Chapter 11: A Stone, a Sword, and an Adventure****
“Clarkent, I want to go on an adventure!” Gawain proclaimed.
In just a few short months, Clarkent and Gawain had become great friends. At Gawain’s persistent prompting, the pair continued acting out adventures, some of them made up and some of them based on tales Gawain had heard.
But for Gawain, it wasn’t enough to act out adventures. No, Gawain began insisting adamantly that they have a real adventure . . . and Clarkent was just as adamant on insisting they not willingly place themselves in danger.
Still, a few months after Clarkent turned fourteen, as the two boys sat on the grass and tried to think of something new to do during the short amount of time they had together before Clarkent had to go back to work, Gawain returned once more to what sometimes seemed like a constant mantra.
Clarkent groaned. “You always want to go on adventures.” He would much rather act out one of Gawain’s crazy stories than go try to make their own. What was the point in putting one’s life at risk *on purpose*?
“I mean it this time,” Gawain insisted, ever the pushy one. “And you can’t tell me you’re not hoping to have adventures one day.” There was an impish gleam in his eye. “I *saw* you jumping on the back of Agides--”
Clarkent flushed in embarrassment. He had been practicing leaping onto horses from behind. It was a move he had seen Dwayne--who was surprisingly agile--do once, and he had wanted to duplicate it. He wasn’t quite tall enough to make it every time, but he usually was able to do it about half the time. He had *thought*, however, that he’d been practicing unnoticed.
“It’s too dangerous to go pursuing adventures,” Clarkent said, trying to distract Gawain. “We should just stay here--”
“No,” Gawain said as he narrowed his eyes. “I’ve heard reports of something that we have to investigate!”
“And what is that?” Clarkent asked with an exaggerated sigh.
“They say that running loose . . . is a walking cookie!” Gawain proclaimed.
Clarkent groaned. “That’s ridiculous.”
Gawain narrowed his eyes. “I’m telling you--it’s *not* ridiculous!”
“Yes, it is!”
“No, it’s not,” Gawain said firmly. “We live in a magical place, and I think a wizard has cast a spell on this cookie!”
“And *I* think you’ve been eating one too many of the cook’s desserts,” Clarkent returned. “I am *not* going to go pursue something so obviously fake. A walking cookie? Come on, Gawain!”
With a huff, Gawain crossed his arms. “Fine. We’ll do something else if magical desserts aren’t good enough for you!”
As Gawain began pacing, Clarkent lay back on the grass and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, Gawain was peering down at him.
“I have it!” Gawain exclaimed, backing away now that he had Clarkent’s attention.
Clarkent sat up, wary of his friend’s excitement. “You have . . . what?”
“I know what we’re going to do! We . . . are going to go to the border!”
“No,” Clarkent said immediately, not even needing to think about it twice. To even *consider* going to the border between Metropolita and the Barbarian Kingdom was utter foolishness.
“Come on,” Gawain whined. “I’ve never been there before, and you know what’s there . . . . ”
Clarkent’s heart beat just a little bit faster at the mere reference to the famous--or was that *in*famous?--landmark. But he tried to calm himself--there was absolutely no reason to go to see it--and he said in a you-should-know-better-than-this kind of tone, “A border patrol would catch us. Or they could be in the middle of a battle right now.”
“That’s why we go at night!” Gawain said, obviously proud at his foresight. “If we go at night, we can sneak to the border under the cover of darkness. If there’s a battle going on, then we just run away. If there’s a border patrol around, well, we’ll just make sure we’re quiet enough that they don’t notice us.”
It wouldn’t work, would it? Clarkent shook his head. “This is a bad idea--”
“It’s a *fun* idea, you mean!”
No, not *fun* exactly. But to know for sure . . . to actually have seen . . . . Clarkent tried to shake himself out of his interest, saying, “No, that’s not--”
“*Please*,” Gawain pleaded. “I doubt anything bad will happen to us!”
“Famous last words,” Clarkent muttered. But he couldn’t help being tempted despite himself. What if Gawain was right? What if Clarkent was worrying over nothing? They didn’t even have to stay for long--they could just sneak onto the border and then sneak back . . . . Right? Just long enough to see *it* . . . .
Releasing a soft sigh, he said, “Fine. But if something *does* happen to us, it’s on *your* head.”
“Yes!” Gawain said triumphantly, only focused on the fact that Clarkent had agreed to go. “You won’t regret it.”
Clarkent shook his head. “You’d better hope not.”
****
They managed to enlist some help from Billy for their plan. They couldn’t ride horses directly to the border, lest a border patrol hear them. So, that night, after Clarkent and Billy were done with their chores, Gawain and Clarkent rode together on Agides to a spot about a mile from the border with Billy riding on a horse behind them and muttering about how crazy they were for even thinking of doing something so dangerous. The plan was for Billy to look after Agides--protecting him from horse thieves--and await their return. Later, Billy would be compensated with a large supply of sweets from Gawain. It was a solid plan in theory, but Clarkent disliked every bit of it.
As Gawain and Clarkent slipped off Agides, Billy told them one last time, “You’re both insane.”
Gawain stuck his tongue out and began walking away. Clarkent gave a helpless look to Billy, who simply shook his head.
Clarkent sighed, and he and Gawain began their trek toward the border. Every step they took made Clarkent more nervous.
“It’s not too late to turn back,” he told Gawain after they had been walking for a few minutes. “We don’t have to put ourselves in danger, you know.”
But Gawain refused to see reason. “Don’t be a coward. It’s not like we’re going to the Barbarian King’s castle! We’re just going to go look at the stone, and then we’ll go back.”
Clarkent sighed. He didn’t want to admit even to himself that there was a small part of himself--a very, very *tiny* part of himself--that was a little excited at the thought of seeing what he had only heard stories of.
As they got closer to the border, they began moving slower, conscious of the need to be quiet. And finally, they had arrived . . . and there *it* was.
The stone wasn’t as massive as Clarkent had heard it was, but it was still big. It stood right on the border of the two kingdoms, marking where one began and the other ended. But more important than the presence of the stone was what was *in* it.
Jammed into the top of the stone was a sword, its blade just barely able to be seen gleaming silver in the night. The grip of the sword was jet black, but the circular pommel and the long cross-guard were made of gold woven in intricate patterns. It was utterly magnificent.
Clarkent and Gawain crept closer toward it, awed into silence. There were many mysterious stories surrounding the sword. Most people said it was enchanted. But whether that was true or not, the sword was beautiful.
As they moved up to the sword, Clarkent’s eyes dropped to the part of the stone directly beneath it. Below the sword was some kind of writing. He only knew how to read the little bit that his parents had taught him before he’d been Assigned, but he knew that the writing wasn’t in a Metropolitan script.
Gawain noticed Clarkent staring at the writing. “That’s the script of the Barbarian Kingdom,” Gawain noted in a whisper. “We may speak the same language, but we don’t write the same way.” He reached out and touched the script, following it with his fingers. “I don’t know what the words say. Some people claim it’s a nasty spell. Others say it warns Metropolitans to stay away.”
“What do you think it says?” Clarkent asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Gawain said with a frown. “The sword appeared several years ago, so you would think someone would have figured it out by now, but no one in Metropolita knows . . . . Or if they do, they aren’t saying anything. People are too scared of this place.”
An owl hooted in the darkness, and Clarkent shivered. “I don’t blame them.” He was really beginning to regret having come here--not that he had been happy to do so in the first place.
“Let’s try to get it out,” Gawain said eagerly, climbing up the stone.
“I don’t think that’s a good i--”
“Oh, come on!” Gawain said, his voice slightly louder than it should have been. “Let’s each try it, and then we can go back.”
“All right,” Clarkent agreed nervously. “Let’s hurry.”
Gawain stood up on top of the stone, a big grin on his face. He leaned down and placed his small hands around the hilt of the sword, bending his knees to prepare for the effort of pulling at it. He was about to both straighten up and pull at it when the light clopping of horse hooves sounded nearby, and he froze.
Clarkent turned sharply in a panic and then hissed at Gawain, “Get down!”
But it was too late. A border patrolman from the Barbarian Kingdom was guiding his bay horse their way, and the light from his torch splashed onto the two boys, revealing their frightened faces.
“Hey!” the man shouted in surprise.
“Run!” Clarkent yelled to Gawain before taking off. He heard Gawain leap off the rock and come sprinting after him.
The sound of another horse galloping reached Clarkent’s ears, and he realized that the man on horseback had been patrolling with someone else.
It didn’t take long for the first patrolman to react, and Clarkent heard him clicking to his horse, whose hooves soon pounded the ground.
“Let go of me!” Gawain shouted from behind Clarkent.
Turning his head as he ran, Clarkent saw that the man had scooped up a struggling Gawain and was trying to keep him from jumping off the front of the horse--something which was made more difficult by the fact that he was wearing armor.
Clarkent hesitated only for a second before running toward them. The man was having a hard time controlling both his horse and Gawain (who he held sideways over his lap), and that gave Clarkent hope that what he was about to try would work.
He raced to the back side of the horse and leapt into the air as he’d been practicing, fumbling and holding tightly on to the horse’s hind quarters and saddle as he scrambled upward into a seated position. The man holding Gawain twisted in confusion, and Clarkent, praying he wasn’t being an utter fool, leaned to the side and pulled Gawain toward him by the back of his shirt with one hand while pushing at the man with his other hand. Despite the fact that Gawain wasn’t heavy, Clarkent almost lost him over the side of the horse anyway as the boy’s legs swung downward, but Gawain fortunately had enough presence of mind to latch on to Clarkent’s midsection as he was pulled, even if his legs *were* dangling precariously over the edge of the horse. But--as was Clarkent’s goal--the patrolman did fall off the horse with a thud and a curse.
Clarkent helped pull Gawain all the way up on the horse and in front of him on the saddle, and he put his arms around the younger boy, taking the reins and using his feet and a clicking noise to encourage the horse to gallop away.
****
When Loisette was yanked by the stableboy, she had known for certain she was going to fall off the horse and be trampled to death by it. Somehow, however, she bypassed that gruesome fate by throwing her arms around Clarkent. Her legs weren’t on the horse, and she was certain she was still going to hit the ground, but then Clarkent was helping her up and putting his arms around her to grab at the reins.
Their stolen horse jumped forward, and Loisette’s heart leapt with it. She was suddenly very conscious of her closeness with Clarkent, and her pulse--which was already beating madly because of the danger they were in--quickened for some inexplicable reason.
Behind them, Loisette could hear the other patrolman hot on their trail, and she closed her eyes and leaned back into Clarkent. <Please let us get out of this alive,> she prayed.
The minutes passed as they raced in the darkness, not aiming to reach Billy, just heading for somewhere *away* from the man chasing them. They were in Metropolitan territory, but he was persistent in his pursuit. Finally, however, they could no longer hear him following.
Loisette allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief, though her heart was still pounding. The man’s armor had probably hindered his speed. Thank goodness for that!
Clarkent slowed the horse down and told her, “I think . . . I think we’re safe now.”
“Yeah,” she returned slowly.
They were both quiet for a minute, wrapped up in thoughts of their close encounter with someone from the Barbarian Kingdom.
And then, strangely, Loisette’s mind returned to her physical proximity to Clarkent. It felt so strange to be in his arms like this, and she just didn’t know why. Was there a reason for the hitch in her breath?
“We’re alive . . . ” Clarkent said, as if uncertain whether they really *were* alive.
Loisette nodded slowly. “What--what do we do with the horse?”
Clarkent paused, shifting his arms around her to get a better grip on the reins. “Uh--point it in the direction of home?”
Loisette frowned to herself. “If we did that, we would be giving the enemy more resources. Shouldn’t we keep it? You know, for the good side?”
“Umm . . . how would we explain how we got it?” he asked her.
She sighed. “Fine. What if we just let it roam free? Someone will see its brand and realize it isn’t from Metropolita. Then *they* can decide what to do with it.”
“All right.” He hesitated. “Maybe we should let it free here so it isn’t too close to the border--maybe it’ll be less likely to run back home.”
“Good idea,” Loisette agreed.
“You want to dismount first?” he asked her.
“Uh, yeah,” she said, trying to cover her nervousness. As Gawain, she and Clarkent usually didn’t ride horses that often, so she still wasn’t completely comfortable with riding astride, much less dismounting by herself. But she wasn’t going to let it look like she was afraid. And besides--she had done it earlier in front of Billy.
Clarkent removed his left foot from the stirrup, and she placed hers in its place. Then she awkwardly brought her right foot underneath her, trying not to hit Clarkent. She leaned over the saddle on her stomach, removed her foot from the stirrup, and slid to the ground.
He smiled down at her and then dismounted himself, though he did so much more gracefully. He gently hit the horse’s hind quarters and said, “Hyah!”
The horse obediently began running off, and they watched it for a few seconds.
Loisette turned to Clarkent, feeling suddenly shy. “Thank--thank you for rescuing me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “This is why adventures were a bad idea.”
She gave him a lopsided grin. “You didn’t have fun?”
“No,” he said firmly.
She was certain she was lying, but she didn’t call him on it. Instead, she said, “Let’s go back to Billy. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
“You’re telling me,” Clarkent muttered.
She simply ignored him. She had had her adventure. And that meant she had won.
****
Chapter 11 GlossaryGrip: The grip of a sword is part of the hilt. It is the part a person grasps when holding the sword. It was usually made of wood or metal.
Pommel: The pommel of a sword is also part of the hilt. It is the part at the very end of the hilt and is often circular. It acts as a counterweight.
Cross-guard: The cross-guard is yet another part of the hilt. It is the long bit above the grip but below the blade. It helps protect the user’s hand from his/her own blade and the opponent’s blade.
