Bladeborn

by Clayton Schonberger

  “How long have you existed, Nightslayer?” Bladeborn asked.

  “You cannot comprehend that span of time, Swordsman. I have been on Draconia for thousands of your years, but that is a mere fraction of my total lifespan.”

  “Where were you before?” Bladeborn asked.

  “I was in the space between the worlds for so long, there is no way to tell.”

  I arrived during the last two millennia of the Draconian era. Elvin history claims that the Draconians controlled this world for seven thousand years before the Rhinolon took it over. I came to this solar reach during the two-thousand-year-long war against the Draconians~~

  “How long have the Draconians been gone?” Bladeborn asked.

  ~~About ten thousand years, a period of time when a hundred human kingdoms have risen and fallen. Holding steady the entire time, Fortress City has been a refuge for humanity on the red sun side of Draconia. Most races have become nearly extinct on this side of Draconia after being hunted by Rhinolon Warlords. Humans are strong on the other side of the world, which is called the Yellow Sun Side of Draconia~~

  Bladeborn asked, “Why don’t the Rhinolon and the humans on the other side of the world fight each other, Nightslayer?”

  ~~The Rhinolon are lazy now. They are not the mighty warriors they once were. Also, neither race can navigate the sides of the world, so they remain separated~~

  “What do you know of the humans on the Yellow Sun side of the world?”

  ~~I know of a Kingdom of madmen who tried to sail ships over the edge of the world. But the edges are storm-ridden and impossible for men or beasts to cross. The Elves once travelled from place to place in their Flying Pyramid, and it is possible to ‘teleport’ various locations~~

  “What is a Flying Pyramid?” Bladeborn asked. “…And what do you mean by ‘teleport?’”

  ~~The Flying Pyramid is a city that floats through the air and space between the worlds. It is hard to describe. Teleportation is travel with magic~~

  At first, Bladeborn had trouble understanding most of the things Nightslayer said. But it would change with time.

  Days later, Bladeborn was waking up for the evening. It had been scorching hot that day and sleep had been fitful. Bladeborn asked Nightslayer about the history of Fortress City, which Nightslayer related to him through much of the night.

  “Why is it you can talk by telepathy?” Bladeborn asked having learned of the concept earlier. “And how can you think if you are not alive?”

  ~~I am comprised of many thousands of tiny parts, like thinking machines. I am not mere metal. When I desire it, part of me ‘joins.’ It is the way I bonded with you~~

  “How is it that you are the key to Fortress City?” Bladeborn asked.

  “About the time Saint Morth and his Titans finished construction of Fortress City, the metal that I am made of was found by the Elvin King of Foresti, another world in the solar reach. The Elf-King gave me to Uzet, Fortress City’s Master, as a gift. I “joined” the City and became a part of it right before I became a Sword~~

  Bladeborn said. “Were you always a weapon? When I first picked you up, I saw things… Dreamed of the space between worlds…”

  ~~The planet where I originated was destroyed by war. I travelled so long…A weapon without one to wield it, damaged by the forces of the void… The Elf King found me but had no way to contact my soul. My restorer, Uzet, could. He was aided by the mighty Essence within him. While working my metal into a blade, Uzet used a magical process to unlock my consciousness from sleep. The Elvin King had not known how to properly handle me. I knew, even in my slumber, that Uzet was the only one who could unlock my power and make use of me, and thus, I found my way to him~~

  “What do you mean?” Bladeborn asked.

  ~~I have always found a path, despite being vexed many times. If you carry me long enough you will understand~~

  * * *

  After sleeping several hours, Bladeborn awoke during a heavy downpour. Rain! It was water clear and clean falling from heavy, dark clouds. Bladeborn saw vast white lightning strokes from the huge thunderheads in the sky. It was just as he had read about it—a thunderstorm! The freezing wind whipped falling rain sideways. It was natural and awe-inspiring in its power and certainly a blessing, he thought. With cupped hands, he drank deeply from a pool in a rocky hollow. The water relived his wounds of their dirt and dried blood. He could go on now.

  It had been a day since the rainstorm. He spent it climbing the jagged hills.

  Soon, tall pines loomed high on all sides of him. He passed through an area locked in snow and found his way through the very peaks themselves. The ice crunched under his feet. “…So much to learn,” Bladeborn said aloud.

  Down the other side of the mountains he went, continuing inland. The food he had taken from the ‘Winter Trees’ ran out. He walked into a dry desert area where the land was made of sharp ridges and sand-filled flats.

  His throat was parched, and again hunger made him dizzy with its pangs. At some point, wandering and listening to Nightslayer talk, Bladeborn fell through the lining of a pit and into an underground cavern. Bruised and bleeding, he arose and sought a way back to the surface.

  Flecks of light from the sun filled parts of the maze of interconnected underground caverns so the tunnels weren’t pitch dark. He wandered through a series of caves and crevasses, some of which were carved out of the rock by what may have been human hands.

  To his great surprise, he came across the remnant of what was a large camp. A bonfire had been there and he saw picked-clean white bones from small animals. He noted footprints in the dirt, which he could see were not exactly human.

  Bladeborn was somewhere below the surface, far south of Fortress City. He had travelled beneath the ground for miles, wandering. He was not sure which direction he had been going.

  ~~Bladeborn, you are surrounded! Awaken!~~

  Bladeborn mustered his last remaining strength, as many sets of glowing eyes came toward him on him from the shadowy recesses of the cave.

  “You, eyes all around me!” Bladeborn yelled. “Come on, then!”

  The creatures hissed, shook their short spears, and charged. By the faint light filtering into the cave, he could see they were short, dry-skinned humanoids with thin bones. They had large fangs protruding from their bizarre mouths.

  Several spears with flint points were thrown at him and hit him in the chest, but his ceramic and cloth armor saved him. The throws were accurate but could not have been fatal; whatever the creatures were, they did not seem to have enough brawn to hurl a spear well. Failing to bring down Bladeborn with by throwing spears, the group of them charged at him. At that, with a yell, Bladeborn’s eyes glazed black and he unleashed a storm of lightning from Nightslayer. Many of the boney humanoids died at once.

  Yet other tribesmen advanced, brandishing their spears. For the first time, he tapped into a powerful energy wave accessed from pure Essence. The new power stunned another dozen of the creatures at once. The rest quickly retreated.

  The threat was over, and Bladeborn’s eyes returned to their normal color. Exhaustion and regret swept over him, for he had slain many of the primitive hunters. “By Saint Morth, what have I done!” he said aloud, falling to his knees with Nightslayer’s tip down.

  One of the creatures, the only one with a sword, eased forward. Surprised to hear it speak in a rudimentary form of Bladeborn’s own language but with a distinctive accent, he heard it say, “You are too strong for us, warrior. We thought that you would be easy prey, but we now see that you are a mighty hunter, indeed…”

  “So, you thought to eat me?” Bladeborn said. “I am not some wart-dog or night-cat!”

  Bladeborn saw that the leader of them was deferential. He looked at the thin-boned creature in surprise. None of them were running, nor were they attacking. “You speak our language. We will not harm you.”

  Calming further, Bladeborn realized that in his dehydrated state, he had fought like a madman. �
�I did not mean to kill your friends. But you attacked me...”

  “It was our transgression,” the sword-bearing leader said. “They will be mourned in our way. Please, have mercy on us and kill us no more.”

  “Who are you?” Bladeborn asked.

  “We are the Drommu. We once lived above ground by Fortress City and farmed the land. A terrible war drove us away from our homes long ago. Now we live here in the under-land.”

  “My name is Bladeborn. I am from Fortress City. Do you have any water?”

  * * *

  Bladeborn found the Drommu to be surprisingly respectful. He had killed six of them with Nightslayer’s lightning and with his psychic trick stunned twice that many, yet they seemed to be forgiving of it. For some reason, they accepted such things easily.

  The Drommu Bladeborn stunned with his new psychic power quickly got better. Wondering at the new form of Essence manifesting in him, it seemed he had found more of what Onar said was dormant within.

  That evening, drinking spring water and eating cooked rodents with the tribe, he felt the psychic force building up again in his mind. He would be ready if the tribe tried to double-cross him, but he felt that was very unlikely.

  It became obvious to Bladeborn that they were afraid of making him angry. He talked to them and tried to tell them his story.

  “I have walked here from Fortress City. I am the only one who managed to escape a battle within its walls.”

  “Then it is more than ghosts?” the Drommu leader asked. “The wise men say it is empty but for the dead.”

  “I hate to tell you different, but there were thousands of people like me alive inside the city when I left.”

  The tribal leader nodded. Bladeborn wasn’t sure if the Drommu believed him.

  Nightslayer remained vigilant while Bladeborn slept.

  ~~These Drommu are primitives from a time long before Eshumé. When the Rhinolon and their devils first rained hellfire on their land thousands of years ago, some poor creatures survived. Eshumé did not care for their company ~~

  “They seem hospitable enough to me,” Bladeborn thought.

  ~~You will see…Most of them are overly passive~~

  Bladeborn’s strength had been severely compromised by lack of food and water, but it returned slowly as he ate, drank, and rested. He healed his infected and sun-blistered body using meditation, magic from the scabbard foci, and his own Essence-based power.

  The caverns frequented by the Drommu were like a hive, oddly reminiscent of Fortress City’s interior. The Sword talked less when the Drommu were around, but it still communicated with him.

  ~~Your new mental ability which you used to stun these Drommu warriors will grow over time, Bladeborn~~

  “How does this psychic trick work, Nightslayer?” Bladeborn asked the Sword. “How was I able to make the Drommu hunters stop attacking?”

  ~~The psychic powers you have are weak now, but they will become stronger if you use them often. The scabbard you carry is an ideal focus for the healing talents you naturally have—the innate power of your mind lets you heal yourself or others. The attack ability is extremely rare. Nurture it and it will one day it will become a weapon of magnificent destruction~~

  * * *

  Bladeborn began learning the ways that the Drommu used to survive in the Blasted Plain. In the Northern reach of the desert it was hot above ground most of the day. Going to the surface from the caves in the hot sun for more than a short time was dangerous. At night, it was well below freezing on the surface. There were only a few hours they could emerge to hunt, so they mostly stayed underground, huddled beneath crude blankets of animal hide around small fires.

  Most of the larger Drommu camps had Shaman, but Bladeborn was uncertain about their functions. They would mix food sometimes but mostly they avoided him. Bladeborn concluded that the Drommu Shaman didn’t trust him.

  Food the Drommu ate was unlike any Bladeborn had before. He could only stomach it roasted. The tribe had many hunters and trappers. They used flint and bronze tools. He would learn the tribes knew nothing of metallurgy.

  Over time, Bladeborn travelled southward where the hunting was better, passing from tribe to tribe. He got used to eating the rodents and small animals Drommu hunters so prized. The Drommu were stationary and territorial creatures but some of the tribes interacted. They seldom warred among themselves.

  Dried thorn bushes with thick stalks, harvested at dawn or dusk, were burned for cooking and warmth. The Drommu gathered together around fires at night to tell stories of hunting. At first, Bladeborn felt unaccustomed to their society, but he felt no prejudice; he was grateful that they were not judging him. Slowly, he gained the skills of a hunter and learned ways to survive in the Blasted Plain.

  The Drommu were frightened and fascinated by Bladeborn’s simple magic—like starting a fire with a snap of the fingers. Around fires at night Bladeborn would amaze the Drommu with small lightshows and tricks he learned from Thustral, illusions using basic Essence. Bladeborn’s displays of magic seemed to annoy the tribal Shamans so much that he finally stopped.

  ~~Use my lightning power only in the direst emergency. The Drommu would not understand it~~

  “I see what you mean, Nightslayer,” Bladeborn thought to the Sword. “This tribe’s Shaman hasn’t stopped glowering at me since I showed them the sparking finger trick.”

  ~~People often fear what they do not understand. These simple tribesmen are especially afraid of the mysteries of magic. Do not tempt fate by using your Essence-based powers unless there is genuine need~~

  The Drommu wondered how Bladeborn could resist the cold of night without furs. When he told them about the blue-gemmed magic ring that protected him from the cold of night, many of them feared him even more.

  Sometimes, several tribes got together for mad celebrations around giant bonfires to roast their larger kills. Animals the Drommu hunted got bigger as Bladeborn worked his way farther south. He began to see night-cat, wart-dog, and other larger animals, which the Drommu trapped, skinned, and cooked.

  After a year of hunting with the Drommu, Bladeborn was skilled with the short bow and spear. He carried Nightslayer in his hand whenever he could, because if he didn’t, the Sword’s power to speak in his mind was reduced. While he was alone, the Sword taught him the basics of the Dwarven and Elven languages along with what it knew of desert survival. From the Drommu he learned how to recognize common plants, edible or otherwise. However, some things he simply had to experience, like tracking an animal to the kill and preparing a carcass before eating it. His knowledge of the world increased, and his respect for the Drommu, who could live with practically nothing, grew.

  One night that followed a successful hunt, Bladeborn sat with an unusually talkative tribal leader. The leader said, “You are like the humans who dwell past the Raider Marches, in the mountainous regions to the south. These ‘people of the Six Valleys’ live very near the dreaded Rhinolon Empire. You are more like them than you are like the Drommu.”

  “Do you know how they live so close to where the Rhinolon are?” Bladeborn asked.

  The Drommu leader said. “The Six Valleys are in the deep reaches of the Spiral Mountains, and the people there live in caverns. They do not trust the Drommu, and they will not live near us, in the Blasted Plain. The snow and storms cut them off from the rest of the world, and they have powerful magic that helps to hide them. They once had a mighty kingdom, but no longer” the leader said.

  “If they have magic to hide them, why don’t they prosper?” Bladeborn asked.

  “Who knows?” the Drommu leader replied simply. It seemed he had told Bladeborn all he knew. It seemed the tribal leader he spoke with was well informed, to a point.

  Bladeborn, eager to learn more, said, “I have heard there are Dwarves in the Spiral Mountains as well. I would like to meet them, and these humans.”

  “The Dwarves are far to the east,” the Drommu leader said. “They never venture out of their secret domain
.”

  “But do you know—are there many Dwarves still in the world?” Bladeborn inquired. “I mean, have you seen one?”

  The leader said simply, “These humans and the Dwarves are very far away. They both make their homes in the Spiral Mountains. Drommu will not go there.”

  Bladeborn asked the Sword, “Nightslayer, are these Drommu all that is left in the world?”

  ~~I cannot help you to find these humans or Dwarves Bladeborn. It is something you must do on your own. And you will, soon~~

  Bladeborn heard from another chief that somewhere in the extreme Northeast, there were forests that contained an Elf-Kingdom. Bladeborn considered this information carefully, for he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in the Blasted Plain with the Drommu.

  Bladeborn was restless with the Drommu. On one of his many sleepless nights, after the fire had grown dim he stared into the embers in silence. On that night, two of the tallest Drommu warriors he had ever seen came to him.

  “The witch wants to speak with you,” one of them said.

  “The witch?” Bladeborn asked, rising to his feet. “I thought your people did not have magic.”

  “She is different. Follow us,” the other tall Drommu warrior said.

  With high interest, he followed the two warriors, each carrying torches, lighting the way through deep rocky crevices, ever downward. After walking on a spiraling passage behind his Drommu guides, he realized he was farther beneath the Blasted Plain than he had yet been. He was guided to a side-ways cave hidden behind a large outcropping of rock.

  “At the end of this passage there is an ancient, underground city where the witch woman, named Visionair, awaits your presence.”

  “Who is—?” Bladeborn began to ask. Suddenly, Bladeborn found himself in utter darkness, as though the torches had simultaneously been snuffed out.