Path of the King - Chapter 9 (Patreon)

“Yes I will! This is a huge discovery! I can’t pass this up, I can’t! Not even for you, Keon! I’ve already started working on the paper and I’ll make sure to mention your contributions, but I need to do this! This is my chance to make a name for myself, to prove to the whole world that I’m worth something. Not that not that you’d understand why that matters, mister fucking oil barren or whatever over there! How could you? I bet you’ve never done a hard day’s work in your life!”

I froze, staring silent at Sarah. She was breathing heavily, her eyes narrowed and her teeth barred. Her face was flushed beet-red and she was literally trembling in outrage. There was real fire in her words, a tone I’d never heard her direct my way before. 

Sarah had always been something of a firebrand, but I thought I’d trained her out of that ill temperament. A little fire could be fun, but one outraged rant about some family drama had been more than enough for me. Apparently I’d been mistaken, or perhaps I’d simply never let anything get her quite so wound up before. But that didn’t matter. She would obey.

I wanted to sigh, but it was important to keep up appearances. Appearances were important, they meant something. That was one lesson my darling mother had made sure stuck with me. The you that existed in the minds of other people could sometimes be even more important than the real thing, and a single misstep could easily ruin that perception. 

To Sarah, I was kind but stern, gentle but unyielding. Someone who corrected her when she was in the wrong and whose word was law. Someone to be obeyed willingly because that was simply the natural order of things. Harmless disobedience was to be expected, something we could both enjoy the outcome of. Small disobediences were punished in ways she didn’t enjoy nearly as much. Anything more was intolerable. 

I didn’t sigh, but it was a near thing. And the day had started off so well too. 

It had been nice to spend some quality time with Sarah. She was funny, passionate, and a welcome splash of normality in my increasingly hectic life. 

After a very fun morning and a delicious breakfast of waffles and cake, we’d set out together towards the location Sarah had discovered. It was something of a drive, but Sarah’s presence made it go by much faster than my trip from the airport yesterday and the weather had thankfully cleared up overnight. 

We spoke of nothing of importance, and that was all the better. I’d spent four entire days back home and was utterly sick of the servant’s double-talk, my sister’s patronizing, and Isi’s continued stubbornness. She told me about the new series she’d started reading, I caught her up on the latest news from her alma mater, and we both complained about an insufferable professor whose class we’d been forced to take.

It was early afternoon by the time we reached our destination. We ate a quick lunch of leftovers that I’d thankfully remembered to put away the night before––Sarah had been rather incapacitated––and then set off on foot. 

The hike was long, and made longer by mud and the lack of proper trail to follow, but we were both in good shape and had come properly equipped. We made good time, walking side by side in silence and enjoying the nice weather and fabulous views. Skye was a beautiful island, rocky and rugged but still green and lively despite it. 

I felt it when we stepped through the decaying bounded field. Threads of magical energy as fine as spider’s silk brushed across my skin and the flavor of the air changed from one breath to the next. Sarah didn’t notice, not even when the gold ring on her color flashed with an inner light and the leather shifted against her skin. The world shifted subtly, the bare rock of the crag we were approaching changing minutely until I could make out tool marks and bits of ancient stonework. 

I wasn’t particularly surprised. The only way something like this could have remained hidden for so long only to be found by one lucky mundane was if it was protected by magic––old, fading magic. The sort that would collapse fully in a handful of decades, but for now could be defeated by simple mystic codes and a guide. 

We were almost there when we finally rounded a bend and our destination came into view. Sarah, who was starting to flag, perked up and turned to me. “There it is! I can’t believe no one’s found it before, or if they did, they didn’t bother to share. I guess it's pretty far from anything else, and the way the rocks are arranged, you can’t really spot it from above. But I’d have still thought someone would have come across it and tipped off an archeologist way back in the day! Like, we’re only a few hours hike from the nearest road!”

I hummed softly in response, mostly turning out her words as she continued to babble. My attention was focused on the ruins. A copse of absolutely ancient trees––ash trees one and all if I wasn’t mistaken––grew around the remains of what had once been a tower, or perhaps part of a long-gone castle. All that was left now was a circular stone wall barely as high as my knees hidden under the shadows of the crag and the overgrown trees. 

The place felt ancient. I could feel it in my bones and in the mana coating my tongue like sweet cream. For hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, it had lain untouched, hidden behind wards that could fool even a god. Now though, magic was weaker than it had once been. The age of the gods had not ended fully here as it had in some of the stories I remembered, but it had faded somewhat as faith became a less essential part of mankind’s life.

This was not the first ancient ground that had been unearthed in recent decades, but I seemed to have been the lucky man to find this one first. Even if none of the other mundanes I’d sent out into the world chasing dreams found anything, I already considered the entire effort a resounding success. 

I let Sarah lead the way now, trailing after her as she pointed out things she’d noticed and animatedly waved her arms about, her earlier weariness forgotten. We passed by the little camp site she’d set up a ways from the ruin itself, then between two trees that dwarfed any I’d seen before with my own two eyes, their trunks as wide around as a banquet table, and then we were there. 

Sarah had done a little bit of amateur excavation. She’d been careful, of course. Her degree was not just in history, but also in archeology and conservation, and that wasn’t just for show. She walked with slow, deliberate steps and I made sure to step only where she did, picking my way between sheets of plastic and bits of rope that marked out patches of the ground. 

And then I saw it. The tomb. The corpse. The spear. 

And things had gone wrong very quickly. 

This time when I spoke, my voice was as hard and cold as the unmelting ice that crowned the peak of my family’s ancestral home. The sort of tone my mother used when dictating terms to a defeated enemy. “You will publish nothing. You will tell no one what you found here. This is your final chance.”

Sarah glared at me. Not the cute glare she sometimes wore in bed with the wrinkled nose and the big, puffy cheeks, but a real one. It looked wrong on her face. It looked wrong directed at me. “Oh fuck you, Keon, and fuck your final chance bullshit. You don’t own me, no matter what either of us have said in bed. This is my future, and that’s more important than some fun nights and a college fling. We’re done, and I’m done here. There’s no way I’m going to let you and whoever else steal the credit for my discovery! Put that down, don’t touch anything, and get the hell out of here before you damage anything else!”

She didn’t wait for my reply, spinning around on her heel and starting to march away. After only a single step, she turned her head to look back and spat, “There’s no way you’re going to get an announcement out before me. By the time you get someone on the scene to take photos and do a write up, I’ll already have everything sent out! And if you think you’re going to wander off with something, think again. I’ve got everything photographed, and I know exactly who to point the police towards if something is missing!” Then she continued onward.

I fingered the haft of the spear I was still holding in my hands, the one that had triggered this confrontation. Sarah was very unhappy about the whole ‘snatching an old dead guy’s weapon out of his hands’. Something about damaging her find and ruining a historic artifact with my sweat and oily skin. 

Perhaps that hadn’t been my best moment, but how could I resist? Even covered in dust, its color faded with age, there was no way I could mistake the object in the coffin for anything else. But Sarah hadn’t recognized it, of course. Had no idea of the true value of what she had found. Had no idea that it would never make it to a museum. 

Telling her that she couldn’t publish any of what she’d found here had apparently been the final nail in the coffin. 

My eyes were glued to Sarah’s retreating back. She should have trusted me. Obeyed me. I knew best. 

Where had I gone wrong with her, I wondered. 

I knew the answer. I’d thought she was thoroughly trained and trustworthy and let up on using the occasional ritual or mystic codes to nudge things in the right direction or adjust useless lines of thought. But it seemed she hadn’t been, or the magic I’d used had faded a little too much since I’d let her go. 

I’d need to check in on the other mundane girl’s I’d worked on. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. For now though…

I shook my head ruefully. What a waste. Even if I wasn’t here, she wouldn’t get the chance to publish any of her findings before it was all shut down by one of the local associations and this place was swarming with Magi. Mage rules were clear, after all, and I couldn’t let some random magus get his hands on her. She knew too much, both about this place and about me. 

Nor did I have the time or inclination to fix her right now. The solstice was rapidly approaching and I was rather upset with Sarah. How dare a random, worthless, mundane girl like her spit on all the time, effort, and attention I’d given her? She’d been nothing when I’d found her, and I’d carved her into something beautiful.

Well, she could still be of use in one way at least. I caressed the shaft of the spear, then took a firm grip and planted my feet. It wasn’t quite the same dimensions as my typical practice spear, but I’d practiced wielding weapons of all shapes and sizes over the past decade.

I took a smooth, even breath, mana heavy on my tongue and light like a spring breeze in my lungs. The wood thrummed beneath my fingers and I could almost feel its eagerness, like it knew what was coming.

“I’m sorry Sarah, but I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” My voice was soft, but I could tell by the hitch in her steps that she’d heard me.

We’d watched that movie together once. I’d been surprised to see that it existed here, and the girl had a deep seated love for fantasy and science fiction. Sarah had spent most of the film on her knees between my legs, her arms bound behind her back and a blindfold over her eyes, but for that scene she’d been curled up in my lap like an oversized cat. 

I sighed heavily and added, “Mage rules.” What a pity. Next time I’d make sure to do a better job. Perhaps Isi would like to help me check up on the others once I could trust her again. It would be a good way to reconnect and show her some of what I’d been up to without her.

“Wha—“ Sarah began, but it was too late. I’d never know what she’d been about to say. That was probably for the best, though. I wouldn’t have accepted an apology, and more harsh words would have just further soured my memories of the good times we’d shared.

The spear’s blade, still razor sharp even centuries after it was fashioned, sliced effortlessly through muscle and bone alike and sank deep into Sarah’s heart. It should have been impossible—no wood should be so hard, nor could you hone it to such a fine edge—but the rune magic of one of history’s greatest masters spat on that idea.

Sarah screamed, pain and surprise warring in her voice, and this time I took no pleasure in her cries. The spear drank deeply, color that had faded with age returning to the red-stained wood. Sarah’s voice turned dry and hoarse, fading from a scream to a whimper, and then cut off entirely.

I stepped back out of my lunge, Gáe Bolg coming to rest loosely in my hand with its tip pointed down and its shaft extending up along my arm. No longer supported by the spear, what was left of Sarah crumbled as it fell to the ground, a desiccated corpse that looked like it had lain forgotten in the desert for years. 

I could practically feel the satisfaction rolling off the spear at my side. It looked just like I remembered, elaborately carved and colored like fresh blood. Not a drop of moisture remained on the blade.

“Gáe Bolg,” I whispered softly, and the spear thrummed again in response to its name. 

I smiled and saluted Sarah’s corpse with my new spear. Despite the rocky ending of our time together, I would remember her fondly, I thought. She’d found me a true treasure and even her death had not been meaningless.

As I’d suspected, this was not the true Gáe Bolg that had been carved from the skull of Curruid and given to Cú Chulainn by his mentor, but rather a prototype of sorts. It was one of the many spears that the Queen of the Land of Shadows had fashioned from the branches of Ash trees descended from Yggdrasil. 

I looked at the Ash trees growing around the ruins with new eyes. Perhaps even one of these very Ash trees. 

It was perhaps not quite as powerful as the true cursed spear, but that was alright. It was still a weapon fashioned for and by the hands of a goddess, a priceless treasure beyond any mystic code I’d ever seen. 

A weapon worthy of a god. Or a god slayer.

I twirled my new spear and looked up at the sky. The sun was hidden by a layer of wispy white clouds, but I could still feel its hot rays on my face. 

It wouldn’t be long now. The days were getting longer and hotter and the nights shorter. Soon, it would be time.