The Blade Heir (Book 1) (29 page)

Alistair handed the seal back to him and stood from the chair. "I will do what I can for you, my young Nostra."

TWENTY-FOUR

Bitter Wine

The daylight hours passed quickly in Alistair's house as the druid recounted his exploits to Lucius while searching through his collection of bottles for the precious
mithas
powder. Growing restless in the musty old house, Siegfried decided to explore the marshes, planning to return before dinner. Alistair warned the elf not to linger in the Grey Swamps after sunset. The power of the Draknoir demon, Nergoth, permeated the marshland, and darkness increased his influence on the animals of the swamp. Hostile creatures like marsh wolves, lynxes, and crocodiles were particularly susceptible to Nergoth's will, but the will-o'-the-wisps were the most dangerous. The wisps appeared at night to lure weary and unsuspecting travelers to their deaths. Alistair believed the wisps were servants of an ancient evil dwelling in the forest—an ally of Nergoth. The mere mention of this unknown evil caused Siegfried's face to grow pale, but he reassured them his foray into the swamp would not last into the dark hours. With a curt nod, the elf grabbed his quiver and bow and left the house.

While Alistair continued rummaging around the house, Lucius dwelled on the look of fear on his brother's face. What evil could possibly scare Siegfried? His brother had been willing to die at King Klik's hand a few days ago and yet Siegfried had shown no hint of fear at the possibility. Lucius' musings were interrupted by Alistair's jubilant whooping upon finding a small wooden box among his possessions. The old druid used his long, skinny fingers to pull off the lid to reveal shiny silver granules inside.

"This calls for a drink," Alistair declared, handing the box to Lucius. He walked into the hall at the rear of the main room and disappeared into a storage room. Lucius heard the druid humming to himself as glasses clinked and unknown items dropped inside the room. Seconds later, Alistair emerged with two chalices and a skinny bottle filled with some kind of mead. Lucius carefully placed the
mithas
on a disorganized shelf when the druid handed him an empty chalice.

"One of the advantages of being the last living druid in Azuleah is having a bountiful supply of the Order's wine," Alistair said, pouring the purple liquid into the two glasses.

Lucius sipped the wine and immediately spit it out. "This wine tastes terrible," he coughed.

"Your tongue hasn't acclimated to it, my dear boy," Alistair said, gulping down the wine. "Druid wine is quite strong—perhaps too strong for young men like yourself, but the mixture of honey, elderberries, and aged cod is irresistible to any druid."

"Aged cod?" Lucius grimaced. He grabbed the wineskin from his pack and guzzled down the
bywydur
inside.

"It is an acquired taste," Alistair said, smiling.

"I don't wish to acquire it, thank you."

"Well, more for me then."

Alistair refilled his chalice with more of the disgusting drink and proceeded into a lengthy explanation about the alchemical properties of the
mithas
powder. The druid used terms and formulas that were unknown to Lucius, and although he listened attentively, his eyes grew heavy many times during Alistair's enthusiastic ramblings. The elder druid told him the exotic mineral could be found in the mines of Raven's Peak. The dwarves were the first to discover the silvery rocks, which they crushed into fine powder to form
mithas.
In a powdered form, the mineral could be used to enhance the metal of any sword, armor, or shield. A weapon forged with
mithas
was a bane to creatures like trolls, orcs, and—most importantly—dragons. Dragon scales were nigh impenetrable to the weapons of civilized peoples, but a blade bonded with
mithas
could rend a dragon's hide.

Lucius looked at the small wooden box on the shelf beside him and pondered the significance of its contents. The
mithas
would be crucial to forging the Requiem Sword and defeating Kraegyn. The weight of his duty to rid Azuleah of such an evil burdened him, and his thoughts shifted to the red scroll and Yéwa. Doubts entered his mind again: could he trust Yéwa? What was his involvement in all of this? Could he slay Kraegyn as was prophesied? His thoughts spiraled into despair, and he could no longer hear Alistair speaking. Images of Kraegyn replayed in his mind from the nightmares he had experienced for weeks. He recalled every vivid detail from the blue fog to the Black Dragon's twisted smile. Not a single dream was without the same horrid imagery.

When he felt as though the despair would overtake him, a faint memory entered his thoughts. Amid the terrifying images of Kraegyn, Lucius remembered another dream of a grand palace and an enormous light. A voice had spoken inside his head, and he heard it now as clearly as before.
Lucius ... the time has not yet come for you to enter the door ... you must forge the Requiem Sword ... go and seek counsel in the swamps of the north. Ask him about the scroll.

"My boy, are you quite all right?" Alistair asked, gazing at him inquisitively.

Lucius looked up at the druid and suddenly realized he was not dreaming. He waited for the voice to speak again, but heard nothing except for sparrows chirping inside the house.

"What's on your mind, Lucius? You look as though you've seen an apparition," Alistair said, taking another swig of wine.

"I ... I have an old parchment in my possession," Lucius said finally. "I am very confused by it, and I wonder if you could read it?"

"I would be honored, lad. Reading ancient texts is one of my favorite hobbies, in case you hadn't noticed." Alistair gestured to the numerous cluttered bookcases and shelves filled with scrolls and tomes around the room.

Lucius fetched the red scroll from his bag and handed it to Alistair, who sniffed it a few times before unrolling it. His gray eyes squinted thoughtfully, and he mumbled to himself while reading the first few passages. Lucius watched him closely for a time, waiting for some insight about Yesu, Yéwa, or his own fate.

"Dearest Celestine!" Alistair cried, eyes opening wide. "This is a copy of the first volume of the Genesian Chronicles! The Order has been in search of this text for ages."

"Wait, I don't understand," Lucius confessed. "What are the Genesian Chronicles?"

"The Genesian Chronicles are the origins of men written millennia ago. There are two volumes:
Primorus
and
Ultimum
. This red scroll is the
Primorus—
the beginning of man. The
Ultimum
is the second volume, and it chronicles the eternal reign of Yesu and the fate of mankind's future."

"The eternal reign of Yesu?" Lucius asked. "But he died. The red scroll says he was killed."

Alistair smiled. "Aye, he was killed, but he did not remain dead, my boy. According to the
Ultimum
, Yéwa lifted his son out of the grave and exalted him into a glorious state of new life. It is quite a fascinating read."

Yesu is alive? Lucius could not believe it. All this time there was another scroll—a second chapter to a story that seemed so final and hopeless.

"The second volume speaks more about the son of Yéwa and also of Ysbryd, the eternal spirit," Alistair said, rising from his seat. He began searching through one of the bookcases and eventually procured a white scroll tied with a golden ribbon. "Here it is, the Order's copy of the
Ultimum
.
You are free to read it if you plan to stay, but it cannot leave here since it is the only remaining copy in existence."

"Thank you, I would very much like to read it," Lucius said, taking the scroll. He untied the ribbon and unrolled it. Gold lettering adorned the parchment, and a rich smell of myrrh emanated from the page.

"I do wish to caution you, Lucius," Alistair said, suddenly grim in expression. "You will learn more of Yesu in this scroll, but you will also learn more about his enemy."

"His enemy?" Lucius looked at him quizzically. "Do you mean Kraegyn?"

"No. Kraegyn is a foul villain to be sure—as is his master, Nergoth. But they are servants to a darker evil as old as time itself. I do not dare say his true name now, but he is come to be known as the Wretched One," Alistair whispered.

"You spoke of him before when we first met in the swamp. Is he also who you warned Siegfried about?"

"Indeed. The Wretched One roams in the shadows and dark places of the world. He is an entity of malice, exiled from Caelum
in ages past. He has lingered here since the days when men first arrived in Azuleah. The elves tried to cast him out by the power of D'arya but failed in their efforts," Alistair said, stroking his long beard.

"So what does this Wretched One want?"

"Vengeance upon Yéwa. He seeks to deceive the living and lure men away from their God. The Genesian Chronicles implore men to ignore his lies and follow the light, but many in Azuleah have unknowingly succumbed to his evil by their own ignorance. Many have abandoned Yéwa and forgotten these texts."

Lucius felt a twinge of guilt at the druid's words. In his own way, he had abandoned Yéwa when he learned of Yesu's downfall. He had no faith in Yéwa's ability to help him or guide him. But Yesu was alive, and the voice of the light led him to Alistair. Doubts about Yéwa still tugged at him, but his heart longed to trust in a power greater than himself. If Alistair's words were true, the Wretched One was an evil force beyond any mortal. Lucius did not want to face such a powerful enemy without Yéwa at his side. He wondered if he had already underestimated the Wretched One's power by succumbing to doubt.

"How does the Wretched One lure men away from Yéwa?" Lucius asked.

"Why, he lies to them, of course. He promises power, wealth, and immortality to all who align with him. You can seldom find a man uninterested in such things," Alistair said, nodding his head gently. "Elves are not so easily ensnared, but he is a crafty devil. He found a way to lure thousands of elves away from D'arya to Nergoth, resulting in those fiendish abominations, the Draknoir."

"What about dwarves? Has he ensnared them too?"

"Oh yes. The dwarves of Ulfr's kingdom have often succumbed to their greed and lust for treasure. I don't doubt the Wretched One has somehow influenced their selfish pursuits and isolated existence. The same could be said of the faeries, who hide themselves from outsiders and care not for the affairs of others in Azuleah. I suppose if you really consider it, all who live for their own pursuits and neglect the plight of others fall victim to the Wretched One."

Lucius sank in his seat. What mortal could withstand the Wretched One's influence? How could he hope to overcome such evil? Perhaps Yesu was the only one capable of doing it. The
Primorus
had shown Yesu's compassion and genuine love for others countless times. Lucius wished he had the strength to be so selfless, but he had enough trouble getting along with Siegfried.

"Is there any way to stop the Wretched One's influence? Surely evil can be overcome by good?" Lucius said, thinking aloud.

Alistair laughed, which startled Lucius. "My dear boy, of course evil can be overcome by good—that is hardly the issue. The real question is whether or not you are willing to sacrifice everything to overcome evil. The Order of Celestine was willing to sacrifice their lives, and we rid Azuleah of a terrible threat. Good triumphed ... but at a very high cost," the old druid said, tears welling at the corners of his eyes.

Lucius ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to rekindle painful memories."

"It's quite all right, Lucius," the druid said, wiping his eyes. "Come, let us forsake this ill discussion of evil and fill our bellies with salted mutton."

Lucius' stomach growled at the mention of food, forgetting he hadn't eaten for hours. "Salted mutton sounds delicious, but please tell me it tastes better than your wine."

TWENTY-FIVE

Aldron's Bane

The streets of Aldron were bustling with activity as the infantry, archers, and horse riders of King Dermont's army crowded the streets preparing for war against Nasgothar. Aldronian peasants and lords looked on as they saw their fathers, brothers, and sons file into ranks in the square outside Gilead Palace, wondering if they would see their loved ones return from the battlefield. At the height of all the commotion was the Captain of the Royal Guard, Baron Stendahl, suited in his gilded plate armor. He steered his warhorse to the front of the city square amid the entire army and people of Aldron. He felt a sudden exhilaration for battle as all eyes turned to him.

"My friends and countrymen," Baron yelled, "we stand on the threshold of a great battle that will shake the foundations of our age. Long have we fought the Draknoir hordes of Nasgothar attempting to finally be rid of our oppressors, and long have we failed at this task. Many of us have lost hope in seeing a day when our families could walk on the Barren Road or sail in the Sea of Lagrimas without worry of being attacked by the Draknoir filth. Even now many of you fear an attack on this great city, and many more have lost their faith in Yéwa, our protector, believing the glory days of men are all but spent.

"But I tell you, dear folk of Aldron and Joppa, the sun has not yet set on our time! If we must die, then let us die fighting a battle worthy of remembrance in the tales of our descendants! Our enemies will face our wrath in this war on two fronts—through land and sea. Even as I speak, twenty-thousand of the King's men march to Ithileo for battle, and those you see here will depart on ships through the Sea of Lagrimas to our enemy's door." Baron paused for a moment, feeling the tension of the crowd and his men building.

"The age of men is now. Let us fight for our children, for our families, and for our city! For Aldron!" Baron cried, unsheathing his sword and holding it high. The Aldronian army mimicked him and thrust their swords into the air with a thunderous war cry.