Kylus, Sylis, Rose, Glorissa and Yarid stood ducked behind a building at a street corner, across from the gate in the magical enchanted wall that surrounded the Serve-Sword Barracks and the Temple of Light. It was the Darkest Night, so the darkness was so thick that Kylus could barely see three feet in front of him, but he knew what this building he was hiding behind was from his years as a Serve-Sword cadet: it was a tall, fancy building, with a bakery on the ground floor, a shoe store above that, and a high-priced brothel in the upper levels of the building. The brothel is disgusting, but I bought a nice pair of shoes at that shoe store one time, back when I was a Serve-Sword.

  The gate to the wall surrounding the Barracks and Temple was open, and Servants of the Sword were marching out. Row after row after row of soldiers marched out, their ranks perfectly lined up in rows, their booted feet making the ground shake as they stormed forward out into the night. I can barely see the Serve-Swords, the night is so dark! Kylus thought. But so many of them are coming out of the gate, it looks like the entire Order of the Servants of the Sword is marching into war!

  “Looks like Nathan did his job. Now is our chance,” Rose said to the others. She walked towards the gate while motioning for the others to follow her lead. “Let’s go.”

  The five of them crept out into the open street. They strode up to the gate, walking assertively and nonchalantly, as if they belonged there. Each one of them had their helmets on and visors down, hiding their faces. They approached the gate and had to push and shove to get past the river of soldiers going in the other direction, almost like fish swimming against the current. But Rose pushed and shoved, and she made it through the gate, with Kylus and the others right behind her. No one stopped them or questioned them. No one even seemed to notice them. They were merely five Serve-Swords among many hundreds of others, and those others were rushing forward to defend their city, with all soldiers’ eyes firmly facing towards the zombie threat up north, and with no one’s eyes looking at anyone coming into the gate.

  Inside, Rose and the others entered the Main Hall of the Barracks. The Main Hall was full of soldiers, most of whom were forming into groups based on which battalions they belonged to, with their Captains barking orders to them and making sure their soldiers were ready to go, before giving the order and leading their battalion to march down the hall and out the gate. But the Main Hall was a chaos of soldiers running this way and that in addition to the efforts to organize and deploy. The chaos was chaotic enough that no one noticed a group of five Serve-Swords entering the front of the Hall.

  “Can you lead us to where we need to go?” Rose whispered to Kylus.

  “Yes, I can.”

  “Will you?”

  “Yes,” Kylus said. “I will.”

  He set off towards the door to the Temple, located at the very far end of the Main Hall. The other four followed him. I prefer to follow, not to take the lead! But I am the one who knows the way, so I must do my job.

  The Main Hall was a vast, wide hall, and Kylus kept to the right-most side of the hall, staying out of the way of the battalions marching down the hall to head to the Gate. He crept along, going deeper and deeper into the Barracks. At last, he came near enough to the northern end of the Hall where he could see the door leading to the room where a doorway led from the Barracks into the Temple. If the guards in that room let them through—and they should, because Rose had a list of fake names for them to use, which would match up against names in the book the guards would check to see if they should have access to the Temple—then they would finally enter the Temple of Light.

  A Serve-Swords saw them and came running towards them. Oh no! What do I do? Kylus thought. But before Kylus could turn to run away or draw his sword, the Serve-Sword soldier reached out and tapped Kylus on the shoulder.

  “Hey! I recognize you!” the soldier said.

  “You do?” Kylus asked. He could not see what Rose and the others were doing behind him. Are we ready to fight? What will we do?

  “Yes! I recognize your armor! You’re Braedyn Sharlshyler! I was tasked to find someone ranked captain, lieutenant, commander or general, and you’re the first high-ranked person I see. You will do nicely!”

  “I will do? Do for what?” Kylus asked. He must be one of the ones who let me through the gate before, when me and Yarid snuck in. This could be bad….

  “The city is under attack, and almost all of the Serve-Swords have been summoned to march north to save the city! We need someone to stand guard with the Sword, and to wield the Sword if any enemies sneak into the Barracks and go for our beloved leader, the magical Talking Sword! The Sword asked me to find someone to protect it, and now I’ve found you! Come, I will take you to the Sword!”

  Kylus looked around and looked at Rose and the others. They seemed to be just standing there.

  “Um, I am with some other soldiers? I am needed elsewhere?” Kylus said, his voice hesitant and unsure.

  “And you think anything is more important than obeying the Sword? You’re a rank lieutenant! You know better than that! I’m sure you’re nervous, but don’t worry, you will prove worthy to stand with the Sword!”

  “Okay, I guess?” Kylus said. Just go, I can’t afford to draw attention to myself, I am standing in a room with a hundred soldiers who will kill me if they learn I’m a rogue! Kylus gave one last look to his companions. He thought he made eye contact with Rose, and he saw her eyes through her red mask and helmet visor looking at him with one of her fierce stares, but Kylus could not read what she was thinking, if anything at all.

  Kylus shrugged his shoulders, and marched off with the Serve-Sword soldier, leaving his team behind. The soldier led him to the entry of the spiral staircase that wound up the tower where the Sword was kept in a room at the top.

  “The Sword is up there, in the highest level of this tower,” the soldier said. “The Sword is expecting someone to protect it, so you need to run. The Sword gave me some other tasks to complete, but I will just wait here at the bottom of the stairs to hear you open the door to the Sword, just to make sure you found your way. Go!”

  Kylus gulped, and he began to shake and tremble. I can’t let him see how nervous and afraid I am! He dropped his left hand to the sword that hung from his belt, and he wrapped his hand around the handle of his sword. His body stopped shaking. He looked up, towards where the stairs wound around and vanished into the upper levels of the tower. I must go now, or this person will begin to get suspicious about me!

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  Kylus began to climb the stairs, in steps that were slow and hesitant at first, but which soon became fast and brisk. He turned the corner and vanished from the other soldier’s view, going up into the tower. Looks like I’ll be the first one to die tonight. Somehow fitting that the Sword itself will be the blade that ends me, Kylus thought, as he jogged up the stairs. The Sword ruined my life and shattered my hopes and dreams, and now it will murder me outright. But I will not die without a fight! Kylus reached the huge iron double-doors to the room containing the Sword. The doors had been left open, and there was no one standing guard. Kylus walked in.

  The Sword was in the chamber, floating in midair in a pillar of solid glowing light. No one else was in the room.

  “Hello, my Servant,” the Sword said. “Thank you for coming. You will know honor to have served your Master in this time of my need.” The Sword’s voice was deep, female, and cold, with no warmth or emotional sensitivity, exactly as Kylus had remembered it. I don’t think you have grown nicer since our last meeting where you expelled me from your Order, Kylus thought.

  “Hi,” Kylus said. “I am here to… protect you? To wield you? I am a Servant of the Sword, and you are the Sword, so I am here to serve you.”

  “Excellent. My might is extreme and more than sufficient to defeat any foes, but I must be wielded by a human to unlock my magical powers. You seem young and strong. You will do nicely. Your job will be to use me if enemies storm my tower and attack me. I would test your skill with a sword, to confirm that your talents are able to meet my needs. Take hold of me and let me see your form and style.”

  Kylus approached the Sword. It was a simple iron sword, its blade nicked and scratched with heavy usage, but the edge of the blade was sharp, and looked razor-fine enough to draw blood at its first touch to an enemy. Kylus came so close that he was near enough to touch it. The Sword was floating mere inches from his face.

  Well, this is what I’m here for… right?

  Kylus reached his left hand out into the light and took hold of the Sword. Its handle fit perfectly into his hand. He pulled at the Sword, and it broke free from whatever magic had held it suspended in midair. He swung the sword, thrust with it, and slashed, feeling its weight and form in his combat moves, going through his sword practice drills, just as he had been taught in the Soldier Training Program. The Sword was a good sword: well-balanced, firm and strong, yet light and slender, and its metal gleamed in the light from the nearby torches in a way that seemed to glitter and sparkle, hinting at the ancient magic enchanted into it thousands of years ago by the realm’s most powerful wizards. Kylus smiled.

  “Wait a minute,” the Sword said, and Kylus’s smile vanished. “I know, by feel, the soul of each human who wields me. Knights, warriors, heroes, kings, and generals, the greatest men and women of bygone ages, have used me. I have dealt the deathblow to monsters, to ogres, to werewolves and to vampires. Five thousand years ago, King Martyn of House Imperial wore me when he rode into battle against the Northern Empire. The ranks of the enemy broke, and he found himself face to face with Carnassius the Conqueror, the Emperor of the Northern Empire. They dueled, and my blade beheaded Emperor Carnassius. King Martyn’s victory forced the Northern Empire to enter a peace treaty with the Imperium, endling a bloody conflict that had threatened the entire realm. I saved the Imperium from destruction!

  “Ten thousand years ago, at a time soon after I was forged and shortly after the dragons were banished, the legendary wizard-knight Timothy Zimoen used me to deliver the fatal blow to the Necromancer Lord, an undead wizard-ghoul who had united the Black schools of magic under himself and sought to enslave the other five colors to the color Black. The Necromancer Lord used magic to protect himself with a magic shield which could only be pierced by a Mythic and Legendary Weapon such as myself; it was a spell he had learned from the dragons before God banished them. By using me, Zimoen broke his magic shield and ran the Necromancer Lord through, stabbing him in the heart and ending him. The mightiest and greatest legends from human history have swung me in combat, have held my blade proudly forth while they rode into battle, have worn me on their hip while leading vast armies into important, epoch-making, history-changing wars.”

  Kylus swallowed, and his body went cold. I don’t think this is going towards a place where I want it to be going. “But you are no hero,” the Sword said, its voice icy-cold, its every syllable carefully and forcefully articulated, as if it were spitting its words into Kylus’s face. “You are no king. You are no honorable warrior. You are none of those things. I know you! You are that girl-turned-boy whom I expelled from my Order many months ago!” Uh oh! What do I do?

  “What are you doing back here, girl?” the Sword said. “Why are you here? Have you come to try to damage me? You will fail: I am a Mythic and Legendary Weapon, which means that I am enchanted by the most powerful weapon-enchantment spell ever created, a spell that combines the best of Green magic with one of the grand miracles of White magic! Only magic that has been blessed by God can destroy me, and I doubt that a girl-turned-boy like you would have any of the blessings of God to use against me! Or have you come to steal me, girl, which I find much more likely? Are you a rogue now, girl, come for revenge, to steal and sell me to some trash underworld crime ring? All the Red rogues are filth and garbage like you, I bet you found ready friends among them, and they sent you here to steal me! Rogue! Thief! Vandal! Help! Help me! My Servants, Servants of the Sword, come now to aid your Master! Help! Help! Help!”

  The Sword began to scream, and it screamed loudly. This room was at the top of a relatively tall tower. Nonetheless, the Sword’s shouting was incredibly loud, and the door to the room was open. Kylus, who was still holding the sword with his left hand, could feel the Sword’s screams vibrate through his entire body, shaking him all the way to his bones. Kylus almost dropped the Sword in shock, and his mouth formed a deep frown while his eyes became sad and began to cry. Oh no! Someone will hear any moment, if they haven’t already! If they find me here, they will kill me! I have one chance, right now, to try to shut the Sword up! What do I do? Think! Think quickly! Do something! Sylis is so smart, think like him, what would he say? Maybe… how is it that the Talking Sword can talk? Where does its voice come from?

  Kylus pulled his regular sword from its scabbard sheath with his right hand and with his left hand he shoved the Sword into the now-empty scabbard. The Sword fit perfectly, and as soon as the Sword’s blade was encased within the metal scabbard sheath that had come with his Serve-Sword armor, the Sword’s voice faded to a faint mumble. Only Kylus or someone standing directly next to him might be able to hear it, and the scabbard muffled it so well that any person might mistake its voice for the noise of a random fly buzzing about. The Sword seemed to rattle about in his scabbard, as if trying to shake itself free, but no one would know what that sound meant, either. The Sword is powerless without the hand that wields it, Kylus thought. And now my hand is the hand that wields it!

  Kylus smiled a broad grin and nodded to himself in satisfaction. He rested his hand on the pommel-knob of the Sword’s handle, and caressed it with his fingers, as he loved to do when he had a sword at his side, to feel the sense of power he felt from having a sword ready in his hand. Kylus’s hand felt a jolt of magic, and his hand jerked away from the Sword: the magic shocked him, but it did not burn or hurt, and the sting faded instantly. Kylus looked at his hand. It was unmarked by any magic. He curled and uncurled his fingers and formed a fist. His hand was fine.

  Perfect. The Sword can’t hurt me. If it could have, it would have by now. Kylus’s smile was almost as wide as his face. And the Sword feels right, somehow, like its length and weight and balance was custom-made for my fighting style, like it is the right sword for me. Like it was meant to be.

  Kylus raced out of the Sword’s chamber and ran down the spiral stairs, the Sword hanging at his hip in the scabbard tied to his belt. Now I wonder where Rose and the others have gone to while I was gone? I need to find them, and then we steal that Crystal of Light!