The Sword of Darrow

by Hal Malchow

  Then the wagon was gone.

  Darrow walked back onto the road, confused and frightened. He wondered if what he saw was true at all. Perhaps he had lost his mind. He walked ahead, not even bothering to untie the rope that still bound his hands. He had no idea where to go, but he knew he could not walk the road. So he turned into the forest and began stepping aimlessly through the thicket.

  Within minutes, he stepped into a small clearing and looked at the rope on his hands. Before he could untie himself, he heard a cry. At first, the cry was faint, but it grew in volume. He froze where he stood.

  Skreeeeeeeeeuhlskreeeuhlskreeuhlskreeuhlskreeuhlskreeuhlskreeuhl! Across the clearing, three animals appeared, wolf-like creatures with long legs and terrifying red eyes. Darrow knew something of wolves from the mountains. His only chance was to show no fear.

  The beasts charged toward him, snarling and screaming. Darrow turned and faced the beasts, his eyes soft and his face calm. He stood without defense, his hands bound, a strand of rope hanging to the ground. Though he trembled within, the wolves saw only a smile as if he were greeting loved ones returning home.

  Rapidly, the skriabeasts approached until they were within a few feet of their prey. But instead of leaping, they did something strange. They thrust their paws into the grass and slid to a stop. Darrow lifted his hands in an offering of friendship. While the other two looked on, the leader stepped forward and sniffed Darrow’s hand. Then he opened his mouth and licked Darrow’s fingers.

  Darrow exhaled. The creature took the rope in his mouth and tugged. Darrow pulled back. The creature looked at Darrow intently. He tugged again. This time, Darrow followed him down a narrow path that wound up a hill and continued deep into the forest. For five hours they walked. Darrow stepped into a clearing and saw a light.

  He looked around. He looked back at the light. It came from a cabin built with logs and mud. In the doorway, he could see the outlines of a short, round-faced man.

  The man’s face wore a great smile. He looked out at Darrow, who stood silent before him. In a soft and gentle voice, he spoke.

  “Welcome, nephew. I see you have found your way.”

  Darrow looked down at his hands. The rope was gone. His eyes searched for the skriabeasts. They were nowhere to be found.

  • 17 •

  Asterux’s Advice

  Dazed by the events of the last day, Darrow stumbled into Asterux’s cabin. The wizard prepared a cup of broth and a dinner of greens and bread. Meanwhile, Darrow’s eyes explored Asterux’s cabin.

  Above his head was a green sphere that sprouted black leaves. Strange insects swirled around it. Across the room hung lightning bolts and a thirteen-legged lizard, its last leg bearing two curved claws that protruded from the front of its body. There were planets, some connected with mobiles, creating solar systems of rotating orbs. Across the room, in the corner, hung a collection of odd birds. One had a beak that forked at the end. Another had long legs, five times the length of its body, and a razor-sharp beak. He saw a black bird with three red eyes that could scan the horizon in any direction.

  Darrow turned to his uncle.

  “Are you a wizard?”

  Asterux laughed. “Where did you get such an idea?”

  “A woman, a fortune-teller, told me on the road.”

  “A fortune-teller will say anything. I know no magic you could not discover on your own.”

  “Good,” replied Darrow, eyeing his uncle cautiously. In his mind, he replayed his journey—the strange yellow bird, the wolflike creatures, and becoming invisible on the trail. But these thoughts did not linger. Within minutes, he was asleep in his chair.

  When Darrow awoke, Asterux was in his rocking chair, an open book in his lap. He looked over at Darrow with a patient smile.

  “What time is it?” Darrow asked.

  “It is afternoon.”

  Darrow’s face dropped. He had wasted the day!

  “I will leave tomorrow,” said Darrow.

  The wizard just smiled. “There is no hurry, my nephew. There is time enough for all plans.”

  “My plans are different,” Darrow replied sharply.

  “That I cannot understand,” replied Asterux. “Unless you would like to share them with me.”

  Eager to share his ideas with someone, Darrow began speaking so excitedly that his sentences tumbled out, one after another, in an almost senseless jumble.

  “It is time to fight back. Our battle will tell others that it is possible to resist. Someone has to begin. I will start small. I will find men. Our story will spread. We will hide in the forest and strike in small groups. The goblins won’t find us. We need swords. Men will find courage and join our struggle. One day, we will become strong enough to succeed.”

  Asterux smiled, greatly amused by his nephew’s ideas. Playfully, he asked, “And what do you know of fighting?”

  “Nothing,” Darrow answered honestly. “But I will learn.”

  “And where will you find weapons? How will you feed your men? And where will you find men who know the ways of war?”

  Darrow paused. “I am not sure.”

  Asterux said nothing, allowing Darrow to consider his words. Darrow collected his thoughts and spoke again.

  “Uncle, can I tell you about a dream I had?”

  “Of course.”

  “It happened three weeks ago. I could see everything clearly and the events felt almost as real as if I were wide awake.

  “The dream began with a scene I have witnessed many times before. The goblins were looting Ael and they set the roofs of two houses on fire. Soon all of the houses were burning. With flames raging around us, there was no room to stand between the stream and the cliffs, so we fled up the mountain and into the forest. But the fires from our village spread to the trees and followed us close behind.

  “Though we ran as fast as we could, we could barely stay ahead. We came to a clearing at the edge of a great cliff. With the fire in front of us and the cliff behind us, we had nowhere to go.”

  “And then what happened?” asked Asterux, his face filled with interest and concern.

  “A goblin ghost riding a horse appeared before us. His laughter rang loudly and he taunted us, his voice rising even above the noise of the fire.

  “‘Before you lies the fate of cowards,’ he howled, laughing even more loudly than before. I turned and looked at Groompus, the elder of our village. There were tears in his eyes.

  “‘The goblin is right,’ he said. ‘He is right.’”

  “And did the people of the village perish?” asked Asterux quietly.

  “At the moment that the fire reached our feet, I awoke. But I know the answer.”

  “And what is the answer?” asked Asterux.

  Darrow, calmer now, composed his reply.

  “The answer is that we create our own fate. Today, our first enemy is not goblins at all. Our enemy is ourselves.”

  “And how will you defeat that enemy?”

  For the first time, Darrow smiled. “By coming to the forest to meet my uncle and making a plan.”

  Asterux nodded, smiling as well. Before he could speak, his nephew continued.

  “Fear can be broken. It can be broken because courage, when demonstrated, will inspire other brave deeds. As that courage spreads, it becomes a powerful force that can defeat even the most powerful foe.”

  Asterux paused for a moment, impressed by the strong words and passion of his nephew. Then he asked, “Darrow, nephew of mine. You are not yet eighteen years old. One of your legs is shorter than the other. You have never lifted a sword in battle. You know nothing of war. Tell me, how can you succeed against the might of the great goblin army?”

  “I know what I am lacking. But, Uncle, I saw the fire at my feet and the cliff at my back. Show me another, older and wiser, ready to lead, and I will gladly follow. But I know no other so I ask you, ‘Why not me?’”

  Again, Asterux paused. He had no answer for Darrow. So he leaned forward and sp
oke to his young nephew with firmness and conviction.

  “You have come here for my advice,” Asterux stated. “And I will give you frank and honest words. You have no experience in war. You have no knowledge of fighting. You have no men behind you.”

  “Mempo is coming to join me.”

  “Mempo knows less than you. Forget Mempo. You need warriors.”

  “Where can I find them, Uncle? Tell me.”

  “They are chained to the dungeon walls in the palace at Blumenbruch.”

  “Then we must set them free.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  “Lend me your sword and I will walk to Blumenbruch and fight for their freedom.”

  With those remarks, Asterux pressed his lips together and shifted impatiently in his chair. “First, I do not have a sword.”

  Upon hearing these words, Darrow grimaced, his eyes lifting to the ceiling above.

  “My nephew,” the old man continued. “You will never succeed by running blindly into the fire. If you want to rescue these men, you need a plan.”

  “Then help me,” Darrow pleaded, looking directly into his uncle’s eyes. “Help me. Teach me. Join me.”

  “I will help you, but listen and listen well. In the palace dungeon in Blumenbruch are two great warriors, Hugarious and Timwee.”

  “Hugarious?” Darrow asked.

  “He is a Minotaur, also known as Hugga Hugga. In his day, he possessed great strength and wielded a giant axe. He can help you. I will go with you, and we will try to break them out.”

  “Then we will leave tomorrow,” stated Darrow.

  “No,” Asterux responded. “We will leave in three weeks.”

  Each day, the routine was the same. Darrow would arise from his bed with the sun and wait for Asterux. When Asterux had risen, Darrow would beg him to reconsider and leave that day.

  Asterux marveled at his nephew’s persistence. But each time, Asterux refused his request. And each day, when he was sure that his uncle would not budge, Darrow headed directly to the bookcase and began to read.

  He marveled that his uncle knew so much and could read these strange tongues. But there were also books he could read, great stories of magic, heroism, gallantry, and revenge.

  One day, while he was reading a tale of two wizards locked in a great contest, he looked at the ceiling and thought of the strange books. He thought again of his journey in the forest, which had been filled with magic and awe. Then he asked Asterux the question.

  “Did you use magic to bring me through the forest?” he asked.

  “Not at all. Not at all,” Asterux replied, as a look of exaggerated innocence spread across his face. “If magic brought you through Hexenwald, it was a magic other than my own.”

  • 18 •

  Cebular’s Ghost

  The journey to Blumenbruch lasted eight days. As Asterux and Darrow walked the dusty road, they faced what seemed a wholly impossible task.

  The Kirstinnex dungeon was a formidable target. Many of the great warriors of Sonnencrest were locked inside. While they remained, reasoned the goblins, there could be no challenge to goblin rule. With each passing year, these warriors grew weaker and more withered with age. With each passing year, the goblin rule grew more secure.

  Beltar, the great goblin general, took no chances. The jail was guarded by twenty or more guards, all well armed. No detail was overlooked. No one but goblins and corpses ever left its walls.

  On the seventh day, as the two travelers finally approached Blumenbruch, Darrow asked Asterux the question that was tormenting his soul.

  “Uncle, we are getting close and you must tell me. We have no swords. No knife. No weapons of any kind. So how exactly are you and I going to break these prisoners out of jail?”

  But Asterux remained silent. Then, on their last day on the road, Asterux turned to Darrow and shared his plan.

  “There will not be twenty guards tonight. There may be only a few. For tonight, high in the heavens, a great spiritual event will take place. It is an event celebrated by all goblins everywhere. Tonight is the night of Cebular’s Crossing.”

  “And what is that?” Darrow asked.

  “In the night sky, at exactly this time of year, seven stars are arranged in a circle. That circle is known as Cebular’s Ghost. His story is sacred to the goblins.

  “According to goblin legend, there was once a time when all people lived together as humans in a paradise created by the gods. But one of those people left paradise to find adventure.”

  “Cebular?”

  “Exactly. Outside of this paradise, Cebular met many spirits that had been banished from paradise and longed for revenge. So when they met Cebular, they whispered false words to turn him against the gods.

  “One spirit told him that in the dark land, everyone lived forever. Only in paradise did people die. Another said that in the dark lands, people drank delicious wines and ate succulent foods that were plentiful beyond any possible consumption. And to prove his words, the spirit offered Cebular a magical brew that made his head dance and his body glow with delight.

  “‘These pleasures are forbidden in your land,’ the spirit explained, ‘because the gods are selfish and keep these wonders for themselves.’

  “Another spirit offered Cebular gold. ‘Great riches lie in the dark lands,’ he explained. ‘These riches are hidden by the gods to enjoy only for themselves.’

  “With these words, Cebular’s suspicions grew. He began to believe that where he lived was no paradise at all. Then one day, on one of his journeys into the dark lands, a strange ghostlike figure appeared before him. Cebular was frightened, but the figure lifted his hand to reassure Cebular. As Cebular trembled, the figure spoke. ‘Cebular, you are the chosen one and you must know. The gods have no power at all. They are only humans. They disguise themselves to steal the best joys of life from others. Return to your so-called paradise, Cebular. Return and tell the people the truth.’

  “Cebular brooded over the oracle’s message and wondered if it indeed might be true. When he encountered the gods, he silently measured them, asking himself if they were indeed mightier than he. Gradually, he became convinced he was their equal. Driven by this belief, he decided their rule was only a trick.

  “So one day, he decided to act.

  “In the spring of every year was a great festival. And on this particular occasion, Cebular was asked to sing the first song. He rose on the hillside and from his lips came a shocking verse:

  Oh, mortals present on these sands

  Great imposters rule our lands

  Their lies have cheated all I see

  These gods, they live deceitfully.

  If your powers be so great

  Strike me down and do not wait

  I stand here absent sword or shield

  Before false gods, I will not yield.

  “Well, you can imagine how the gods reacted. The ruler of the gods, Torin, rose to slay Cebular. But before he could reach for his sword, his hot-tempered brother, Tymobeer, cast a spell that turned Cebular’s skin green, gave him a bulbous head, and distorted his body to appear like those of goblins today.

  “But Tymobeer’s powers were ordinary and his spells often contained mistakes. His spell did more than change Cebular’s appearance. His spell also endowed Cebular with great courage, a fighting spirit, high intelligence, and other admirable qualities of goblins today.

  “So, in this form, Cebular escaped from paradise. He walked through the dark lands and made his home in a cave. There, he found others who had suffered at the hands of the gods. He fathered many children and founded a great tribe that conquered many lands. Throughout the dark lands, the goblins grew into a feared and powerful force.

  “When the gods learned of Cebular’s success, they grew angry. Their ruler called Tymobeer before him and issued a command.

  “‘You have created this mighty Cebular. Go now. Slay him. End his reign.’

  “Tymobeer thought long and hard about
how he would put an end to the great goblin leader. He could have easily struck him with a plague or poison. But Tymobeer wanted the other gods to see that his magic was indeed great, so he planned to extinguish Cebular with a great display.

  “Mustering his most powerful magic, he summoned a great fireball from the sky. All of the gods looked up and smiled because they knew that surely this fireball would put an end to their foe. And indeed, as Cebular looked up and saw the great fiery globe descending upon him, he knew that death was at hand.”

  “But Cebular escaped, right?”

  “Oh, no. He perished, as surely as you or I would, if the gods hurled a fireball in our direction. But although the fireball did kill Cebular, it created an enormous explosion. The fireball broke into seven pieces that ascended into the sky, forming a circle of seven new stars. That circle became known to the goblins as Cebular’s Ghost. They believe that Cebular ascended to the heavens and watches over them each and every night. And fortified with these beliefs, the goblins became stronger still.”

  “Okay,” said Darrow. “But what does all this have to do with breaking warriors out of prison?”

  “Well, on the fourth day after the first full moon of September, when Cebular’s Ghost is highest in the sky, the entire goblin nation joins in a rapturous celebration called Cebular’s Crossing, which is unlike any holiday known to man. They drink a strange brew that places the goblins in a mysterious trance. Once in this trance, the goblins begin a great silent dance, where their bodies move, almost in unison, but without any music at all. After the silent dance, which can last for hours at a time, great feasting begins. After the feast, the goblins drink from an enormous kettle containing a mysterious mushroom brew that launches the goblins into raucous choruses of song.

  “So tonight, amidst this celebration, only a few goblins will be guarding the dungeon. And the rest will hardly notice us at all.”