Guardian - Part 2

Paul's mind spun, his knees wobbled. The red velvet that lined the box lay empty, exposed. The sword was gone. But how? Then Paul remembered the loosened dirt. Micah. It had to have been Micah. How he picked the lock, Paul didn't know, but the sword was gone, and his children certainly weren't capable of such a feat. But how was he going to explain this to the King?

The King was already drilling Paul with his stare, waiting for an explanation. Paul expected him to blow, to strike him, order him to be imprisoned, but the King just waited.

Paul took a deep breath. “I swear, your Majesty, I have never touched the sword since the day your Father entrusted it to me. Neither have I opened the case.”

“Then what has become of the sword?”

Paul felt as if he were melting under the King's stare. “I – I have an idea.”

“Tell me.”

Paul looked into Lissa's eyes and glanced at his children who had stopped their dancing to listen. This would break their hearts, but he had no choice. “My – my hired-hand. I released him minutes before you arrived. He slept in the barn where I hid your sword.”

“How would he steal it without a key?” Carlos barked. “No man can pick a King's lock, not even -”

The King held up a hand to stop Carlos. “I believe him.”

Carlos' jaw dropped. “But …”

The King silenced him further with his gaze. “I can tell when a person is telling the truth.”

Paul almost collapsed with relief.

“But,” the King continued. “Since the sword was under your care, Paul, I expect you to retrieve it.”

Paul nodded. “I will, I promise, your Majesty.”

The King gave Paul's shoulder a squeeze before remounting his horse, but Paul saw a spark of something in his dark eyes he couldn't quite read. Suppressed anger, agitation, worry? Whatever it was, it caused Paul's stomach to flip flop. What would happen if he couldn't fulfill the King's order?

The King's men still murmured among themselves as they also remounted. Carlos threw him an icy glare. Paul watched until horses and riders disappeared down the muddy road, the hoof beats fading into the wind. The sun peeked through the clouds. For a moment the road glistened like a winding river, and the raindrops sparkled on the spruce trees. It was as if they were rejoicing, their heads lifted to the heavens, but Paul did not rejoice.

Lissa had turned to face him, her eyes burning orbs. “How could you?” she spat. Lilith stood beside her mother, her eyebrows furrowed.

Paul's hands flew to his hair. “Aaah, so now my own family is against me? Is the King the only one who believes me?”

“Yes, and shame on him for it!” Lissa stomped her foot. “He doesn't know you like we do.”

“What?! Are you saying I stole the sword?”

“Well, it certainly was not Micah. You can't blame him just because you've harbored hatred for him since the first week we hired him.”

“Hatred! Lissa, please!”

She jabbed a finger at his chest. “Yes, hatred, because he's a better man than you, and you are too full of yourself to admit it.”

Paul shook his head. “That is not true - Micah is just a boy! I've never liked his stories, that much is true, but I've never hated him.”

“Boy or no, he is a better man! He took the time you never took to spend with your children. When my feet were too tired and my arms heavy, he scrubbed the pots and pans. He tucked the children in bed, sang them songs, cleaned up supper, while you were off who-knows-where!”

“Lissa, I had work to do! Remember? To put food on your table, clothes on your backs, a roof over your heads. I haven't had time for much else!”

“But you make time for Ada's Tavern.” Lissa blinked back tears, and her voice broke.

“Is there something wrong with a man taking little time to socialize with a few good friends?”

“Yes, when you spend most the night out!”

Paul stumbled back a step, shocked. Was Lissa playing with him? He'd always come back before sundown, he made sure of that. Maybe he wasn't spending enough time with his family, but he wasn't that neglectful. Paul shook his head. “I never...”

“Don't you dare lie to me. I've laid too many nights alone in the dark to believe any of your excuses.”

“Lissa, I don't recall-”

Lissa held up her hand “Just don't. Please, don't.” She spun around. Gathering the children, she stormed off to the house.

Paul collapsed to his knees, his body shaking with sobs. Now what, O King? His gaze fixed upon the road where the young man and his horses disappeared. Twenty-nine years ago the man's father had disappeared down the same road, hauled off by raiders. Paul had just been a stable boy. He still remembered the orange flames roaring from the stable walls, the horses wild-eyed in their stalls. Paul's father had pushed him from the crumbling building and told him to run for the woods. Running as fast as his legs could carry him, his foot caught on a rock, and he stumbled. Firm hands had lifted him to his feet, and that was how he met him, the King. He was cloaked, and tucked in the folds he carried an ebony box and satchel. Paul, wide-eyed had accepted the items.

“Hide my sword,” he said. “At all costs, keep it from the enemy.” The King shoved him behind the brush and motioned for him to sit still. The sound of hooves had filled the air, and the King stepped into the open road. The last Paul had seen of him was the raiders dragging him through the dust.

After Paul had married Lissa, he'd built a farm here, hoping beyond all hopes that the King would return. He never told anyone but her about the sword, and even she did not know exactly where he'd buried it. Sure he'd been tempted to peek at the legendary sword, but he'd restrained himself. However, he couldn't prove that to anyone.

Now all hope was lost. Unless... Paul's thoughts trailed off for a moment, and he stood, his brow furrowed. He had to find Micah, he had to find the sword.

Part 3 coming soon...




Alrighty, question time again!

1. First off, now what are your feelings about Paul, Micah, and the King? Have they changed any?
2. Does my sudden launch into the past seem awkward and misplaced to you?

Again, thank you. You're feedback was really helpful last time.