Blade of Erogrund

The journey was long and hard.

Not that the terrain caused it to be such, no, it was the heaviness of Godric’s heart that brought him weariness as he drudged along behind his companions. Mira seemed deep in thought, conscious of little that went on around her, which, strangely, immensely vexed him.

The weighty truth that his father was a thief - and a murderer for that matter - hung more heavily on his shoulders than all the baggage carried by his fellows combined. The knowledge that his father, his own flesh and blood, could have done something like that shook him to his core.

His thoughts did, however, succeed in distracting him. Before he knew it, the bright light of midday had receded into the dim shadows of the evening. The dense green forests that had populated the lands that Godric had always seen in Niron slowly fell away into stony hills that slowly grew out of the expanse of ground. As the moon peered over the horizon the hills gave way in turn to large cliffs that loomed out of the small saplings and shrubs that were all that remained of the forests. Moss and lichen clung to the ancient rocks that stood like enormous natural statues, guarding their path. The shear rocky faces were worn smooth by the howling winds that seemed only to get colder as they marched higher into the mountains. The frigid air brought on a glistening layer of frost over the landscape that set the world in a silvery sheen in the glimmering moonlight of the dusk. Strange sights and smells delighted his distracted and depressed mind while his feet brought him drudging forward.

Each hill brought on the sights of yet another set of cliffs that towered immaculately over the eerily silent landscape. Rocks and boulders gradually took the place of trees until even saplings were a rare sight in the stony ground.

Finally they came over a particularly steep hill, revealing a massive crescent of stone cliffs that arched around the north side. A fierce gale blustered from the high summits of the rocks, sweeping down like a freezing knife onto the hill’s surface below.

Sarah stopped, pulling her cloak closer around her narrow frame. The long cape of it whipped around her, almost snapping with the ferocity of the wind. Thain halted near her and set Narn down on the stony turf.

The elf pointed toward the cliffs, which were at least a thousand yards away. “There is Oiron, the gate to Biren-Lareth!”

Mira squinted and said something, but the wind tore the words from her mouth. Sarah indicated that she could not understand, so the girl shouted above the breeze. “I don’t see anything! Where are we going?!” Strands of stray red hair fluttered in the wind out of her hood as she yelled.

Placing the wolf back onto his back after stretching his shoulders a bit, Thain answered. “Only a bit yonder!” The answer was highly unsatisfactory in Godric’s opinion, but, judging from Mira’s distasteful expression, she did not care to fight the winds in order to voice a complaint. The dwarf barked something else, but the words were stolen from his lips and he only achieved displacing a large piece of frost that had collected amid a small blizzard on his beard.

Shrugging at the miserable cold that ate at him, Godric sought to pull his cloak closer, but the worn fabric was already drawn tight to his shoulders and it stubbornly refused to comfort him, which only further discouraged his already agonized mind. Nevertheless, Sarah dashed forward at the head of the group while the vicious gales tore relentlessly at their chilled bodies.

With every step they took closer to the threatening cliffs, the sharp towers of rock seemed to grow in size until they stood like stone walls stretching many thousands of yards into the sky. Their smoothed, sheer white faces were plain and bare like archaic shields set to guard over the hills. The bone-like color of the ashy stone sent shivers down Godric’s spine until he hardly dared to look up lest he see them illuminated in all their haunting glory by the deathly rays of moonlight that cascaded on their pale faces.

Face down on the grey turf, Godric let the winds batter him while his legs determinately carried him closer to the supposed gate that waited for him and his companions.

Even the Moon’s light had begun to dim, hiding itself behind a dense grove of trees that grew far away from the cliffs, when Sarah drew them to a stop. In the half-light it was difficult to distinguish where it was exactly they had come, but as near as Godric could tell, they had climbed a smaller ridge that led to a deep gouge in the otherwise flawlessly smooth cliff surface. Boulders and other tall rock formations peppered the miniature hill like stone spirals, reaching vainly for the sky high above.

Sarah led them to a deep divot that ran the length of gouge in the cliff face. On either side, stone pillars were erected. Each was quite tall, about seven feet, and elaborately carved with all assortments of runes and symbols that seemed to Godric vaguely like the ones that adorned Erogrund. They were, however, worn and faded from the constant battering of the winds that felt to perpetually assault the cliff. Were it not for these monuments, Godric would never have noticed that the crack was anything more than what it appeared to be. This was supposedly Oiron.

Thain gently pushed his way past the slender elf and hammered savagely on the furrow.

To Godric’s surprise, two hooded figures stepped out from behind the shadows of the boulders that were arranged haphazardly on the ridge. The first was tall and, by the look of his cloak wrapped around him in the harsh wind, spindly. His cloak was dark leather and worn with age that clung to his slender arms, which drew a small carved bow and arrow. His companion was dressed similarly, but stood a good six inches shorter, as near as Godric could tell in the weak light of the night, and bulkier in the chest and arms. An identical bow and arrow were in his hands. These two hostile weapons were aimed pointedly at the group.

The first of the two cloaked warriors barked harshly. “Who goes there? Answer!”

Sarah turned around to face them. “Thain, Sarah, and company.”

The second figure lowered his bow and stepped forward, pulling off his hood. The figure was a surprisingly young man, nearly Godric’s age. His face was handsome with smooth features covered in dark skin that well accented his intense black hair.

“M’lady, a thousand apologies.” He nodded to her apologetically. Searching the group, his eyes alighted on Mira. Bowing, he took her hand and kissed it gently. “Aeis the Watchman, at your service, ma’am.”

Mira blushed warmly. “Er, thank you.”

The second figure also removed his hood. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair that had just begun to grey, matching the silver moonlight. His eyes were dark and stormy, filled with the sobriety of age. “It might do you good to watch yourself next time, Aeis.” The young man’s face flushed red and he stepped back beside the older warrior.

Thain shrugged Narn’s still-unconscious body on his shoulders. “Drammur, do you think you could pay us the courtesy of opening the gate that we might get out of this wind?”

As he was talking, a deep seam appeared running lengthwise up the expanse of the crack in the cliff, eventually reaching a height of nearly eight feet from the ground. The line was clean and clear. The two slaps of rock that were formed by the division swung outward, forming grand doors that opened out of the gate.

Inside the suddenly visible gate stood two more warriors. Their garb was much like that worn by the two archers that had surprised the company but they wore no hoods. Instead simple iron helmets covered their heads and they held standard wooden spears with oak shafts and sharpened iron points.

Sarah led them through the archway, where a small passage went on for roughly ten or fifteen feet before widening into a sizable square chamber.

The chamber was nearly forty feet long and equally wide with a tall, domed ceiling that reached twenty-five feet at its heights point. Torches hung on the walls that burned with peculiar white flame, casting eerie shadows that reflected hollowly on the corners of the room. Another short passage led off to the left and another immense set of metal doors hung over a gateway at the back of the room. A final pair of guards manned this passage, both of which wore chain male vests and hoods, complete with iron helmets, grieves, and shields that were complemented with impressive-looking spears. Columns of carved white-grey stone formed a narrow passage for the length of the room to where the guards stood.

Drammur led the company into the antechamber and took off his cloak, hanging it on a metal peg shaped like a deer antler that was hammered into the first column beside one of the flickering torches. Aeis started to push the monumental doors closed, but a worn hand reached in and shoved it back open.

Ennor stepped into the room, his face rosy and clouded. His scars were even bolder against the redness of his face, presumably due to the intense wind, and his eyes were largely hidden beneath glaring eyelids, a canine wildness pent up within them. His hair was unruly and wild, spiking intimidatingly from his scalp to the point that it nearly brushed his tremendous sword that hung in its usual place on his back over his shoulder. The guards snapped to attention, their right fists held to their left shoulders in salute, but he ignored them and wordlessly walked through the corridor to the left passage. At the last moment he stopped and scowled over his shoulder.

“War Council. Immediately.” His raspy voice was almost a whisper. “Watchman, bring the boy when I send for him.” Aeis nodded. Ennor walked down the passage without another word.

Thain grunted as two of the guards took Narn from the dwarf’s back and carried the wolf down the same passage. Sighing, the dwarf flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders. “Uh, I s’pose we should follow the lad. He will need ‘all hands in the forge’, if you get my meaning. Aeis, show them the city, if you will and see about getting them a meal.” The dwarf turned back around, but seemed to hesitate and peered back at Aeis. “Oh, and they may have a question or two for you.”

Sarah gestured her agreement and the two stepped through the passage and followed, leaving Aeis, Drammur, Godric, and Mira alone with the two guards.

A moment of awkwardness came and passed before Aeis cleared his throat and swept a hand toward the doors at the back of the room. “Perhaps you would do me the honor of escorting you through Biren-Larath?”

Drammur waved a hand. “Yes, yes, take them around, boy. I will man the gate.”

Mira smiled, to Godric’s increased annoyance. “What a gentleman. If you please,” She said, indicating that he should lead them out the gate.

Aeis bowed slightly. “Only after you, m’lady.”

Her smile grew brighter at this response, and she walked the length of the room with Godric in tow, who could not help but feel even gloomier at Ennor’s appearance.

The two guards reached for the handles of the two doors and pulled them open after a brief second of resistance from the heavy hatchways. The huge portals groaned as they were pulled away from their resting places, revealing a long stairway that swooped down from the threshold out into the heart of Biren-Larath.

The steps were beautiful, like smoothed granite, and shone with a glistening forest green mixed with threads of silver and gold that wound like tiny rivers, cascading like the steps themselves into a flowing path that led from the gate to a vast platform below. Arching gently downwards, the steps were suspended in a gentle curve above a bottomless trench that filled the space on either side where dense darkness lingered mysteriously. Thankfully the steps were, at their narrowest point, six or seven feet wide allowing at least two wide-shouldered men to walk comfortably side-by-side. At the end of their descent, the steps spilled out into a capacious octagonal platform made of a similar stone as the elegant steps that stretched for at least four-hundred square feet. This platform was supported by a colossal column of rock that grew out of the plummeting expanse of darkness that hungrily engulfed all around it. Bright white torches flickered at each corner of the platform and on either side of each step. An impressive chandelier hung a great height above the landing made of what appeared to be ancient bone of some kind that housed row upon row of white lights that fully illuminated the massive chamber.

Four bridges of the most gorgeous wood Godric had ever laid eyes on arched from opposite points around the octagonal court that were framed with gracefully carved stone archways. Each bridge was nearly fifty feet long and ten wide, leading over the chasm that surrounded the court into tunnels that were carved into the cliff’s surfaces. These also were extravagantly adorned with carvings of designs and creatures that Godric was not familiar with. Torches illuminated everything to a remarkable extent that he never would have expected for such an underground fortress. The entire cavern sloped in a gigantic dome over the elaborate collection of stairs and bridges, leaving Godric the feeling of being in the bottom of an immense stone jar.

Their footsteps echoed ominously with Aeis in the lead as the company descended the stairway and onto the platform. The young watchman swept his hand around the cavernous chamber.

“This is Rae-Oiron, the Heart of the Hunter. It is the main gate that leads to the rest of the ‘city’. Here, each bridge and tunnel is the equivalent of a street and this place is the Town Square, of sorts.” He smiled ruefully. “There is not much foot traffic this late at night, but it is the primary route to any branch of the city.”

“So how many people live down here?” Mira asked intently.

“As near as we can tell, roughly three-thousand Men and five-hundred dwarves,” Aeis answered.

This caught Godric’s ear. “Five-hundred dwarves? So Thain is not the only one?”

Aeis shook his head, leading them across the long stone court. “No, not by any means, although he is the only one who Ennor truly trusts. Dwarves are notorious deceivers. They will sell out their own mother’s for a bit of gold and give up their own clan if they think it will get them out of a rough spot. Sad, really, but they are natural connivers. I wouldn’t bother with them in the first place, but that’s just me.”

Upon reaching the center of the stone court, Aeis began naming the locations that each bridge led to, starting with the leftmost and working his way right.

“This is Uirbovan, the Merchant Streets. That’s where you will find the mess halls, taverns, etc. Here is Geccus, the Army Camp including forges and armory. That is the largest section of the city, housing the training caves, stables, armories, smithies and the like. Next is Naevir, the Library. This is the smallest but, in my mind, the best section of the city. It houses all the records of past ages and the manuscripts that the House of Ecthion has collected over the centuries.”

For some reason this rang vaguely familiar in Godric’s mind. A memory came to him of when he was a small child in his early infancy. His mother had gone away for the day and he had cried and cried until his father had finally sat down to read him a story. Looking back, he had no memory of what the book was about, only that it had been fascinating and wonderful. His father had told him about how large cities would have huge collections of books that were full of wonderful adventures and far-off places. Life and work kept him from ever enjoying books the way Mira did, but they were still a secret intrigue to him.

A smile played at his lips when he thought back to the days of his youth when he had learned so much from his father, but the joy was soon swept away when he realized that even in those days his father had done unspeakable horrors. Somehow the beauty of the memories seemed to tarnish.

These dreary thoughts were thankfully broken by Mira’s burst of excitement. Her eyes had brightened until they glowed as they had not for many days.

“Oh, I’d very much like to see it!” She almost squealed. The weariness and soberness of their journey had suddenly and, in Godric’s mind, alarmingly been replaced by overwhelming enthusiasm.

Aeis responded similarly. “Well, I suppose I might show it to you; it usually isn’t busy this late at night, hardly anything is, to tell you the truth, but wouldn’t you like a meal and perhaps a rest before you go exploring?”

Godric shrugged, quite honestly indifferent to the whole matter, but Mira shook her head. “No, I’m still quite awake and not hungry in the slightest. I would hate to inconvenience you, though,” She added on second thought.

“No, no, it’s no inconvenience,” Aeis said hurriedly. “I would be honored to escort you to Naevir.”

The boy led them across Rae-Oiron and over the elegant bridge that he had indicated was the route to the library. No noise came from its polished wooden planks as they wandered across it and under the immense archway that opened on its opposite side. The sheer stone face had been flawlessly carved into a teardrop-shaped arch that was adorned with thin strands of iron that snaked in spectacular bands throughout the carvings that decorated its surface. It had no gate or door, but was wide and lavish. The stained, light wood of the bridge continued atop the stone forming a lavish floor that continued down the tunnel, which was quite spacious. The stone walls were smooth as glass, completely lacking in any signs of chisels or tools.

“The Dwarves must have been quite an aid in the building of these,” Mira murmured, running her hand along the tunnel wall.

“Dwarves?” Aeis scoffed. “Those drunkards could hardly handle a hammer, let alone a pickaxe or chisel. This fortress was built by Men, kin of Ecthion himself if I’m not mistaken. It has been many centuries since the Dwarves were Masters of the Mountains. These days their only pride is in war or crafting armor and weapons. Even in those I hear they have lost much of their art.”

Aeis was explaining this when the tunnel abruptly stopped and opened into an magnificent hall, the likes of which Godric had never seen. Three tiers were cut into the face of the gigantic space, their walls lined with incredible, dark wooden bookcases that were filled from top to bottom with books that looked worn with use and age. A large number of round tables filled the vast open floor that was, in itself, roughly the size of the Town Square in Dunn. Stone staircases had been cut into the tiers, leading from one level to another. Massive chandeliers burned with a multitude of candles, illuminating the expansive room like he had never imagined. In the center of the floor a huge fountain was carved of rock that appeared to glow majestically, but it was uneven and jagged with many open spaces that the water flowed over. Within the spaces were glistening stones that shown prettier then anything Godric had ever seen before or, he was convinced, he would ever see again.

The stones were roughly spherical, but they had many cut edges and flat surfaces on their faces. What substance they were made of he could only guess, but from the distance it looked like a crystal of some kind.

Mira skipped into the center of the gigantic room and spun, her dress twirling around her ankles, as she attempted to take in the grandeur of the sight. Books filled every cubby, table, and bookcase. More niches had been cut into the rock walls where scrolls rested that looked so old they might dissolve into piles of dust at the slightest touch. Despite all the horrors of the past days, Godric could not help but smile at her bliss, knowing that this was her dream-come-true.

As wonderful as the books were, it was the stones that caught Godric’s eyes. He hesitantly walked toward them and reached through the gurgling fountain of water into one of the spaces to grab one. He drew it out of its resting place, watching Aeis out of the corner of his eye to see if this action might be reprimanded. To his slight relief it was not so he began examining it.

The stone was immaculate. It nearly swam with the richest hues of blue, green, red, and gold that all enveloped one another in a matchless torrent of captivating beauty. Its surface was impossibly smooth, causing him to almost drop it. The walls of the tunnel were nothing compared to the frictionless surface of the gem.

Suddenly he heard a whisper and turned around to see who it was. Aeis was grinning as Mira continued to twirl in a circle, her mouth gaping in a wide smile with her red hair flowing in a beautiful cloud behind her but no other stood in the chamber unless they were far away. The whisper again murmured in his ear, still indistinguishable.

“Who’s there?” He whispered back.

Aeis heard him and looked to what he was doing. “What’s that?”

Godric glanced at him. “I thought I heard a voice. Do you hear it?”

The watchman smiled understandingly. “No, but you hold no ordinary stone. That is a Prophecy. They are old now, many centuries old according to what I’ve heard, but the words are still within them.”

Mira had started to examine the nearest shelf of books, but she looked up at Aeis questioningly. “Prophecies? What are they?”

The boy pulled himself up onto a table and sat. “They are, or rather were, great words of power that guided the Kings of old.

“Legend has it that when Ecthion slew the Last Dragon of the Scourge, he was nearly slain by its claw before his sword pierced its hide. It was then decided that a guard should watch over him because if he should be slain, the race of Men would be without a King. The ten youngest, most powerful warriors of his army were elected to watch over him. They were the Keepers of Erogrund, Ecthion’s sword, and listened to all of Ecthion’s council that, should they fail at their task of protecting him, they might serve as co-rulers in his place. In time they became wise advisors and fierce soldiers. They also received powers from the Sword and learned things that no other man in Niron has ever heard or done.”

Godric wrinkled his brow. “They took powers from the Sword? How? It couldn’t have been theirs to use?”

“No,” Aeis agreed, “It was not. This is all myth, mind you, but legend says that just their presence around the sword let them do unexplainable things of fantastic strength. They did not use it, but they took a part of its power to dwell within them so that they could better protect it. They were like wizards of fairytales and sent lightning from their fingertips and the light and dark were at their disposal. According to the tales, their lives were also extended, allowing them to live even after the death of Ecthion and even until the Sword was lost by his line. Anyway, they were given the light of Prophecy, which at first they hesitated to use but the knowledge of what might come was difficult to turn away.

“You see, in the Ancient days Dragons were said to have had an uncanny ability to foresee the events to come, though they had no power over them. The could speak prophecies with astounding accuracy and these sages of Ecthion’s inherited the same skill, presumably from the Sword. They would spend days and nights locked away in their high places, eventually returning with one of these gems that are said to have spoken of the future. This happened so often that the men were called the Orshi, or Prophets. At first their voices were clear to the holder of the stones, but over time they have faded.”

Mira seemed to have forgotten about the library; her eyes instead were desperately fixated on Aeis. “And what happened to them?”

Aeis sighed. “They disappeared not long after Ecthion’s death. Their prophecies remained with his son, but they fled into darker places and hid themselves from this world. Some say they spoke a prophecy too evil to have lived through but what it might have been no one knows. In the early reign of Eroth they resurfaced again, but something had happened to them. The darkness had corrupted their minds and they were not themselves. The honor that they had led with before had been replaced with such cruelty and malice that they were no better than the monsters they had once strived the defeat. Eroth ordered them cast out. However they would not leave. Instead they plagued his kingdom and sowed destruction until finally he had them killed. On the day that they were to be slain they gave one more prophecy to Eroth himself, but no one knows what it said. Rumor has it that he cast it into the River Niniye before any could hear it.”

“Are they still thought of favorably?” Mira asked.

"Dragonfire, no. The Orshi are said to have been cursed. Even muttering their name is believed by some to be calling bad luck upon yourself. Their prophecies are the only good thing left by them.”

Interesting, thought Godric as he slipped the prophecy back into its place. More fairytale than truth, its seems to me, but interesting nonetheless.

A slender woman stepped elegantly through the archway into the library where they sat. “Lord Ennor sends for one Godric and one Mira, Aeis. He said that they might be in your keeping.”

The boy jumped from his seat on the table. “Well, go on then,” He said to Godric. “I’ve learned its best not to keep Lords waiting.”