Thornbear (Book 1)

  That evening Gram saw Alyssa again, sitting in her now customary seat across from him at the table. She shared a knowing glance with him before spending most of the meal chatting with Moira. For his part, Gram tried to focus on his food, but he found himself staring at her without consciously meaning too. He returned his eyes to his food, but as soon as he stopped thinking about it, his eyes would return to her.

  She’s going to think you’re strange, he told himself. Just then she looked up and met his eyes.

  “Gram,” she said, leaning forward so she could keep her voice lower. “Who’s that fellow sitting beside the Count? They introduced me before, but it was hard to remember everyone’s names.”

  “Ahh,” Gram struggled for a moment, trying to recover from his embarrassment. “That’s Sir Cyhan.” His answer seemed inordinately brief, but his mind refused to offer him a more eloquent response.

  “He looks different—and dangerous,” she remarked.

  “He’s from the South,” explained Gram. “That’s why his skin is darker, and as for dangerous—well, he’s probably the most skilled knight in Lothion.”

  “More skilled than Dorian Thornbear?” she asked lightly.

  Gram frowned, thinking on what Irene had said to him before, then he looked down, “I don’t know, honestly. Sometimes I struggle just to remember my father’s face.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said regretfully. “That was thoughtless of me.”

  He nodded and returned to his food, unsure how to respond. The rest of the meal was filled with an awkward silence that seemed to hover over him.

  When he left the great hall, the familiar form of a certain stuffed bear met him just outside the door. It was crowded with people, so he scooped the bear up and carried her with him.

  “Hello Gram,” said Grace cheerfully.

  “You’re going to get stepped on like that,” he cautioned.

  “It’s the only place I can be sure to find you,” she said, there was a pout in her voice.

  “I’m betting you heard about today,” he postulated.

  “You’re brighter than you look,” she teased. “Though that was a pretty easy guess. What happened?”

  He gave her a brief, almost mechanical description of the events of the day. She seemed very unsatisfied.

  “That’s it? What about Lady Alyssa? What did you think of her? She’s very beautiful. Did your grandmother like her? Why didn’t you get someone to heal your face? You’re keeping the stitches because of her, aren’t you?” The questions were coming in rapid fire succession from the small bear.

  Gram gaped at her, trying to sort through the verbal barrage. “I can’t answer all that at once,” he said at last.

  “You like her, don’t you?” asked Grace, settling on the most important question first.

  Gram’s first reaction was a flat denial, but then he changed his mind, “I don’t know. I’ve just met her.”

  Grace accepted that, though it was obvious she had her own opinion. “I think she fancies you,” she observed.

  “What?” he said, slightly alarmed. “There’s no reason to think that.”

  “Not from the way you tell the story,” replied Grace, “but I can read through the bland details.”

  “Then enlighten me o’ sage,” he remarked, making a weak attempt at sarcasm.

  “Listen well then, poor supplicant,” she began, taking on the challenge with relish. “First, the lady sent her companion away, rather than returning to the castle herself, or leaving you to your task alone. Second, she suggested leaving the shepherd’s home, so that she could spirit you away to a hidden location…”

  “… now wait!” interrupted Gram. “She didn’t ‘spirit me away’. She was just walking to let the sun dry her dress.” He had left out the details concerning her removal of the dress. That had been too much for him to explain.

  “Then why did she want to stop in such a hard to find place?”

  “So no one would see her…” he offered.

  “…because she wanted to be alone with you,” substituted Grace.

  “No, she didn’t want to be seen changing!” he blurted out. “It wasn’t anything like that.”

  The bear stared at him, somehow managing to convey her shock and surprise, “She didn’t want what? I think you left something out of your story. Did you do something—inappropriate?”

  “N—no!” he stammered.

  “Do explain.”

  They had already reached his door, so he took her inside to make sure no one heard them. “Will you promise to keep this to yourself?”

  She nodded, “So long as you didn’t do anything terrible.”

  “Of course not, listen…” He gave her a more complete retelling of his story, leaving out only his thoughts at the time. There was no need to let her know how much he had been affected by the sight of Alyssa’s half-clad form.

  “Oh Gram,” she said when he had finished.

  “What?” he asked nervously.

  “I hope your mother likes her,” said the bear.

  “I just met her!” he protested.

  “Well she’s already left her mark on you, quite literally in this case,” noted Grace, indicating his wounded face.

  “The panther did this,” he countered.

  “But you’re keeping the stitches,” returned Grace. “That says enough.” She got up to leave.

  “You won’t tell anyone, right? About the dress and…” he said, sounding desperate.

  “No, your secret is safe with me, but I’m keeping an eye on that girl,” she responded primly.

  He held the door for her since she was far too short to manage it by herself. “Thank you, Grace.”

  “Just don’t do anything you’ll regret,” she replied, and then she was gone.

  Chapter 14

  Matthew met Gram at breakfast and asked him to follow him to the workshop. Once they were alone, he gave him a conspiratorial grin.

  “Is it finished?”

  “No,” said the young wizard.

  Gram’s face fell, “Well, why are you smiling then?”

  Matthew sighed, “You certainly aren’t easy to please.”

  “I just want to have it back in place before Mother gets back!”

  “And then what?” asked Matthew.

  “Then I can breathe easy, that’s what.”

  “Well, it doesn’t make much sense if I repair Thorn, or improve it, if it’s just going to sit on a wall, looking as if it’s still broken. Does it?” asked Matthew, obviously leading toward something.

  “I figured I’d cross that bridge only when necessary,” admitted Gram.

  “When would that be?”

  “After I’ve come of age?” suggested Gram. “Or better yet, after she dies—of old age, of course! I’d never wish my mother dead.”

  Matthew tilted his head to one side, “You do realize your mother is only in her late thirties? You might be approaching old age yourself before she passes.”

  Gram rolled his eyes, “And I’m sure you have a better idea.”

  “Yeah, but eventually you will have to assert yourself.”

  Gram had done that once already, and he still felt guilty for it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hurt his mother any further. “I won’t have any rights to assert until I come of age anyway.”

  Matthew nodded, “The good news is I might have a way to get you by until then.”

  “What is it?”

  “A tattoo,” announced his friend, grinning from ear to ear as if he had just said the cleverest thing in the world.

  “I can’t get a tattoo!” protested Gram. “I’d have to hide it, and you know how well I hide things,” then he paused. “Wait, what good is a tattoo going to do me?”

  “An excellent question, my young friend,” said Matthew slickly, trying to sound as if he were a sly tinker selling his wares.

  “I’m barely a year younger than you,” pointed out Gram.

  “That’s not the point,” said Mat
thew, growing exasperated.

  “Well, it kinda is, since we’re both technically young…”

  “Listen,” interrupted Matthew seriously. “This would be a magical tattoo, an enchantment permanently engraved on living flesh.”

  Gram winced at the combination of ‘engraved’ and ‘living flesh’, it sounded terribly painful. “I’m already pretty well marked up these days,” he said, directing Matthew’s attention to his face. “I’m not sure I need any more scars.”

  “It won’t be scars. It’ll be a real tattoo, but I can make sure it isn’t visible, except when you use it,” said Matthew.

  “You still haven’t told me what it would do.”

  “It will let you call Thorn, whenever you need it.”

  He stared at his friend blankly for a moment. “You mean I’d have to yell for it?”

  Matthew shook his head, “No, no, you would just touch the tattoo and will it to come to you.”

  “Will it?”

  “It’s like thinking, but with emphasis. You would infuse a tiny bit of aythar into the symbols, and the enchantment would activate, causing Thorn to translate to you.”

  “I’m not a wizard, Matt. I can’t infuse things,” he said before adding a moment later, “And I’m not quite sure what you mean by ‘translate’. Is this something like a teleportation circle?”

  Matthew was growing even more excited. “Yes you can! That’s why I tested you before. This is similar to the Sun-Swords. Your father couldn’t use one, but you can. It only takes a tiny amount to start it, the enchantment does the rest. As for the word ‘translate’, I sort of took to using that to differentiate my new technique from teleportation. For most purposes it’s the same thing, but instead of moving the sword from one place to another, it will be moving from one dimension to another. In fact, the sword will use translation for much more than just that; when you give it different commands, translation will be the method used to bring the extra material to you. A teleportation circle, or even a permanent portal would be totally incapable of handling such a task, but using this method…”

  Gram began waving his hands, desperate to stop his friend before he drowned under the weight of arcane jargon. “You lost me after, ‘for most purposes it’s the same thing’. Did you say ‘commands’?”

  “Yes.”

  “What commands?”

  “I haven’t sorted all that out yet, can we just stay focused on the tattoo for now?”

  “You’re the one who went off about dimensions and portals,” said Gram dourly.

  Matthew pulled out a sheet of fine vellum. It was marked with a strange pattern and dotted with odd symbols. “This is the schema. Hold out your arm, and I’ll transfer it to your skin.”

  “How much is this going to hurt?” Gram was still a bit wary after his previous experiences with healing at the twins’ hands.

  “Not at all,” said Matthew immediately. “The painful part is when we turn it into an actual tattoo. This is just so I’ll have a guide to follow on your skin.”

  “I feel much better now,” said Gram dryly. “You promise it won’t be visible?”

  “Definitely,” assured his friend. “That’s what these symbols here are for.” He pointed to one edge of the pattern. Then he flipped the vellum over, placing the pattern against Gram’s arm.

  “Won’t it be backwards?”

  Matthew sighed, “C’mon, Gram. I’m not stupid. I reversed it already, so it’ll be the right way around.” Then he pursed his lips, putting on a thoughtful face.

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking how funny it would be if I had reversed it.”

  “What would happen then?”

  “The first time you tried to use it, you’d be translated into the null dimension that stores the sword, instead of the other way around. You’d be trapped in an empty featureless blackness—probably for eternity.”

  Gram started to pull away, “Forget it, I don’t…”

  Matthew started laughing, “Relax, I was joking.”

  He stared at his friend suspiciously, “What would really happen then?”

  The young wizard shrugged, “I dunno. It probably just wouldn’t work.”

  “But you’re sure that it will work, and that it’s the right way around. Right?”

  “Definitely,” said Matthew, his light brown hair falling down, almost covering his eyes. “I tested it myself.” Smoothing the vellum once more, he muttered a few words, and Gram felt a tingling on the skin of his right forearm. When Matthew pulled it away, he could see that it was now blank, and the symbols had transferred neatly onto his skin. “Now we need to make it permanent.”

  “How are you going to—ow!” Gram felt a sharp pain, as if a horsefly had bitten his arm.

  Matthew gave him a grim look, “I know it hurts. That was just one spot. I can do this quickly or a little at a time.”

  “Make it quick then,” answered Gram stoically.

  “The only downside is that it hurts a lot if I do it quickly, and you’ll have to hold still.”

  “Give me a few minutes then,” said Gram. “I want to try something.” He settled himself and grew still, trying to recapture the feeling that he sought when training. It had grown much easier with constant practice over the past months. The emptiness settled over him almost as soon as he sought it, and he felt his sense of self fade away. “Alright, I’m ready,” he said, but it seemed almost as if someone else were speaking.

  Matthew closed his eyes and concentrated, and then Gram’s arm was on fire. The pain was intense, and it continued, as what felt like a burning ember traced the pattern on his arm. Gram watched his skin with a sense of detachment. He felt the pain, but it was a sensation without meaning or urgency.

  The process was finished in what was probably only a minute or two, and then Matthew looked at his friend, curious. “Damn, Gram, you never even flinched.”

  Gram blinked at him, and then his thinking mind returned, the one that had all the words. “That hurt pretty badly,” he admitted.

  “I wouldn’t have known it by looking at you.”

  “It’s a trick I learned from Cyhan. Should we test it now?”

  Matthew nodded, “One sec, I have to set it up.” Without bothering to explain, he brought out what appeared to be the same sword they had borrowed a couple of months ago. It was still broken, but at least it was no longer in thousands of tiny pieces. He held it up, seemed to touch something, and then the weapon disappeared.

  “Where did it go?”

  “Somewhere—else, another dimension,” said the wizard. “Now you should be able to call it to you, and it will translate into your hand, no matter where you are. Try it.”

  “What do I do?” asked Gram. The tattoo on his arm had vanished, though the skin where it had been was raw and bleeding in places. He could almost see the pattern within the irritated area.

  “Imagine yourself pushing energy into the area where the tattoo is. Think of the sword in your hand at the same time,” instructed Matthew.

  It took several tries before Gram managed to coordinate his thoughts and the image of the sword in his mind, but when he did, it happened naturally, as if the sword had been in his hand all along.

  “Now reverse it,” said Matthew. “Pull energy from the tattoo and imagine the sword vanishing.”

  That was harder, but he eventually got it. He practiced calling the sword several more times, growing more excited each time. “This is amazing, Matt!”

  “Just wait until I finish the sword,” said his friend smugly.

  “How much is done now?”

  “Well, that part, and it’s no longer in thousands of pieces.”

  “That’s all? You’ve had it for months!”

  Matthew shrugged, “It’s taking a lot longer than I expected, but so far everything is working as I hoped. I had to break it down first, and since you were worried about your mother, the first form I finished was this one.”

  “First form?”

/>   “The broken sword,” said Matthew. “So you could make it look like it used to—this form.”

  “It’s going to have different forms? Like what?”

  “The next one will be its original unbroken form,” said his friend. “After that… let me surprise you.”

  Gram looked at him with dawning respect. He had worried that his friend might not be able to deliver what he promised, but now he was beginning to believe. He also suspected that Matt’s potential as an enchanter was greater than anyone realized. “Did your father teach you this enchantment?”

  “He taught me everything he knows, but this is something new—I think. I don’t know what the ancients knew, but I believe this is completely novel. Translation is very different, and what I’m going to do with it, with your sword, well, I’m sure that’s never been done before.” There was a quiet pride in the young wizard’s voice.

  Chapter 15

  “You’re ready,” said Cyhan. It was two days since Gram had gotten his invisible tattoo.

  He looked at his teacher, but since he hadn’t been given permission to speak he waited silently.

  “Go ahead,” said the older man. “You can speak freely for a while. You’re going to have some questions.”

  “Ready for what, Zaihair?”

  “To start attacking, or at least trying to.”

  Up until that point, Gram had been doing nothing other than trying to keep himself in the proper frame of mind to detect and avoid incoming attacks. Still, he was mildly disappointed. He had hoped he might get to train in armor, or with a shield at least. Fighting with nothing more than a stick in an open field was hardly a realistic way to learn the sort of craft he would need someday.

  Cyhan read the lack of enthusiasm in his features. “What were you expecting?”

  “When will I start learning to be a knight?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know, armor training, heavy weapons, the lance. The others—they’re learning how to care for their armor, how to bear the weight, how to use a shield. You haven’t even discussed any of it with me,” explained Gram.

  “I’m not teaching you to be a knight,” said Cyhan. “You’ll learn some of that later, and the rest you can learn from anyone. I’m teaching you something far more important.”