The Blade Heir (Book 1) Page 12

  "Now you shall see the significance of this centuries-old elixir, Lucius," Siegfried said as he pulled off the cork stopper from the bottle. He gently let a drop of the shimmering liquid fall into his wineskin.

  "If this will finally keep you from talking about this infernal elixir, then I'm anxious to oblige you," Lucius replied, allowing his brother to place a drop of bywydur in his wineskin.

  "Now take a sip, brother." Siegfried leaned his head back and drank a small amount of the mixture.

  Lucius raised an eyebrow and sniffed the drink, but did not smell anything questionable. He squared his shoulders and took a sip from his wineskin. He immediately felt a strong tingling sensation surge through his body, starting in his belly and extending to his fingertips and toes. The muscles in his arms and legs became taut and stronger than before. He felt as though he could fight a thousand enemies and strike them down without growing tired.

  "This is ... an amazing feeling," Lucius said with a quick laugh and eyes beaming.

  "I told you it would not disappoint," Siegfried replied, a wide smile forming on his face. "It will prove to be useful to us on the long days of travel ahead."

  Lucius nodded quickly and fidgeted with his wineskin. "Shall we go, then?"

  "Yes, let us leave Sylvania behind."

  Lucius led the way toward the entrance of the city through the winding and narrow streets. The bywydur's effects gave him a newfound spring in his step and he barely noticed the weight of his pack, which was heavier now due to the extra supplies Siegfried had obtained. They soon passed the Crimson Eagle on their way out, and Lucius' thoughts centered on Eldred for a moment. He thought of the elf's plight as a refugee in Sylvania, separated from his kin due to civil war. He could not fathom the elves of Evingrad ever fighting each other despite differences between clans. Peace and harmony were paramount among the elves of Lucius' homeland; he had naturally assumed every elf in Azuleah shared such ideals. He hoped the warring princes and elf king of Numa would come to a resolution sooner than not since their quarrels were petty in comparison to the looming threat of Kraegyn.

  Lucius and Siegfried finally reached the city gate and departed Sylvania. Lucius bid farewell to Clay and Ruel, who sat unamused and stone-faced at their posts as the two brothers walked out toward the Barren Road. The road was crowded with travelers heading to and from Sylvania, many rode on horseback while others walked or steered wagons led by beasts of burden. Once Lucius and Siegfried reached a fork in the road and turned northward, the crowds thinned considerably. The few travelers they encountered on the northern stretch of the Barren Road were headed in the opposite direction. Lucius occasionally looked behind him, expecting to see a traveler or caravan headed in their direction, but none ever appeared.

  Three hours of walking passed without Lucius noticing or experiencing weariness. Thank Yéwa for bywydur, he thought. The sun was slowly setting below the tree line of Verdania to the west. He glanced at Breninmaur in the distance—a lone giant among the forest—and he felt very far from his home. Meanwhile, Siegfried kept himself busy watching the road, searching carefully for the deer trail Castor had instructed they follow to find the blacksmith's house. No worries of missing the trail entered Lucius' mind; he knew not to underestimate the eyes of an elf—least of all Siegfried. As a boy, Lucius used his spyglass to watch colorful songbirds nest in the branches of the Great Tree, and he often asked Siegfried which bird he was watching. His brother always spotted the correct bird without the need for a spyglass. Lucius missed those days of childhood in light of the responsibilities and burdens of their present task.

  Their long trek on the Barren Road continued into the night without halting for food or rest. The lively sound of crickets, hooting owls, and distant wolf howls kept Lucius alert in the darkness. A full moon overhead provided just enough light to see the road ahead without the need for a torch. After another mile on the desolate road, Siegfried announced he had found the deer trail near a fallen elm tree. The two clambered onto the trail and descended a steep hill into a forest filled with conifers, beeches, and overgrown shrubs. They traveled through the forest for several feet before Siegfried stopped and suggested they make camp for the night. The rejuvenating effects of the bywydur had worn off hours ago, and Lucius now felt the soreness in his legs from their long walk. Naturally, he agreed with his brother's decision, and he dropped his pack on the ground.

  Siegfried found a tall beech tree to climb and nestled his body between two branches—the perfect spot for an elf to sleep. Lucius rolled out a wool blanket they had purchased in Sylvania and lay down; a heavy sigh escaped his mouth as he watched the branches sway overhead from a light breeze blowing through the forest. Above him, Siegfried shifted in the nook of the tree and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. The elf would only need a few hours of rest before setting out again. Lucius hoped his brother would be gracious enough to let him sleep longer. He hated early mornings and perky elves telling him it was time to wake up. He turned his head on the soft blanket and allowed the calming sounds of the forest to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

  The next morning, Lucius was awakened to the sound of birds chirping in the treetops above and the mellow notes of an elf's flute. He turned over and looked upward. A flock of birds was perched on the branches of the same tree where Siegfried sat playing his flute. The birds chirped along in delight, darting and flitting to and fro on the branches of the beech tree. The harmony of the song and the warbling, chirping, and screeching of the birds was breathtaking. Lucius closed his eyes momentarily and listened closely to the symphony playing above, losing himself in the cheerful notes. But he quickly awoke from his reverie when the song abruptly ended with fluttering wings as the birds flew into the sky. He sat up and searched the tree for Siegfried, who had vanished.

  "Are you finally awake?" his brother asked from behind.

  Lucius flinched and swung his body around to face Siegfried. "Why must you always do that?"

  "Forgive me. Even after all these years, it is difficult for an elf to grow used to the lengthy sleeping of men," he joked.

  "Right, of course," Lucius said with an accompanying yawn. He began to fold his blanket when his stomach growled. "Anything prepared for breakfast?"

  "Nothing except for what we carry. There is some fresh bread and aged cheese in one of the sacks, as well as bywydur if you feel you need it. The house we seek is not far from here, and I suspect we shall be there before noon, if not sooner."

  Lucius grabbed the bread from inside his leather pack and bit a large chunk out of it. He drank some of the bywydur to wash it down, and then they set out in search of the cottage. The heat of summer had increased significantly since the first day they had ventured out of Verdania. Even with the strength of the elixir coursing through him, Lucius felt weary from the humid air sticking to his skin. Siegfried did not seem affected in the least, keeping a quick pace despite the temperature. Occasionally, the elf would turn around and tell him to keep up or asked why he walked so slow, which annoyed Lucius considerably. He ignored his brother after a while and concentrated on keeping cool by finding the most shaded paths through the forest.

  As they crested a hill in the woods, Lucius noticed a faint trail of smoke billowing in the distance, likely from a chimney or campfire.

  "Is that coming from the cottage?" Lucius said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

  "Yes, I believe so," Siegfried said.

  They strolled down from the hill and finally exited the dense forest into a large glade rife with brambles, coneflowers, and several plants Lucius did not recognize. There were a few instances where Siegfried stopped him from stepping on poisonous weeds littering their path. When they climbed to the top of a large hill, Lucius spotted the aged cottage. The humble structure stood nearly hidden next to a large forest stretching for miles from north to south. He knew little about the Burning Woods except that Siegfried ventured inside decades before Lucius was born. The leaves of all the trees in the forest we
re arrayed in red, orange, and brown hues, never changing despite the passing seasons. The Burning Woods were in a state of perpetual autumn, brought about by the mysterious magic of the wood faeries who resided inside. Siegfried once told Lucius the faeries were guardians of the forest and did not take kindly to wandering travelers. They are nocturnal creatures who fly wildly around the treetops like overgrown fireflies. The bright glow of the faeries' bodies in the night also contributed to the forest's namesake. The few tales Lucius had heard concerning travelers entering the Burning Woods were not comforting. Even his brother refused to share any details about his past expedition into the magical realm. He hoped their journey would not lead them there.

  When noon arrived, Lucius and Siegfried reached the end of the glade and stood near the doorstep of the cottage. The drab gray color of the cottage walls and the brown heather roof looked improperly juxtaposed with the bright, fiery colors of the Burning Woods surrounding the area. A continuous stream of smoke billowed from a hole on the roof, and Lucius' stomach growled when the faint smell of fried pork entered his nostrils. As they walked behind the cottage, they noticed a small enclosure nearby constructed of wooden pillars and a thatched roof. An anvil and a brick stove sat within the enclosure along with a large bellow and a barrel filled with water.

  "The blacksmith's forge," Lucius said.

  Siegfried nodded, peering back at one of the cottage windows for any sign of movement inside.

  After quickly examining the forge and the outskirts of the cottage, they walked back to the door and Siegfried knocked on it loudly. They waited for a while without any response. Lucius knocked the second time, and to his surprise, a young woman opened the door.

  She was a beautiful lady with dusky green eyes and a slender frame. The complexion of her face was dark, and the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned. Lucius could not see her hair since she wore a purple silk headscarf that only revealed her face. She wore a simple dress with lace flower patterns adorning her torso and matching her headscarf. Lucius stared at the woman and found himself at a loss for words, but luckily Siegfried broke the silence

  "Good afternoon, my lady," Siegfried said with a smile. "I am Siegfried of the Silverhart clan, and this is my brother, Lucius."

  The young woman shuffled her feet and bit her lip while eyeing them closely. "Tell me, what brings two travelers like you to the edge of the Burning Woods?"

  "We are on an important errand, my lady," Lucius said in his most confident voice. "We were told that we could find a woman named Naomi in this cottage and she, in turn, could direct us to the blacksmith who works at the forge."

  "I am Naomi," she replied with a bemused smile. "Please come in and take a seat. The blacksmith has been expecting you both."

  The interior of the cottage was rather cramped, but very tidy and comfortable. There were two doors leading to bedrooms directly across a dining area with a table surrounded by four chairs. A small pantry near the dining area contained baskets of fruit, bread, and several preserve jars. The remaining space inside housed the hearth, where two benches sat near the hearthstone and the open flame. A cooking pan filled with strips of pork sat atop the flame creating a delicious aroma that filled the entire cottage. Lucius and Siegfried sat on one of the benches across from Naomi, retelling their journey from Verdania to Sylvania, their meeting with Lumiath, and finally their arrival at the cottage. For nearly an hour Siegfried told most of the tale while they feasted on the fried pork Naomi had prepared. Lucius sat quietly and unwittingly glanced at Naomi from time to time. Her beauty was captivating. There was an enigmatic air about her—something ethereal concealed behind her bright, almond-shaped eyes. He caught himself staring and would quickly look around the room hoping she hadn't noticed.

  "That is quite a story, master elf," she said after learning of their quest. Her eyes turned to Lucius. "So, you are the last son of the Nostra line?"

  "Yes ... Yes, I am, my lady," Lucius stammered.

  "A great responsibility lies on your shoulders to defeat an evil so terrible as Kraegyn. I had almost lost hope that the prophecy would not come to pass. Dark days loom ahead, Master Lucius. Rumors are spreading of a campaign led by the Draknoir lord, Memnon, to eradicate men and elves from Azuleah," Naomi said, drooping her shoulders and casting a glance toward the smoldering hearth.

  "Hasn't Memnon already waged this destructive campaign before and failed?" Lucius asked, recalling Helmer's tales of the continuing war between the men of Aldron and the Draknoir.

  "Yes, but this is different than anything before. He is seeking to restore the old alliance between his kind and the dragons of Ghadarya."

  The skin on the back of Lucius' neck tingled as he considered the combined threat of Ghadarya and Nasgothar.

  He sighed heavily. "What must be done?"

  "During the time of the Ancient War, there was a sword more powerful than any other. It belonged to King Yesu, the son of Yéwa, who wielded it valiantly against the enemies of men. When Yesu died, the sword was lost and somehow your ancestor, Cervantes Nostra, acquired the blade. Cervantes brandished the blade with the same fervor as his predecessor. He rode into battle with it and never lost a fight against Draknoir or dragon—gaining renown as the Dragon Slayer of Joppa. Over time, the sword became as famous as its bearer and it was called the Requiem Sword—a holy blade capable of penetrating the combined evil of Nasgothar and Ghadarya."

  "What happened to the blade? Was it lost with Cervantes?" Lucius asked, leaning forward on the edge of the bench.

  "No, after the Siege of Arkadeus, the sword perished along with its bearer. When Cervantes dealt the final blow that slew the Black Dragon, the sword and Cervantes were destroyed by the unquenchable fire produced by Kraegyn's spilled blood. Fortunately for us, the ancient sword can be remade."

  Naomi stood from her seat and grabbed an old scroll lying on a shelf on the wall behind her. She rolled out the scroll and turned it for them to see. A list of chemicals, metals, and other alchemical properties were written on the cracked and withered parchment.

  "Lord Helmer's grandfather, Irribu Silverhart, wrote down the original instructions used to create the Requiem Sword two thousand years ago in the age historians now call the Golden Millennium. The sword was originally forged by a Numan elf whose name was unfortunately never recorded. Legend says that this elf received specific instructions from King Yesu himself to forge the sword. The unnamed elf passed on this information to Irribu. This is a copy of the original document, which the blacksmith can use to forge the holy blade of Joppa anew. Many of these materials were hard to come by, but we found most of them nonetheless. There are two more that are needed to forge the sword, and we will need your help in collecting them."

  Lucius leaned back on the bench, dumbfounded by all the information Naomi had relayed to them. "Well ... what items are left?"

  "One of the items lies in the north, beyond Jun-Jun Pass in the Grey Swamps. It is an alchemical powder known as mithas, which is needed to make the blade effective against dragon scales. The other item is camel leather, which will be used for the grip on the hilt, and it can be found in Aldron. But you will not be venturing there," she said, rolling up the scroll and placing it back on the shelf.

  "If not us, then who?" Siegfried raised an eyebrow.

  "Myself and the blacksmith's apprentice, Violet Pulfer. She is soon to return from the northern banks of the Feilon River," Naomi replied as she sat on the bench. "We shall retrieve the camel leather while you venture into the Grey Swamps. And perhaps in a fortnight or less, we can all meet here with everything required to forge the Requiem Sword."

  "It seems you have been planning this for quite some time," Siegfried said, placing his right thumb and forefinger on the cleft of his chin.

  "Yes, this is quite a meticulous process to forge a sword," Lucius interjected.

  "Meticulous ... and dangerous. We will all face great peril on this errand. I have no doubt Memnon's spies will soon find out about you, Lucius,
and our plan to restore the lost sword. And the dragons will not have forgotten the weapon that felled their leader." She looked at Lucius, her face grim. "We must all take great care to avoid the enemy until the blade is in your hands."

  Lucius nodded. "I will do what is necessary, my lady. When do we leave for the Grey Swamps?"

  "It would be wise to spend a day or two resting and planning our course to the swamps of the north. Would you allow us to stay here, Lady Naomi?" Siegfried asked.

  "Yes, of course, stay as long as you need. I do not plan on leaving until Violet arrives tomorrow evening." Naomi spread her arms with palms upturned. "Please help yourselves to anything while you are here."

  "Thank you very much," Siegfried bowed.

  "Yes, thank you, my lady." Lucius stood up and stretched his legs. "I am curious, though. When will we be meeting this blacksmith who will be forging the great sword?"

  Naomi stood up to meet his gaze and smiled. "You've already met her."

  TWELVE

  Nearing Death's Door

  The long arduous road from the Feilon River had taken its toll on both Violet and Cutter. Two days had passed since she had found him in the wilderness, and they had spent most of their time together treading through the wilderness of Marsolas. Violet steered Homer, who bore Cutter, by the reins as she sought the way home. Cutter's condition had steadily grown worse. The poison from the Draknoir's arrow was spreading through his bloodstream, debilitating him more with each passing hour. Her salves had slowed the poison's effects, but without proper medicine, he would be dead in a day or less. He slept most of the time, feeling too ill to walk alongside her or even dismount the horse without help.