Damien flew north, his thoughts whirling. First Dad got killed then Lizzy demanded that Damien be her next bearer. It was too much too fast. He couldn’t process it all. Damien focused on the one thing that really mattered, figuring out how to make Lizzy’s wish come true. If they could be together it would make Dad’s death mean something, maybe. Damien didn’t know. All he was certain of was that he wanted to be with her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

Uncle Andy had agreed to have the memorial within the week and he ordered sorcerers to go and fly the generals to the capital. Damien had volunteered to collect General Kord. He wanted a chance to talk to one of them alone and he only knew John’s father well enough to risk it. Luckily for Damien the general had moved back towards the northern border and away from Duke Iceborn. The last thing Damien wanted was to run into Sig or his father.

Compared to the capital, the Northlands had just awakened from the long winter hibernation. A green field surrounded the army’s camp instead of gray snow and the air didn’t try to steal your breath when you drew in a lungful.

The general’s tent sat right where he remembered. No sorcerers patrolled the skies above and no one challenged Damien when he landed just outside the three-chamber tent. Two young men stood on either side of the flap, hands clasped behind their backs, blue and white uniforms spotless.

The blond-headed boy took a step forward. “Is the general expecting you, sir?”

“No, but I have a message from the king so I expect he’ll want to see me right away.”

“Of course,” the boy said. “One moment, please.”

He ducked inside and a few seconds later emerged again. “Go right in.” He held the flap open for Damien who nodded and stepped through.

The interior held the familiar table and maps. The only difference now was a lack of markers for opposing armies. The general was sitting with his head down, a book in his lap. He looked up at Damien’s approach.

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“I hadn’t expected you to be the king’s messenger.” The general smiled and stood up. “Don’t they have more important things for you to do?”

“Not at the moment, and besides I volunteered.” Damien pulled a scroll with the royal seal out of an inside pocket of his cloak. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

The general took the scroll and broke the seal. “What sort of something?”

“You’ll understand better if you read the message first.”

General Kord shrugged and unrolled the message. His eyes widened a few seconds later. He looked up from the scroll. “Your father. What happened?”

“A demon apparently. I’m uncertain of all the details.” Damien struggled to keep his tone cool and professional.

The general returned his attention to the scroll. When he finished he set it on his table and sighed. “I never imagined Fredric would die so young. He always seemed invincible. I guess no one is truly invincible, are they?”

“No, sir.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Lizzy. She told me she wants me to be her next bearer and that she wouldn’t accept anyone else.”

The general laughed. That was about what he’d expected in all honesty. “Damien, swords don’t give orders to swordsmen. The demon sword is a tool to be used as we see fit. It doesn’t have any say in the matter.”

“The thing is, General, she does have a say. Lizzy has her own will. She shares her power with her bearers because she chooses to. After all, you know she won’t work with a woman. No one has ever questioned that. If Lizzy refuses whoever you choose, all she’ll be is an exceptionally well-made sword.” Damien didn’t add that if she wished she could do far worse than remain dormant if anyone picked her up against her will.

“It’s never done that before. Why would it do so now?”

“I don’t think she ever cared before.” Damien shrugged, not wanting to talk about his relationship with Lizzy.

“Considering the fact that she’s been a loyal ally to the kingdom for hundreds of years it doesn’t seem too much to ask that you respect her wishes on this.”

“Even if I agreed with you, I doubt the other generals would vote to give the sword to you. We each have our favorites. We all agreed years ago that if anything happened to your father each general would choose a champion and they’d fight to see who inherited the sword. They won’t change their minds on your say-so.”

“I understand. I just wanted to fill you in on the situation. Should the generals change their minds I’d be delighted to succeed my father as Lizzy’s bearer.”