The Sword to Unite

by Peter J. Hopkins

  Amalric took his blade and placed it through the mud, and kneeled in the presence of his lord. “With the speed of Godric’s hounds, we shall cross the land, Lord Cedric. The whole host of knights shall prepare for war, and the castles will be garrisoned twice-fold.” And so, the knights took their leave, hurrying down the road they had come from, and soon they were out of sight, for the rain was thick and veiled the horizon.

  Tarquin bid Cedric luck, and the sellsword bore a grim look on his face, gone were the days of merry drinking in taverns, now came the true fight for his reward of a coin purse. Cedric, at last, took to his stead and prepared to set off with Alfnod, Eadwine, and Gaspar.

  Chapter 25

  In the Lair of the Basilisk

  Cedric, Alfnod, Eadwine and Gaspar rode hard throughout the whole of the night, taking note of how the landscape began to change around them. The green trees and abundant crop fields now became barren and stony hills across the landscape. The Belfas Mountains were not far off now, for they lay as the fourth wall for Prav, and many castles along the ridge of hard stone.

  They came to the edge of the Red Marsh, which spanned the land between Midland and Belfas. To the north, the stone bridge road to Castle Zweleran lay before them, protruding from the bubbling surface of the swamp. The Red Marsh was given its name for the red lily pads which rested upon its wet surface, and whose petals turn the landscape a bright blood red. It was a greater defense to the knights than their wall, for the marsh had but one route through it, the bridge that lay before them. None had ever taken the bridge, not while the knights stood watch for the Eternal Dawn.

  Upon the knoll of a hill, they established a small camp, where they lit a fire and cooked some rabbit they had hunted in the nearby burrows. The rabbit haunch was dry and rough, like salted provisions for the road. Eadwine was bored by the day’s ride, and squirmed under his blanket, reaching for his lute. He began to strum, as he had so many nights before.

  “What’s a good one for tonight?” He whispered to himself. Suddenly his fingers began to dance along the strings, and the steady rhythm of The Twiddle and Whittle began:

  Oh the farmer had a pig

  A hog so fat and full

  It snorted and twiddled

  While the farmer sat and whittled

  And the pig did laugh and the pig did jest

  For it knew not why the farmer whittled

  While he did twiddle

  Then came the day

  When the farmer had whittled

  A spit for the pig

  That the pork did no longer twiddle!

  The lot from Orford smiled and gave a laugh to this folk song. Any lad who lived where the fields grew grain knew that tune, and Eadwine had played it many times in the Green Devil. For only a moment, as the fire crackled, they felt at home, and their grassy beds were like the cots of yore, their ale pouches like the strong liquors of Cedric’s manor. They sighed and dreamed of their home, but only for a moment.

  From the distance, there came a faint sound, which began to grow with the howling wind that picked up in the night’s sky.

  “There above the dark of the horizon!” Alfnod screamed as he pointed towards an orange ember appearing on the horizon. This ember soon grew into a full-fledged flame, and from the flame, an out of control fire. But it was not the pine nor grass of the land that burned, it was torches, and oil braziers wrought of mannish craftsmanship.

  Across the horizon, this sea of burning fire swayed and moved across the landscape. Amongst some of the torches, banners of gray cloth and blooded sigils swayed in the wind. The drums of war beat to the rhythm of their march, foul drums that heralded the coming tide of death.

  Cedric looked out in horror at this army, and immediately back to his own little campfire, which he stomped out with his boots.

  “What are you doing!? The rabbit!?” Gaspar cried as he struggled to wipe the dirt from the meat still stuck on the spit, which had collapsed from Cedric’s frantic rush to extinguish the fire.

  “Those men shall see our fire!” Cedric cried out. Cedric called out to Alfnod, “Go, move closer to their ranks, but make sure not to be seen. We must find out if they come as friend or foe.”

  Alfnod silently moved through the brush, vanishing into the night. The group had waited for ten agonizing minutes before the bushes rustled again. Alfnod burst back into sight, out of breath. “I had the fear they had seen me,” He spat out with a shallow breath.” I have seen those banners before,” Alfnod said, “They come from the Hirdland, that expansive steppe that remains untamed. Look.” The elf pointed back towards the ranks that swelled in the valley. “There are some banners from Belfas, marching in better order and rhythm than their counterparts, for they have been drilled in the art of war. By their ranks, men of Usham, those former slaves now turn their hate upon any in their path. They come bearing dwarven weapons, steel forged, sharper than any blade of man. Even more so I saw symbols from the south, men of the Elnish kingdoms, wielding steel shields and riding atop horses. This horde shall test the folk of the vine…let us pray their harvest is not found lacking.” Alfnod stood on the knoll of their hill, his foot placed against a high rock, peering over the ledge towards the flowing sea of men that swelled the valley below them.

  The small group took refuge in their hill and under their blankets, silently waiting for the horde to pass them by. For hours, the rushing tide of doom did march, and by the light of the dawn, the last of their host had come through the valley. The four pressed further towards the Belfas Mountains, and their horses slowed and climbed against the rough terrain that overtook their hooves.

  On the next night, Cedric dreamt of the hidden garden once more. Here he found himself in a darker world than before, for the stars had gone black, and the pool had turned to a black ooze. Aderyn rested on her back upon the surface of this tar, and her body was half submerged, reaching near to her lips

  At last at near midday they did arrive at the base of those rising spirals of stone. So jagged and narrow that they did appear to pierce and shatter the sky. Upon the expansive tops, snow had stood for thousands of years, dancing and blowing with the movements of the frigid northern wind.

  For a short while they took a path alongside the mountain base, for Basilisks they hunted for were cave dwellers, preferring shadowed and smoothed walls to that of open fields. Crafty and powerful creatures they are, dwelling as near blind creatures of acute hearing and smell, able to hunt a shepherd’s lone sheep from miles away. But it is the foolish man who mistakes these beasts for mere pests, for their poisoned fangs are sharp, and can pierce the finest steel plating as though it were a lady’s handkerchief.

  They came upon a cave, whose insides howled and bellowed with damp and cold air, and to which the sun gave no light to its contents. “I would bet my last silver on this as a Basilisk’s Lair,” Gaspar said as he leaned over the cave’s entrance, trying to make out its end.

  Cedric lit a torch, and descended first, followed by Gaspar, next Alfnod, with Eadwine bringing up the flank. Each took their steps slow and calculated, for the darkness of the cave did not reveal their footing, and the ground was covered in wet moss. Soon they had turned many corners and crevices, and all natural light had faded from view, leaving their torch as the only light source.

  Gaspar took a small orange stone from his satchel, and when he clasped it tightly in his hands, it glowed with light. “An Emberstone from Usham; got it from a dwarven merchant,” Gaspar explained as he beamed with pride at his clever purchase.

  “Give no voice to our presence,” Cedric whispered, “We do not know what lurks with us.” They continued down a narrow hall, which led to an open standing cave, filled with a still pool of water. They made their way across the mossy pathing, and their eyes darted in every which way in search of a slithering beast. The cave made no sound, and all was dead quiet, so much so that breathing gave sound like a blowing horn.

  They had crossed this mossy bridge, and found themselves at a door
way, carved by human hands. Cedric held the flame to the runes that had been etched at its top, it was a strange language, with little logic in its patterning. Gaspar proclaimed in learned tone, “This is the text of the ancient ten kingdoms, before the time of Adalgott.”

  “Can you read any of it?” Eadwine asked as he darted his gaze back towards the moss, sure he had seen something dart away from the corner of his eye.

  “No, it has been weathered severely, and there is no sense in the structure remaining,” Gaspar said disappointedly.

  The group pushed forward, now passing through ruined halls and long bridges over chasms that showed no floor. It was a labyrinth of intersecting paths, and the companions feared they would be lost in the maze. They took a long flight of stairs downwards, to where the architecture faded, and the cave began reemerged.

  Cedric slipped as he went forward, the stone in front of him was wet. As he fell, he felt cold water. Luckily, he had the reflexes to catch their torch, and he could see a large pool of water reflecting the flame’s light.

  “Where do we go from here?” Gaspar said in a hushed but frantic tone. There was no footing on the walls of the cave, only the calm pool of water lay in front of them. Cedric paused to think but heard a sound from the other side of the water, the sound of slithering upon stone.

  Suddenly the water began to stir, and steady beats of waves, so subtle and calm that it went unnoticed by Cedric and his friends, began to dance along the stone. A great crash of water came behind Cedric, and the lord drew his sword to face what monster lurked behind him. Gaspar had plunged into the pool, for he had placed his foot on a loose rock and had come unbalanced.

  Cedric and Alfnod both sighed, and looked at Gaspar with smirks upon their faces. Gaspar tried to hold back an embarrassed smile as he pulled himself out of the pool, his robes now drenched and his traveling pack filled with water. From out of the shadow of the pool, there was another wave, and from it, the horror of the cave emerged as Gaspar recoiled and jumped back in fear.

  In full display, with neck and head of thick scale like that of steel, and a slithering body with a long and twirling tail. Its eyes appeared like that of a shark, black and with nothing but primal power infused within. Its teeth, thin and sharp as spear points, had many rows to them, and it revealed them all as though it were smiling. The basilisk let out a great hiss, which seemed to dwarf the sound of a bear or lion’s roar.

  Cedric and Alfnod stumbled back as they swung their blades at the magnificent beast, which made a slow approach, all while dodging their blows with quick movements. Gaspar grabbed hold of the torch, which had fallen onto the wet stone floor, and shouted to his companions. “Run!” Immediately Gaspar turned and rushed back towards the cave’s entrance, taking their only light with him.

  They scurried through the many halls and passages, unsure of where they had been and what spots were unknown. The basilisk hissed behind them as it plowed through pillars and jagged rocks alike, which did nothing to hinder its steady advance.

  Suddenly a faint light passed by the doorway and the sound of heavy footsteps that clicked sharply against the stone floor. It was the magi, who nearly slipped as he stopped to see his companions. “No!” Gaspar shouted as a scolding teacher, “To the entrance, it’s the only way!” And so, the company ran from the room and followed Gaspar through the narrowing

  Cedric and Alfnod followed behind Eadwine and Gaspar, and they could feel the breath of the beast against their necks as they stumbled towards the light of the sun. Back out of the cave, they once more heard chirping birds and blowing wind. This moment of idle beauty was short-lived, for the basilisk came crashing out of the cave’s entrance, its scales shining brightly against the light of the sun.

  Gaspar had worked a miracle of brilliance by guiding them out into the open. The basilisk had weak eyes, and it was slowed by the beams of light which pierced its black eyes. It darted and glanced in every direction and hissed as the trio took near ten pace distance from the beast, each in opposite directions. The creature was confused, and it did not know which man to kill, and so it spun in a circle.

  Now Cedric could see it clearly the shadow no longer hid the full body of the massive beast. It was not as gray as he thought, rather a light blue, with a body which twisted and coiled in a woven pattern that seemed never to end. Its eyes were yellow with black beady pupils. Its fangs glistened in the light of the day.

  Cedric locked eyes with the basilisk, and the beast had found its mark. With rapid speed, it picked up its lower side and struck out at Cedric, revealing its sharp teeth. In an instant, it was on top of the young lord, and it bit and snarled as Cedric struggled to hold its mouth at bay with nothing but his bare hands.

  Gaspar and Alfnod let out cries and threw their blades upon the back of the basilisk, but to no avail. Their steel was nothing to the scaled hide which appeared now like stone. With ease, the basilisk lifted its tail and threw the two attackers from its side and into the air.

  The basilisk closed the distance between its sharp rows of teeth and Cedric’s face, which was red and tense as the lord tried with all his strength to hold back his certain doom. The beast appeared to smile, and widened its mouth, preparing for the final blow. Cedric closed his eyes, and let his arms loosen for a moment, and with a great yell, pushed and heaved with all his strength, turning his face bright red with rushing blood.

  Suddenly there was a cry of another legendary beast, and the basilisk’s heavy weight was lifted from Cedric. The lord opened his eyes and saw the basilisk being tossed back through the air, with Griffin claws digging hard through its scales. Jarrick had come, and the beast plucked and slashed at the basilisk’s eyes, which were torn clean from their beady sockets. Suddenly Jarrick beat his wings hard, flying upwards into the sky and descending just as quick, taking his claws to the basilisk’s exposed throat, which bled like a rushing river. Cedric struggled to his feet in awe as he saw the Griffin proudly stomp on the body of its foe, its red coat of feather waving proudly in the sunny day’s wind.

  When Cedric had risen back to his feet, the griffin met his gaze, its eyes unyielding and filled with recognition. The bird beat its wings hard against the ground, and launched back into the sky, before disappearing over the horizon.

  “By the gods, we are lucky to have such a beast as guardian,” Gaspar said as he took a curved dagger from his satchel, and knelt while he carved into the venom sacs of the Basilisk’s mouth. He was careful at his work, to cut the pouch at too low a point would cause it to leak. The black ooze around the sac was itself harmless, but the contents within could melt a man’s hand to the bone.

  “Why does it come so close, yet run every time?” Eadwine said as he rubbed his back, which was sore from being tossed through the air.

  “It is in their nature,” Gaspar said as he fumbled back, a black sack of thick gelatin now rested in his hand, and its contents oozed over his sleeve and arm. “Hold this,” Gaspar spoke in exhausted breath as he slung the sack into Eadwine’s open hand. “Griffins are proud beasts, the noblest of the wild creatures. It would not bow to a man sooner than a lord gives up his title.”

  “I heard your ancestors rode them,” Alfnod said as he wiped his blades on strings of grass. “Adalgott is said to have crossed the distance of Belfas in less than a day, riding on the back of an emerald coated griffin.”

  Gaspar prepared some vials and tonics from his knapsack and placed them along with a few dried herbs in a mixing bowl. “Aye, though no real records remain of griffin riders, there are of course folk tales of such men.” Gaspar took to pile of gel from Eadwine’s hand, and mixed the slime with the herbs and strangely colors tonics. Suddenly the mixture became a balmy paste, with a light green hue. “Aderyn’s last hope,” Gaspar said gravely as he poured the stuff into a bottle, and sealed it tightly before handing it to Cedric for safe keeping. Cedric clutched it to his breast, near to the point he feared he would crush the bottle, he would not allow it to fall from his pocket.

&
nbsp; The road back to Prav was fast and uneventful, filled only with downpours of rain which turned more chilled with each gust of northerly wind that rattled the land. The days appeared to grow shorter, and grass began to turn dull in color and dried in the gray sun. On the fifth day of travel, the band of four came to the Sundering Hills, which lay barren of crop or settlement. They were drab fields, unfit for the grapes that the Crawe household had brought north with them, so the land was not cultivated.

  Small forts and towers appeared along the horizon as the group made their way south. Hewn of wood and base of stone, they were temporary and thrown up with haste, each bearing the vine banner of their regent and king. The guardsmen they came upon had the bearings of gold and silver metaled into their hard leather plates of armor, and they came carrying long spears, bannered in purples and greens. The captains amongst these folk barked and gave orders with grave looks beneath their golden helms carved with the images of dragons and wolves, for they knew their hour of doom fast approached, and not even their coats of chain and royal cloaks could save them.

  On the seventh day, they finally passed through the valley into the fields of Prav. The sun shined bright on that day, though much of its summer heat had no faded into memory. There stood the wealthiest city of the north, Prav, the gem of the chalice. Fields stretched for miles bearing fresh fruit, ready for the press, in turn, ready for the happy bellies of the citizenry. Great towers of stone decorated the walls, which stood some eighty meters strong in some sections. Outside of this mighty wall, stood a smaller one, with a dug moat and stone supports. No tower nor ladder could reach the main walls because of this.

  Upon many small hills, burgs of larger homes, like that of Wulfstan, stood tall with rising vines and mazes of gardens at their bases. The homes of the wealthy nobles and merchants of the city, who had retreated from their summer homes in the country back into the city, along with the rest of the common folk, who now swelled and filled the city. Many towers of silver dotted the city, carrying musical bells upon their crownings. A distinctive trait of this city was the many domed houses and buildings, a remnant of the Crawe family’s southern legacy.