by C S Vass
“It’s been waiting for you, my friend. I think it’s time that the Darksword was returned to its rightful owner.”
Godwin’s legs were numb.
Rather than intensify the fog that his mind was in, the sight of the Darksword snapped him back into reality. The legendary weapon’s rune–carved blade was half-exposed, embedded in a pedestal of stone that glowed with ancient symbols dripping like lava down the side of a mountain.
“Welcome, Godwin of the Shigata. I’ve been expecting you for quite some time. I am Darwuri of the Cult of Jericho.”
“What devilry brought me here?” Godwin growled. “What are you doing with that heinous sword? Do you even understand what it is that you’ve stumbled across?”
Darwuri emerged from the shadows and lowered his hood to reveal a young face with dark circles underneath his eyes. “On the contrary, Godwin, I believe that it’s you who has failed to understand the significance of this weapon. I have to believe that. Otherwise, how could you possibly have ever decided to throw it away?”
Godwin could feel the blood pounding in his head. He felt dizzy and sick—enraged and worn-out—all mixed together in a chaotic cocktail in his mind.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” Darwuri said. “Please, allow me to explain. You see, in order to understand why I’ve brought you here, you have to understand what it is that the Cult of Jericho does for this land.”
“Well? Go on, then. No need to keep me waiting after all of this.”
Darwuri did not waste time. “We are the guardians of the Haellaetic artifacts.”
On any other day Godwin might have been surprised, might have blinked with wonder or questioned the man’s sanity. But this was not any other day. The Darksword stood before him. “So then, my suspicions about you have always been right,” Godwin said. “The Cult of Jericho is much more than a group of renegade scholars.”
“On the contrary, Godwin, that is exactly what we are. We do not seek to use the Haellaetic artifacts, we simply wish to keep track of them. Study them, perhaps. But our order is not another power–hungry faction. We are not led by a greedy lord incapable of seeing past his own lust for power.”
The Shigata scoffed. “Of course. You’re just a group of benevolent bookworms that deal in sorceries so dark that they would leave the Cult of Ashanimara scrambling for the hills.”
Darwuri’s eyes darkened. “You wound me, Godwin. I will not take your insults to heart. After all, you are exhausted. Weary in mind and soul. It’s not surprising.”
“No?” Godwin asked darkly.
“No,” Darwuri said assertively. “It’s not. After how much of your soul you’ve put into the Darksword, I’m amazed you could ever have endured the pain of throwing it away. But you never forgot it, and it never forgot you.”
“What are you saying?”
“Like any Haellaetic artifact, the Darksword is so much more than mere metal forged in fire. It is alive, Godwin. It is a part of you. The part that’s been missing for all of these years. It wants you back.”
“What if I don’t want it?”
“Besides the obvious lie, I would contend that you don’t have a choice.” Darwuri’s face had grown very still. “Understand, Godwin, I don’t speak to threaten you. I only wish to make sure that you understand the situation. If you don’t claim this weapon, then it will fall into Malcolm’s hands. With it he will unleash a hell of destruction across the West. Frankly, the realm has enough problems as it is right now without having to worry about that.”
“I don’t understand,” Godwin said. “I thought that Malcolm was one of you. Where is he, anyway?”
“Once, perhaps, he was of my order. But no more. As for his current whereabouts, when the ape spirit of this cavern appeared, he fled fearing for his life. You see, he could not have foreseen the power that the Darksword had been able to find here. Malcolm deceived you, and when he encountered the spirit of this cave, he knew his chance was forfeit.”
The Shigata nodded. “I see. So all of this was a ruse? Malcolm finding me on the road. Reports with disturbances in the area.” Then a terrible thought struck in. Not him, Godwin thought. Not Banfrey.
“Don’t get confused,” Darwuri said. “There have been disturbances in this area. There is a reason that my order brought the Darksword to this place. It is a burial site. The resting home of a clan of warriors from another era. Overseen by the ape spirit that rules them, few would dare come here. The spirit ruler of this cave has allowed the Cult of Jericho to temporarily hide the Darksword here, but with the understanding that the one who mastered it would come back to reclaim it.”
“And that would be me, I suppose,” Godwin said.
“It would. You see, the Darksword has been calling out to you. Its magical energies have disturbed the dead that rest here. Driven forward by its sorcerous force, the wakened corpses are driven from their home and prowl the land.”
“What if my opinion is that Haellaetic artifacts are better left alone?” Godwin asked.
“That opinion is invalid,” Darwuri said. “Malcolm brought you here because your presence made it easier for him, but he will not give up. In time, he will find a way to claim the Darksword for himself. You see, he believed the spirit that dwells here to have been long since departed.”
“No doubt a clever bit of misinformation on your part.”
Darwuri’s lip curled with satisfaction. “No doubt.”
“What exactly is it that he plans to do with the Darksword?” Godwin asked.
“Does is matter?” Darwuri responded. “Is it not enough to know that he’s betrayed our order? Is it not enough to know his obsession with such magical objects as the Sea Crown or the Skull of Thraegrotto? The Cult of Jericho has studied these artifacts for many centuries. If there is one thing that I can safely say about them, it is that they should only ever be entrusted to those who do not want them.”
“How fortunate for me,” Godwin said bitterly.
“We do not pave the roads that appear before us,” Darwuri said. “All that we can do is walk them as best we can.”
“Destiny rules us all,” Godwin said more to himself than to Darwuri. This was crazy. He couldn’t really listen to this man, could he? But then, the pull of the Darksword was undeniable. He felt it ever since he set foot in the cave. The connection between himself and the ancient Haellaetic blade was undeniable. As he pondered the thought, the last twelve years of his life flashed before his eyes. The end of the Second Bloodwater War. Joining the Shigata. Slaying demons. Logun. Selena. Yaura. Robert.
A strange feeling was churning deep in Godwin’s stomach. It wasn’t at all what he expected. It was a confident, happy feeling. Like seeing home after a long journey away.
“All right, Darwuri. You win. I’ll take the Darksword back. I’ll allow the dead here to return to sleep.”
The Jericho cultist nodded. “But there’s a catch.” It wasn’t a question.
Godwin smiled. “Of course. Just one. For a member of the Cult of Jericho, it should hardly require any effort.”
“Very well, Godwin. I’m listening.”
“I want you to find someone for me.”
Chapter 8
Three metal tankards smashed together, spilling nutty brown ale across the tavern table. Outside, the wind and rain continued to rage, bending endless tree branches like elven longbows and whipping a frenzy of wet leaves into a chaotic bird-like dance. Banfrey laughed loudest, slapping Robert warmly on the back. To think that a journey that began in such misery would have had a happy ending.
Before, when Banfrey saw Godwin return alone without Malcolm, a storm of worry splashed across his face. The innkeeper rushed out to meet the Shigata without a care for the rain that soaked his clothing. It took a great deal of patience and some careful explanation, but soon Banfrey was satisfied that Malcolm was a deceiver and the disturbances that plagued the area were at an end.
While the innkeeper was able to rejoice, Godwin knew he would not
be able to rest until he heard from Darwuri. The events of the day had left him exhausted to his bones, and he was still not sure how much he could trust his new acquaintance. The Jericho cultist had seemed sincere, but that meant precious little.
Once the situation had been explained to Banfrey, Godwin bathed himself in the washroom and sat outside on the deck. If Darwuri was honest, then doubtless he would be there soon. But what if he didn’t come? Even worse, what if he came alone?
Before long it was clear that Godwin’s fears were unfounded. They came together, striding up the road just as the wind and rain continued to rage. When they approached, the Shigata wasn’t sure what he should be prepared for. The words came with great difficulty. He stuttered and stumbled over his own thoughts, trying to find someway to make it right. To apologize.
Robert would have none of it. He embraced Godwin like a long-lost brother and grinning like a fool said that he needed nothing more than a decent squat and a good meal. Banfrey, ever the generous host, invited Darwuri to share the food and fire, but the Jericho cultist insisted that he had been away from Tallium for too long and needed to be on his way. He had given Godwin both Robert and the Darksword, and his work was done.
So it was that the three men were left alone as the endless storms that had washed over the Chillway continued to fall. Banfrey was elated. Having been worried for weeks at the prospect of losing everything he had spent those long years saving up for, he was eager to play the generous host. After showing his guests to hot baths, Godwin and Robert were happy to see a feast fit for a king laid out before them.
“How in the world did you have time to prepare all of this?” Robert asked, his eyes glistening in the candlelight.
“I have my ways when the occasion calls for it,” Banfrey said with a sly smile.
Indeed he did. Stretched out on a long table before the fire of a great hearth were piles of steaming clams, pickled herring, a loaf of fluffy bread thickly sliced, steaks basted with butter, fresh greens tossed with vinegar and lemon, breaded mushrooms, and a great red snapper stuffed with onions and mushrooms and wrapped in banana leaf.
And ale. There was lots of ale.
The trio got down to the serious business of eating while the storm thrashed against Banfrey’s inn. They watched torrentine swaths of rain drench the landscape through a large oval window that overlooked the wooded valley below.
“I wouldn’t want to be our friend from the Cult of Jericho right now,” Banfrey said. “He really should have stayed the night at least.”
“He did seem quite eager to be off,” Robert said while he lathered a slice of bread with Banfrey’s honey. “I warned him that the storms would last a while longer. The Kirishelliwan saw no indication that they would let up soon.”
“Darwuri will be just fine,” Godwin said. “He’ll want to report what happened to his order immediately.”
“And what exactly did happen?” Robert asked. “When I met him on the road, Darwuri told me that there was some unfortunate business in a cave.”
Godwin shifted in his seat. He had no desire to hide anything from Robert at this point, but it didn’t feel right to discuss dark things over such a fine meal. Sighing, he said, “Darwuri was in that cave on business from the Cult of Jericho. It turns out Malcolm betrayed them. We tried to apprehend Malcolm, but in the end he got away.”
“But I don’t understand,” Robert said, his eyebrows furrowing. “What business? What could he possibly have been doing in such a remote little corner of the world?”
Godwin looked back and forth at the two faces before him. Robert concerned and tugging at his oiled mustache. Banfrey watching quietly with lamp-like eyes. He wanted to change the subject to something else. Anything else. If he didn’t mention it, he could just go back to pretending that it was all a bad dream.
“I was reclaiming my weapon from the last Bloodwater War. The Haellaetic Darksword.”
Robert’s eyes trembled like two puddles of water. Banfrey’s face was as still as stone. Behind them a twig snapped in the hearth, sending a mingling of smoke and sparks drifting upwards. Godwin waited uncertainly. He didn’t want to say anything else, not if he didn’t have to.
It was Robert who broke the silence. “You mean to say, I mean, are you saying, what I’m trying to say—trying to ask—”
“You have it here, don’t you?” Banfrey asked. “Strut right up to me with it on your waist, and I didn’t even have the good sense to notice. Is that the way of it?”
“It is,” Godwin said. “It’s in my room, and it will stay there sheathed until it’s time for me to go.” He met the innkeeper’s eyes. “Has that time come?”
Banfrey’s face was unreadable. He sucked on his teeth without a word, staring at something only he could see. Suddenly shaking his head, Banfrey let loose a boyish grin and waved the comment off. “Of course not, you idiot. Don’t be thick. I don’t turn guests away for carrying good steel.”
Godwin snorted into his drink. “Good steel indeed. A fine description for one of the legendary Haellaetic artifacts.”
Robert swallowed a clam and joined in. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What exactly is a Haellaetic artifact? How did you come to possess one? If they’re so powerful, why would you have given it up in the first place?”
“Why indeed?” Banfrey asked, his eyes shining in the firelight. “What say you, Shigata? Does this make for suitable dinner conversation?”
“Hardly, but what choice do I have? There should be no secrets between us, not under this roof.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Banfrey said. “Nothing good can come from secrets between friends. But all the same, I can answer the question for you, if you’d like.”
Godwin nodded gratefully. Though it was the first time in a long while that he was able to truly relax, he found both the company and the subject somewhat exhausting.
Banfrey rose slowly, the joints in his knees cracking as he stood. Taking their mugs, he filled them each to the brim, allowing milky foam to spill over and run tantalizingly down the sides. Seating himself, Banfrey took his time packing a large wooden pipe with smelly purple tobacco and lit it with a match.
“In order to understand the Haellaetic Artifacts, you have to understand that you’ll get a different answer depending on who you ask.” Blue smoke from his pipe swirled around their heads as he spoke. “Where you’re from, Robert, in the East, they speak of the Haellaetic artifacts as holy objects touched by your god, Sacred Jeresemeno.”
“You needn’t worry about offending me,” Robert said as he popped a mushroom into his mouth. “I’m not one to take our holy books too literally.”
Banfrey nodded approvingly. “Well, as I was saying, in the East they’re viewed as items of power bestowed with magical properties from Sacred Jeresemeno’s touch. Here in the West, it is believed that they were forged by Ulrick Boldfrost’s brother at the founding of the kingdom.”
“Ulrick’s brother?” Godwin said. “I’ve never heard of a brother.”
“I’ve never even heard of Ulrick,” Robert added.
“Ulrick Boldfrost was the bloody bastard who cut his way to a kingship and united Western Gaellos,” Banfrey said somewhat impatiently. “But that story is too long for now. There are legends that he had a brother, Tomund Boldfrost, who was kept from court because of a disfigured face earned fighting alongside Ulrick. Supposedly this Tomund was a smith gifted with rare abilities. He forged various objects with a special magic that would ensure they lasted for all time. They were later named the Haellaetic artifacts after some scholar who found one. I don’t know the whole of it.”
Godwin was eager for the conversation to draw to a close, but Robert was utterly fascinated. “So your Darksword,” he said excitedly. “It’s one of these Haellaetic artifacts? How in the world did you come to possess such a thing?”
“How indeed?” Banfrey asked. The Shigata didn’t like the way that the innkeeper was looking at him. Something about his amused eyes and
crinkled smile seemed to indicate that he already knew the answer.
“It was bestowed on me by my master, Reinko Assini,” Godwin said.
Robert hooted loudly and slammed his mug on the table. “You mean the very same Reinko Assini that is with Lyra right now?”
“That’s the one.”
“Quite a wondrous gift,” Banfrey said.
“Or terrible curse,” Godwin muttered darkly. He sipped his beer, unpleasantly aware that both men were staring at him.
“So what does it do?” Robert asked. “What makes a Haellaetic artifact, well, Haellaetic?”
Before Godwin could answer, Banfrey spoke up. “Each one is different. There are many, perhaps a dozen or so, scattered throughout Gaellos. No two are the same. They’re united only in the unique quality that they are man-made weapons that cannot be destroyed by any known means.”
“And yours, Godwin?” Robert asked
“Mine what?” the Shigata responded.
“What does it do?”
“It’s a sword. It cuts people.”
“Oh come now, don’t be like that,” Robert pressed.
Godwin sighed. He still felt terribly guilty about all the wrongs he had done Robert over the course of their time together. “Very well,” he muttered. “The Haellaetic Darksword… it has a mind of its own. It guides me in battle. It knows how to move past an enemy’s sword. Find the weak points in their armor even when I don’t see them. But that’s not all. It’s… it’s an evil weapon. There is a bloodlust about it. It’s a sword that doesn’t like to be sheathed.”
The Shigata suddenly realized that he didn’t know quite what it was that he was saying. Banfrey and Robert had grown very still and were watching him with stony faces.
“It’s nothing,” Godwin said. “The sword has fallen back into my possession, but I plan on abandoning it again just as soon as I find a pit bleak and empty enough to throw it into.”