The Breton Boys

Chapter Eleven: The Sword of Martin Mereworth | 2

Reid remembered the armory vividly, and he knew exactly where Mereworth's sword was kept. He ran to the far end of the room, pried open the hinges of the battered wooden chest, and flung the top wide. Mereworth's sword laid on its blue velvet pillow, and despite its age and imperfections, Reid was certain it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He grabbed it by the hilt and ran back to the door.

Reid pushed, but the door was stuck. He tried to pull, but there was no handle on the inside for him to grab on to. He pushed again. No good. He took a running start and hurled himself at the door. It didn't budge.

No, Reid thought. No, no, no, no.

Reid looked around wildly until he spotted a war hammer. But when he tried to lift it from it's pegs on the wall, it was far too heavy, and he knew he wouldn't be able to swing it. He spun around, scanning the walls. A sword could work, but it would take too long to hack through the wood. No, he needed something heavier, something sharper.

His stomach roiled when he spotted it: an ax, not unlike the one that had been sticking out of his brother's back when he last saw him. But Reid swallowed his grief, pulled the ax from the wall, and began hacking away at the armory door.

The wood splintered and flew, and soon Reid had carved a big enough hole to climb through. He tossed Mereworth's sword through first, and then crawled out himself.

Reid couldn't say how he found his way out of the castle because he certainly didn't leave through the same route which he'd come. But before he knew it, he was running down the birch tree-lined path that led up to the castle's cliff, Mereworth's sword clutched securely in his hand.

When the front gate guards saw Reid approaching, they lowered the drawbridge and opened the doors. Though they hurled questions at him as he passed, Reid didn't stop. There was no time to stop. He had the sword. The hard part was over. Now all he had to do was get it to the Queen.

The Queen. Reid froze. How was he going to find his way back to the battle? How would he find Queen Elevaine when he got there? Finding the castle had been easy because it had been visible the whole time he was running towards it. But beyond the gates, all he could see was trees.

"This way!" one of the guards called, running past Reid and vanishing into the woods. Reid followed hastily, and several other guards followed, too.

They ran and ran until all at once the forest stopped and the battlefield began. Thunder rolled over head as the darthags and the Tauren clashed, though it was obvious that both sides numbered fewer than when he had left. Reid scanned the field quickly, and spotted Queen Elevaine at once. She had lost her helmet in the fray, yet she stood atop Tsorsha's slain dragon with two soldiers behind her, the three of them fighting the darthag queen head-on.

Reid turned to the guard who had stopped at the edge of the wood, surveying the bloody scene. "I need to take this to Queen Elevaine," Reid said. "It's the only thing that can stop Tsorsha, so if...if I die, one of you has to make sure Queen Elevaine gets it. Okay?"

"You have our protection, Reid Breton," said one soldier. "Do what must be done."