The Hidden Princess and the Sword

Chapter 3

Annika practically threw herself up a flight of stairs towards the library, which was on the ground floor. Her bedroom was nearer the top, and the Great Hall occupied most of the central ground floor.

The Wizard's rooms were in the back of the library, a suite of cluttered rooms full of experiments and books. Annika spent long hours in there the year she was eleven, reading hundreds of books long past her bedtime. Her head had been so cluttered with facts that oftentimes she could tell you how long a furlong was but not the book she read yesterday afternoon. The Wizard had been her mutual companion, working on his experiments while she read in an armchair. Annika asked him questions when she wasn't reading and had fallen asleep more than once in the plump red armchair in the corner, only to wake up in her own bed.

"Wizard!" she shouted, banging on the door. "Open up!"

The old man peeked out, his long nose appearing before his wire spectacles. He was older than she remembered, with tattered robes and a long white beard and hair.

"Annika!" He embraced her and she patted him on the back awkwardly. "I heard, so so sorry. Your parents were good people, they were."

"Thanks," she said, her voice cracking.

"I suppose you'll be here for, mmm, let's see, the means to destroy the Sword." He started rummaging through the books behind his desk.

"How do you know?"

"The Mirror and I have our own forms of private communication. Ah, here." The Wizard pulled the oldest, dustiest, thickest tome in the room out from behind two others, licked his thumb, and started flipping through the pages.

"Hog's thumbs...newt's eyes...Ansongi." He stopped and placed the book on the desk. With two fingers, the Wizard swiveled the book towards Annika. On the withered pages was the carefully drawn illustration of a glowing blue sword bearing down upon a coal black one. The little swords were actually moving on the page, and Annika reached out to touch them.

The Wizard caught her hand halfway there and moved it aside. "I wouldn't do that." He looked admiringly down at the pictures and added, "Ancient motion picture magic. I'm afraid we've lost the technique, though; best I've ever gotten is the paper bursting into flames."

They both looked nostalgically down at the paper. The Wizard shook himself. "Anywho...Ansongi is a legendary sword forged in the heart of a mountain and blessed by starlight. It was destroyed three thousand years ago, with the creation of the Soul Sword, but that's the only thing that can destroy the Sword."

"So I just have to find a sword forged in the heart of a mountain and have it blessed by starlight?"

"I think so, but good luck with that. No one goes to the dwarves and comes out in one piece with whatever they want."

Annika waved his words away. "I'm just afraid I won't know what to do or say."

He looked at her and said, "I do have some experimental magic..."

"Ooh! What?"

"A staff. To be precise, it allows us to speak telepathically even across continents. I must warn you, though, it is strictly experimental."

"And you say it will let me talk to you?"

"Yes."

"Let's try this."

"It could very well blow up in our faces." The Wizard was dead serious now, his wrinkled face lined with concern. "Literally."

"I don't want to be alone," Annika insisted. "I just want to be done with it."