Of the Vorenthul™ Sword

The armed caravan came to a halt at sundown. This was the second day of nine it would travel South to bring its precious cargo to the Tellorien Mountains. It guarded a horse drawn chariot holding a steel coffin. Locked within that temporary tomb was the sword Anathar, most powerful of the ten Swords of the Ancients. In its blade was held imprisoned the immortal spirit of Evruc, last of the Ancient Ones to be slain upon Ammon. The only Ancient to have betrayed his maker and brethren, Evruc was a poison, consumed with malice and hatred. He earned the name mortals had given to him; the Dark One. Anathar’s blade had been used to pierce the heart of Evruc’s mortal flesh and to consume his soul, thence that flesh was destroyed. What remained of his being was destined for the underground city of Barkonia, where his spirit would be locked away in its depths, behind stone walls, and forever guarded to prevent his escape.

The Mithrodin Ellexos had command of the chariot guard. She slept this night as did many of her company of elite combat troops and cavalry, although their sleep was uneasy. Ellexos dreamed of her father, the Mithrodin master Kethol Av Torketal, slain only a week before in the Red War.

Soldiers of the three Avonthian princes had charge of the night watch until dawn. Others of Avonthian company watched over the outskirts for intruders and agents of the Dark One. Although they held the ground secure and no enemy would be able to surprise them, the encampment was permeated by a feeling of dread. All felt the presence of their prisoner. His dark soul infused the ground they slept upon and the air they breathed.

The three princes of Avonthia brought with them two companies of the King’s soldiers. Inside the camp the two eldest Avonthian brothers, Athollos and Sarafel slept, but the youngest brother, Morweth suffered the night with troubling dreams. His thoughts were also of the Red War and the final battle against the Dark One. He fought alongside Ellexos, her Mithrodin sister Enethia, the mighty warrior Kethol, and the Orwenoch beast sent by the Ancients to aid them. Ellexos was one of the most skilled warriors he had ever encountered. She killed the enemy brutally and fast, with the efficiency and skill of her Mith Roantradem assassin training. On her back she carried Vorthelok, an enchanted sword that diminished the power of The Dark One’s sorcerers. As they penetrated deeper into the rear guard protecting the Dark One and his two master sorcerers, the enemy horde had become overwhelming. Morweth and his brother Sarafel were encircled and in the clash of blades and axes it seemed their doom was at hand. Thence Ellexos and her team of Mith Roantradem soldiers broke through the fray, dispatching and distracting the enemy so as to give the Avonthians and Kethol Av Torketal the advantage needed to close ranks on and defeat the Dark One. They succeeded.

The battle had ended but Enethia and Kethol were slain. Morweth attempted to comfort Ellexos, for she had lost both father and sister. In this dream he found he both pitied and was attracted to her, and she thence occupied his thoughts. He knew this attraction to be futile for Mithrodin were dedicated to their order and duty above all. Still, he spoke his thoughts to her in this dream, but in her sorrow his words were lost. Later he found the comforting words of his eldest brother to Ellexos had more favor with her.

Athollos was next in line to be king and held greater stature than he, but seeing this attraction angered Morweth, for he seemed careless of her great loss. This dream version of his brother wore a guise of wit and charm to hide his true self from others, but Morweth saw through this facade. In Athollos there was more of a desire for power and possession rather than care for the subjects under him. A dark desire? Morweth could not be certain in this dream, but he knew something aberrant had taken residence in the thougts of his sibling since the war had ended. He saw this clearly, but Ellexos did not perceive it. Out of his love he tried to warn her, but she laughed, thinking it only a flirtatious jest from a young infatuated prince.

To Morweth this mission was too important to jeapordize. He reached for his sword, Vorenthul, to remind him of the wisdom of his father, the King. He pulled it from its scabbard and held it with both hands. The three swords of Avonthia were all highly treasured heirlooms of his family, and Vorenthul was the most unique. It was Elvish in origin, given to his Avonthian ancestors by one of the first Elven kings in Deylund. The curved blade was light and fast, adorned with engraved flames.The hilt was fitted with a double guard, a tightly wrapped leather grip, and a hooked and pointed pommel spike. The ancient weapon had been passed on to him by his father when he reached the age of ascension, and he would pass it on to his own son one day. Morweth had spilled much blood with it in the war, and it may yet spill blood again this night. He decided to confront Athollos and question where his loyalties truly lie. As he turned to go, his brother suddenly appeared before him from the shadows, his own sword Sedethul in hand. Its blade was stained with blood, and in the possessed face of Athollos he saw the eyes of the Dark One, Evruc, staring back at him.

Morweth awoke sharply, the dream seared into his waking mind. His thoughts were that this nightmare was but a prophecy of what would soon come to be. It has been said only those who would one day be king had true visions of the future, and Vorenthul beheld this dream as a sign. His older brother would surely have that title before him, but in his heart he knew that he must do all in his power to prevent this. Athollos would be corrupted soon by the dark presence, if it was not indeed already too late. At dawn Morweth met with his brother and all seemed normal. They planned out the day’s travel and security strategy with the Mithrodin. Athollos appeared to be the same sibling he always looked up to and respected, but this day Morweth could sense the seeds of evil within him. He also felt that evil knew it had been recognized by him. Perhaps Athollos himself was unaware of it. I must be alert, he thought to himself, for the sake of the mission, and I must make Ellexos understand the danger within Athollos. But how could he convince the others with no proof but a dream?

To be continued.

The Tale of the Swords of the Ancients and Other Blades of Power and its previous versions, The Swords of the Ancients and its abridged excerpts, and other forms, are ©1997,©2005, ©2008, and ©2012 by Kit Rae. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any other form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, computer networking, or otherwise without prior permission in writing by the copyright holder(s). Avoloch is a trademark of Kit Rae.