The Sword to Unite

by Peter J. Hopkins

  Beorn rushed after and called to him, “Cedric! Where are you going? What are you doing with those tools?”

  Cedric was in a satisfied grin now, “You shall see my friend! You shall see!” Cedric reached the stone and took the pickaxe in both his hands. He paused for a moment and turned around to see that many his men had gathered to bear witness.

  Gaspar cried out to him, pushing through the crowd, “Cedric no! This is sacrilege!”

  Cedric steadied the pickaxe in his hands, “No Gaspar,” He turned back to the stone and swung the tool back, “It is gods who guide me.” He struck at the stone, sending chunks flying, and Gaspar nearly fainted as a maiden in a poem. Cedric chipped away in steady rhythm for some time, gradually working his way towards his vision of the flame. At last, he knew he drew near, and threw down the pickaxe in favor of the more delicate and precise chisel.

  The stone slowly gave way, and Cedric’s heart began to beat in rapid order, his eyes filled with a wild and burning passion, stirred by the stirring of the stone. Cedric jumped back at the final strike, in the stone he saw the pommel of a sword. It was of simple, but elegant gold, circular, with a pattern of overlapping curved triangles upon it. Next came the handle, which was of many thin wrappings of steel, a grip much longer lasting than that of leather. The crossguard was the shape of a curling snake, bent opposite horizontally on either end. The bottom edge of the blade was decorated in a column of runes, which stretch half its length. Forged by the smith god Welund, these were the words of power which gave its fiery legend.

  Cedric took a gulp of air, wiped the sweat from his brow, and took firm hold of the sword’s handle. He breathed deep and began to pull. There was some resistance, but Cedric felt the sword starting to move. He placed his feet against the stone to give himself proper footing and pulled with all his might.

  As the sword was drawn out from the stone, it struck against its rocky tomb like a flint with proper stone and became alight with a bright glowing flame. The power of eternal beings made solid matter in the blade did spew out its flame in wondrous fashion. Cedric lifted the sword above his head, pointing the tip directly into the sky. In a sudden burst, the flame reached high into the clouds, as thin as the blade’s shape, but brighter than one thousand suns.

  It was called Geanlaecan, meaning unity in the long-lost tongue of Adalgott’s folk. None could wield it, save for his heir, as the power would consume and destroy anyone else. Cedric felt this power course deep through his spirit, and he had thought he would be killed. He steadied his mind, and slowly the flame that spit across the sky began to recede into the steel. In a great hiss like a serpent, the flame completely vanished, Cedric was at one with the blade.

  Gaspar rushed up to Cedric while his arms and legs shook from the power he had witnessed. Gaspar looked in absolute wonderment of his king, and the two smiled in hope. Gaspar took Cedric’s free hand and raised it as a champion, and shouted to the army, “If Azrael has returned…then so too has Adalgott!”

  The men raised their swords in unison, and cheered and shouted cries of victory, for they were filled each with the strength and will of one hundred men. Cedric’s worries and fears melted away with the heat of the blade deep in his heart, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Cedric began to raise Geanlaecan to the rhythm of his soldiers, and he cried out, “For Lorine! For Midland! For Belfas!”

  Aderyn rushed up from the crowd, and her arms wrapped tight around Cedric, who returned the embrace. She spoke into his ear, “There is still hope…there has always been hope.”

  Cedric could not help but contain the spirits of his army, who went through the camp opening their reserves and fine meats in celebration. These fine foods would do them no good, Cedric thought, for he knew they would not reach a week’s travel before being met by Azrael. Cedric’s mood lessened from jubilance, but he was still filled with fierce determination and set himself and his captains upon the maps in his tent.

  He placed his open hands upon the table, and spoke intently to his commanders, “We have the morale, and we have the sword to slay Azrael, let us not lose them now.” Cedric turned to his marshal, “Lafayette.”

  Lafayette snapped at attention with beaming pride, “Yes my lord,” he answered with courage in his words.

  “We march tomorrow morning, double paced.” Cedric ran his finger over the map; he had made his decision. His hand hovered over an ancient citadel, not garrisoned since the time of the first kings. The image had a tower, though it was broken, and appeared as shattered teeth from an equally broken castle as its jaw. “At Broken Fang, we’ll make our stand,” he looked up for the approval of his commanders, “It has the best defenses for making our armies equal in strength on the battlefield. At the front, we can bottleneck their army, turn their fifty thousand men into but a minute number.”

  Lafayette approved with a nod and spoke, “We can establish perimeters in the forest surrounding the castle…it is our best choice.”

  Esmond, the captain of the Red Gyrfalcon, raised his voice, beaming with the pride of his order, “My lord! Give me the van on the battlefield, you have no better leader of cavalry in your service. I would lead by my order, and the Knights of the Eternal Dawn sworn to you if you so will it.” The knight knelt and let his long hair droop at his shoulders; it had been let to grow since the beginning of the war, as a sign of his honor.

  Cedric was glad to see such men still loyal to his cause, “Rise Esmond,” He joked with the knight, “I am still your younger there is no need for so much courtliness. I will have much to learn in cavalry tactics back in Wulfstan. Go, assemble both forces of horsemen, and prepare them for our journey tomorrow.”

  Cedric looked back at the map as Esmond left. The king took a golden pommeled dagger from the table, and pierce the map directly over Broken Fang. “This is it, Lafayette,” He said with such strength never heard in his voice, “Here is our victory or defeat, and here I am…ready for it.” His hands were steady; fear had washed over and consumed his soul for the last time the previous night. Like a baptism, the fear had cleansed him and made him whole once more, finally ready for the crown.

  Chapter 32

  The Rain at Broken Fang

  The camp was disassembled and made to march through the highland of Belfas. They marched not five miles before their first riders caught sight of Broken Fang. Beyond a high hill, the castle lay in a valley of wooded land. Built tall as mountains, for it had many levels of walls and keeps, though much of it was in ruin. Upon its crown, a longhall of stone, surrounded by smaller keeps upon lower levels. The twin towers of the castle were both shattered, and their once tall frames could be seen overcome with moss and dirt upon the ground.

  Once those towers were built as a testament to man’s strength, by Ballomar the Proud, whose hair was wrapped in many golden knots. Ballomar ruled before Adalgott, in the lands stretching from Prav to Broken Fang. He thought himself a descendant of the gods, and his people labored to exalt his name, forging numerous temples and holy places for his honor. His final work, Ballomar poured all his wealth into Broken Fang, so that he might reach the clouds, and take his place amongst the gods before old age took him.

  When the gods saw what Ballomar was doing, they said to themselves, “We must cast him and his people down, for they think themselves with pride unending and hunger for power unyielding.” And so Duwel, lord of cloud and all the sky touches, took a mighty wind from the northern sea and made low the Tower of Ballomar. Ballomar collapsed for fear of the gods, and shaved his golden beard, and threw off his jewelry, and repented.

  Now twice in history, Broken Fang would be the last defense, the last hope, against the coming tide of Azrael. Cedric ordered his men enter the castle, and they established camps at various levels of the castle. Cedric resided in the central keep, snug deep within the thick stone walls. There were remnants of statues and relics aligning the alcoves of the hall, though none were in full form.

  By this time, it was the late afternoon, and t
he sun began to turn a dark orange as it dipped into the landscape. Stakes had been driven deep into the ground surrounding the clear field in front of the castle, and sentries of Rivermen were in the woods. Cedric took meal in the hall, alongside the lot of his companions. It was a simple affair of salted fish and some scavenged roots, which made for a light broth for stew he also took, along with a small loaf of dark bread. The wine they had was from Lorine, brought up with Lafayette’s personals.

  Eadwine picked between the bones of his meal and rubbed his finger around the edge of his chalice. He took his drink, and raised it, saying, “I propose a toast, to our journey and the friends absent and present.” Each of them clinked their glasses and drank, thinking hardback upon their journey, and the road they endured. “And what an unexpected journey it is. The next time, let’s let the nobles deal with second comings of evil.”

  Leopold humorously raised his cup, “Now I will drink to that,” he said as he poured back the rest of his drink. They laughed and drank the meal away, their faces glowing with happiness, as though their war had long faded into memory. Cedric looked around the table and felt as though he was back at Orford, in the corner room of The Green Devil, exchanging stories of the faraway lands of Midland and Belfas. He stared intently at Aderyn, memorizing each detail of her face, and how the candlelight reflected off her milky white skin and black hair. He could not help but smile softly, for he was at this moment, genuinely happy.

  When dinner was over, Cedric took Gaspar into a doored cloister of the hall, which was adorned with ancient tapestry and stone furniture, an official’s chamber of Ballomar’s time. Cedric talked with the magi, “Gaspar, I may need your help later tonight.”

  Gaspar was thrilled, though also nervous, “With what my lord? Do you need some man to lead the vanguard of the woods? I shall!” Cedric tried to explain, but Gaspar was engrossed in himself, “Whatever the daunting task I can handle it! If you asked me to slay Azrael with but a wooden stick, I would only ask when!”

  Cedric sighed, “Gaspar it is nothing of that matter.”

  Gaspar breathed heavy in relief and flung his hands dramatically, “Oh thank the gods.”

  “Just make yourself free tonight. I will explain later.” Cedric left the small room to deal with final battle plans.

  As Cedric and his captains dealt with final preparations, the sun finally faltered and collapsed beneath the horizon. Braziers were lit upon the levels of the castle, and sentries patrolled the walls and towers with torches in hand. Cedric wandered the many inner halls in search of Aderyn. It seemed to Cedric as though Ballomar had built himself a labyrinth rather than a castle, for the rooms interconnected in bizarre fashion, and gave no indication of true direction.

  Cedric jolted back when the door in front of him opened, and he sighed when he saw it was only Aderyn. She was carrying an old tome, written by the magi to Ballomar, which described the affairs of Broken Fang’s courtiers after Duwel’s mighty storm destroyed the towers. She gave a warm laugh at his fright, and she jested with him, “Good to see our brave king brought so low by a door’s screech.”

  Cedric replied with a laugh, hoping to subtly deflect the jest, “Well…it was a loud screech in my defense. Why are you wandering through these halls?”

  “Boredom, anxiousness, take your pick. It was not all for waste, look.” She flipped through the pages of the book and revealed many tunnels and caverns constructed under the castle, secret routes for escape or incoming supplies during a siege, or the possible night raid upon the enemy camp. “We should send men in the morning to see if any of these routes are still standing, it could be a key advantage.”

  Cedric took the book, and flipped through more pages, revealing more detailed descriptions of the castle’s defenses, an invaluable stratagem for any defending commander. “Even now I would be lost without your guiding hand,” Cedric said lovingly.

  “Aye, you would no doubt be dead in a ditch somewhere if not for my wisdom…the question is, why were you wandering through these halls as well?”

  “Looking for you,” Cedric said slyly.

  “Oh?” Aderyn crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

  “Come with me; there is something you’ll like.”

  And so, the two climbed the western tower, whose rooms and staircase were still intact, save the top which had been cut down. They came to a room which overlooked the whole of the castle’s landscape. It had some ten arched windows, now long without their stained-glass insides, and torches had been lit on the wall. Inside, Gaspar and the rest of Cedric’s closest companions waited.

  Cedric and Aderyn stood before Gaspar, who recited ancient hymns and prayers in a soft voice, “Loden, God-father to all, see that your people have gathered in this place to give witness to your intelligent design. Let these two be joined as one so that they might guide one another to your healing house, where a table is prepared for us all. Now, swear before the sight of the stars and moon, those ancient sentinels of Cinder’s light, and be made as one.”

  “I do so swear.” Cedric and Aderyn said in unison. Sealed with word and kiss underneath the light of the eternal heavens, the two were married by the blessing of Loden. Retiring to Cedric’s chambers, the flesh was made one, and souls became like the interwoven nature of silk clothing, forever connected in an unending pattern.

  Chapter 33

  The Battle of Broken Fang

  Cedric awoke lying next to Aderyn, who was on her front sleeping face first in her pillow. He rose and stretched as he gazed out his room’s window. The clouds were a dark gray, fit to burst open in thunderous rain. From the distance, he could see lightning cracking over the mountain range. He knew it would not be more than an hour or two before the armies of Azrael arrived in the valley.

  He sallied into the other rooms of the king’s chambers, where a squire awaited his command. Cedric was dressed in a thick hauberk, and a tunic was wrapped over his armor, which in turn was covered in plates of hardened leather. The tunic bore the symbol of his house, a proud Griffin, pouncing in ready to take flight. As he was dressed, thunder broke out above his head. It was so loud and powerful, it seemed to shake the foundation of the castle, and noise of heavy rain came directly following it.

  Lafayette entered and gave his report, “Cedric, most of the tunnels and secret ways had been completely destroyed, with too much rubble in the way for them to be cleared. However, a single tunnel remains intact, leading out to the western forest…If we fail here, you should take that route to safety.”

  Cedric clipped on his scale pauldrons, which bore two circular sheets of metal at his upper chest, with the visages of Adalgott and Loden on each respectively. He fastened his sword and replied to Lafayette, “I will not run anymore. For months I’ve been on the road, never once facing Azrael in full pitched combat. No more, I face this day as my first as king, or last as the lowly lord of Orford.”

  Cedric and Lafayette walked along the battlements of the walls, inspecting the Rivermen who were gathering bundles of arrows and javelins. At the lowest level’s gate, Beorn saw to the barricading, and he had two massive beams of logs on his shoulders. The lumberjack called to his lord, “These gates will not fall Cedric I will see to it.” He let the timber drop, and other soldiers placed them against the gate.

  Cedric clasped hands with Beorn and held his head as he would a brother. “We’re almost out of this Beorn,” he said welling up with emotion, “By the spring you’ll be back with Hilde in Orford…we’ll rebuild it together. So try not to get killed.”

  “Ha-ha, I will try my friend, I will try.” Beorn went back to his work manning the gate, and he lifted a brimming pot of burning oil next to the machicolation. He was in a joking spirit only for a moment; his smile quickly was replaced with dark look, one of uncertainty seen in the eyes of dying men.

  Lafayette and Cedric continued their march along the battlements, and Lafayette gave report of the woods surrounding the castle, “We’ve stationed Rivermen along the western
and eastern portions of the forest. From there, they are in range to fire on the grassy field leading to the gate.” Lafayette pointed out to the field, which was muddied and had puddles of brown water scattered about. Nearest the castle, wooden stakes were being hammered in, save in front of the gate. By doing this, the enemy would be funneled into a small zone, unable to rely on their superior numbers.

  Alfnod approached, dressed in his usual armor of thick yellow jacket with metal beads, along with an additional chain shirt underneath. He had a barbuta helmet in his hand, and he nodded to Cedric, saying, “The Rivermen are secure in the forest, they’ve dug in and set traps lest the enemy tries to overrun them. My lord, I have no place with command. Let me fight by your side, as your bodyguard and standard holder.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way Alfnod.” Cedric took his sword, and said to his dear elven friend, “Kneel as Alfnod, adventurer from Orford.” Cedric placed the blade on Alfnod’s shoulders. “Rise, Sir Alfnod, a knight of Lorine.” Alfnod barely contained his excitement as he stood and faced Cedric. The elf joined the king and the commander as they surveyed their defenses. As they inspected, a flat sounding horn could be heard, echoing from over the muddy hill.

  From the hillside, banners appeared all along the horizon. They came bearing a plethora of color, ranging from the navy blue of Elnish mercenaries and princes to black and red symbols of Hirdland and Azrael. Beneath these banners, an army appeared, strong as Cedric feared, and their blades glistened and shined, even in the fading light of clouded day.