The Sword to Unite

by Peter J. Hopkins

  Aderyn was quick to respond, “I’ve still got the faster swing, that’s what matters, and what do you know of the real world? Lest you forget, you were forged in a cool fire like myself.” Cedric sat there silent, what did he know of the real world? His training was the closest to combat he had come, and now it appeared as if this village would serve as his world his whole life. The two realized they should return to the festivities, the two stood, hide the practice blade, and headed back towards the light of the tents.

  The couple danced the night away for hours to the tune of Eadwine’s strumming and singing. The village was illuminated in rustic majesty, and all was right with the world as they ate, drank, and made merry under the moonlit sky.

  Chapter 4

  Alfnod and Edward’s Adventures

  When Cedric had returned to the main tent, the men who composed to rescue party were now huddled around a table, playing cards. Eadwine was first to spot their company’s leader, and he stood to salute though somewhat askew from the ale. Cedric quickly caught on to the act, and like a military commander snapped into a leg kick march. “Good sergeant, your report of the men’s morale!” Cedric barked like a vetted war dog.

  “Downright miserable sir, the cards simply aren’t doing it.” “Well by the gods sir we’ll need to see to it.” All the sudden Galdwin, still sitting in his little puddle, leaped into action, “sir I’ve word there’s a pub nearby ripe with supplies, ours for the taking,” the youth managed to spout this out before falling back to the floor. Cedric assembled his men, “right lads, now all together for crown and country!” Pulling out his blade, he pointed it onward, and the men began their drunken walk, with Beorn supporting the flank, guiding any who fell from the path as he and Cedric were the only somewhat sober of their group.

  They walked towards The Green Devil, the only inn in Orford and the only one for miles for that matter. Upon first glance, it appeared as a traditional tavern for Lorine, a simple back patio with stone walling with grass vines climbing around it. The main building itself was an intimate three-story affair of wooden beams and wattle and daub. Some of their company had now been lost to the call of angry wives and the desire for a comfy cot. Now left were Cedric, Beorn, Eadwine, Galdwin, and a small number of those who could hold their liquor. The tavern maiden, Gilda, quickly welcomed them in and offered them seats round the roaring and freshly stoked fireplace. The men recounted the day’s events, quite pleased with themselves. Eadwine sat plucking a vine of grapes, Beorn sat carving a small log of wood, and now Galdwin was resting under a layer of warm blankets, at long last the festivities were drawing to a quiet close.

  Suddenly there was a cantering of metaled horseshoes from outside the inn, through the window they spotted the sight of shadows moving through the moonlight and heard familiar laughter. The door swung open, allowing for a cool summer night’s breeze to roll in. There in the doorway stood long awaited friends, Alfnod and Edward. Though the two had come from separate journeys, they connected just on the outskirts of the town and agreed to surprise their friends.

  Edward was dressed in strange garb, his jacket of a light blue with golden frills, too thick for this season and his cap was of the eastern Cossacks which now appeared more like a nightcap. His beard was unkempt and his face tired but not worn from his long journey east.

  Alfnod appeared as the same day he had left, wearing his signature long coat, with yellowed leather and metal beads embedded as armor. Upon both sides of his hip rested two blades, Alger and Brandr. Cedric was first to smile at their sight and first to leap to great them. Cedric pulled the two together and heartily hugged the two of them.

  Cedric spoke, “We were not expecting you so late, come, come tell us of your journey, dearest Gilda, give these poor vagabonds something to eat.”

  Edward and Alfnod took their seats around the fire, and the exchange of tales began with Edward, “Well as you know I’ve been in Ritterland for some time now, discovering new trading, mostly in clothing and other baubles. This time, however, I decided to make the journey all the way to the eastern coast, to Dradania, and my way it worth it.” All those still present at the inn leaned forward with anticipation as Edward reveal a small pouch from his traveling bag, pouring the contents on the nearby table, he amazed them all. There on the table lay various gems and precious stones, which appeared as if the stars themselves could not match in number or beauty. Edward smiled, “I got these off a merchant from The Burning Sea, and they say these types of gems line the ground like grass in our fields.” Before them lay a valuable amount of diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, they would fetch a price fit for a king at the capital city, Wulfstan.

  Distracted by their merchant friend’s bag, Cedric pulled out more baubles and trinkets from Edward’s journey. All manner of fine silks and household items were here, all of which could make a man rich at half their price. Cedric pulled out a book which appeared ancient, its gold lining across its cover had begun to fade, and it seemed the precious jewels that once aligned it, had been ripped clean.

  When he opened it, the words made no sense to him. It was a dead language, spoken now only in the dark. Diagrams of strange rituals and beasts filled its pages, it was unsettling for Cedric, and he immediately shut it. “Where on earth did you get this book, Edward?” The merchant glanced over at the book, “Oh yes, I won that at an auction in some lesser noble house in Ritterland, Castle Verge if I’m correct. Isn’t it a strange thing? They said they were excavating an old site of a citadel far in the Amach forest when they came across this book. Supposedly used for some kind ritual but it’s all gibberish to me. I wasn’t even going to bid on it until I saw some scoundrel looking chaps come in and start offering significant coin on it. So, I realized I could easily outbid them and sell it to some rich noble who has no idea what the book is, tell them it’s a collector’s item. You should have seen it,” the merchant chuckled, “they turned red as a smithy’s forge when I outbid them, came right up to me and offered all the gold they had, plus more when it was delivered. I scoffed them away, I know I’ve got something that some bloated rich man will pay a fortune’s worth but not even bother to go get it himself.”

  The mood of the story quickly changed to suspicion, “they did not leave me alone for some time after that, all the way through Ritterland and the east of Lorine, I saw them tailing me, I remember I about near killed my horse losing them in the Glanfech forest.” The whole of the inn had become tense at this news, but Edward was quick to break back into the normal conversation, “So,” he said to change to topic, “What new tales from the village?” All the men smiled, and Eadwine brought out his lute, ready to tell the story of Cedric the Beastmaster.

  As the night grew late and the candles had been worn down, the exchange of tales had stopped. “Well lads, I suppose we should all head home, plenty of time tomorrow for storytelling, Alfnod, shall you be staying with me then? The inn is fully booked.” The elf was still sipping his wine by the fire, “that sounds alright to me, let’s head out then.” The pair parted ways with the rest of the group at the door of the inn, each returning to their home. Eadwine headed for his cabin, just on the edge of the woods. The noble and his friend reached the top of the hill and entered the estate grounds. Cedric and the elf entered the undercroft of the home, in hopes of finding some aged spirits. When they emerged, they lit candles in one of the houses many dining rooms, illuminating the wooden walls with red and yellow light. This house was different from most noble houses of the land as it had no great hall for feasting, rather an offshoot of smaller dining rooms, and the two had chosen the largest of these chambers. The two pulled their chairs close to the fire and drank. Along the floor, some bottles rested from previous nights. Cedric poured a cup into the fire, a gesture to Domovoi the god of the hearth and dreams. Cedric placed his glass in the hand of one of the statues carved from the fireplace stone, three on each side of the roaring fire.

  Cedric spoke, “Come now Alfnod, tell me, how was it, the southern lands.
Were they filled with foul monsters, were there damsels at every castle waiting to be rescued, poor innocent farmers to be protected by knavish rogues?”

  Alfnod smiled and looked down, “It was quite the journey, I travel quite far,” he paused and looked back at his friend, “but what about you, what’s been going on in the village?”

  Cedric seemed uninterested in the topic, “Crops grow, we harvest, winters arrives, spring springs, and we sow again, same as it’s always been.”

  Alfnod frowned, “Come now, there’s more than that.”

  Cedric hesitated before speaking but realized how much he trusted his companion, “I…I’ve been training with Aderyn, primary the blade and bow, she’s gotten superb at both.”

  Alfnod was pleased to hear this, “ha, she always did have a fire to her that girl, happy to know she’s learning to forge with it.”

  Cedric next asked about an old mutual friend, “Alfnod you went down south, so tell me, any word of Lafayette?

  Alfnod smiled at the name of their dear friend, “Oh yes, he’s patrolling down towards that old fortress Arazor, some word of bandit activity or something of the sort, I met him along the road, he and his company are in good health.”

  Cedric smiled at the new that their friend was in good health. Alfnod’s mood quickly turned, “Cedric, you know Edward left far after I began my journey,” he leaned forward, his face now split by the light of the fire. “Well when Edward caught up with me outside the village, he told me about something that began happening about a year ago. He said you started drinking more than any man in the village and that you’ve been resting on the edge of that damned statue for months. You must tell me what ails you, my friend.”

  Cedric slowly reeled back in his chair, unsure how to explain. For so long he had stayed in his routine of drinking and resting at the foot of the statue, he could not understand how to start. Cedric began, “it began before you left actually, these visions I have. It started off as nothing but dreams, strange visions of a lake in the center of a forest clearing, with a massive glowing tree resting on an island in its middle. There was no problem with them, but that it happened every night, then it got much worse. After you had left, I began hearing voices in the dreams. They started as whispers, practically just the sound of the wind. But now, they are booming shouts, like thunders rolling off clouds.”

  Suddenly, the fire flickered, and the room darkened. Along the wall, the shadows grew taller than their counterparts, and eerie silence fouled the place. Cedric leaned closer, as though to keep his voice hidden from the shadows, “And just recently, I have seen that lake burn and the forest around it reduced to ash, all the while hearing screams that sound familiar, like the people of the village. All I can do is drink. It numbs the visions to mere blurs. Now even when I wake, I see the image of this burning tree, carved into the back of my mind and I cannot get away from it.”

  Cedric paused, he realized the look of horror on his friend’s face. Cedric leaned forward and placed his hands on his listener’s shoulders saying, “Alfnod, I think it is a warning of some kind, some cruel vision of what may be. And I am afraid.”

  Suddenly the windows burst open, bringing in a howling wind, which seemed to shake the whole foundation of the estate. The fire went out, and ashes spilled onto the floor and in the drinking cups.

  Cedric closed the windows and relit the fire, while Alfnod poured fresh drinks. Alfnod summoned a smile, “Cedric, you’ve been drinking, but nevertheless, I believe you and that you’ve been having these visions. But is this your plan? Sit here and drink, standing watch exhausted and hungover? If you believe this is some warning, then prepare, time and fate wait for no man. Tomorrow morning we’ll get the lads together, let them know you aren’t drinking yourself half to death for the thrill of it, we’ll find out the meaning of this cryptic nightmare.”

  The two finished their drinks and Alfnod guided his friend up the creaking steps towards the bedrooms. Alfnod reached the guest room first and bid his host a good rest, one with no burning visions. Cedric arrived in his room, candlestick in hand, and collapsed on the bed. Before he rested, he guided the light across his bookshelf, revealing not a row of dust and cobwebs like so many other rooms of the house, but of perfectly preserved tomes and books. Each book was meticulously kept and had been read by Cedric many times. His personal favorite, Knights of Chivalry, by Sir Galford of Cafold, was open on his desk and was open to the story of Richard of Burhungy who led the first group of explorers to the Southern Deserts. It was Cedric’s favorite tale of adventure, one in which man could strike out on his accord and live life on his terms.

  Chapter 5

  The Burning

  Cedric realized how late it was and finally blew out the final source of light in the house, plunging himself back into his dreams. It came again, the vision of the lake. All around him, a fire burned the grass and forest, and it felt as if it would consume his flesh at any moment. The lake burned like oil or Nacian fire, a tar so dense and flammable water cannot extinguish it. Between and amongst the tree which now appeared like burning kindling, dark figures of people were screaming in the flames. They were the whispers that became screams, and they called to Cedric, for him to save them.

  Cedric turned his head back to the glowing tree, just as it began to snap and crack from the flame, its insides of pure light poured onto the ground like freshly gutted game. From the other side of the tree, a blade was plunged into this essence and turned it into blackened ash. The figure wielding this weapon emerged from his cover and revealed himself. At his feet, there were flaming boots, which turned the grass around them to ash. His cloak was of ash and metal, upon his head rested a crown of ten rotted fingers. His face could not be seen; there was a void of existence upon it. Only his eyes were visible, calm and yet full of hate, and they lightly glowed like embers of an extinguished fire.

  Cedric awoke with a gasp, but there was no time for contemplation or breath, a blade was plunging at his face.

  In the dark of night, a steel sword stabbed at Cedric, narrowly dodging the attack, Cedric rolled out of his bed as the steel ripped through the stuffing of the pillow. In Cedric’s room stood a brute of a man, his face covered in dirt and his clothes ragged and muddy. Bayeux rested in the main hallway. There was no weapon for Cedric in this fight. The intruder tore his blade from its place and charged at the startled noble, who was left to grab a candlestick as defense.

  The two grappled as Cedric heard muffled noises from the other room, Alfnod was no doubt dealing with a rude awakening as well. It appeared there would be no clear victor in this match until Cedric latched to the back of the man, and jabbed the candlestick through his right eye. This gave Cedric time to disarm the bandit and run him through with his own blade. With that business dealt with Cedric rushed into the hall to aid his friend.

  When Cedric reached the hallway, he caught the sight of Alfnod’s door being thrown to the ground as his assailant was pierced through the shoulders with Alger and Brandr, with Alfnod pushing them through. The two prepared their gear and finished off the second bandit, thinking the night’s horrors were passed, only to hear screaming coming from Orford.

  The two ran outside as Cedric strapped Bayeux to his side, and witnessed the burning of Orford. The village was in such a blaze that the fire illuminated the two’s figures. Cedric stopped in sheer terror, “Alfnod, those, those are the screams from my dream.” Alfnod could do nothing but look at his companion, unable to think of a proper response he only said, “Come on! We’ve got to help!”

  The two reached the main streets of the village in record time, many of the villagers huddled around the two, Beorn was leading a group of men, rounding up as many as they could. Beorn was glad to see the two still alive, “we need to get these people to safety, we’ll barricade in the old temple, round up as many as you can!” In his hands, his axe found its home and Beorn was reinvigorated as the warrior he was. Cedric and Alfnod went from house to house, directing those inside to the te
mple.

  Bandits tore across the market street directly at them, too many for a fair fight. Before their charge came to fruition, a fury of arrows was released by Eadwine, who shot and hit three bandits all while running to his friends. The three of them assembled more and more of the villagers at the stone temple, a perfect sanctuary from the fires that burned around them. Galdwin brought in the last group, and they began to barricade the doors.

  “Where’s Edward, is he still at the inn?” Cedric asked, spinning in a circle. None had seen him this night, and they began to fear the worst.

  Beorn continued piling on wood and loose stones saying, “I’m sorry Cedric but we have to keep barricading, we can’t risk the whole village.” Beorn seemed saddened by his own words, the two were close friends, but the needs of the villagers had to come first.

  Cedric looked out onto the street, the houses had begun to collapse from the flames, unsure of his plan, and Cedric turned to Beorn and said, “Give me five minutes.” And like that Cedric had leaped over the half-constructed barricade and rushed towards the inn, taking the alleyways of houses not yet burned, to avoid being seen.

  At last Cedric reached the central courtyard, the inn was just steps away. Suddenly, Cedric leaped back into the shadows of the alleyway. In front of him stood Edward, who now was walking through the courtyard, coughing up blood. Behind him, a pack of bandits laughed at the sight, as one atop a horse poured arrows into the merchant’s back.

  Finally, Edward collapsed on the stone square, arrows riddling his back. The horseman amongst the bandits dismounted and approached Edward’s lifeless body. His features were truly disgusting, his hair long and dirty, his teeth rotten and along his face were tattoos of strange symbols. He smiled as he reached for the merchant’s bag, ignoring all precious gems and other great valuables, he took the book Edward had bought at the auction. He grinned and wide and slimy grin as he stuffed the tome into his satchel, and with a whistle called his men to the square.