Introduction

Hello, I’m the Creator. I created the world this story takes place in, though I did not create the story itself. That belongs to the people in it. And what a story it is! There will be adventure, mystery, love, amnesia, fighting, theater, betrayal, monsters, and even bears. Now I know you must be excited to scoot along and get right into the thick of it, but I hope you’ll indulge an old Creator as I tell you about this and that.

The residents of this world believe in two diametrically opposed forces: creation and destruction. And as such there are two major deities: me, the Creator, and the Destroyer. My name is spoken of with reverence, much to my chagrin. If you don’t want attention, don’t go creating worlds! The Destroyer is looked on with the fear that befits the being who will one day end all existence. There’s nothing I or anyone else can do about that, sadly. But it does bring something else to mind.

It would be understandable if you were concerned about me getting involved with the story. After all I am the Creator, aren’t I? I might want to get in there and save my creations. Let me remind you again that this isn’t my story. As such I have no ability to interfere with it unless I were to be invited in by those involved. There are rules even deities must follow. The Destroyer is also bound to these types of rules, so don’t expect outside interference from them either.

Let’s speak of the world I created for a moment. The world has many different lands filled with many different people. The story begins in Grassland, which is a realm of fertile farmland and sweeping fields. There is a lot of grass in Grassland, as you might expect, but not the short green grass which is so common in certain parts of your world. This is tall golden grass which ripples and undulates as the wind blows, and often has little fuzzy ends. The people of Grassland grow crops and raise livestock and generally have happy, uncomplicated lives far from the political intrigues of Remara or the militarism of Varmalin. But even an idyllic place like Grassland can have its sordid elements, and people who were pushed to the margins of society in the larger cities often would turn to banditry in the countryside. Hedge knights are soldiers who were needed to protect the farming communities, but the people living in those communities also turned to mystical artifacts to keep them safe.

The Glaive of Hope is perhaps the most incredible and powerful of these artifacts. It can give a single person the power of an entire army. Many wars were fought in ages past over possession of the Glaive, but eventually it disappeared from the world and people’s memories of it faded. It became a thing of legends, even in the village of Tamin, where it was laid to rest. But I can assure you with the confidence of the omniscient that it truly does exist. The Glaive kept Tamin safe, empowering those chosen to protect the community to the point where only a single hedge knight and no one else was needed. And I can also tell you with omniscient certainty that the Glaive is soon to be removed from its resting place, causing one young woman to set out on a journey to find it: Naomi, apprentice to the hedge knight Bogart.

Naomi had seen seventeen summers by the time this story began. She was on the shorter side, but her intense training had given her muscles like steel cords. Her dark hair was very prematurely turning a mouse-gray, and she kept it cut short on Bogart’s very practical recommendation. Her face had a neutral expression that could come across as dour and she tended to be sparse with her words. The boys of the village may have been interested in her, but she intimidated them; she was able to weather both Bogart’s withering gaze and his sparring sessions. But Naomi didn’t particularly care, being content with studiously completing her training.

I believe I have talked enough now. You have a starting reference point and are surely itching to go. I hope you enjoy the journey.

Regards,

The Creator

Chapter 1

Naomi awoke in the dead of night as she usually did. She sighed, turning over to get comfortable, and waited for drowsiness to come. After several minutes she turned the other way, aware of a growing feeling of unease. Something didn’t seem right, though she had no idea where the feeling came from or what it might mean. She glanced around her small home, the moon through the window illuminating enough for her to see nothing was amiss. She slipped from bed, pulled on her training clothes, and went outside.

The crisp night air and gentle breeze helped ease Naomi’s nerves, but she forced herself to stay vigilant. Sir Bogart, the village protector and her instructor, had told her enough times to trust her first instinct. Danger appeared in many forms and trusting herself to recognize it was imperative to the protector of the village. So, she stood at her door and carefully took in her surroundings. In front of her was Tamin’s main road which wound towards town square, and on the other side of the road was a grassy field. Crickets chirped from the small training yard next to her house and an owl hooted from a tree somewhere behind her. It seemed like a perfectly peaceful night.

Naomi started to feel foolish. She gazed at the grass across the road, watching as it flowed in breeze and starting to feel sleepiness creep up on her, when she noticed a small area where the grass didn’t move the same. It could have been a rock, but Naomi had looked at that view almost every day of her life and she could swear there was no rock in that spot. It was possible that a person or animal was in the grass, and if so, they probably wouldn’t move while she stood there and stared. Going into the grass when she couldn’t see what was there seemed like a good way to get injured if it was something like a boar or a bandit. She stretched nonchalantly and decided she should pretend not to notice. She went to the training yard, picked up her practice staff, and started doing drills. Naomi had worked off insomnia in that way many times in the past, so the motions were familiar, but there was a nervous energy in her that she hoped wouldn’t be apparent.

As she went through her drills, Naomi tried to keep an eye on the suspicious patch of grass. The drills hardly required thought, and she was able to glance over often. Step, swing, lift, glance. Spin, step, pivot, glance. Shift weight to the other foot, step, pivot, step again, swing, shift weight again…

Naomi suddenly realized she had gotten so absorbed in the mechanics of her drills that she had forgotten to check on the grass in almost a minute. She looked over, dropping her training staff on the ground, but she couldn’t remember exactly where it had been. She cursed at herself and ran down to the road, then looked around trying to spot something, anything. The feeling of danger started to bubble up in her again, and she had to take a deep breath and remind herself of what Bogart had taught her: only a clear, unhurried mind can perceive the truth of something or other. Naomi was having difficulty maintaining a clear enough mind to even remember that lesson clearly; she felt much too alarmed. She forced another deep breath and decided she had seen whatever was in the grass moving ever so slowly to her right before she lost it, so she went in that direction, towards the town square.

The village was swaddled in a heavy silence. It seemed like even the crickets had decided to be quiet. Occasionally, she thought she saw something move up ahead, darting between buildings. Naomi jogged up to where she saw the movement and looked around, but nothing was there. Then she would see movement up ahead and jog over again. This repeated until Naomi found herself leaving town and going towards the fields, but before the fields there was the Cave.

The Cave didn’t have a proper name that Naomi knew. She didn’t remember anyone ever speaking of it directly, but somehow she knew that it was called the Cave and that no one was supposed to enter. As ominous and foreboding as it was regarded, it didn’t look like much: a gaping slash in a hillside with a heavy iron gate barring entry. But that gate, Naomi noticed, was ajar. Had the source of the danger she felt come from the Cave? Had it gone into the Cave? She turned away, feeling dread at even being near the Cave in the middle of the night, but she simultaneously felt a pull towards the Cave. She turned back towards it indecisively and saw someone dart through the gate and into the Cave’s entrance.

“Hey!” Naomi called. “Don’t—” But the person, who to Naomi resembled an assortment of dirty clothes more than anything else, had already vanished. Naomi found herself running into the Cave after them. Whether it was for duty, curiosity, or the excitement of adventure, she didn’t know. But she felt the feeling of being pulled towards the Cave acutely, even though she still felt the overwhelming danger coming from it.

The entrance to the Cave was entirely dark, but Naomi saw a faint bit of light coming from what looked like a smaller tunnel tucked away in a corner. She wanted to grip her training staff for reassurance, but she realized she somehow forgot it back at her training yard. She sighed softly as she crept over to the passage. It was the kind of thing she was prone to doing and Sir Bogart would scold her when she did, saying the consequences could be dire. And now Naomi did see how he was correct, not that she could really help it; she was forgetful, and it was too late to go back.

The passage was lit with wall torches and sloped steeply downward. A cold draft came from the passage, the kind of cold that cut the bone like a knife, but the torches didn’t seem to flicker at all. Naomi began descending, wondering how the torches stayed so steady. Soon she came out to where the passage opened into a large room, hewn out of rock by who knew how many hands over who knew how many years.

The room was mostly empty, with a raised platform and what looked like a stone coffin at the wall to Naomi’s left. The torches which did not flicker were along these walls too, and on the other side of the room there was a dark, gaping doorway. Someone in a dirty brown robe that covered them almost from head to toe was standing in the middle of the room. They were muttering to themselves, but Naomi could only catch a few words. She heard, “Where is it?” and, “Further down…” and, “Glaive.”

Naomi approached and said, “Who are you? What are you doing here?” The person whirled around, and Naomi saw the face of a girl maybe a few years older with large, wide-set eyes and a wide mouth that seemed stuck in a permanent smirk.

“Uh oh, busted,” the girl said. “I don’t suppose you want to go back to bed?”

Naomi looked at the girl grimly. “I’ll ask again, as apprentice protector, what are you doing here?”

The girl’s smirk expanded into a grin. “Apprentice, huh? I think I can handle that,” she said and darted forward.

Naomi fought the instinctive urge to tense her body and instead shifted her weight to her back foot while she tried to take in as much information as she could in the moment she had. The girl’s robe covered her hands, which to Naomi meant hidden weapons were likely. Keeping her distance would be best in that case. But the girl was charging recklessly, and Naomi saw an opportunity to end the encounter at once. She stepped forward into the charge and caught the girl in the middle of her chest with an open-palmed strike. The girl gasped as the blow knocked her back and dropped a weapon from each hand, but as she hit the ground she somehow rolled and twisted to end up on her feet.

“Apprentice!” she exclaimed. “If you’re an apprentice, I’m the Creator.” She turned and ran for the doorway on the far side of the room. As she entered torches lit up, revealing a descending passage much like the first one.

Naomi shook her hand out, wincing at the sudden, smarting pain. She had struck a metal plate of some sort that was concealed under the girl’s robe. She picked up one of the weapons that the girl dropped, a stick with a perpendicular handle. When she held the handle, the stick rested against her forearm. It seemed like a weapon made entirely for self-defense, so she thought whoever the girl was and whatever she wanted, she at least wasn’t a killer.

Naomi crossed the room and followed the girl down the passage. The air felt somehow colder as she descended, and the torches still stayed rock steady in the slight draft. At the bottom was a room like the one above, but instead of a stone coffin there was a stone altar. The girl was standing in front of the altar looking surprised.

“It’s not here,” she almost whispered, then turned to Naomi. “Why isn’t it here?”

“Why isn’t what here?” Naomi was exasperated. First this girl was trying to fight her, now she looked like she was going to start weeping on her shoulder. “Who are you?”

The girl sighed. “Micki. I’m a—” she paused. “I’m a treasure hunter.”

“A thief you mean.” Naomi scowled. “Or a grave robber.”

Micki shrugged. “Let’s not get caught up in semantics. Where is the Glaive of Hope?”

“The Glaive of—” Naomi laughed. “It doesn’t exist.”

“Nonsense. It must exist. My informant doesn’t lie. It lies beneath this very village and offers protection to it.”

“Sir Bogart protects this village, not fanciful tales. A flesh and blood man.”

Micki frowned and rubber her nose. “This just doesn’t make sense.” She approached the altar and looked at it intently. “Doesn’t it seem like something should go here?”

“Maybe another grave robber took it already.” Naomi was losing her patience. She needed to get this thief out of the Cave. She knew she could overpower her and drag her out, but it would be better if it didn’t have to come to that. But before Naomi could make any sort of move, Micki made an aha noise and started rubbing her hands on the altar as if she was searching for something. “What are you doing?” Naomi snapped.

“There’s an indent here,” Micki said, prodding at the top of the altar. “And here too. There must have been something here, and I would guess recently with how little dust there is.”

“I don’t care, we need to—” Naomi was cut off by a rumbling noise from above, which was followed by a heavy thud. Micki looked panicked, but Naomi ignored her and pressed herself against the wall next to the doorway. She listened intently for a moment and thought she might have heard a shuffling noise. “We need to leave,” she whispered.

Micki moved her mouth wordlessly and then bolted, rushing past Naomi and up the passage. Naomi moved to follow her, not wanting her to get away, and was nearly knocked over when Micki bumped into her coming back down. “There’s something up there,” she whispered. The shuffling noise had resolved itself into scraping footsteps coming down the passage. Naomi stepped to the middle of the room so she wouldn’t be cornered. The dread she felt since arriving at the Cave was settling itself into the pit of her stomach, but she tried to ignore it as she waited for whoever or whatever was coming to appear.

What did appear was a tall, well-muscled person wearing plain linen clothes and a mask shaped like a crab. It looked to be made of wood and was painted a vibrant red, with a something yellow down the middle of it. Naomi was so taken aback by the mask she almost didn’t notice the fire the person held until they flung it at her. She dove for the ground, grabbing Micki on the way and dragging her down too. The fireball sailed over them and landed on the ground where it happily smoldered and sputtered and gave off some much welcome warmth. Naomi didn’t have much time to think, but she knew the masked person seemed hostile and Micki wouldn’t be much use in a fight, so she shoved herself up and circled around the person, hoping to draw their attention. The person turned towards her, and Naomi noticed the yellow thing was an object attached to the mask. It looked like a golden shaft with a short, curved blade. Naomi wasn’t sure how she had missed it at first, but it struck her now as an odd addition to the outfit, though probably no odder than the crab mask itself.

With Naomi and the masked person engaged in a sort of stand-off, Micki decided she had the perfect opportunity to escape. She crept to her feet and leapt for the doorway. But the masked person heard her coming and, though he had been moving slowly and ponderously before, suddenly hopped in front of her with alarming agility. They swung one of their meaty fists and caught Micki in the abdomen, lifting her off her feet and sending her sprawling.

Naomi gritted her teeth. The masked person turned and lunged at her with arms spread wide to grab her. She ducked under their grasp and stepped back, unsure of how to approach. The masked person reared their right arm back, and Naomi was barely able to sidestep the straight punch aimed at her. As the massive fist whooshed past her head, she stepped forward and repeated the palm strike which had bowled Micki over on the floor above, but she may as well have been hitting a stone wall for all the good it did. The dread in Naomi’s stomach began traveling to her limbs, making them start to shake. She tried to put distance between them, but the masked person lunged forward again and caught her arm in an inhumanly strong grip. She stared at the crab mask, noticing she couldn’t see the eyes behind it. She thought how absurd it was that this would be the last thing she saw.

“Twice in one Destroyer-damned day!” Micki yelled angrily. She was on her feet and struggling with something on her shoulder under her robe. Suddenly a heavy iron breastplate fell out of the bottom of the robe and clanked loudly on the ground. “And you dented it, you dumb freak! What kind of moron wears a crab mask anyway?”

The masked person turned to Micki while keeping a hold on Naomi and raised their other hand. Fire sprang from their palm. “Oh no you don’t,” Micki said she scooped up the breastplate, then swung as hard as she could while the masked person threw the fire at her. She caught the fireball in the curved hollow of the breastplate and flung it back into the masked person’s face. They immediately let go of Naomi and fell back, clutching at the burning mask as if they were trying to remove it but couldn’t. They didn’t make any noise, which somehow unnerved Naomi more than if they had screamed.

Naomi wasn’t sure why she rushed to the masked person’s side to help, but she suddenly found herself grabbing at whatever part of the mask wasn’t on fire yet and pulling. For all the trouble the person was having, the mask came off shockingly easily, and when it did the person immediately went limp as if all the strings holding them up were cut. Micki stumbled over to them, rubbing the spot just above her belly where she had been hit, to see what their assailant looked like. She stopped short as she saw they were an impossibly beautiful boy with high cheekbones and a Cupid’s lyre mouth. His face was somehow unmarred by the burning mask, and when he opened his eyes, they were a vibrant shade of amber. Micki felt her face heat up a little and she looked away.

“Who are you and why did you attack us?” Naomi asked. She didn’t seem to be affected by the boy’s appearance, and Micki scuffed her foot on the ground in frustration.

“My name is Henry, and I guard the Glaive of Hope,” he said.

Micki yelped in glee and knelt next to him. “And where is the Glaive kept?” she asked with shining eyes.

Henry looked at the empty altar for a moment, then turned to Micki with a helpless expression. Micki sat back and sighed.

“No one is supposed to enter the Cave, and the Glaive of Hope is a myth,” Naomi said matter-of-factly. “Why did you really attack us?”

Henry pointed the helpless expression at her. “I, I don’t remember,” he stammered. “I’m supposed to guard the Glaive of Hope. Did I fail?”

Naomi couldn’t imagine anyone getting past such a guardian, so she shrugged. “I don’t know. Where are you from? Who gave you that order?”

Henry looked at the ground. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything except that my name is Henry and I’m supposed to guard the Glaive of Hope.”

“What about this?” Micki asked, standing up and trotting to the ruined remains of the mask. The golden shaft lay in the middle of the smoldering wood, still somehow shining pristinely. Micki prodded it with her boot until it was clear of the mask then looked at it in surprise. She bent down and gingerly touched it. It was as cold as the rest of the room, if not colder. She grabbed it and showed it to Henry.

“Ah, the Glaive of Hope,” he said, taking it from her. “It’s broken.”

(Hello, it’s me. This isn’t meddling. I know it’s odd speaking to a reader directly, but I want to let you know it will be necessary for me to do it from time to time anyway. It seems unlikely now, but these three young people will soon embark on a quest to retrieve the broken pieces of the Glaive of Hope and reunite them, changing the world in the process. And, perhaps equally unlikely, your involvement will be crucial. But you will have to wait to see how. I would be a poor narrator indeed to give it away here and now. All you need to do is continue reading.)

Chapter 2

 Sir Bogart examined the golden shaft, testing the sharpness of the blade at the end with his thumb. “The boy said this is the Glaive of Hope?” he asked. Naomi nodded in response and Bogart grunted. “Seems dull.”

“He also said it was broken,” Naomi said.

Bogart flipped the shaft over and pointed at the end without a blade. “Right here, I imagine. It’s a very clean break. And what of the thief?”

Naomi looked at the ground. “She escaped. I apologize, I was—”

Bogart cut her off with a grunt. “You assessed securing the Glaive and the boy—Henry, was his name? That was what you prioritized.” He looked up at her. “I would judge that to be an adequate job.”

Naomi ducked her head in acknowledgment. She felt a tingle of happiness from Bogart’s scant praise; he was often so withholding of it. “That’s not really the Glaive of Hope, is it?” she asked, looking back up. “That’s just a legend, right?”

Bogart grunted again. He rubbed his rough, callused hand across his bald scalp and shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s not my place to speak of such things.” He glared at Naomi when he saw her eyes widening. “Do not take that as a confirmation. Come. A town council is beginning soon, and you will hear more there. We must collect Henry on our way also.”

They stepped out of Bogart’s house into the bright sun. It was the planting season and most people were at the fields, so the village was relatively quiet. “Sir Bogart,” Naomi said as they walked. “If the Glaive of Hope were real, what would it being broken mean?”

Bogart glanced at her and grunted. “You know the legends. It strengthens those who protect Tamin.”

“But why Tamin? How did it get here?”

“Naomi!” Bogart turned to her and used his full, imposing height to glare down at her. “This is not a conversation to have here.”

Naomi glared back then looked at the ground. “Yes, sir.”

Bogart resumed his long strides, and Naomi hurried to keep up. “This meeting may answer some questions you have. But…” he hesitated. “Be careful of what you say.”

Naomi ground her teeth. She hated when Sir Bogart was like this. She was just asking some questions, but he was using the tone of voice that showed he did not want the subject to end. “Yes, sir,” she said automatically as she wondered why he got so angry. While Bogart was a great warrior and teacher, he was terrible at hiding his feelings or lying. Naomi was certain what he was carrying was the actual Glaive of Hope—or at least a piece of it—and something about it was making him anxious and upset. Was it that it was broken? Was it that it existed in the first place? She couldn’t be sure. Whatever the reason, him being angry made her angry, and that made her want to speak up at the town council meeting.

“Here we are,” Bogart said. Naomi started and looked at the small shack they had arrived at. She was so focused on being mad at Bogart, she had forgotten all about collecting Henry. Bogart moved forward, taking a key from a pocket, and unlocked the door. Henry was inside sitting on a cot, the only piece of furniture there was. Naomi had noticed the shack before, but like the Cave, no one ever spoke about it. Now it was clear to her that it was a prison and Henry was the first prisoner she remembered ever residing in it.

Bogart drew a rope from a pouch on his belt and tied it around Henry’s wrists. “Come along,” he said with a look on his face that Naomi thought looked like pity. Henry stood up and was led outside.

Naomi drifted over to Henry’s side as they plodded along. “Why are you locked up?” she asked, hoping she was being quiet enough so Bogart wouldn’t hear her. While Henry did attack her and Micki in the Cave, it seemed like once the mask was gone, he started acting like a normal person. It was almost like he was possessed by something.

Henry looked at her and leaned down. “What?” he asked. He didn’t hear her. Sometimes Naomi wished she were taller.

She shoved him to stand up straight. “Don’t talk to me,” she snapped. Henry gaped at her and Bogart looked back at them with a frown. Naomi fell back behind Henry. If Bogart was going to yell at her for asking questions and Henry couldn’t hear when she tried to ask him quietly, there wasn’t much point in trying right now. She would just have to wait until they got to the town council meeting, and then maybe she could get some answers. People in the village tended to think she was aloof, but she was not afraid of asking questions, and it wouldn’t be the first time she had disrupted a council meeting; Bogart had warned her from it for a reason.

They proceeded along the mostly empty path—what passersby there were resolutely avoided looking at them—until they reached the village meeting hall: a wide, squat building that the council used for their meetings. The gathering was much smaller than normal, only the six core members of the village council gathered on one side of a long table. Naomi looked them over as she entered: at the far left was Theodor the secretary, big, solid, and studious; next to him was Wanda the treasurer, soft and perpetually tired-looking; next was Portia the president, thin and wrinkled; then Hector the vice-president, his long nose turned up and his thin lips tight; finally Alys and Carys, sisters who lead the planting and trading respectively, both looking nondescript but with sharp eyes. Portia nodded to Bogart and then thumped a makeshift gavel—a rock tied to a stick—on the table. “This closed session of the Tamin village council is called to order, may the Creator bless us,” she said. “We are here to discuss the incident with the Cave.”

“Why is he tied up?” Naomi asked, indicating towards Henry.

Portia gave Naomi a long-suffering look, then turned to Henry. “Your name is Henry? You stand accused of trespassing in the Cave.” She turned back to Naomi with a piercing gaze. “As do you.”

Naomi blinked a few times in surprise. “I went in there because there was a thief.”

Hector snorted. “And where is this thief?” he asked. “Vanished into thin air? I think you and your accomplice here were trying to steal the Glaive of Hope, which would put everyone in the village in danger.” He turned to Portia. “Exile is a fitting punishment, I think.”

A short bark of laughter came from Carys. “You’re practically frothing at the mouth, Hector. I think we’re supposed to hear what the lady has to say before sentencing her.”

“I would like to hear what they both have to say,” Wanda said.

Hector threw his hands up. “Very well, tell us about your phantom thief.”

“She has told me,” Bogart said, trying to keep Naomi from having to speak. “I can recount it.”

“We need to hear it from her,” Portia said firmly, and Bogart lifted his hands in acquiescence.

“I have a question of my own,” Naomi said.

Portia nodded. “You may ask once you are done telling us what happened in the Cave.”

Naomi briefly told them about the events of the previous night, from her waking up with the sense something was wrong to the scuffle with Henry. “The thief tried to take the Glaive back from him,” she was concluding. “I stopped her, turned to help him up, and she was gone.”

Theodore raised a thoughtful finger. “And Henry, do you corroborate this?”

“What I remember of it, yes,” Henry confirmed.

Theodore rubbed an eyebrow. “What part do you not remember?”

“I don’t remember attacking anyone.”

“What were you doing before that? How did you go about protecting the Glaive of Hope?”

“I think I was sleeping,” Henry said frankly. “I don’t know specifically what my tasks were, only that I am meant to protect the Glaive of Hope.”

“There was a stone coffin in the Cave,” Naomi said. “It was open when we came back up.”

“Please!” Hector exclaimed. “Are we meant to believe this? A fanciful tale of thieves and this boy in a magical sleep?” He pointed a finger at Naomi. “Tell me the truth now. What are the two of you up to? How did the Glaive of Hope get broken? Where is it?”

Bogart stepped to the table and slammed the piece of the Glaive onto it. “Here it is!” he roared. “And don’t think for a moment that getting rid of Naomi will enable your son to become my apprentice instead.”

Portia used her gavel and called for order while Hector sneered. “Bold words from a powerless protector. The one thing keeping you from being a useless old man is gone.”

This led to a general commotion of shouting and fist banging. Portia’s raised her piercing voice over the noise: “Everyone out! Out! Now!” That and some vigorous shoving got the group moving towards the door.

(Hi, me again. Things sure blew up there, huh? We’ll just hang out here and have a short chat while people simmer down. You won’t miss anything, I promise.

(As you could probably guess, there are some deep currents running even in a sleepy village like Tamin. People with ambition exist everywhere, and Hector certainly has no shortage of it. Just to be clear, having ambition isn’t necessarily bad. However, in my experience as an omniscient entity, I see two broad categories of how people fulfill ambition: either they work hard to improve themselves to the level of their ambition, or they scheme to grasp it by any means necessary. Hector is firmly in that second category, and I can tell you it will bite him eventually.

(Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re not here to read what a mysterious deity has to say about ambition. You want to know about the Glaive of Hope. What the heck is a glaive anyway? We’ll get to that next chapter. It looks like right now Naomi is about to hear some of the history of the Glaive of Hope, so let’s get back to it. Thanks for chatting.)

Naomi was leaning against a fence, scowling at the grass as it swayed in the breeze. She was upset at the council, of course; how could they question her when she was trying to do her job? Or future job, but that seemed like semantics to her. If she was going to be the protector of Tamin then she wanted to really start protecting it. Which brought her to what she found she was really upset about: Bogart was getting older. She hadn’t quite realized it until Hector called him an old man. While she wanted to be Tamin’s official protector, she had actually hoped they could be co-protectors for a while. More than that, she realized, he was the closest thing to a parent she had known, and the thought of him being gone someday—and that could be someday soon—frightened her. It was a problem she couldn’t solve no matter how much she scowled at grass, but she was so absorbed by it, she didn’t notice someone had approached her until they put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Whoa there,” Alys said as Naomi jumped at her touch. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Naomi grunted in reply and Alys laughed a little. “That well, huh? Tell you what, I know you had a question, so we’ll see if I can answer it for you.”

Naomi looked up, cautious. “I want to know why the Glaive of Hope is here,” she said. “But I don’t know if that’s something you would be able to tell me.”

“Why, because I’m a farmer?” Alys said wryly. “There are certain things one is told when they join the council. Since you’ve been in the Cave and know the Glaive of Hope is real, I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you more. But you didn’t hear this from me.

“The Glaive of Hope can be a tool of destruction on a scale which is impossible for us to really imagine. It was the catalyst for the Age of War, where many battles were fought over control of it. King Tamin of ancient Remara decided the best solution was to secret it away.”

“Tamin?” Naomi asked. “So then he founded this village?”

“Not directly. He ordered it founded by someone with no direct connection to him. The queen’s maid’s sister-in-law’s cousin or something of the sort. He didn’t want it anyone in the royal court, because that would draw too much attention.”

“But why didn’t they take the Glaive for themselves?”

Alys shrugged. “The best I can guess is they didn’t have ambition beyond living a simple life farming. Anyway, it’s been here providing protection to the village in the form of the village protector for ages since.”

“How does it provide protection if it’s a tool of destruction?”

“I haven’t seen you this inquisitive in years.” Alys smiled, thinking back, then brought herself to the present again. “I said it can be a tool of destruction. It depends on intent.”

Naomi nodded absently as she thought of something else to ask. “Why do people even know about the Glaive if the idea is for it to disappear completely?”

“I suppose it’s so someone can manage the situation if it ever resurfaces. Though what a bunch of farmers can do about it is beyond me.” Alys patted Naomi’s shoulder. “I think that’s enough question and answer. Let’s go see if we’re ready to start the meeting again.”

They moved back towards the meeting hall where a heated discussion was taking place, and Naomi could soon tell it was a different discussion than when they left.

“It was on the table,” Bogart was saying, red in the face. “It can’t just up and disappear.”

“Are you saying one of us stole it?” Hector asked derisively. “Would you like to search us?”

“The thief,” Naomi said quietly.

“What’s that?” Theodore asked. “Do you know something, Naomi?”

“The thief I told you about!” Naomi yelled. “Destroyer take her, she won’t get away.” Naomi turned and ran back to the road, heading towards her home. She would grab her spear and find that thief whatever it took. And when she arrived, she was only half surprised at who was in front of her door.

“Took you long enough to get here,” Micki said, twirling the Glaive of Hope piece.

“Give me that,” Naomi demanded.

“I could do that, and I probably will eventually. But wouldn’t you like to find the rest of it and return it to your home?”

Naomi squinted at her suspiciously then lunged at her. Micki sidestepped quickly and pranced to the road. “Don’t be like that,” she said, but Naomi charged at her again. Micki turned and fled, somehow keeping ahead of Naomi despite her long robe. “Can’t we talk about this?” Micki called back after a short while. Naomi ignored her, but she could feel her breath getting heavier. She was conditioned for shorter, intense bursts of activity, and the prolonged running seemed like it was going to wear her down much quicker than Micki. Naomi tried to put on one last burst of speed, but Micki matched her pace and stayed ahead.

Naomi wasn’t sure what else she could do. Suddenly she heard a noise behind her, and as she turned her head to see what it was Henry came pounding past her. Micki yelped when she saw him coming and immediately veered off the road into the grass like a rabbit seeking shelter. Henry swung wider, but followed her in, and Naomi watched him close the distance in seconds and tackle her to the ground.

“Get off me!” Micki screamed. “What are you doing?” She wriggled and thrashed her way free of Henry, and as she scrambled back, she bumped into Naomi, who immediately snatched the Glaive of Hope piece from her hand.

“Okay, you have your dumb Glaive,” Micki said. “I am offering to help you find the rest of it. I don’t want something that dangerous loose in the world.”

“What do you know of it?” Naomi asked.

“I know a little. I have a source, and I bet they can tell us how to find the other pieces.”

Henry grabbed Micki under the shoulder and hauled her to her feet. She glared at him and shoved his hand away. He backed up a step. “Sorry,” he said. “I would like to find the rest of the Glaive of Hope.”

“Oh yeah? It’s my role to protect the Glaive of Hope,” she said in unison with him. “I get it. Well, Naomi? What about you? You’re not going to leave me alone with this guy, are you?”

Naomi looked at them both, feeling flustered. She had never left the village, and the thought scared her. “Well…” she breathed.

“Don’t do it because I’m asking,” Micki said. “Do it for that hedge knight of yours. Your teacher, right? Okay, okay,” she raised her hands defensively as Naomi glared at her. “Do it because I asked then. You’re incredible and I need your help. Not many people can keep up with me for that distance.”

“We’re going back to the village,” Naomi said firmly. “Henry, if you would please?”

Henry grabbed Micki’s shoulder and pushed her along to the road. “Oh come on,” she said. “This is a great opportunity to expand your horizons. It’s like a training trip.”

Naomi resolutely ignored her, but she slowed and stopped as she saw Bogart puffing his way towards them. “I never knew you could run so fast,” he gasped as he drew up to them. He was laden with a travel pack, Naomi’s leather breastplate, and her spear. “Naomi,” he said sternly once he had caught his breath some. “The prevailing mood in the council is not favorable to you.”

“But Hector—” Naomi began, but Bogart waved his hand to silence her.

“Hector is not alone. He was being aggressive because he knows he has enough support from the rest of the council. Even if he suggests something too extreme, he has already set the tone for the discussion. So I am sending you and Henry away to search for the rest of the Glaive.”

Naomi’s jaw dropped open. “But surely there’s something else we can do.”

“It’s not just for your sake,” Bogart said gravely. “We do need the Glaive of Hope back. I don’t know how you’ll find it, but at least you can try.”

“I bet I can help find it,” Micki said. “I have a source.”

Bogart glanced at her as he took off the travel pack and set it on the ground. “Who is that?”

“The thief,” Naomi said.

“And you would like to travel with her?” Bogart asked cautiously.

“No!”

            “I’m very hurt,” Micki said.

Bogart nodded to Naomi. “I’ll take her back to the village. That will help you some.”

“You could do that,” Micki said. “But you know I’ll escape and join up with Naomi. I’m finding that Glaive.”

Bogart smiled mirthlessly at her. “Then let us make you do the work.” He turned back to Naomi. “Be safe,” he said, his eyes suddenly glistening. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, but I—”

“Come on, already, let’s get this farce over with,” Micki said and started walking back towards the village. Naomi hid her own suddenly wet eyes behind her hand.

Chapter 3

“We’re nearly there now,” Micki said, pointing down the dirt road they were walking on. True to her word, she had gotten out of the village somehow—she wouldn’t say how—and tracked down Naomi and Henry. She was directing them to the person she called her source, far to the east of the village, near the edge of the Tall Woods. In Naomi’s opinion, Micki was also being incredibly annoying, but Naomi had no idea where to go otherwise. She and Henry had tried losing Micki and going it alone, but they ended up wandering directionless for a few hours then sitting in a field until Micki found them again. So, without any other real option, Naomi was deferring to Micki’s directions.

“Hey, let me see the Glaive again,” Micki said to Naomi.

Naomi gave her a cold look. “Why should I do that?”

“What’s with that look? Didn’t you steal it from your village?” Micki put an arm around Naomi’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “We’re accomplices now.”

Naomi shoved her away. “I didn’t steal it. I just forgot to give it back. There was a lot going on.”

“I think you just wanted to keep it,” Micki said while she held up and inspected the piece of the Glaive she had taken from Naomi’s pack. She laughed when Naomi cried out and grabbed it back.

“Don’t do that again,” Naomi said. She felt angry because there was some truth to what Micki said. She did want to keep the Glaive to herself, and perhaps the most frustrating thing was that she didn’t understand exactly why.

“What even is a glaive anyway?” Micki asked. “I thought it was some sort of big spear thing.”

“The Glaive of Hope is a throwing glaive,” Henry said helpfully.

“A throwing…?” Micki frowned at him. “You’re just making this up as you go along, aren’t you?”

“It is an incredibly powerful artifact,” Henry said. “It was made as a throwing glaive to represent the willingness to release that power once it’s no longer needed.”

“It sounds like that didn’t work so well,” Naomi muttered as she sheepishly put the Glaive back into her pack. Then she looked up as something occurred to her. “You said it was an artifact and was made as a glaive. What does that mean?”

“The form it’s fashioned in isn’t important,” Henry said. “It’s not really a weapon, after all, and you wouldn’t use it that way.”

“How come you know so much about the Glaive of Hope?” Micki asked Henry. “I thought you lost your memory or something.”

Henry shrugged. “My purpose is to protect the Glaive of Hope, so the knowledge is useful.” He glanced down and tightened his lips. “Maybe anything else isn’t useful.”

Micki hopped in front of him and stood in his way. “What, like you’re just supposed to be some Glaive-saving machine and nothing else?” She shook her head emphatically. “No, that’s too depressing. I’m forbidding you from that kind of thinking. Anyway, we turn off right over there.”

The group left the road at an unremarkable spot and began slogging through the tall grass. After a mile or so they came to a small hill. Once they crested it, they saw a hedgerow dividing the tall grass from a field of flowers. The variety of colors took Naomi’s breath away, and she stood for a moment even as the others began to descend. She noticed a cottage in the approximate center of the field, and beyond that a dark smear of trees which she thought must be the Tall Woods. Though it was hard to tell at a distance, the trees did seem tall to her, and the woods spread as far as she could see across the horizon. She started down the hill, where Micki was waving and hollering at her to hurry up.

The hedgerow looked impenetrable to Naomi, but when she said so, Micki grinned. “What would you do without me?” she asked rhetorically and started walking along the hedgerow, looking for something. “Here we go,” she said finally and disappeared into the hedge. After a moment her head popped back out. “Well? Come on.”

Naomi and Henry walked over while Micki disappeared back into the hedge. The area she disappeared into didn’t look special in any way to Naomi. She glanced at Henry then reached her hand towards the hedge. Micki’s hand came out, grabbed Naomi’s arm, and pulled her into the hedge. Naomi stumbled into an archway of branches. In front of her was the field of flowers. When she turned around, she could see Henry as if the hedge leaves weren’t there. She realized that from the outside there was some sort of illusion that she had never seen the like of. She tried to keep the surprise off her face and act like such things were commonplace for her, but suspected she failed; Micki was grinning at her—what Naomi began thinking of as the thief’s grin—and motioning to keep quiet. Naomi turned back and walked towards the flowers as Micki reached out to pull Henry through.

“What kind of person is your source?” Naomi asked. She couldn’t imagine a thief would get information from someone who lived here. She thought a thief’s source would be in a city and conduct business in an alleyway or maybe the tidier part of a sewer.

Micki stepped out of the archway with a smug look on her face. “The simple answer is that my source is the Seer Lacrima.” She patted the hood over her head into what she though was a more appealing shape as she enjoyed Naomi’s shocked face. “I guess that tells you all you need to know.”

“Is that an important person?” Henry asked, ducking slightly as he left the archway.

Naomi gave Henry an incredulous look. “They’re the most accomplished, powerful seer there is. Their predictions are always correct. Important doesn’t even begin to cover it. Even the king of Remara would seek their advice.” She turned to Micki. “This is really where they live? You must be lying.”

“You’re just jealous someone like me knows such an important person,” Micki said, her smugness increasing. “Come on, I’ll show you they’re not actually that impressive.”

(Hello, it’s me. While our trio are crossing the flower field, let’s hang out and talk a little bit. I mentioned earlier that you would be vital in this story, and I wasn’t joking. It’s vital for any story to have someone paying attention. If you think that’s stretching the truth, then I don’t know what to tell you. I assure you that I am no liar. Sometimes when you deal with divine beings—and those who brush against the divine realm such as Lacrima—you are told things which are true in unexpected ways. Don’t worry about it. Look, they’re nearing the cottage now. We’ll talk again later.)

Micki approached the door. “Be on your best behavior,” she said cheerfully. As she turned to knock on the door it suddenly swung open, and she took a step back in surprise. A small elderly person stood on the other side with closed eyes and a disapproving look on their face. Their white hair was cut short, and they wore a shapeless garment which Naomi thought could either be a dress or a robe.

“Come in,” they said and immediately went back into the cottage. Naomi and the others followed them, and Naomi couldn’t help but think that this was the coziest home she had ever seen. The space they entered seemed primarily like a kitchen and smelled like a combination of flowers and cinnamon. Everything in it—the table and chairs, the dishes, the curtains on the windows—was simple but well-made. Naomi watched Lacrima—the actual Lacrima, which Naomi still had a hard time believing—maneuver across the room to the stove. It was clear to Naomi that this was a person who enjoyed taking care of their home.

“So, you’ve brought guests,” Lacrima said. “You must be Naomi. I was expecting you. And you…” they trailed off as if unsure of something. “I was not expecting you. How very unusual.”
Henry looked around, confused. “Do you mean me?” he asked. “How are you—"

Lacrima cut him off with a laugh. They pointed to their closed eyes. “They don’t work anymore. But there are other ways to see. Well, Micki, these are a pair of unusual guests you’ve brought me. Don’t just stand there, get some cups.”

Micki hopped to the cabinet and dragged down several heavy mugs. Lacrima took a jar of dried leaves from the counter and placed a few in each cup, then poured boiling water over them. “Drink up.”

Naomi took a sip of tea. The flavor was like nothing she had ever had before. It seemed like a confusing combination of rose, cooked ham, and lemon, and she felt like it didn’t stay in her mouth but went clear to the back of her head. She hastily put down the cup. “What is that?” she asked.

“Awful, isn’t it?” Micki said. “It’s one of their tricks to peer into your soul.”

“To think anyone would describe what I do as tricks.” Lacrima slowly shook their head. “Tell me a little about why you’ve come.”

Naomi briefly went over what had happened in the Cave and how the Glaive of Hope was broken and the rest of it was missing. “Micki said you might help us locate it,” she finished.
Lacrima nodded. “I could at least get you started. But I would like something in return.” They moved away from the stove and over to a bookshelf on the other side of the room. “I am studying the aspects of the soul,” they said, running their hand along the book spines. “Are you familiar with the idea? Everyone’s soul has a dominating aspect to it. Sometimes it’s a simple concept. In the case of Micki there, her soul has a wind aspect.”

“Quick and free,” Micki said proudly.

“My own soul has a plant aspect,” Lacrima said as they pulled a book from the shelf. “As you might notice, I am especially fond of flowers.” They came to the table and placed the open book on it. Naomi saw the pages were blank, but when Lacrima began running their hands across the pages she noticed small bumps on them. “There are many ways of seeing, but some are more mundane than others,” Lacrima chuckled. “Now then, keep drinking your tea.”

Naomi apprehensively picked up her cup and took another sip. The tea tasted differently this time, like warm bread and rotten fish. She noticed Henry was looking at his cup with dissatisfaction on his face. “What is this tea?” she asked.

“What does it taste like?” Lacrima asked, and Naomi bristled a little at them not answering for the second time.

“It’s confusing,” Naomi said. “The taste keeps changing, and I can’t figure out quite what it is. It’s never good.”

“Mine doesn’t taste like anything,” Henry said. “Not even how water tastes.” He took another sip and shrugged. “We did get the same thing, right?”

Lacrima was flipping pages of the book and running their hands across the pages. Naomi opened her mouth to ask a question, but she wasn’t sure how to phrase it. “These are my notes,” Lacrima said, answering the unspoken question. “I can’t remember everything, you know. I have developed a method of feeling the words on the page. They help me confirm that this is a very unusual case.” They sighed and closed the book.

“What’s the big deal? Naomi’s aspect is water, right?” Micki said, then added with a grin, “Dirty water, probably.”

Lacrima made a small grunting noise. “A very basic observation. If you had become my apprentice when I asked, you would know how completely wrong you are. The shifting appears to be like water, but it’s actually two aspects of the soul in conflict.” They opened their eyes then, milky white through and through, and pointed them at Naomi. “And what you say confirms what I see: these are two enormous aspects fighting for dominance.”

“I don’t feel conflicted though,” Naomi said.

“You might not,” Lacrima said. “You won’t always be conscious of the conflict. But know that it is happening.”

“Can I resolve it? What are these aspects?” Naomi was beginning to feel panic growing. She had never heard of these aspects of the soul before, but if someone like Lacrima was telling her she had an enormous conflict in her, she felt she had to believe it, and it worried her.

Lacrima rubbed their chin. “I can’t tell you what aspects are at war within you; the conflict is too great. And though I have seen such conflicts before, I have never had the privilege of witnessing their resolution. I can tell you that if you’ve gone this long with such a conflict raging in you, you will be able to continue with it indefinitely.”

Naomi nodded, not exactly put at ease, but at least assured that her soul was not about to go up in flames. Lacrima turned from her and directed their eyes towards Henry. “Now you are truly interesting. I have never seen the like of you before.” Henry started back at them with wide eyes.

“Let me guess,” Micki said. “He’s rock. No, metal!”

“I said it was something even I had never seen before,” Lacrima snapped. “Try again and actually look this time.”

“It’s hard,” Micki complained. “It just seems flat. That must be metal, right?”

“You can see our souls?” Naomi asked.

“Not like Lacrima. I can see a little. But I’m not being tied down to an apprenticeship, especially with them.” Micki crossed her arms and sniffed.

Naomi stared at Micki and began to reassess her. This thief had some quality which made the great seer Lacrima offer to teach her. She couldn’t understand why anyone would turn that down, but it did seem clear that Micki wasn’t a run-of-the-mill purse snatcher.

“Hush,” Lacrima said. “A lifetime of training wouldn’t be enough for you to understand this. I can barely understand it myself.” They approached Henry and put their hands on his shoulders. “Henry. You are certain the tea didn’t taste like anything? Nothing at all? Even a little bit?”

Henry took another sip to be sure, then shook his head. “Absolutely nothing. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“So what’s the big deal already?” Micki asked.

“Henry has no aspect,” Lacrima announced. “Absolutely nothing. His soul is a void.”

“Wait, that’s not possible,” Micki said. “Everyone has something.”

“Yes, that’s right. Yet he has nothing.” Lacrima frowned. “And I didn’t know he was going to be here. It’s unusual and troubling.”

Henry looked down at the table. “What does that mean? There’s something wrong with me?”

“No,” Lacrima said forcefully. “While void might sound like a bad thing, I believe it can be very good. You have an empty field that anything might sprout from. I think more than anyone you will be able to shape your own destiny. It is possible that not even the Creator can see what is in store for you.”
“He threw fireballs at us,” Micki said.

Lacrima frowned. “I can’t say that couldn’t happen—we’re in uncharted waters here, after all—but that seems like another oddity. Normally an evocation like that requires the appropriate soul aspect. Is it an effect of the curse that made him attack you? Or the Glaive itself?” They began muttering to themselves. Naomi and Henry looked at Micki, who shrugged back. After another moment, Lacrima sighed and closed their eyes, then sank into a chair. “You have brought me many questions I need to answer. This is much more than I expected. I will help you without reservation, provided you visit again sometime. I would like to see how your souls might develop.”

Naomi inclined her head. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Lacrima grunted and waved the thanks away. “It will take me some time to discern everything you will need to know, but I can tell you what is readily available to me. The Glaive of Hope has been broken into several pieces, probably five or six. I don’t know when or by who yet. There is a piece of it relatively close, in the Tall Woods.”

Henry stood up, excitement all over his face. “Let’s go right now!” he exclaimed and started for the door.

“No!” Lacrima’s commanding voice stopped Henry in his tracks. “It’s too far to get there today, and while you could sleep there, it’s better to stay here and be fully rested. You don’t know what you will encounter. You will need a guide anyway, and I doubt they will want to leave tonight.”

Micki started. “You don’t mean…”

“I think they’re outside right now,” Lacrima said, waving towards one of the windows.

Naomi went to the window and looked out, then jumped back at what she saw: it was a bear at least as big as a wagon, and it was pacing only ten feet from the window.
Lacrima laughed at Naomi’s reaction. “Meet your guide,” they said. “That is the guardian of the Tall Woods, Armel.”

Intermission 1

 I want to say up front that I am not your usual narrator. After this paragraph, I do not intend to speak to you directly like they do. The reason for carving out this space away from their omniscient vision will become apparent in time. For now, I will tell you of the past.

Over ten years prior to Naomi setting out on her journey, she was brought to Tamin by Lacrima. Where Naomi had come from was something that Lacrima either would not or could not say—she was vague about which it was. If Lacrima had only brought Naomi to live in Tamin, she might have been readily accepted, but Lacrima had an audacious demand: Naomi was to be the next protector of the village.

“You truly think a child whose origins you refuse to tell us will make a better protector than someone from the village?” Portia asked. “Why?”

Lacrima was standing before the Tamin council table and, though their eyes were closed, they gave the impression of staring them all down. “My vision says Naomi must be the protector,” they said. “And my vision is never wrong.”

Hector laughed bitterly. “Are we really going to follow the direction of a fortune teller? The protector of Tamin should be someone from the village.”

“Need I remind you,” Bogart rumbled from his seat next to Hector, “that I am not of this village. Would you challenge me for my position?”

“No offense intended, of course,” Hector said with mock obsequiousness. “Your reputation had preceded you. But a stray with no parentage and nothing to recommend her? I already have a strapping child who would be well-suited to the role.”

“I have recommended her,” Lacrima said. “And if you think my powers as a seer are mere parlor tricks, perhaps I should peer into your future and bring about the most unfavorable outcome.” Hector opened his mouth to respond, but Portia banged her gavel on the table before he could say anything.

“This is too important of a discussion to be dragged down into bickering,” she said. “With all respect to Bogart, you are reaching an age where you must be thinking of a successor. I do think that both Lacrima and Hector raise points worth considering, however they might express them. And as the one who will have the apprentice, it seems only right that you have the final say.”

Bogart rubbed his head and took a moment to think. “Truth be told, I am not sure I want to teach the art of war to anyone. However, I know I have a responsibility to this village, and I can’t protect it forever. I will have to meet any potential apprentice before making a decision.”

Portia nodded. “A prudent thing to do. Then we will adjourn for now. Bogart, let me know what you decide, and we will reconvene if necessary.” She banged the gavel once again and everyone shuffled to the exit.

Bogart stood outside for a moment looking at the village. The responsibility of protecting Tamin was one he was comfortable with, but the responsibility of imparting the skills and knowledge necessary to replace him felt daunting. He was startled from his thoughts by Lacrima, who was suddenly at his side. “Walk with me a moment,” they said. Bogart offered an arm and the two of them started strolling.

“There is something else about my vision you should know,” Lacrima said in a low voice. “The Glaive of Hope is going to be stolen.”

Bogart went rigid at the mention of the Glaive of Hope and glanced around. No one was nearby, but he leaned down towards Lacrima and kept his voice as quiet as he could anyway. “And how is that connected to the child you brought?”

“She will retrieve it. And not only that, but she will also use it. It’s not unreasonable to say that Naomi will change the world someday. That is what I have seen. And you are in a unique position to influence her to change the world for the better.”

Bogart stared at Lacrima, unsure of how to respond. They had predicted many things with uncanny accuracy in the time Bogart had known them, but nothing of this magnitude. “That is a lot of responsibility to place upon a person so suddenly,” he finally said.

“It is fate,” Lacrima replied. “I am merely the messenger.”

“I wonder. I noticed you told Hector you would bring about unfavorable outcomes for him. Words can have a powerful effect on fate, can’t they?”

Lacrima chuckled softly. “That is true, my words can have a profound effect on how people behave. And fate is not immutable; sometimes I must nudge people and events to align with my visions. But this is nothing unexpected, and I know you are not really interested in a detailed philosophical discussion on the ethics of a seer’s actions.”

Bogart shrugged. “I am interested in how I’m being nudged, as you say.”

“Nothing malevolent,” Lacrima said. “You just have to raise her, and when the Glaive of Hope is found missing, you must be willing to let her go.”

Bogart rubbed his head. “You make it sound like I should act as the girl’s father.”

“And why not? You’ll have the rest of the village to make up for your shortcomings. You can look at me like that if you want, but you know I’m right. Now, I think the time has come for you to meet Naomi.” Lacrima indicated a knoll ahead of them. A small child sat slumped there—Naomi, Bogart assumed—with her back to them, watching something on the other side of the knoll. Lacrima nudged Bogart forward, and he walked up awkwardly.

“Hello there,” he said to Naomi as warmly as he could. She made no motion to respond, and he sat down next to her. “My name is Bogart. I protect the village of Tamin. I will be your teacher if you’d like.”

Naomi continued to stare straight ahead, and Bogart turned to see what she was looking at. Down the gentle slope several children were playing. One group of them stacked boxes, rocks, and other things up, while a second group huddled together and watched, whispering to each other. When the first group was done, they scattered while the second group rushed forward and knocked everything over. Bogart recognized it as Creator and Destroyer, a simple game that was popular with children in the region.

“Would you like to join them?” he asked Naomi. She huddled into herself more and glanced over at him. “Come on, it will be okay.” He rose and after a moment she did too, and together they walked towards the playing children, who were just finishing a round of stacking.

“Hello, children,” Bogart said. They stared at him with their usual mixture of awe, admiration, and fear. “This is Naomi. Would you mind letting her play with you all?”

The children weren’t used to a request like this from Bogart and looked at each other in confusion. Somehow, without saying anything, they seemed to reach a consensus that they should obey Bogart and a few of them nodded. “Do you want to be a Creator or a Destroyer?” one of them asked.

Naomi looked up at Bogart for a moment then walked forward in front of the stacks. She spread her arms wide and declared: “I am a Protector! If you want to destroy this town, you have to get past me.”

Chapter 4

(Hello? Are you still there? It seemed like your attention waned for a bit. I hope you haven’t been talking to other deities. If you recall, I warned you not to trust them.  Deities of this realm have motives that they might not tell you about, and they are quite happy to use you for their own ends. Since you exist beyond even the divine realm, you hold a lot of power they can use. I suppose you might wonder now whether I am trustworthy too. Well, you can trust that I know what I’m talking about, and I think that is worth something. Now, we’ll pick up a few days after Naomi and company entered the Tall Woods.)

Naomi woke up feeling like she had been dreaming of the past. She looked around the clearing they were camped in. The trees were dimly lit with predawn light, and as Naomi looked up the tops seemed to disappear into a muddle of shadowy leaves. She decided it was too close to dawn for her to go back to sleep, so she got up and groaned softly as she tried to work the stiffness out of her shoulders. She was beginning to suspect she wasn’t going to get used to sleeping on the ground.

Naomi rubbed her arms against the cold then began doing her morning exercises to warm up. She thought about her dream as she moved. She wasn’t sure if she had seen old, buried memories or just inventions of her own mind. But one thing stood out clearly, and she was certain it was true: Lacrima had brought her to Tamin. Naomi thought about when she had arrived at Lacrima’s home a few days ago. They had known Naomi’s name with certainty, and she had thought it was because they were a seer, not because they had met her before. Naomi didn’t know why Lacrima hadn’t said anything, though she couldn’t really think of a reason why they should. But if Lacrima had brought her to Tamin, they might know something about where Naomi was from. They might know something about Naomi’s parents. Naomi stopped her movements and wiped her eyes, then began her exercises again with renewed vigor so she wouldn’t think so much. But after a few moments she stopped with the unnerving feeling that someone was watching her. She looked around but couldn’t see anything, so she listened carefully. Nothing made a peep. She had not heard the forest so silent since they entered, and it screamed danger louder than any noise could.

Naomi rushed over to Armel and shoved at his bulk. “Everyone wake up,” she whispered fiercely.

“What’s happening?” Henry muttered. “It’s still dark.”

“I think we’re being hunted,” Naomi said.

“It’s your imagination,” Micki said. “There’s nothing around.”

“That’s just it,” Naomi said. “Every day we’ve been in the forest, at this time in the morning there have been birds singing. But they’re not singing now.”

Micki was about to say something, but Armel suddenly stood up and started growling. “Don’t you start too,” Micki said.

“We need to leave right now.” Naomi had grabbed her spear and was reaching for her pack when the brush near her shook violently and something leapt out at her. She barely had time to gasp as it came at her, but Armel moved with speed his size suggested he wouldn’t have and swatted the thing to the ground. It bounced once then found its feet. Naomi thought it looked like a shaggy, bipedal beast, though it was hard to tell in the dim light. She felt like she had never seen anything like it before.

“I’m all for leaving now,” Micki said from the edge of the clearing.

Naomi and Henry edged towards her voice. The beast, however, wasn’t going to let them just get away. It darted around Armel and towards Naomi, but this time it didn’t have the element of surprise. She clenched her teeth, crouched down, and braced the butt of her spear against the ground with the tip pointed at the beast. The beast was charging too quickly to stop, but it somehow managed to twist its body and throw itself to one side, narrowly avoiding impaling itself on Naomi’s makeshift pike. Armel was right on top of it and tackled it into the brush next to the clearing.

Naomi stumbled towards Micki and Henry. “It seems to be after me,” she said. “We should split up.”

 “How will we find each other?” Henry asked.

There was a roar behind them, and Armel came tumbling back into the clearing. The beast appeared after him and looked towards Naomi, but Armel blocked its way. “I don’t think we have time to worry about that,” Naomi said.

“Forget it, Henry’s right,” Micki said. “We can’t risk being split up. No discussion, just run!”

They leapt into the forest and started running. Naomi didn’t know what direction they were heading in or where they would end up, but she felt relieved that she wasn’t alone. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Micki said. “It’s not like I’m really risking anything. If that beast catches up to us, I just need to run faster than you.”

There was a sudden roar from behind and a crash of something rushing towards them through the underbrush. Naomi turned her head as she ran and saw the huge, hulking silhouette of Armel behind them, sprinting hard and gaining ground quickly.

“You coward!” Micki shouted as he passed them. “You’re at least twice that thing’s size.” But Armel ignored her and disappeared into the forest ahead of them. There was a violent rustling in the trees above. Naomi slowed and looked up, and the beast dropped down in front of her. It immediately leapt forward with outstretched arms.

“Look out!” Henry shouted and shoved Naomi to the side. She stumbled and caught her left foot on a tree root, twisting her ankle as she went down. She tried to stand and gasped at the pain in her ankle. It was too painful to support her weight.

Meanwhile, Henry had taken advantage of the beast’s single-minded focus on Naomi, slipped behind it, and grabbed it in a bearhug. With dawn’s approach the light was starting to improve, and Henry was able to get a better look at the beast. “What the—” he started to say in surprise, but the beast elbowed him in the midsection and the air whooshed out of him. It then shook him off and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach.

Naomi had more or less got to her feet by that time, though she was heavily favoring her injured ankle. The beast began to slowly stalk towards her, and she started trying to hobble backwards. It seemed to know she was injured and could take its time. She felt her back bump against something, involuntarily glanced to the side, and saw she was against a tree. The beast leapt forward in that instant, and Naomi ducked just in time under its arm. She wasn’t sure whether it was a hand or paw the beast swung at her, but it looked like there was a golden claw on it. The beast swung again, and Naomi hopped one-footed to the side just in time to avoid the claw, which stuck into the tree she had bumped into. The beast tried once to pull it out, then let go of it. Naomi was confused, but then saw it had been holding something. The thing gleamed dully in the quickly improving light, and as the beast turned towards her, she confirmed that its hands looked human, with long, thick fingers. She still couldn’t clearly see its face behind its long, wild hair. That was all she had time to notice because the beast rushed towards her and swung a fist at her. She cried out and she toppled to the ground, then scrambled backward and bumped into another tree.

Naomi felt fear rising in her like she had never felt before. Even when Henry was mindlessly attacking her and Micki, she hadn’t felt that scared. Thinking back, he had seemed to be very dispassionate, almost empty. In comparison, the beast was full of active rage. It was a wild animal, and it seemed impossibly strong.

Naomi felt her sweaty hands slipping on something wooden and realized she was still clutching her spear. She gripped it tightly as the beast loomed over her, fierce and threatening. It reached out and hesitated, then wobbled briefly and fell towards her. Naomi let out a scream full of fear and the desire to live as she shoved her spear up towards the beast. It grunted from the force of the blow and pitched to the side, thumping onto the forest floor next to Naomi.

“Good job, team,” Micki said as she dropped from a branch about twenty feet away from Naomi. Henry groaned in response and staggered to his feet. The sun had risen, and it was bright enough for them to see what the beast was.

“It’s a woman,” Henry said.

Naomi felt like her heart was in her mouth as she crawled forward to get a better look. Killing a beast was one thing, and Naomi had to do it now and then. A person was completely different, and Naomi was terrified of what she had done.

The woman was tall and large with dark, curly hair. She was dressed in suede leather trimmed with fur. Naomi didn't know much about clothing, but even to her the woman's clothes looked very well made. Strangely, Naomi only saw a small mark from her spear. She was relieved she hadn't run the woman through, but she didn't understand how that happened. She glanced down at the spear still in her hand and realized in all the confusion she had somehow been holding it backwards. “So why was she after us?” she wondered aloud.

“Probably something to do with that,” Henry said, pointing at the object stuck in the tree. “She had a piece of the Glaive of Hope.”

“You mean like what happened to you?” Micki asked. “You know, when you started throwing fireballs around. What happened to your fireballs?”

“I don’t throw fireballs,” Henry said.

Naomi stood up and limped over to the Glaive piece. As she grasped it the woman groaned suddenly, startling everyone. She sat up, rubbed her head, then glanced around. “Where’s the beast?” she asked, then gave herself a shake. “Sorry. You don’t know. I was hunting a beast.”

“You were the beast!” Micki yelled. “And you were hunting us!”

The woman frowned. “You can see I am no beast. I was hunting a beast. Maybe more than one. It’s hard to remember.” She looked the group over. “Who are you?”

Henry stepped forward, still clutching his stomach, and extended a hand. "I'm Henry," he said.

Micki ran up and dragged him back. "Wait, wait, you can't just introduce yourself like nothing happened. She chased off a bear, remember?"

The woman shook her head. "I was not hunting bear. But did I see one?” She considered for a moment. “Maybe. Large. Why don’t I remember?”

Naomi yanked at the Glaive piece. It came out suddenly and she fell over, unable to catch herself on her bad foot. “We think it’s because of this. It’s called the Glaive of Hope. This is only a piece of it.”

The woman got to her feet and moved to squat next to Naomi. She peered at the Glaive piece, being very careful not to touch it. “You call this hope?” she murmured. “Interesting. And the beast I was hunting…” she trailed off and sent a questioning glance around to the group.

“You were pretty focused on Naomi,” Micki said.

“This Glaive does this often?” The woman asked. “Makes people act unnaturally?”

Everyone looked at each other. “It happened to me,” Henry said.

“But it protects my village,” Naomi said quickly. “It’s important. It’s not—” She stopped. It did seem like the Glaive was somehow driving people to mindlessly attack her. “Maybe the power it grants overwhelms people.”

The woman frowned. “It grants power, you say.” She locked her gaze on Naomi, who suddenly felt very uncomfortable and didn’t know where to look. “I was granted power, but you bested me in combat,” the woman said in a tone that was not quite a question.

“I was lucky. You hesitated at the end. I was holding my spear backwards.”

The woman laughed heartily. “Then I was the lucky one.” She stood and extended a hand to help Naomi up. “My name is Maple. I am the hunter for Arboria.”

Naomi let Maple help her to her feet. “Naomi, apprentice protector of Tamin.”

Maple grunted. “Bogart is your teacher? I have heard of him, but I never met him. His name alone keeps much danger from Tamin.” She looked at Micki. “And who are you?”

“I am the great and powerful Lacrima,” Micki said, waving her arms ominously. “Do not come near me or face my awful curse.”

“I have heard your name as well,” Maple said seriously. “I did not expect you to be so young.”

“Of course I am,” Micki said. “Who wouldn’t expect the ancient seer to present youth and beauty?”

Maple nodded. “And you are Henry. What is it like traveling with someone so famous?”

Henry gaped at her for a moment. “She’s, well, she isn’t…”

Maple tilted her head. “Are you saying she is not famous? No one does not know her name. Unless that is not her name.”

“I’m sorry Micki, I don’t want to lie,” Henry said. Micki yelled his name in admonishment and shoved him, and Maple guffawed.

“I thought so,” she said.

“I’m Micki the unbelievably powerful sorceress,” Micki said quickly. “None know my name because I leave no survivors. I throw fireballs!”

Naomi was growing tired of standing and limped over to a convenient log. Maple noticed her injury for the first time. “You’re hurt,” she said.

“Maybe a little,” Naomi said. “I just need to rest.”

Maple moved swiftly to Naomi’s side and removed her boot to examine her foot. “The ankle is swollen,” Maple said. “I have something that will help.” She opened some pockets on her clothes and took out some supplies including cloth and herbs.

“You said you’re a hunter,” Naomi said as Maple crushed the herbs in her hands. “It sounds like an important title in Arboria.”

Maple nodded. “The city hunter maintains balance in the forest. Sometimes predators come from outside and hunt too much. I chase them off or slay them. And sometimes I am the predator.”

“How are you chosen?”

“I am the biggest in Arboria, so I am the hunter.” Maple thumped her chest proudly.

 “It’s really that simple? Whoever is the biggest?” Naomi thought this was an odd way to pick. But then she wasn’t sure why she was picked to be the next protector of Tamin; perhaps it was through an equally simple method.

“We hold many competitions to find the biggest,” Maple said. “You bested me, so maybe you are bigger than I.”

Naomi looked at the hulking figure crouched next to her and then at her own hands. “I don’t think that’s true. Wait,” she paused, trying to put together exactly what Maple said. “How do you have competitions to see who is the biggest? Isn’t it obvious?”

“Bigness is not just physical size,” Maple laughed. “You are much bigger than you think you are. That is plain. We will spar when you are well. I will help you see.”

Naomi laughed weakly. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll believe you.”

Henry had wandered over and sat next to them, peering at what Maple was doing. Maple saw him looking and explained: “The wrapping keeps the ankle still. The herbs stop pain and help healing.”

Micki was still standing at a distance. “You can’t walk on that, right Naomi? How do we keep looking for the Glaive?”

“This Glaive is important?” Maple asked.

“It helped to protect my village until recently,” Naomi said. “It was stolen and broken into pieces.”

“And you are trying to get it back.” Maple tugged gently at the ankle wrapping to make sure it was tied tight. “I can bring you back to Arboria to rest. We can ask traders there if they have heard anything. They will know of strange happenings.” She turned to Micki and grinned. “If that is fine with you, little one.”

Micki shrugged. “You and Naomi are big and I’m tiny. I don’t know if what I think even matters. But I’ve always wanted to see Arboria, so it’s fine.”

“Good,” Maple said as she helped Naomi to her feet. “I will carry you on my back. You two follow and watch out for snakes.”

Micki grimaced. “You’re joking, right?”