Nightlord: Shadows by Garon Whited

better?”
    She snorted fire, a purely voluntary act, which told me I’m better than I was, and I started out awesome.
    I laughed and agreed with her before gathering up swords and heading back down to the shrine.
    The three were still there. The went from sitting to down on the left knee, right fist planted on the floor.
    I nodded at Torvil. He held out both hands—the one I’d cut was no longer bleeding. I glanced at the floor; there was no blood to be seen. I was pretty sure it had dripped from their hands, spattered on the stone, and crawled over to me. Some time ago, it had slithered up through my armor and clothes to sink into my skin.
    Creepy, but I can live with it. So to speak.
    “Torvil, will you accept this sword from my hand?” I asked.
    “I will.”
    “What will you swear?”
    “To my King I swear loyalty and bravery. To the Crown I swear to be just and fair as far as my mortal wisdom will allow. At my King’s command, I swear to grant mercy, or to withhold mercy; to take life, or to grant it; to harm those from whom my King shall lift his grace; to heal and help those upon whom my King’s grace shall descend.”
    As he spoke, shimmering lines of magic formed over him. They wove in and out all through him, almost glittering as they twisted and writhed into complex patterns. The patterns of the magic merged with the patterns of his spirit, matching them, binding with them, and sinking into them.
    That is one damn good oath , I thought. I would bet money I don’t have that Raeth and Bouger had something to do with it.
    We talked about knightly virtues— I talked—on the trail to Crag Keep. They seemed to think most knightly virtues consisted of knowing who to hit and being good at it. I expanded on that a little with legends of Camelot and similar guff.
    Now Torvil had a magical oath that reminded me of the oath Keria gave me. Correction: Torvil just swore an oath binding himself to my service and to the service of the kingdom. Like it or not, he wasn’t just any knight; he was now my knight.
    I laid the weapon in his open hands.
    “Stand, Sir Torvil.”
    His eyes lit up and he bounced to his feet as though gravity was a myth. He practically vibrated, standing to attention.
    I repeated the process with Kammen and Seldar—excuse me, Sir Kammen and Sir Seldar—and the three of them stood there in wonder, looking at each other and at their new swords.
    “Careful with those,” I cautioned. “They’ll cut almost before the edge touches. And tend to your cuts. While you’re doing that, I’ll get some of the extra meat. Meet me in the throne room and you can have some dazhu steaks.”
    Whistling, I strolled back out. A moment later, echoing up the tunnel, I heard them cheering.

    We sat around the firepit while they ate and chattered. The light from the fire reflected from the arched ceiling and I wondered if it was plated with brass or gold. It was certainly too bright to be bronze. I was also curious who put it there, assuming it wasn’t something the mountain did on its own. The shifting of light and darkness did interesting things in my vision; color swam back and forth with the flickering of the fire.
    I enjoyed the smell of the meat, but food isn’t really my thing after dark. Bronze crunched on some wood, just to be companionable; she likes combustibles. I finally got around to removing the horsecollar; she was very patient about that, and I felt bad about not realizing I should have done it sooner. I also fed her a few of the links and scratched her between the eyes. A normal person would need a railroad spike to do that effectively, but my fingernails can be quite dangerous. She enjoyed the scratching.
    “I am still amazed,” Seldar was saying, “that we are knights. I feel no different.”
    “I feel kinda scared,” Kammen said. The other two looked at him. “Well, yeah. I do. I mean, I’m still training t’be a knight, or was. I ain’t sure I’m really ready for going off and