“Don't think of it that way. Hope is always near to those who believe. Besides, the sword is well protected in the city of Elm.” He started to walk my way and when he passed our row, he dropped a handbook on my desk. “Please, if you can open to page sixty-seven.”
On the page was a picture of the sword with the King of Lion written in small letters at the bottom.
An image of Excalibur popped in my head. It had a golden hilt that curled up the divine blade with a lion’s head emblazoned on the hilt. The text below the image explained that Richard the Lion Heart once possessed the sword.
“The story we're going to cover is the recovering of the Kings of Lion. The year 1320 BTW.”
I looked at Becky. “Before the wall,” she whispered without taking her gaze from the book.
“A Japanese folk tale of danger, love, sacrifice, and adventure in the Daki islands,” Sir Edward started telling us the story. “Once upon a time around 1320, a samurai named Kalibi Shima got banished by a chief tan Hio Tukituki. They exiled him to a small island called Yamasaki, of the Oki islands. Kalibi had an eighteen-year-old daughter, Kayatan, whom he loved very much.”
I got lost in his tale of a brave Kayatan who saved her father and slayed a dragon that had tortured the villagers. In return, the town gave her the King of Lion Sword. The story reminded me of the stories Dad used to tell me, but I just couldn’t seem to recall the detail. Then my thoughts shifted to Dad saving my life. I could never do what Kayatan did. My eyes welled up again. I should have never left him.
I jumped out of my seat as the bell rang and the students began packing up their books. Becky left her pack open for my handbook and I placed it gently in with the rest of hers.
“On Monday we'll discuss the other Japanese legend, Yorimasa the Dragon slayer.” Sir Edward's voice echoed over the racket the students made as they exited the lecture hall.
“Come on, it's time for Art of War,” Becky said, gripping my arm. Thank heavens she didn't make a big fuss over my tears. She must have seen me wiping them away, again.
Back out in the hallway, students overpowered the narrow space, rushing and pushing against one another to get to their next class. On our way, we passed the cafeteria and ran to another door.
I squeezed through as Becky struggled to keep the door open. Instead of more lecturing halls, in front of me stood acres of land with mountains rising in the distance. The view was breath taking. My awe only lasted a minute though before I remembered the dragons and looked to the skies. Becky looked up too.
I sighed. So what if I found a dragon soaring through the sky? The faster I accept that dragons exist the better off I will be.
Lowering my gaze,I caught sight of students walking to a coliseum similar to the one in Rome; except this one hadn’t been left in ruins. Becky grabbed my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction toward a smaller, domed building.
Two huge stone dragons stood guard at the entrance. Inside, the domed building looked similar to a sports arena, but instead of a basketball court or a running track, there were rows and rows of targets, with shields stacked against the right wall. There was a big wooden oak cupboard in the corner and bleachers were stacked up at the back.
The left wall held giant axes and spears, taller than I was, with thousands of helmets stacked underneath. Something Becky said suddenly hit me. For the love of blueberries, I hoped this wasn't what I thought it was.
“When you said Art of War, you didn't mean it literally, did you?”
She looked at me, confused. “Did you think I'd refer to theories? That's so boring!”
“We're going to fight? I can't fight!” I scrambled toward the door, trying to make my exit from the building.
She pulled me back. “Relax Elena, it's just for practice.”
“The closest I ever came to wielding a weapon was the steak knife at the dinner table.” My hands trembled, and I folded my arms to hide them from Becky.
She laughed. “You're funny.”
I looked up again, still thinking of dragons, while we waited for our practice session to begin.
“What are you looking at?” Becky looked up at the ceiling too.
“Nothing.” I whispered, thinking about how strange I must be acting.
“You're so weird. Let's go.” She led me to a small group of students.
“Elena,” a young girl greeted me.
“Hi, Professor Mia.” Becky said to the girl, who couldn't have been much older than her students. She was stunning, with auburn hair and big blue eyes. Her smile lit up the room. I froze as I saw her swinging a real sword in her left hand. She reminded me so much of Xena, the Warrior Princess.
“Elena has bit of stage fright. I don't think they have classes like this on the other side,” Becky explained.