Chapter 13
The Weaponsmith
As we enter a small bell tinkles above us, just like the sweet shop me and Josh used to go to after school. The sound is both familiar and strange; out of place even, like something from long ago.
The room we’ve entered is nothing like I was expecting.
Warm and pleasant, it stands in stark contrast to the rank chaos of Bleeding Heart Lane. A thick, white, sheep’s wool rug covers the wooden floor, a fire crackling in the hearth to our right. To the left of the hearth, an archway leads off further into the building, a sign on the bricks above:
Garvey’s Workshop
Entry by appointment only!
A voice from behind makes me jump. “Welcome to Garvey’s!”
A tall, thin man with pale skin and long black hair tied in a neat bun on top of his head is standing on the other side of a counter. I catch my breath. On the wall behind him hang loads of weapons: swords, daggers, bows, axes. All polished steel and leather, they glow like a sunset in the light of the fire: beautiful and deadly.
“Are you Garvey?” Alice asks.
The man smiles and leans forwards, fingers splayed on the wood of the counter. “I’m not. Garvey’s a little busy right now. Perhaps I can help?”
“I think we need to speak to Garvey himself,” I say.
He raises one of his bushy, black eyebrows. “Do you now? Garvey’s business is my business.” He dips his head slightly. “Digby Zhang at your service, manager of Garvey’s Emporium of Fine Weapons and Glyphs.”
Me and Alice exchange a glance. She fiddles nervously with the two halves of De Silva’s foil.
Digby’s eyes narrow and he moves around the counter towards Alice. My fingers creep towards the handle of my foil, then I realise how stupid that is – I mean this guy’s got proper, deadly weapons behind him. Even so, I step closer; pulse bouncing like a power ball in my wrist.
“What have you there child?” Digby asks, holding out a long-fingered hand.
Alice steps back, the pieces of Ërlosung clutched tightly to her chest. “My name is Sir Werdun.” There’s an edge to her voice that sends a shiver down my spine. She seems to realise too and attempts a smile. “We just need to speak to Garvey…Please.”
Digby holds up both hands, palm out. “Well, Sir Werdun, I mean you no harm. May I look?”
Alice’s eyes flick to mine.
I nod slowly. We need answers.
She hesitates then holds out the pieces of De Silva’s foil which Digby takes and carefully places on the counter. He stares at them intently before looking up. “This is Ërlosung, Sir Darren De Silva’s sword.” His fingers tremble as they move across the broken blade. “Where did you get this?”
“In his room at the Dragon’s Tail Inn,” I say.
Digby lets out a long, slow breath. “So, it’s finally happened,” he whispers, half to himself. His eyebrows knit together. “Stay here please.” He hurries past us and out through the archway by the fireplace. “Orwin! Love? Are you there?”
My heart thumps in my chest. “What’s he mean by ‘It’s finally happened’?”
“I don’t know,” Alice says, her voice trembling. “But I’ve got a bad feeling.” She moves closer to the counter and places a hand on the two halves of the foil.
“You’ve no need to protect it, young knight. It seems a little late for that.” A tall, muscular man with white skin and red cheeks stands in the archway next to Digby. He’s got bushy, dark brown hair with two streaks of silver that run from his forehead past both ears – like some kind of comic book superhero. “I’m Garvey.” He puts an arm around Digby. “My husband tells me you’re looking for me. I have a few questions for you first. How did you come into possession of Ërlosung? And why is my sword broken?”
“It’s not your sword,” Alice shoots back.
“Alice,” I say gently. Garvey doesn’t seem like the sort of person you want to get on the wrong side of.
Garvey stares at her a moment before barking out a short, strained laugh. “Every weapon, piece of armour, glyph or glamour forged in my workshop is mine. Each has a little of me in it. Now answer my question. Why do you have this sword?”
Digby wriggles out from Garvey’s grasp and dusts himself down. “As much as I love affection, sweetheart, these clothes were made by Vivienne of The Westwood. They cost an arm and a leg. And as you have the social skills of a badger, may I suggest we sit down by the fire and talk this through.” Digby gestures towards a wooden bench in front of the hearth. “I’ll make tea.” He taps Garvey lightly on the arm as he leaves. “Be nice.”
Garvey folds his arms, his face like stone. I try to look everywhere except at him but somehow, we keep locking eyes. A clock is ticking somewhere in the room. I’d not noticed before, but now it sounds as loud as a bomb. Alice shuffles her feet and stares at the floor. After what feels like an age Garvey asks, “How did you know to bring the sword here?”
I hand him the paper found inside the guard of De Silva’s foil. He stares at it briefly before looking up. “This is Darren’s writing, and it appears you were in his care. You are the children in the note, are you not?”
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“Yes.”
His expression softens. “To have sought me out shows you care for him too.”
“We do,” I say. “He’s our teacher.”
“And our friend,” Alice adds.
Garvey’s smile crinkles the skin around his eyes. “Aye. He’s my friend too. Teaching now, is he? Could do with learning a thing or two himself first.” He sighs. “We were best of friends once. Partners in crime some might say.”
A tingle travels down my arms into my fingers. “I overheard him say he should’ve acted sooner.” I look down for a second before forcing my eyes back to Garvey’s. “Do you know what he was talking about?”
Garvey presses his lips together. A shadow passes across his features. He opens his mouth then closes it again as Digby wanders in carrying a tray with four steaming mugs on it. Digby places the tray on the table in front of the fire and cocks a glance at Garvey. “Who was talking about what? And when?”
Garvey scratches his cheek. “These young knights were telling me they heard Darren say he should’ve acted sooner.” He runs a hand over his face.
Digby smiles but his eyes seem sad. “It’s not your fault, love.”
“He’s my friend.”
“Aye. And always will be. Friendship is a two-way street. You’ve both got to want to go where you’re headed.”
Garvey shakes his head, his eyes faraway. “It just makes me sad is all.” He pulls Digby to him and they hug. Over his husband’s shoulder Garvey tells us. “You need to find that person you believe in, one who’s strong enough to make you see the path. Like a light in the night, a map for the lost, a compass for the disorientated. I found mine. Darren never found his.”
Digby pulls away gently, arches an eyebrow. “What about Coventina?”
Garvey snorts. “Don’t you start believing that damn fool story about a woman in the woods.”
“But – ”
“No!” Garvey cuts the air with his hand, the movement sending a spike rattling through me. I swallow heavily and shuffle my feet, not sure where to look.
Garvey turns to Digby and half whispers. “It looks like he’s facing up to his problems. Let’s not go back to fantasyland. ‘Specially as he’s decided to pull himself together at the eleventh hour.” He puts a hand to his forehead. “Resistant to change is Darren De Silva. Always was. Always will be.”
“Hush,” Digby says gently. “You were too once. It’s never too late.”
My heart flutters. It’s never too late.
“I fear your optimism is misplaced this time, Digs.”
“Hmph. We’ll see.” Digby puts his hands on his hips and tuts. “What part of ‘let’s sit by the fire and talk this through’ did you take to mean grill our guests while keeping them standing?!” He tuts again, louder this time. “Hair like a badger. Manners like a badger.” He shakes his head in mock shame. “I married a badger!”
Alice giggles and I can’t help but smile. These friends of De Silva’s seem like good people.
Digby shoos us towards the seats like lost sheep. “Please. By the gods. Sit!”
Me and Alice take a seat on the bench in front of the fire while Digby and Garvey pull up two wooden stools.
“Right,” Digby says. “I think you’d better start by telling us everything that’s happened. How you know Sir Darren, how you got here and what you plan to do next.”
Both sit silently while me and Alice tell them all. The tomb, fencing class, the mirrors, Fibber Fred’s song and De Silva’s disappearance.
When we’ve finished Garvey sits back and rubs a hand over his face. “The Shadow Time is upon us once more.”
“We saw the clock in the square,” I say. “And Fred sang about it in the Dragon’s Tail last night.”
Alice straightens in her seat. “Sir De Silva said that this world and that of the Fae are aligning again.”
Digby leans forwards. “Aye. So they are. And that means the events set in motion last time will come to a close and new ones will begin. The Fae always have an agenda. Romalesque will not rest until she has her eye returned and Darren has, so far, failed her.”
Alice shivers. “So, the Fae do have him?”
Digby nods. “I would assume so.”
A jolt of unease whips through me.
Garvey wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “He’s in Fae. No doubt of it. Who you saw in The Cut sounds like Haldjas Palgamor, head of The Ansyn Gärd.”
I sit up. “I know that name. Sir De Silva mentioned The Ansyn Gärd in a story – at least I thought it was a story at the time – about a knight that killed a dragon called Haalsbeder and brought the queen back one of her eyes.”
A laugh bursts out of Garvey. “Told you he killed Haalsbeder did he?”
“He didn’t?” Alice asks.
Garvey chuckles. “Ah my friend. Always bending the truth in favour of a good story. No. He did not kill Haalsbeder. Killing a dragon is no easy feat, and to my knowledge there is only one weapon that can achieve it.”
I turn to the wall of deadly metal behind us.
“It is none of those,” Garvey says quietly. “I cannot make such a thing. Only Minas, forged by Lodinitus could slay a dragon and that sword has been lost for many an age now.”
I sit forward. “What did Minas look like?”
Garvey rubs his hands together. “A sword like no other. Legend says its hilt was golden, shaped like an eagles claw. And in the claw a gem with strange swirling bands inside it. The stories say this gem is filled with dark Fae magic, the ability to create and the ability to destroy.”
Digby sighs. “Let’s not get lost in legends. If Romalesque sent Palgamor to retrieve De Silva, then I fear for his safety. She is not known for her clemency.”
There’s a strange stirring in my chest. Our path is set. I know it now, know where we’re headed. I breathe deeper, sit straighter. “Can you help us get to Fae?”
Alice shifts in her seat. “Please say you can.”
Garvey smooths his great hands on his apron and looks down. My heart thuds wildly against my ribs. He’s going to tell us we’re just kids, that we should go home, that we shouldn’t get ourselves mixed up in this. Tension weaves knots my stomach.
No way this ends with us going home now.
Eventually Garvey looks up, his eyes full of sadness. “It’s too dangerous.” He shakes his head.
“We can’t leave him,” I say, the words tumbling out of me like water bursting through a dam.
Alice’s eyes are fierce. “We won’t leave him.”
Garvey turns away and stares into the fire. “Then I will show you the way to Hazel and she in turn will show you the way to Fae.” His eyes are moist. “He is my friend and will forever be, whether I never see him again or see him the morrow.”
It’s like that with me and Josh. Nothing can take away the friendship we had. It’ll be different now, but I guess that’s ok. “He’s our friend too,” I say. “Our teacher. And he saved us from a Kao tree. We can’t just leave him.”
Garvey starts to speak but Digby places a hand on his shoulder. “Let them choose the path they walk.”
Garvey’s smile makes one eye overflow. The tear snakes a track down his cheek. His lips move silently for a moment before he stands. “Hand me your foil.”
Me and Alice glance at one another. She nods and I stand and draw my foil. Garvey takes it and shakes his head. “No, this won’t do. This won’t do at all.” He whirls my foil against the wall above the fireplace, hitting it hard.
Metal pings loudly against stone, the blade vibrating like a plucked guitar string.
I wince. “My new foil!”
Garvey looks down the blade. “You can’t maim a troll with this.”
“Who says I want to maim a troll?”
“I do,” Alice says. “Gunwaddle for a start.”
Warmth floods my chest. “Fair point.”
Garvey holds out a hand to Alice. “Pass me your foil. I will play my part in this tale. I will do it to help my friend Darren De Silva.” He takes Alice’s foil. “With friends like you he might just be ok.”
“Thank you,” we both say at once. Alice’s eyes meet mine and a smile spreads across both our faces.
Garvey walks through the archway then turns to Digby. “Why don’t you amuse our guests with a tale or two, sweetheart? You always had a way with words that I never did.”
Digby smiles, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “That I can do.” His eyes lock on to mine. “This is a tale of a man who refused to change as his world changed around him. It is a tale known by many. A cautionary tale told by parents to their children. It is The Tale of Sir Darren De Silva. Listen…”