Category: The Sword Keeper

At first, Tamuna felt as if she were falling through an abyss. Darkness surrounded her, so thick she could almost taste it.

Before she could panic, her fall slowed until she was floating in midair. Her feet touched water, and a deep sense of peace swept over her, the peace one only feels in a dream. As the darkness cleared, she found herself swimming in a clear pool fed by a mountain spring. Rugged cliffs rose behind her, while a small stone chapel stood a short distance from the shore. An eagle cried out in the cloudless blue sky, momentarily breaking the solitary silence of the wilderness.

Where am I? Tamuna wondered. How did I come to this place? If this was a dream, it felt more real than any she’d ever experienced. The water was cool and refreshing, with a bed of fine gravel under her feet. There was no danger of drowning, though the pool was deep enough that she had to swim instead of walk. She was naked, but that didn’t bother her. It would be silly to swim in her clothes, of course.

She reached the edge of the pool and climbed onto a large rock. Snow-capped peaks lined the horizon in every direction, while virgin forests stretched out in the valleys below. The view was so stunning, it completely took her breath away. She’d heard of places like this, where the cattle herders took their cows in the summer and the hunters roamed in the winter. However, when she scanned the mountains on the horizon, none of them were familiar.

“Hello?” she shouted. “Can anyone hear me?” The echo came back a few seconds later, but only the wind answered her.

She shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands. The breeze was uncomfortably cool on her bare, wet skin, but fortunately the sun was rapidly drying her. She sat down on the rock and began to wring out her hair.

She noticed a small footpath nearby, leading to the stone chapel. A set of woolen clothes lay neatly folded at the head of the path, clearly meant for her. As soon as she was dry enough to dress herself, she climbed down from the rock and slipped the clothes over her body. They were thick and warm, perfectly suited for the mountains. The embroidery was red and gold on black, in the style of the Khevsurans, with a recurring cross-and-circle motif. She took a few moments to admire her reflection in the lake before setting off down the path.

Like most mountain churches, this one was built in the shape of a cross, with tall, narrow windows and intricate patterns carved onto the exterior. The stones were crumbling, and a long crack ran down the wall through the highest window. From the outside, it seemed empty.

I’m alone, she thought silently. And yet somehow, she knew that wasn’t true. Ever since the darkness had lifted, she’d felt a presence nearby, waiting for her. It felt as if she were part of a story that she was living through instead of merely hearing about.

Tamuna bit her lip as she finished preparing the food. She could tell from Sopiko’s tone that any further questions would not be tolerated. Her aunt wasn’t a harsh woman, but she could be stern, especially when it came to the tavern. Tamuna sometimes wondered if her mother had been like that: stern and domineering. She had no memory of her mother, and Sopiko had never mentioned her.

As she finished with the cheese and spooned the beans into a clay bowl, Tamuna’s mind drifted back to the sword. She didn’t know why, but something about it seemed to call her. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t put it out of her mind.

“Here,” said her aunt, loading the roasted chicken on the tray. “Take this to our guest upstairs, but don’t linger too long.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m serious, Tamuna. I know how you like to stay and chat every time we have a guest, but this time,” she made a cutting motion across her neck with her hand. “Understand?”

“Yes, Aunt Sopiko. I won’t disturb him.”

“Good. Now see to your work.”

He must be a very important man for her to say that, Tamuna thought as she climbed the stairs. Usually, her aunt had no qualms about her chatting with the guests. From them, she’d learned all sorts of fascinating things about the world beyond her village: of vast rocky deserts to the south, with ancient ruins buried beneath the shifting sands; and of warrior kingdoms on the grassy plains beyond the western sea. But lately, it was the Northlands that everyone seemed to be talking about. Some guests spoke of armies marching steadily toward the Kevonas, while others spoke of the rise of a new empire across the plains. Perhaps their new guest was an envoy, or an advisor to a king—or perhaps he was the leader of a band of warrior monks, preparing to take part in a holy war.

All these thoughts raced through her mind as she walked down the hallway and knocked on the door to the private room.

“Sir,” she called, holding the tray against her hip. “I have your dinner, sir. May I come in?”

No answer.

She waited for a moment, then knocked again. “Uh, sir, are you there?”

Again, no answer.

He’s probably just gone to the outhouse. The tray weighed heavily on her arms, so she nudged the door open with her toe and stepped in.

Sure enough, the room was empty. A fire blazed in the fireplace, while the man’s cloak and rucksack lay exactly as he’d left them. She carefully set down the tray of hot food, noticing the sword that still lay on the other side of the table.

Something about the sight of it rooted her to the spot. She knew that she should return to the kitchen, but all she could do was stare, mesmerized by the sight. The blazing light of the fire made the emerald on the pommel glisten and shimmer.

The candles were lit and the tables had already been served when the clatter of hooves announced the late arrival of a traveler. Tamuna paused in her work behind the counter to peer out the tavern window, but the sky had already faded, blending the leaves with the shadows.

“Better put another spit on the fire,” said Aunt Sopiko as she came back from serving tables. “When that’s done, see to the room upstairs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Tamuna.

She ran to the kitchen, hoping to finish her chores in time to catch a glimpse of the unexpected guest. The harvest season had just ended, and the villagers had already put away their corn and grain for the winter. Occasionally, a cowherder would come down from the high pastures, but never after sundown. No, it had to be a traveler bound for the faraway lands over the mountain pass.

Tamuna had always had a love of faraway lands and peoples. Her aunt’s tavern was one of the last places for room and board before the mighty Kevona Mountains, and consequently, it attracted many interesting travelers. But this late in the season, it was rare for anyone to come down from the pass.

Of course, that only piqued Tamuna’s curiosity even more.

As she stoked the cooking fire, the door to the yard swung open, and Nika the stable boy came in carrying a bucket of water from the well. His curly brown hair spilled out beneath his gray woolen skullcap, and his boots were covered in mud.

“Hi, Tamuna,” he said, setting the bucket on the table. “Thought you might need this.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling in gratitude. “Any news from the village?”

“Old Giorgi’s cow gave birth to a beautiful little calf. He’ll probably sell her in the spring—the calf, of course, not the cow.”

“Of course.”

“Anyway, she’s a gorgeous animal. I really wish I could save up and buy her. Do you think your aunt could… well…”

Tamuna drew a labored breath. She knew what Nika was asking, but her aunt was far too miserly to ever agree to such a request. If Tamuna asked her to raise Nika’s pay by even a few meager coppers, she’d probably be whipped for it. But Nika couldn’t save very much either, since his family took almost everything he earned.

“I’ll do what I can,” she said softly. Then, putting a hand on his arm, “Maybe we can save up enough together.”

His face brightened. “You really think so?”

“Sure. And with all the eggs the chickens are laying, maybe Sopiko will let us sell some at the market in Kutaisa.”

“Oh, Tamuna!”

Nika threw his arms around her, enthusiastically kissing her on the cheek. He still smelled like dirty hay and horse manure, though, so she squealed and pushed him away.

“By the seven rivers, Nika, haven’t you had a chance to wash up yet? You smell like you’ve been bathing with the pigs!”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“Well, what are you still here for? Go and wash up already!”

She shooed him out of the kitchen, but just as he turned to leave, she suddenly remembered the traveler.

“Wait—did you see anyone come in?”

He frowned. “What?”

“The traveler who just rode in. Did you catch a glimpse of him? When I’m—”

“Oh, my stars!” said Nika, his eyes widening like saucers. “I wasn’t in the stable when— Sorry, gotta run!” Without another word, he dashed out the door and disappeared into the deepening twilight.