Legon Awakening: Book One in the Legon Series (20 page)

“Please, Arkin,” Sasha said.

Arkin reached over his shoulder and plucked an arrow
out of his quiver and tossed it to Legon. It was odd-looking too.
The arrow was amazingly light. It had a three-bladed head, but the
blades weren’t metal. “Wood,” he said softly. There was more. He
ran his fingers up the arrow that was covered in holes for about an
inch and then more about seven inches up. Understanding took hold
as Sasha spoke. “What are the holes for? Is that wood?”

“Why the holes, Legon?” Arkin asked as he stood over
them. Kovos and Keither were now moving toward them.

“When something is shot with an arrow you start to
bleed out, but the arrow plugs the wound. Once removed the wound
bleeds a lot, so you have to wait until a healer is around to pull
it. But not with this arrow. You see these holes at the front of
it?” he said, placing it in Sasha’s hand and pointing out the
holes.

“Yes.”

“And how light it is?”

“Yes.”

“Well, my guess is that the shaft is hollow and the
holes in the head vent blood to the holes up farther, basically
holding the wound open so you bleed out fast, and I mean real fast.
Arkin, what is this? There is no way a wood arrow is that
strong.”

“It is if it’s made by an Elf,” Arkin replied. Legon
felt his stomach drop.

“I am an Elven agent, Legon. I have been the whole
time I’ve been in Salmont. I knew your mother, and you have been my
mission.”

The Compass of Time

“
I remember the first time my eyes were
opened. From that point on I’ve had a hard time taking things at
face value. Most people and things are so much more than what they
seem. The question is, do you want to see what they are, and how do
you know you’re seeing the correct thing?”

- Conversations in the Garden

Legon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was
no way that this was happening, no way that Arkin was telling the
truth, but he knew he was.

“You’re an Elven agent and I am your mission?” he
asked, just to confirm. Arkin looked put out. This probably wasn’t
how he had planned on breaking the news to him.

“Yes, Legon, I am. You want to ask a lot of
questions, but not now. Right now we need to move camp for the
night. I promise you will have lots of time to ask questions. You
have that right, and I won’t stop you.”

Time was not moving all that fast right now, and
Legon’s brain was not working at the moment. It was done for the
day and it wasn’t going to take anymore. He turned and looked at
Sasha. She was still covered in blood, her face pale, mouth open.
She looked at him, looked him right in the eyes. Never had she
looked like that. She was defeated, hurt, humiliated, and her life
was turned upside down. She hated violence, and yet all she’d
gotten today was that and a lot of it. There was a pleading look in
her eyes, and it was this that brought clarity.

His problems could wait. He’d been in the dark his
whole life, but Sasha and Keither needed to get out of this place.
He and Kovos probably did too, but they would have an easier time
keeping it together. After all, they had been the ones to end the
situation and in a way this gave them at least some closure. He
didn’t want to sleep here in the blood and gore of the day, and the
pressure of the situation was going to get to him eventually. He
needed to move and sleep. Then, maybe, he would be fine.

“Ok, let’s finish up here and get moving. Let’s take
their horses. We can sell them or use them for pack. I don’t think
it would be good to let them wander off.” He let the pressure shape
his thoughts, let it make the important decisions.

This was something that came naturally to him.
Pressure focused him, made things clear, and presented the best and
sometimes only options. Maybe that’s why he was a good fighter.
Most people lost their heads in a fight, like the soldiers today,
but you couldn’t do that, not if you wanted to win.

“I agree. We will be able to sell them easily and we
can keep a couple for pack so we can move faster,” Arkin said,
walking over to a tent and knocking it down. He began kicking it
about, breaking random things.

Kovos was still gaping at Arkin. Legon jerked his
head at Keither and Sasha, which brought Kovos back. Soon the
campsite was trashed and the men robbed, so he didn’t think anyone
could tell it was staged, maybe because they had actually robbed
the men, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now.

He began moving toward the horses. The ones the
queen’s men rode looked fine, a few with specks of blood on them
but they hadn’t minded the violence. Their horses weren’t used to
it, so they were jittery. Phantom was doing better than Murray but
not by much. Both animals backed away from them. Kovos’ horse
Calvin was fine; in fact, Legon wasn’t sure it had even known what
was going on. The clanging of metal probably didn’t bother
blacksmith’s horses, but Keither’s, well, Margaret’s their mothers,
horse Pixy was freaking out. Pixy was young and Margaret hadn’t
worked with her too much yet. She was a good horse and he thought
that she would be good for Keither. Sasha was the one in the end
that got them calmed down. She loved horses. She had trained both
Phantom and Murray, and both were great. Calvin wasn’t too bad but
she would have to help Keither with Pixy. “
This was probably a
good thing,”
Legon thought—she needed something to take her
mind off of what was going on.

Kovos collected the soldier’s horses and was tying
their “earnings” to them. For some reason this made Legon feel
self-conscious, like he had done something wrong, but he hadn’t.
The men needed to look like they were robbed, but still he couldn’t
help but think of himself as a thief. He turned to look at the
devastated camp. Everything was still fresh, the blood still
glistened off the leaves, the ground was still muddy, but that was
starting to dry a bit. The sun was all but gone now. They needed to
go, needed to set up a new camp, eat, and get some answers.

As he rode he looked at the arrow he’d taken back
from Sasha. It still amazed him. He had loved archery for so long,
and what if it was part of his ancestry? He should be mulling over
what had happened, but he couldn’t help but feel a little excited.
His people made this, and maybe someday he could do the same. Or,
maybe he would never do it, maybe the human side would take over
and he would be a butcher. This bothered him. He never thought of
being anything other than a butcher, and even if he went to the
Elves he might just be a butcher there.

Sasha was riding next to him, looking off in the
distance, her eyes unfocused. He wondered what was going on in her
head. He hoped that she was all right. The men hadn’t actually
raped her, but the commander came close enough, and that was reason
enough for her to have issues. She’d be fine in a few days. Sasha
was tougher than she looked; at least he hoped she was. Arkin
pulled off into a clearing to the left of the road, going down next
to the stream.

“We’ll camp here for the night. Keither, find some
wood for a fire. Sasha, please make something simple for us to eat.
It can be bread for all I care, but we need to eat. Kovos, tend to
the horses and help Legon set up the tents. I’m going to walk the
perimeter of camp to make sure we’re safe,” Arkin said and then
walked off in the woods.

There was still no talking as they set camp. When
they were done, Sasha went into one of the tents and changed her
clothes, coming out with the bloody ones in her hands. She walked
to the fire and tossed them in. No one stopped her. In fact,
watching them burn seemed to make them feel better about their
current situation. By the time they were burned and gone, Arkin was
back and Sasha seemed to be feeling much better. They all changed
and it did seem to make them feel cleaner in some way, almost like
by taking off the old clothes and putting on the new ones they were
cleansing themselves in the process.

They sat around the fire eating bread, waiting for
Arkin to start. This was his show; he had the answers, and they
were willing to wait for them. Arkin looked like he was thinking
hard about what to say.

“Twenty years ago, a woman I knew and was close to
married an Elf. It was rare for this to happen, but what was rarer
was that she got pregnant. The couple knew it was a bad idea to
raise the child where they lived.”

“Why?” asked Legon.

“In time you will find out, but not now.”

“It’s my past. Why not now?” he asked, his voice
getting stern.

“Because I can’t tell you everything. I have taken
many oaths, and no matter how much I may want to tell you
everything, I can’t. Please trust me on this.” It was a question as
well as a statement, and Legon knew that if he pushed his luck that
Arkin wouldn’t tell him anything.

“They decided to move by Salmont, and that’s where
they were going to raise you until they figured out if you were
going to be Elf or human. After you were born, things were going
fine. I was stationed in Salmont as protection.”

There was sadness in Arkin’s eyes and a helpless
look. Never had Legon seen Arkin get emotional.

“It is my fault your mother was killed. If I had
tried harder they would have never made it to her, they wouldn’t
have…” he trailed off. At first when Arkin said that it was his
fault that his mother was dead, Legon felt a twinge of anger, but
that left as he watched him. Arkin had never half-hearted anything
in Legon’s whole life, and he doubted that he had then either. In
fact, he was sure that the man had been carrying this with him for
years. Every time he saw Legon he had to be reminded.

“It’s fine Arkin. I’m sure you did your best.”

“My best was not good enough. They got to her before
I could get there. I went out hunting, planning on leaving Brack
and Edis to find her, but you know what happened after that…”

“Yeah, I do.” He was surprised at how he felt bad.
After all, he never knew his birth parents and looked at Edis,
Laura, as his parents and Sasha as his real sister. So why feel so
bad about it? They knew the risks, didn’t they? Or was it because
they put themselves in danger for his benefit, for his
protection?

“Anyway, I got word that the Iumenta had found out
what was going on when they killed your father. Apparently one of
the men with him was a traitor. We never found out who. The whole
party was killed, traitor and all. So after that my orders were to
watch you and train you.”

“Train me, and what?”

“If you looked like you were going to turn Elf then I
was to take you back to the Elves. If you went human then I was to
let you lead a normal life, and if you began to turn Elf but leaned
to the side of the Iumenta…”

“You were to kill me.” Legon finished.

Arkin flinched. “Yes. There has never been an Elven
traitor, but there hasn’t been anyone in your position for hundreds
of years.” This wasn’t a shock. It made logical sense to need to
protect your country from attack, but still, to think of himself
being viewed as a “possible threat” bothered him.

“Ok, ok that’s fine. Truth be told, if I turned out
to be anything like one of the bastards we killed today I would
hope you would kill me. So what now?”

Arkin looked almost proud of him and he seemed to
have a more familiar look about him. “We go to Salez. Your lot
needs to learn some new tricks.” As he spoke he took the two blades
off his back still in the sheaths, handing them to Legon. “These
were your father’s fenrra. They are yours. They have been in your
house for over two thousand years.” Legon took hold of the fenrra,
amazed by the lightness of them. The handles were one-handed and
there was not much of a hilt. The sheath was a dark, deep purple,
almost black. The grips were wrapped with something that felt like
leather. The pommel was slanted with a tree inside a triangle
surrounded by a circle. The whole thing looked like it was made of
gold but was untarnished and unscratched, so it couldn’t have been.
There was what looked like gold thread up the handles and the hilt
was also gold with intricate leaves.

He stood and pulled on the handle of one of the
fenrra. It came out without a sound, revealing a blade that looked
like a mirror, the edge of which was visible and went up about a
quarter of an inch along the forward edge and about a fourth of the
way up along the back edge. He felt power gush through him. He held
it up in the fire light, seeing himself more clearly than he ever
had. The handle felt perfect in his hand, like it was made for him.
He ran his finger along the edge. It was sharper than anything he’d
ever seen. He handed the other one to Kovos, who pulled it out,
marveling. Both men turned the fenrra over in their hands, feeling
the balance and comfort. They just felt good, almost like an
extension of his own body.

“They will almost never dull. Those have been
sharpened only twice, once when they were made and then again about
seven hundred years ago. They will also never break, or, if you do
manage to break them, you will be one of only a few who’s managed
it. That edge is sharper than anything you’ve seen and armor means
little to them. Elves and Iumenta only wear light armor, more for
humans and lesser objects. You see the thicker part of the blade?”
Arkin said, pointing at the last half of the fenrra.

“Yes.”

“That part there is used to deflect arrows and
anything else sent your way. You won’t be able to do it now, but if
you turn into an Elf you’ll be fast enough.”

This should have floored him, but nothing was a
surprise anymore.

Kovos handed him the other blade and he stood amazed.
They felt so natural. He didn’t want to let them go. It made him
feel like nothing could hurt him, like they somehow had abilities
of their own.