RYAN. TIME FOR TO BE SURPRISED.

Chris shugged and continued. “Second, he also wanted me to tell you that I’m not a Light Bearer,” he said, nodding at Evan.

“Um. What?” Angie said, her eyes going wide.

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“I’m actually the wielder of Dyrnwyn,” Chris said, matter-of-fact.

“Pardon?!” Ryan exclaimed as Angie blurted, “Salt and silver! Seriously?!” Then, in unison, they both cried, “Interrobang?!”

Chris laughed a little bit. “Yeah, interrobang!”

“That’s not how you use it.” Angie, Evan, and Ryan all spoke flatly, in unison, their eyes narrowing.

This set Chris off, quiet guffaws leaking out of him.

“He even laughs classily,” Angie observed.

Evan and Ryan grunted.

“Thank you! That’s very sweet of you to say,” Chris said smiling, pulling himself together almost instantly.

“Wasn’t meant as a compliment. Okay, cough up some proof,” Angie said, her palm turned up, wagging her fingers in unison at him. “Where is it now? Betweenspace?”

“Yeah, actually,” Chris said. He reached forward and mimed grasping some sort of handle, one perpendicular to him. White-blue ghostly flames flared from a point in space a half a decimeter in front of his hand.

He pulled his hand back, and out of those flames came a sword blade, almost translucent like a crystal, glowing with a bright but somehow gentle light. As the sword emerged, there was, between blinks, a real-ass sword hilt in Chris’s hand rather than just air, made of something stark white. As it came out of the flames, it sounded exactly like a metal sword being pulled out of a normal wood and leather scabbard.

The light didn’t hurt Ryan’s eyes, somehow, despite the brightness, but it was too bright to make out the exact shape of the blade. It clearly wasn’t straight. Beyond that, it was difficult to make out details.

Feeling rather awed, Ryan said, “Forged by the dragon Rhonabwy, a lover of music and of metalwork, using an alloy of adamant steel sourced from the dwarf clan of Mount Carrauntoohil in southern Éire and crystalline mithrilled silver gifted by one or more of the Gentry—accounts don’t agree on which ones. That sure looks like Dyrnwyn alright.”

Chris stared at Ryan. “Okay,” he said after a second. “I thought you were just joking about exposition being your job. How can you tell that that’s what the sword is made out of?”

Ryan laughed. “Oh, just the translucent quality of the metal when it glows in the hands of one who is worthy. That’s been regularly recorded down the centuries.”

Chris continued to stare at him.

“What?” Ryan asked, smiling like a cat. “I like knowing stuff.”

Evan was staring at the sword, and now said, “Can I hold it?”

“Uh, sure?” Chris said, looking from the sword to Evan and back. “You’re the one of the few people to ask me to hold it, and Ryan literally just mentioned how it works. The worthy thing. Everyone seems to think twice once they find out it judges your worth. Not that I’ve shown it to that many people. But even my father had no interest in holding it.”

“Apparently it sometimes burns the unworthy,” Ryan said. “Usually when they try and use it.”

“Hmm,” Evan said. “I’m not going to use it, so I’ll probably be fine,” he said. He shrugged. “I might not be worthy, but surely it won’t hurt me.”

Chris studied him for a little bit, then said, “If you want to risk it.” Evan nodded, so Chris held the sword out to him, one hand under the blade and one under the hilt.

After a moment’s hesitation, Evan reached out and grasped the hilt, picking the sword up out of Chris’s hands.

The glow of the sword dimmed, to slightly less than the brightness of a ranger’s lantern, with almost the same flickering orange cast to its light, which made the blade itself a lot easier to see. It indeed wasn’t straight. It formed almost a mild S shape, curving in one direction like a katana before curving back the other way halfway down the blade. Unlike the katana, scimitars, or sabers it somewhat resembled, it seemed to be edged on both sides. It was slightly longer and slightly broader than a typical katana. It didn’t quite look right, like its structure shouldn’t survive use as an actual weapon. It gave Ryan the strong impression that it wasn’t a blade any human hand could have forged. Which he knew to be accurate.

“Is this bone?” Evan asked, rubbing the hilt with a thumb.

“Yeah, pretty sure it is,” Chris said.

Ryan leaned in to look. It indeed appeared that the white hilt was made of bone rather than white wood or something, slightly curved, like a piece of a large jawbone or rib. “White-hilt,” Ryan murmured as he and Angie crowded around Evan to inspect it. The hilt was carved with faint sigils, the edges worn smooth over centuries of use.

“So,” Evan said to Chris, gesturing to the blade. “What’s this mean?”

“Uh. I have no idea?” Chris turned his eyes to Ryan, Evan and Angie’s gazes following along.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Ryan, his hands back in his pockets, froze for a split-hair of a second. “Not sure either, guys,” he said. “I haven’t absorbed everything that’s ever been written on the subject. I don’t recall any stories about anyone but a worthy wielder holding it without getting burned.”

A long beat passed as everyone looked at the sword’s flickering flame glow.

Evan raised the sword up vertically, moving it back and forth. “Well, it’s kinda cool, but I haven’t fucked with a sword since I was eleven. And I’d be a fool to try and use it in any situation that it’d make sense to use it in, what with this color.”

“Anyone else?” Chris asked brightly.

“May I?” Angie asked.

Evan glanced to Chris, who nodded. “Sure, ‘Ril,” Evan said, and handed it over.

When she took the hilt, the blade’s glow dimmed even more than when Evan took it, to the luminosity of no more than a few candles. But the color of the light changed again, from yellow-orange to neon blue, with occasional flickers that made Evan think of a plasma globe lamp.

“Whoa!” Chris said.

“Hmm,” Ryan said. “Interesting.”

“Huh,” Angie said. She looked at the blade carefully, running one finger down the side. “This is beautiful. It’s like… crystalized metal. Or metallicized crystal.” She reached a portion of the blade close to the cross guard, and said, “Oh look, have you seen this?”

“What now?” Chris said. He looked at the base of the blade. Ryan leaned in too. There was a pattern etched into the blade, extending maybe two decimeters up, parallel to it. It appeared to be a dragon whose tail trailed behind it, dozens of times as long as its body, patterned into Celtic knots. “No,” Chris said, after a second. “It’s always bright for me, even when I put it down. I’ve never been able to make that out.”

“Interesting,” Ryan said again.

“What about you, Ryan,” Chris asked.

Ryan hesitated. “I’m not much of a warrior. Not an up-close and personal one, anyway.”

“Angie’s not a warrior, and I’m not the up-close warriors,” Evan pointed out. “And we were fine.”

Chris contemplated Ryan for a moment. “You don’t carry a gun, guy.”

“Well,” Ryan said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m at home.”

“You didn’t have one at school, either,” Chris said, in the same tone one would ask about a difficult clue on a crossword puzzle.

“Sure,” Ryan said. “I can’t handle the recoil. Look at me. I’m a delicate guy, June.”

Evan snorted, almost sounding like he was choking, and put a hand over his mouth to stifle snickers.

Angie giggled. “I hadn’t thought of that!” she said.

Chris stared at them for a moment. “Oh I get it,” he said. “It’s my birth month.”

“I may as well take a look,” Ryan said. Angie handed it over.

Immediately upon Ryan taking the sword, the sword’s light changed again, becoming a sickly green. Flickers of green flame started licking up the blade, and some sort of smoke or mist began boiling off of it.

Everyone stared at Ryan, while he stared at the sword. “This haft is remarkably cold considering that it’s bone,” he said, then paused. “It’s kinda uncomfortable to hold, actually. The blade is, like, radiating cold.”

“Cold?” Chris asked. “That’s weird. The blade’s warm even when it’s not burning.”

“It feels like grabbing a metal light pole in sub-freezing temperatures. I’m going to hand it back to you now,” Ryan said, wanting the thing out of his hands.

Chris quickly took the sword, and it flared back up to almost- too-bright silvery white in Chris’s hands.

“Hmm.” Ryan frowned at the sword. “Weird. Can I touch the blade while you hold it?”

Chris shrugged. Ryan reached out and touched the sword blade itself. It was somewhat warmer than body temp, perhaps 110 degrees Fahrenheit.

“You’re not wrong,” Ryan said. “That’s weird.” He shrugged. “I’m going to keep my hands off it. So anyway, you’re not a Light Bearer, Chris?”

Chris, in the midst of drawing his arm back as if he were about to stab something, froze. “Uh. Did I say that? That’s—”

“You did say that,” Angie said, narrowing her eyes at him.

Evan was already staring at Chris, his eyes becoming wider and wider. “Hey. Hey! None of the gas lamps around us became Bearer’s flame! It was just the sword when you were fighting the Beast. I was so distracted by the sword that I didn’t notice that none of the flames changed!”

“Yes, okay.” Chris drove the sword back into its intangible weapon rack. The flames flared again as the sword blade disappeared into Betweenspace. “Well,” he said with a small sigh when it was gone, “You’re right. I am indeed not a Light Bearer. And I don’t mean to say this isn’t fun, but if the subject’s going to stay on that for any length of time, it’s time for me to float.” He flipped his thumb toward the door, then looked at Angie. “You need a walk home or anything?”

They didn’t push. Angie laughed and waved the offer away. “Nah, I end up staying here half the time anymore anyway.”

“Really? That doesn’t bother your parents?” Chris asked, sounding, perhaps, a little bit jealous.

Angie shrugged. “Nah, we’re firstagers now, after all. When my fifteenth was approaching my mom gave me a prophylactic charm and told me to be careful.” She shrugged. “Hasn’t come up yet, but one of the advantages of being an enchanter’s daughter, I guess.”

This drew a snorting laugh out of Chris. “I guess! Did Megan tell you guys to bring music tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said with a wave of his hand. “Bring our favorite stuff.”

Evan frowned. “What’s this about music?” he asked.

“I got it handled,” Ryan said to him. “You can look over the list, see if I’m missing anything, but it’s not like we’re going to have that many distinct suggestions.”

“In musical artists, sure,” Evan said. “But songs? Come on.”

“Okay, so you got music,” Chris said, walking to the door upstairs and pulling it open. “We can discuss where we listen to it at school tomorrow. All things considered, tonight wasn’t all that taxing, but I do need some sleep.”

“Yeah yeah, my life’s so hard, I just use a legendary blade to hunt,” Ryan said, keeping his voice low enough that he was certain Cali wouldn’t hear as they started to follow him back upstairs. “Waah waah.”

“Oh, like you have any room to talk,” Angie said, bumping his hip with hers and thereby cutting him off from getting on the stairs first.

Chris looked over his shoulder at them, a puzzled frown on his face. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Ryan said, smug, as they reached the top of the stairs. “Have a good night, June.”

Chris laughed. “Sure thing, October.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

Chris shrugged. “Megan mentioned this morning when she was explaining your—our—birthday thing.”

Ryan nodded. They walked to the front door, and as Chris went to open it, asked, “Hey, do you mind if we refer to your eyes as ‘grayn’?”

“Well,” Chris said, “It’s not my favorite.” Angie burst out giggling at his delivery.

“I’ll workshop it,” Ryan said, with a lazy wave of his hand. Evan snorted.

“I… I wish you wouldn’t,” Chris said, just a tiny bit plaintively. Evan lost it now too. When he did, Chris said to Ryan, his voice low, “Read up.”

Ryan tipped an invisible hat to Chris as the other disappeared out the door. He turned to his best friends in all the world, to find Angie leaning against the hall wall as she giggled and Evan laughing wheezily while hanging onto the stairway railing. “Go to bed, Evan,” Ryan said, poking the other boy with his foot. “You’re delirious.”