by James Day
When the blade was cool everyone was called into the room. They stood around the blade in a circle as the six Spellmakers chanted, Shydrie kept outside as Dunnganon, Dayven and Noleann went into the room. The spells were repeated as green fire laced from the fingertips of the Spellmakers and burned into the blade. Then Noleann joined in and her Mystic blood fire joined theirs as the blade started to turn a reddish green. Then Dayven and Dunnganon released their power as a blue aura struck the blade. Something appeared to move as tendrils of magic wrapped around the blade and sank in. More magic was implored as the entire blacksmith house glowed an emerald green with a blue aura. They continued pouring their magic into it as the blue aura surrounded the steel and sank into it. The sword began to glow a greenish blue red hot. The blade was nearly on fire and seemed that it would melt as the forge pit blackened from the mystical flames. Chants grew louder as Dunnganon said some ancient spell and Dayven nodded to his cousin. She was beginning to feel fatigued and the creases in her face were showing. The Mystic fire erupted again and again, dancing around, and slamming into the sword. It turned a reddish green again as a blue aura swam into the blade. Dunnganon released more power from his frame and it glowed-white hot as Dayven, Noleann and the Spellmakers closed their eyes. The light was blinding as it melded into the sword. The magic tendrils seeping and fortifying every inch of the blade. Then it was done.
Noleann nearly fell into Dayven’s arms exhausted and worn out from the encounter. The blacksmith watched as the Sword of Shannon glowed with a blue aura, but within the blade greenish tendrils of magic moved around. They wrapped the pommel of the blade in leather.
Finally, the Spellmaker Llyendrie came out holding the broadsword that glowed blue with a greenish tint reflecting within the blade. Prince Grandur got down on one knee as the Spellmaker gave a spell in elfish tongue. He tapped both sides of the sword on the Prince’s shoulders and then spoke.
“Behold the Sword of Shannon,” he palmed the sword and handed it to Prince Grandur who stood up and rose the sword in the air. He tested the weight, swinging it back and forth getting used to it. “It will aid you in your darkest moment Prince of Shannon. It is a power that is of Mystic Elven blood fire. It will slay dragons and cut your enemies down.”
Shydrie watched the ceremony end as the others went to the castle. The Prince took the Princess to her quarters to lay down as she watched the Spellmakers retreat to their rooms. Dunnganon and Dayven separated as Dayven headed down to the lake. Shydrie decided that she would watch him and keep him safe. The Mystic Dayven intrigued her as did Llyendrie who had gone to his room to rest. Her interest peaked as she followed him to the lake. He held the Staff of Power and dipped it into the waters.
“I call upon the Dragons Breath,” Mystic Dayven called out.
Suddenly a mist rolled in as Shydrie watched him as if he awaited something to happen. White tendrils of mist rolled in from all corners of the lake. The forest became steeped in it. Then Shydrie looked in a blink of an eye.
One moment Dayven was there, the next he was gone.
White mists whipped all around, thick tendrils surrounded the Elf as he stood there. The walls of thick fog rolled around blinding him at times in a haze. Then a laughter was heard in the distance. It was a girl’s laughter and it echoed throughout vapors which roiled almost angry and curt as if they were alive. Laughter was heard again as it echoed from a distance and Dayven followed it with Staff of Power. Now gigantic mushrooms came into view as he appeared in some kind of forest devoid of all life, made of dead wood and broken trees. Huge boulders blocked a path as he went around and heard the voice echoing throughout this dead timberland. The mists lifted and he came upon a silver mushroom and on top sat a girl with long silver hair, she was nude except for the mists that covered her private parts. Long skinny arms were folded and extended outward. Dark eyes looked at him with high cheekbones. She was perfectly built, skinny lovely and deadly.
The Silverthread watched Mystic Dayven approach with the Staff of Power as her laughs echoed throughout this strange land. She was somewhere between the World of Faerie and the World of Humankind, trapped in between.
“Come to me Elfling, Mystic, Protector of the Promise, Elfling of the Six Providences. One who has failed and one who has achieved his task. Yes, the Hearthstone returned, but needed once more. A war is coming, one that will decide the fate of the lands. All will be lost as dark one’s roam. You shall fail in your quest, Elfling. All you know will be wiped out, in a dragon’s playful fire. A quest, I see and one where friends live and die. One where you and the others will change. A Fae War to end Humankind. I see freedom and I see slavery. Two of the same. I see a little Princess, whisked away by the faerie to never be seen again. A Kingdom will die, forests will lie in ruins and waters will poison. It is you who will cause this Elfling. The power of your failure will rise like a wave to sweep over the lands. I see things of darkness, powerful, majestic, and deadly. The Elves will die. Their Kingdom will cease to exist. I see you lost in the mists, captured, and enslaved. Not even the Staff of Power can hold against what is to come. For you restored the Promise but did not kill the evil. It grows every day and frees the dark one’s. Your failure Mystic, your doom and damnation of your world in total darkness. I see something rising out of the depths to come forth and take command of dragons and destroy you all. Nothing will help, a Prince will be lost and Spellmaker die. There are those that love and will live and the one who loves will die. Once the deceiver always the deceiver.” She laughed as Mystic Dayven held his ground. Then he pointed the Staff of Power at her.
“You cannot destroy what has been destroyed. I live and tell you this, you fail in your quest. But there is hope, where hope is none.”
“Quiet Silverthread and hold your evil tongue,” Dayven commanded and she laughed then eyes stared coldly. “You were once human and now have become part of the World of Faerie, but you are enslaved. You were tricked and taken. Answer me this if you ever valued what you once loved,” he said curtly.
“And what do you know of love, Mystic. Yours will die. The one’s you love will turn against you.”
“Silence Silverthread, answer me this,” he boomed. “Is there a way to Faerie Kingdom?”
“I give you one truth. Yes, but you will become lost. All will become lost.”
“How do I enter it?”
“Bring the Princess to me. The little girl that is held so dear and I shall tell you.”
“Never,” the Mystic flared his blue fire and she shrunk back for a moment.
“Leave me Elfling. I have spoken.”
“Very well, Silverthread. Perhaps one day I shall free you,” he said turning away.
She laughed as the mists returned, enveloping the Mystic. The vapors thickened as she disappeared within, her laughter echoing through the strange forest as to where she lived. The fog became so thick that he could no longer see.
“I call upon the Dragons Breath, take me back,” he waved the Staff of Power.
Shydrie looked all around as the mists roiled almost like a boiling cauldron. The Kingdom was enshrouded in it and the lake was gone. Then it began withdrawing as she found herself on top of the hill looking down at the lake. In the blink of an eye the Mystic Dayven appeared as she hid in the forest.
The Mystic made his way up the hill and back to the Kingdom of Shannon.
Shydrie stood there speechless.
The She-Elf Warrior entered the Spellmakers Llyendrie’s room and closed the door. She did not know what to make of the whole spectacle. One moment the Mystic was standing there and then he was gone. A second later, he had returned. A small table and chairs were set up with a candlelit. Brackets in the walls were lit as firelight flickered in room reflecting off his tired face. The spell had worn him out and he wanted to sleep. Shydrie saw that look in his eyes and he turned away in dismay.
“What is troubling you Spellmaker?”
“My conscious,” he confided in her. “We made an oath and lied
to our Queen and King. I think the Mystics suspect something. I saw it in their eyes before we left for Shannon. It was at the stables.”
“Do not let them worry you so much,” she spoke softly, letting down her guard in front him. She only let him see this side of herself. “I was near the lake and Mystic just vanished,” she said. “I don’t know what dark magic is working, but I am worried.”
“You should not fear them or be mistrustful of them. They are defending the Kingdom. It is their duty to do so.”
He poured some ale and took some stew out of a small cauldron that was lit in the side of the room. He dished the meat, potatoes, and vegetables out onto her plate, and she sat and ate. He handed her some bread as he made himself another bowl.
“They did defend us against the Fire Imps. We almost lost our lives. I have never fought against such a quick enemy. You do not even see them coming, they move so fast. I cannot believe we lost part of our party. What are we going to do now?”
“We will decide that tomorrow morning when speak to the others. We have kept our part of the deal. Once the Red Faeriestone is recovered we will take it from them and use it. They made an oath; we gave them the Sword of Shannon and now they must assist us in finding and securing the red stone.”
“I don’t like this quest, one bit. There are too many things that can go wrong. We have fought evil, but this is something different. We will only have the five Spellmakers to protect us.”
“And the Mystics.”
“The Mystics,” she mimicked in a cold voice. “I do not trust them one bit. I do not care what you say. I think they will betray us.”
He took a spoonful of stew and chewed and swallowed and she did the same. “They will watch over us. I will also watch over you,” he grinned.
“You keep an eye on me?” She could barely contain her laughter and snickered a little. “We both could have died. I do not know what is coming next, but it is going to be dangerous for the both of us. I fear for your safety.”
“I fear for yours to,” he leaned into her, finishing his meal. “You may be a She-Elf Warrior, but you are not indestructible. I believe that more dangers are coming our way. Some that are creatures of Fae that cannot be harmed or destroyed. We may have to fight to the death.”
“We will face it together,” she hummed in defense of them both.
“I shall have a talk with the Mystics to see what our next plan is. I think we need to know what they are thinking. We should meet with them tonight.”
“I think we should meet with the Prince and Princess also. I want to find out what they are deciding to do. The Bounty Huntress is a skilled fighter, but I do not know. She may hold us back if she decides to come on this quest. We don’t need anyone slowing us down,” Shydrie said quickly.
“We’ll call a small meeting; we’ll talk with them tonight. I do not see that we have to wait until tomorrow to get a definitive answer. Besides Noleann the Bounty Huntress is a formidable person. I think she will be an asset on this journey.”
“I don’t know,” Shydrie said putting her dish aside.
“Do I detect a little jealousy in your voice? Perhaps some kind of competition.”
“Fool, I need not compete with anyone. I trained the Elven Army. There is no competition.”
“Then let us go,” he said as they rose exited the room.
About a half hour later, Noleann and Prince Grandur knocked on the door and Mystic Dayven opened it up. The Boy-Mystic, Dunnganon and the two Elves stood in the room. The Prince and Princess entered with some apprehension with all of the secrecy that had taken place. The other Spellmakers were left out of the equation. The door closed as they gathered around a large table and sat in cushioned chairs. Ale was poured by the Mystic Dayven as the others waited for him to speak.
“Payne Axel, Noleann, Shydrie and Llyendrie, Dunnganon and I have decided to listen to your concerns about the troubles plaguing this Kingdom as well as the Elves,” Mystic Dayven said with some sternness in his voice.
“What is Payne Axel, I mean, Prince Grandur and Noleann plan on doing? You have the Sword of Shannon to protect the Kingdom,” Shydrie asked directly to the Bounty Huntress with emerald eyes gleaming.
“We plan to take this quest,” she said directly to the She-Elf Warrior. “We plan on leading this expedition,” she continued staring down the She-Elf Warrior.
“Taking the lead. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I believe the Elves should take the lead in this mission and quest. After all, we gave you the Sword of Shannon. I have very capable fighting abilities, Noleann. I have trained the Elven army. I have taken on the Fire Imps in battle.”
“No, disrespect,” Prince Grandur put his hand up. “But the sword was a gift. We are given charge to retrieve the Hearthstone Sword and find the Red Faeriestone. We will use it at our disposal to fight whatever evil arises.”
The Mystic Dayven stepped up to the Elves, his eyes dark and full of anger. “And the four of you have no inkling what we are about to face. The Dark Fae will unleash creatures that will put our lives in peril at every step of this quest. Things made of faerie magic; with faerie magic they will come after us. Already the red Silverthreads know of our plans. They have been spying on the Kingdom. There is someone who is controlling them. There is someone powerful out there that had enough magic to destroy one of the mounds. I believe that whomever this person is, we have yet to see the full potential of his or her magic. We need to work together. The Spellmakers must be protected. We need them to unlock the spells that surround the Red Faeriestone. We have to work together as a group, as one unit. There can be no divisions or suspicions. There can be no lies or deceptions,” he said to the Elves. “Yes, we know you lied to the King and Queen for some unknown reason. You hold a secret that you discovered that you did not want to be revealed.”
“And what of you Mystic? Shydrie said with a sharp tongue. “You were down in the valley by the lake when you called the magic? Where did you go? What were you up to since you are so apt at pointing out our faults?”
“It would only confuse you and it is not that important,” the Boy-Mystic pointed out. “We do not care what secrets you hold. When the time is ready you will reveal what you found. We to have our reasons. Dayven went to see the Silverthread, a creature half human and half faerie, bound to this earth until she passes.”
“What did she tell you” Shydrie asked directly of the Mystic Dayven.
“We will fail in this quest; all will be lost. Dark things will rise and there will be a war. Those who love and are loved will be destroyed. She spoke in riddles, half-truths and lies. That is all I can say. She did tell me other things, but I will not discuss them at this time. They would only serve to impede on our mission and put more doubts in the company.”
“We did lie to our King and Queen. We kept a secret of what we found. I am ashamed and it bothers my ethics and morals. We think we discovered where the Dragons may be,” he said with some remorse.
Shydrie added. “The King and Queen want to destroy them, but suppose they are good? Suppose they are needed? That is why we did not say anything. We were protecting your Mystic Pelt.”
“You may the right decision,” the Boy-Mystic responded as he nodded to them. “We made a promise during the Zandu Wars to leave the Dragons. They are free from imprisonment. That was the deal struck and Pelt left because he had promised to assist them to safety. We do not know where he is. He was a great friend and turned the Zandu War to the Kingdom’s advantage. We owe him and the Dragons a debt. That debt has been paid.”
Noleann stood quiet then spoke, “Suppose we need them to come to our aid? Do you suppose they would?” She asked with some newfound strength.
“It is possible,” Dunnganon answered her. “Where do you think they are?” he implored Shydrie.
“The Western Northlands,” she said simply.
The Boy-Mystic and Mystic Dayven nodded their heads in agreement.
“Then it is done,” Prince Grandur c
himed in after being quiet. “They’re location will only be known by us until the time is right. Then we will go in search of them.”
Noleann walked up to the She-Elf Warrior and put her hand on her shoulder. “We shall protect the company together. All of the Spellmakers must survive if we are to find the location of the Red Faeriestone. We must make it Fire Rock Crater and regain the Hearthstone Sword. I will protect you She-Elf Warrior and defend all the Elves with honor. I am glad to be your friend.”
“I misjudged you,” the She-Elf Warrior placed her hand are the shoulder of the Bounty Huntress. “I make this promise. I will fight to the death to make sure we make it Fire Rock Crater.”
“I will use the weapon bequeathed to me by your people,” Prince Grandur said “I am at your service my Elven friends as he bowed to them.”
“Good then it is decided. We leave tomorrow at dawn,” Dayven said. “We will pack our things make provisions to go to Galway for some assistance. We will only bring three sentries from Shannon to be our lookouts.”
“Why Galway?” Llyendrie beamed, feeling a weight come off his shoulders.
“I have very dangerous friends,” Noleann said. “Some that would give Shydrie a run for her money. They are trained assassins that will assist us on our way. We will have to travel to the Snap, through Skydark and onto Mayens Hall. Then to the edge of Fire Rock Crater where we will go through what is left and find the Lady of Lava who holds the Hearthstone Sword. I am not happy about this quest. We have a daughter that we are leaving behind. She will be in great danger.”
“Then I shall send my best Elven Knight,” Shydrie responded. “Gradrei will come to protect her. He is the best.”
“I remember him well,” Dayven said nodding. “We will secure three of the best sentries for this quest. We need this kept in secret. Only King Grandur will know about the plan.”
Within an hour they met with King Grandur and three of the finest guardsman were assigned to the group. They would leave first thing in the morning. Everyone retired to their quarters as Prince Grandur and Princess Noleann Bounty Hunter played with their daughter before sending her to bed. The Spellmakers were placed under guard, each in their own room, hidden from prying eyes. Llyendrie and Shydrie spent their last evening together in each other’s arms. The company had no idea that they were in love and they wished to keep it that way. That night they slept peacefully together locked away from all of the world’s troubles.