more of this with Kara. I didn’t
want to her think I was just some whining kid.
    So instead I just smiled at her.
    “So, the ancients. Did the ancients have bad skin too?” I
asked.
    She nodded. “And green clay, charcoal soap and goat’s milk.”
    I laughed, looking away. I felt Kara grab my hand.
    Again came a rush of energy: I felt so alive, and I felt
myself plunging into her eyes, falling into her, and then she spoke:
    “Ask me whatever you like, Anders.”
    “Whatever I like?”
    She nodded at me, and kept my hand in hers.
    “Do you believe in me? In all this?”
    She nodded slowly.
    “Do you believe things will ever be the same again for me?
Will I ever return home to my parents, to my home in the South?”
    Kara shook her head. “You know, I used to want to grow up as
fast as I could, but now I miss my childhood. But I can’t go back. My parents
are dead. I’ll never be their little girl again. These are desperate times, my
friend.”
    I felt warm in the face for the second time as I looked Kara
in the eyes.
    “Are you my friend, then?” I asked.
    She nodded. “No matter what happens, Anders,