Chapter 12
Trystan awoke to glistening tendrils of warm sunlight peeking through the salty mist. He lay on the hard ground, staring up into the early morning sky. The air was still and quiet, except for the distant sound of a turbulent sea crashing against the rocks far below the ruins. He’d never felt more at home.
“It’s soothing, isn’t it?”
Emrys’ voice yanked him from his thoughts. Trystan sat up and glanced over at Emrys—the younger Emrys—sitting nearby. His green eyes smiled at him.
“This place,” Emrys added.
“It is.” Trystan couldn’t help his smile. “Where’s Marc?”
“Wandering about.”
Trystan glanced down at his side. The sword and bow lay carelessly in the grass next to him. He brushed his fingers lightly over the blade. Strange markings in the blade glowed faintly at his touch. Trystan pulled his hand away. The glow faded.
“It doesn’t do that for just anyone,” Emrys said, one brow arched and mouth quirked into a crooked half-smile.
Trystan stared at him blankly, trying to process what he’d said, but his mind was still tired. He scrubbed his palm over his face. Emrys stood and moved to sit down next to him. He picked up the sword and laid it across his knees. It did not glow.
“Anyone can use the sword, but only those with whom it has a true connection can learn to wield its true power.”
“It connects to me through my father.” Trystan looked up at Emrys, his eyes questioning.
“Yes,” Emrys said, something more than a smile touching his eyes. “You catch on quickly.” Trystan’s blue eyes caught his, and Emrys pulled in a sharp, fast breath as quietly as possible. He looked down at the sword and cleared his throat, willing away the desire to restore the memories he’d stolen only days ago.
“Thousands of years ago, four very powerful weapons were created by the guardians. Each one forged from one of Earth’s natural elements, they imbued the weapons with our ancient magic. They were intended for the sole protection of humanity in its darkest hours. Throughout time, these legendary weapons remained under careful guard. They were only to be released into the world when needed most, and only to the one deemed worthy of their power. Excalibur, the Sword of Kings, was forged from the earth. Your father was its first owner.”
“What about the bow?” Trystan asked. “The Lady of the Lake called it the Bow of Artemis. Is it one of the four?”
“Yes, but unlike Excalibur, the bow had never before been released from its protector. Lokheira, as it’s also known, was forged from the element of air—the wind. Said to have been blessed by Artemis herself, arrows shot from the bow will go farther and faster than any other bow ever known, and they always hit their target.”
Trystan picked up the bow and studied it intently. It still looked similar to his old bow, but the wood now appeared to have been inlaid with gold. He pulled back on the string. It flexed perfectly. Just above the grip was a round opening about the size of an egg. On the inside of the opening was a metal ring with markings similar to the ones on Excalibur. The markings glowed a bluish-white. It was the first time he had stopped to look at it since the Lady of the Lake transformed it.
Transformed.
Trystan drew his brows together. “The Lady gave me the sword, but the bow is my old one transformed. Why is that?” Had he discovered an ancient secret?
“It is the bow’s first appearance on Earth. Prior to yesterday, it existed only in spirit form. With guidance from its protector, its spirit latched itself to your bow. Because of that, it makes your connection to the bow even stronger than your connection to the sword.”
Trystan stood, still holding the bow in his hand. Raising the elegant weapon, he closed his eyes. It felt no different to him. It was still his old bow. The one his father Owaine had crafted for him many years ago. Instinctively, he pulled back on the string. It felt so natural. His eyes still closed, he imagined an arrow nocked against the wood, resting lightly between his fingertips.
“Trystan,” Emrys whispered. “Open your eyes.”
Trystan’s eyes opened and he jumped, letting go of the string. An arrow of light shot off with extraordinary speed, burrowing deep into the outer castle wall. Within seconds of impact, a web of light spread outward a few inches like cracks in the wall, and then it all disappeared, including the arrow as the section of stone the arrow had struck crumbled and fell away, leaving a small hole.
Trystan stood staring, his mouth agape.
“Impressive.” Marc’s astonished voice sounded from behind him. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know.” He gave Emrys a curious look. “How did I do that?”
“It is one of the bow’s special properties. By focusing your mind on what you need the bow to do, you can summon an arrow of pure light.” Emrys paused for a moment, rubbing his hand along his chin. “Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?” Trystan inquired.
“I’ve never knownanyoneto discover a legendary power so quickly,” Emrys said. He looked at Trystan and saw it again—that flicker of strength in his eyes. He thought for a moment and then smiled a little. “It gives me hope.”
***
