Once all the activities surrounding his father’s funeral wound down a relieved Damien returned to work. Even hauling debris to the fire was better than listening to people who never even knew his father telling him what a great man he was.

While Damien would never claim Dad wasn’t great, the areas of his greatness were extremely narrow and revolved around killing and teaching others how to kill. In a lot of other areas, Dad was a jerk. He had all the warmth of the steel he wielded with such skill. Despite their issues, Damien found he missed his father. It felt like one of the few constants in his life had been yanked out from under him.

He landed beside a wobbling structure that looked to have once served as a feed store. Half of it had collapsed and five guys wielding long gaffs were yanking on what remained, trying to pull it down.

“Give you fellas a hand?” Damien asked.

“We’d appreciate that,” said the group spokesman, a gray-haired man in his mid-fifties.

“Anything inside you want to salvage?”

A brief discussion ensued. When they came to a consensus the spokesman shook his head. “I doubt anything’s usable after this.”

Damien nodded, conjured a box around the ruined structure, and crushed it down to a manageable size. If only they could do the same with every damaged building the cleanup would be finished by now. The workers stared at Damien with open awe.

Damien saluted and flew off to the fire. He’d only passed the three-quarter point on his flight when a globe of his master’s soul force appeared and formed the familiar summons: throne room.

When he’d made his delivery Damien headed for the castle. Once more the throne room had been cleared of everyone but the king and archmage. Damien glanced at the archmage and raised an eyebrow. “Master?”

“The generals want you back at The Citadel as soon as possible. It seems the demon sword is giving them some trouble.”

Damien sighed. “I told General Kord Lizzy wouldn’t accept their champion. He didn’t pay me the least attention. What happened?”

“They didn’t offer details, only that they wanted you there, now.” The archmage rubbed her temples. “We’ve got other problems as well, but they’ll keep until you return.”

“Damien,” Uncle Andy said. “When you arrive try not to say ‘I told you so.’ The generals can be prickly about that sort of thing.”

He smiled and put a hand on his chest. “I’d never do such a thing.”

That brought a smile to the king’s weary face, just as Damien had hoped it would. “Just mind your manners.”

“Will do. Any messages for them?” When both his master and Uncle Andy shook their heads Damien said, “I should probably head out now.”

The familiar flight to The Citadel took only a couple hours and he arrived before noon. Not wanting to waste time Damien landed just in front of the keep doors and marched inside. The entry hall was empty as all the students remaining were out in the yard training which begged the question: Where were the generals? He shrugged and headed straight to the armory. If they weren’t there the guards could probably tell him where to go.

Damien’s footfalls echoed in the empty hall. The two warlords on guard duty straightened as he approached. He stopped and crossed his arms. “Are the generals inside?”

“We were told to send you to the commandant’s office,” the older of the two guards said. The warlord looked up and down the hall to make sure they were alone. “If you can resolve this business we’d appreciate it. We’re thoroughly sick of standing out in this hall doing nothing.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Damien grinned, such a warlord thing to say. “I’ll do my best, guys, but I can’t make any promises.”

He left the guards and jogged across the hall to his father’s old office. They’d left the door partway open so he poked his head in. The generals, along with two of the four champions, packed Dad’s office. General Kord sat behind the desk and waved Damien in. Seeing someone else sitting in his father’s chair shocked Damien for a moment, but he shook it off. Someone else would be sitting in it from now on so he might as well get used to it.

It seemed the northern general would serve as the group’s speaker. Probably because he knew Damien the best.

Damien bowed to the room. “Gentlemen, you summoned me?”

“Damien.” General Kord gestured to the empty chair in front of the desk. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

Damien settled into the hardback chair. “Of course, sir. How can I help?”

“You can tell that damn sword to stop being so unreasonable and do its duty,” Admiral McAllen said. His champion was one of the two that were missing.

Damien craned his neck to look back at the admiral. “As I told General Kord, Lizzy has her own will. I can’t command her to do something she doesn’t want to any more than you can.” He turned back to General Kord. “What exactly happened?”

General Kord sighed. “When we arrived Lieutenant Stevens went directly to the armory to collect the sword. The moment he touched it his face went slack and a minute later he dropped it and told us it wouldn’t accept him and further warned him not to touch it again. Admiral McAllen ordered him to ignore the sword’s warning and take up his blade.”

Damien winced. “That might not have been the best idea.”

“No. Lieutenant Stevens was blasted into the armory wall with enough force to crack it. His core was damaged by the power overload and he hasn’t yet recovered, though the healers are optimistic.”

“I noticed another champion is also missing,” Damien said. “Did someone else attempt to pick Lizzy up against her will?”

General Kord studied the top of the empty desk. “General Taos said that as runner-up his man should have a chance to wield the demon sword. He’s still unconscious.”

Damien shook his head. “So is everyone now agreed that I should be Lizzy’s bearer?”

The generals all began shouting so that Damien couldn’t make out what any individual was saying. General Kord raised his hands, trying to calm everyone down. When the noise subsided he said, “We hoped you could convince the sword to work with our champion.”

“I thought I made it clear before. Nothing I say will change her mind. It’s me or no one.”

“You’re not even a warlord.” A slender man with deeply tanned skin and a trimmed and oiled beard leaned over Damien. “How could you even begin to use the demon sword?”

Though Damien had never met General Taos before today he recognized the man from descriptions he’d heard. The way he stood indicated he thought it possible to intimidate Damien into doing the impossible.

“Lizzy is a risen demon spirit. Her soul force is divine in nature.” Damien sounded like one of his teachers giving a lesson to a first-year student. If the generals resented the lecture they said nothing. “Divine soul force can be used either internally or externally. Therefore she can augment my powers just as well as a warlord’s, perhaps better as she was originally created by a sorcerer in the Old Empire to be his partner. In any event she’s chosen me to be her partner and unless you want one of the kingdom’s most powerful weapons to sit around gathering dust you don’t really have much choice.”

“There’s no record of the sword ever being used by a sorcerer,” General Taos said. “We have only your word. Unless you can prove you can use the sword I see no reason to allow you to have it.”

There were murmurs of agreement from the other generals at this suggestion. General Kord raised an eyebrow. “What do you say, Damien, are you willing to prove your claim to the sword?”

Damien shrugged. If this was what it took to get the generals’ approval he’d put on a show for them, though it seemed like a waste of time. “Would it be sufficient to pick her up and not get knocked unconscious?”

General Kord smiled at that. “It would certainly put you ahead of all the other contenders, but I think we’ll need something a little more dramatic. When your father used the sword he could kill a hundred enemies in a few seconds.”

“I can already do that, depending on the enemy.”

“Just use your imagination,” General Taos sneered. “I’m sure a sorcerer with your reputation can think of something suitable.”

The meeting ended with everyone following Damien back to the armory. Seeing the group approaching the warlords on guard duty hastened to pull the door open. Inside dozens of racks held thousands of weapons of all sorts, from dirks to great swords, longbows and crossbows with such heavy draws a normal person couldn’t even think of pulling one. All by herself, floating above a stone table, surrounded by smoke-colored flames, waited Lizzy.

The warmth of her mental touch caressed Damien the moment he entered the room. There were too many people around for her to bring him into her world, but the moment they were alone he looked forward to seeing her. Lizzy flew across the armory, causing the generals to flinch, and settled into his hand. He ran the first two fingers of his left hand along the length of her polished blade, soothing her and causing the flames to vanish.

“I missed you,” Damien whispered.