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.