Bladeborn

by Clayton Schonberger

  “Quite the opposite, I assure you,” Spe said. “Weather like this chills me to the bone, and freezes my blood.”

  “Why don’t you come inside the tent?” Bladeborn asked the dragon. “At least it is a cover against the wind and snow.”

  “You thin-skinned humans do such things!” Spe said, slightly offended by Bladeborn’s offer. “Inside a tent is no place for a noble dragon!”

  Bladeborn was truly impressed with the quality of his new armor, which seemed incredibly solid, even after the battle with the Avatar of Light. The forearm hit by the blow of the Avatar of Light’s sword indeed bore the mark of the unique weapon that had hit it. Otherwise, the Dwarven-formed adamantium was showing no signs of wear, despite the often-damp weather. Steel armor had to be polished, but the elements did not cause his current suit to rust.

  The Elvin shield pulled from the sack to replace Bladeborn’s broken one seemed of better quality than the one made by the Dwarven Forge-Master. He regretted that the Dwarven shield had failed him, but he knew that the Avatar of Light was just short of being immortal, and Spe had warned him that the Forge Foreman’s work was second-rate. They were lucky to have survived the battle at all.

  While flying North, Nightslayer taught the finer points of the Elvin language to Bladeborn. The Dragon caught him mouthing the words a few times.

  “I am going to ask you a question,” Spe said on such an occasion. “Are you…. are you talking to that weapon?”

  “Yes, Spe,” Bladeborn said. “The Sword communicates to me through thought.”

  “That’s not so amazing.” Spe claimed. “There are lots of such swords…I guessed as much. Back in the Dwarven halls, I thought I heard King Rosen say ‘…ask your sword…’ a few times.”

  “There are no Swords like Nightslayer, dragon.” Bladeborn assured his companion. “Nightslayer is unique.”

  Casting a sidelong glance at Bladeborn, Spe looked as though he doubted that Nightslayer was unique, but the dragon didn’t comment further.

  Spe slept a lot, and while he did, Bladeborn practiced psychic, Essence-based powers. Bladeborn knew the Avatar of Light was just shy of being immortal, but his near-defeat by it pained him, particularly when he thought of the complete dominance the Avatar had over his willpower.

  “How do I increase my Essence, Nightslayer?” Bladeborn finally asked the Sword.

  ~~There is no way except to live a long life. Someday, your Essence will begin to fail you…but that won’t happen for many years~~

  He turned himself into the form of a Hawk, and flew around for a few seconds. He also combined two powers, using an increase in size, changing into shape resembling a Rhinolon. He could only hold the form briefly.

  He thanked the gods that four months ago he had been able to become a small hawk long enough to fool the dragon. It had given him the advantage of the first strike in his battle with Spe, the key to the dragon’s defeat. Spe was a very useful ally, and was turning out to be more than that—almost like a friend.

  During his transformations, Bladeborn’s armor and weapons, including Nightslayer, would alter form as well. In addition to all of this, he practiced longer dimension shifts. However, each time he tried to grab something useful out of the dimension of “divine fate,” the “room that was not a room” failed to appear.

  Setting out one spring morning, they finally came down from the wintery peaks into a lush valley of green oaks and long, wild grass. They spotted a lone mountain, which appeared to be an extinct volcanic caldera. Bladeborn pointed at the mountain and said, “Take us there, Spe, and we will divide the treasure.”

  “As you wish,” Spe said, flying in the direction of the mountain.

  Reaching the high, dormant crater, they rested and made a semi-permanent camp. Spe agreed the spot was secluded enough to divide up the treasure. They began emptying the sack of endless space, realizing it would take hours to do so. Since they could not simply “dump the bag out” they had to remove most things one at a time.

  They started early that morning, and by late afternoon that day they felt the sack was still brimming with objects.

  “It still feels full!” Spe exclaimed, as he held the sack in his clawed hand, standing at the top of a giant mound of coins and precious housewares.

  Bladeborn responded enthusiastically, “It will take us more than a day just to get what we have here back in there!”

  “Look, Bladeborn! Here’s another sack, just like yours!” Spe exclaimed, pulling his clawed hand out.

  “A sack within a sack!” Bladeborn said, amazed. “That one will be for your half of the treasure!” They now had two of the endless space sacks, and it seemed their task of emptying them was far from complete.

  They spent another hour going through the items, and Spe, the size of a large rock-cat, decided, “In the future, I will keep the sack safely tucked away inside the scar you made when you punctured my breast with your sword. My thickest scale was cut in half by you. It will take years to grow over, just like my horn will need time to return to its full glory. Until then, this scar will be a good place to hide the sack while moving and fighting.”

  Bladeborn asked, “You are certain that it will be safe?”

  “No,” The dragon responded. “But I have lost this much treasure before at various points in my lifetime. I am immortal, and such things as wealth come and go. I have gotten used to it.”

  They spent days going through the treasure. It was the bounty of an entire culture, and more—it was much of what the dragon had gathered during his recent centuries of life.

  As the sun sank low on the third day, Spe said, “I collected a lot more over the last few years than I thought. Bladeborn, half of this is yours.”

  Bladeborn was standing in the shadows beneath the lip of the mountainside where they had stacked the most precious-looking items. By the light of various glow-globes they had taken from the sack the treasures glistened. “Spe, this will buy my people a homeland when we reach the human-controlled Kingdoms on the yellow-sun side of the world.”

  “I don’t care what you do with it,” Spe said, flicking his paw in the air nonchalantly. “But it is certainly enough to buy a Kingdom. I never had a plan for what I would do with all my possessions.”

  “So why did you gather all of this?” Bladeborn asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Spe replied. “Greed. I don’t know. But sharing it with you seems appropriate. You, Bladeborn, are an uncommon man, perhaps not a man at all. I like that.”

  Bladeborn bowed a bit and said, “I’ll take what you said as a compliment. Thank you, Spe.”

  The dragon was holding up various fine swords showing them to Bladeborn as if to tempt him. Yet, the bond between Bladeborn and Nightslayer was permanent. There were some ancient Elvin weapons, such as Albino swords and obviously magical weapons like Supreme Captain Grus’s flail. Bladeborn gave none of them a more than a moment’s glance.

  Of the seven magic platters, they agreed to take three each. They gambled for the last and Spe won.

  “Looks like I am luckier than you are this time, Bladeborn,”

  “Good game, Dragon,” Bladeborn said, smiling. “Now let’s eat. Looking at these magic platters has made me hungry.”

  Over the following two days they put almost all their treasures in the sacks once more, having distributed them fairly.

  The following morning, Bladeborn and Spe were taking a break from their division of treasures when there was a shimmering in the center of the crater.

  “What is that?” Bladeborn asked, pointing to it.

  Spe began to grow large very quickly, “THIEVES!” the dragon shouted.

  A loud, concussive “BANG!” resounded in the center of the crater. Appearing out of a cloud of white smoke was a group of tall Elvin Lords in full armor, with a pikes and other weapons ready. Behind them were several old-looking Elves in robes. The leader of the armored Elvin warriors stepped forward, held his hand up, and said “Parlay!” even as the group of
them began to spread out behind the warrior.

  Bladeborn picked up the Elvish shield, took Nightslayer from its sheathe, and said, “You come to us with a war party?”

  “We come in peace!” the warrior Elf called, in a heavily accented human tongue. Bladeborn and Spe looked at each other, unsure.

  “They claim to come in peace, Spe…” Bladeborn translated.

  “I will not allow them to take what is mine, Bladeborn,” Spe said, a tinge of anger in his voice. “I will fight them to the death if needs be.”

  Trying to calm the dragon, Bladeborn said, “Let’s see why they are here.”

  Turning to the Elves, Bladeborn called to them in the Elvin Language, “What do you want?”

  The Elf Lord, responded in Elvin, “You speak our language well for a human. The question is, what do you want? Why did you bring this ancient treasure to Elf-Land?”

  “Are you an honorable people?” Bladeborn asked.

  “We Elves are the most honorable people in the world,” one of the old Elf Mages declared.

  “And do you speak for your people?” Bladeborn asked.

  The old Elf Mage said, “Human warrior, for the last ninety-six years, the Elves on the red sun side of Draconia have been unified. I do speak for them. I am their leader of the red sun Elves of the North, Mahjulah…”

  “Good to meet you,” Bladeborn responded, uncertain what to think. “Half of this treasure belongs to the Dragon. The other half is mine. But you may have something I can use. I am told that, long ago, a set of magic maps were traded to the Elves of Foresti by a Dwarven King living in the Spiral Mountains. I am willing to bargain of my treasures, if you return those maps to me. I have made a deal with the current Dwaven King, and those maps are an essential part of it.”

  The Elves took a moment to consider Bladeborn’s deal, conferring in whispers among themselves, while the warrior-Elves kept eyes on Bladeborn and Spe.

  “Just give me the signal, Bladeborn, and I’ll rip them apart!” Spe said, in the dragon language.

  “Don’t even think about it, Spe!” Bladeborn ordered. “I need those maps, and one of them claims to be the Elvin Leader!”

  Spe eased a bit, but stayed at the ready.

  The Elves had finished conferring and came to some sort of decision. The one named Mahjulah spoke again, “Although we appreciate your offer, we want only a small portion of the treasure, one that will be of little use to you. We seek the Five Wards, and we understand that you have them.”

  “So, you aren’t here to take our treasures?” Bladeborn asked.

  “Just the Five Wards,” Mahjulah said.

  “Then we have a truce, for we did not come to fight,” Bladeborn said. “I have what you want—let us work out a trade that suits us all.”

  “I can tell that there will be no battle here today,” Spe said, disappointed. “Bladeborn, you have an unfortunate habit of keeping out of fights. Still, our treasures appear safe!”

  Mahjulah said, “Returning the Five Wards to us will make you a friend of all my people. We have been searching closely for them since Arlen, Lord of the Afterlife, alerted us that they would soon be returned.

  “In a dream, it was foretold that the sacred Wards would soon be returned to us, sixty-seven years after they were lost.”

  Bladeborn said. “It is my honor to return them to their proper owners. But I wish to have the Dwarven Maps in return.”

  “I see that you hesitate…” Mahjulah said. “I promise you: if you return them to us, we shall willingly part with the Dwarven maps. My assistant tells me that they are intact, kept for many years in a secret location at the Great Tree which we call home.”

  ~~Trust this Elf, Bladeborn! He IS the Elf King!~~

  With a bit of nervous energy, Bladeborn carefully took the Five Wards from the small pouch in his belt where he had kept them safe.

  “My name is Bladeborn,” and with that said, he placed the Five Wards in the hands of Mahjulah.

  Mahjulah smiled, and said, “The entire Elvin nation will rejoice at this; for all of us, I thank you. In addition, Bladeborn, I invite you and your dragon companion to our home-camp on the Lake of Pristine Waters where the Great Tree stands. We would like to better know the one who has returned our Five Wards to us.”

  “Spe, they have invited us to their home,” Bladeborn said to the dragon in his language. “Would you like to go?”

  “I don’t want to go…” Spe whispered. “There will be no battle there…it will be noisy… I’ll just be frustrated.”

  “One moment, good King Mahjulah,” Bladeborn said to the Elf Mage. Bladeborn addressed Spe again, “So, what do you propose?”

  “You take one of the sacks, with half of the treasure,” the dragon suggested. “It seems these Elves can ‘teleport’ pretty well… so you go back to Elfland with them, get your business done, and I will await your return here… Then, we can fly back to the Dwarves, if you still feel like it, or we’ll go our separate ways. Just promise me you’ll come back to meet with me again.”

  “All right, Spe,” Bladeborn agreed. “You don’t have to come with me. I will come back as soon as I can.”

  “If these Elves harm you, Bladeborn, NOTHING will stop me from exacting revenge upon them. Come back within the month, so I know you are alright…”

  “I will close my business much sooner than that,” Bladeborn claimed. “And I am sure I will be all right.”

  They began to put the last of the treasures back into the sacks of endless space. They had not bickered over any of the items, only dividing them as best they could.

  Spe said, “Are you certain that you can trust these Elves?”

  “I spoke with their King, the old one in the green robes. Nightslayer has said to trust him.”

  Spe replied, “Are you certain you can trust that Sword of yours, Bladeborn?”

  Bladeborn ignored the dragon’s question, and Spe knew not to ask again.

  As Bladeborn and Spe hurried to put the last of the items into the sack, one of the other older Elves in robes approached them and said, “Do not take less time in your task than you deem necessary. Although we desire to return the Five Wards to our homes as soon as possible, King Mahjulah has declared that we have waited sixty-seven years, and another day will not be a difficulty.”

  “Why, if I may ask, are the Five Wards so important?” Bladeborn inquired. “Is it more than their control of the magic which drives the flying pyramid?”

  “It is not my place to say, warrior” the old Elf said politely.

  Mid-afternoon that day, the last of the treasures were divided and stowed. Bladeborn said to Mahjulah, “I am ready to be taken to Elfland with you.”

  One of the robed figures who had come with Mahjulah withdrew from his sleeve carefully inscribed teleportation scrolls and read them aloud. Upon uttering the last syllable of the phrase inscribed upon it, Bladeborn and all the Elves were transported from the crater to the center of Elf-camp, many miles farther North. As agreed, the dragon had been left behind.

  They stood beneath the boughs of the largest tree Bladeborn had ever seen. It was so large that hundreds of Elves lived inside it and among the leaves and branches high above the lake beside which it grew.

  “This is the Mother-tree,” Mahjulah said reverently. “Seven lifetimes ago, the Rhinolon forced us to leave the city known as the Necropolis, the place where we our sacred dead were kept at rest. We searched for a safer place, until this tree spoke to our ancestors and led them to it. It is the only one of its kind on Draconia. The trail across the Great Waste was a treacherous one, but upon our arrival here, the Mother-tree provided us with its fruit and allowed us to make a home inside it. From its seeds, we planted many other trees, the ones you see about you now. When the trees allow us to, we make our boats and ships from them. We also make our bows and our tent-poles from them.”

  Bladeborn didn’t fully understand what Mahjulah spoke of, but he would begin to in days to come. The Elves of the red s
un lived harmoniously with nature and it seemed that they cared for all things living like no other race Bladeborn had encountered.

  Bladeborn was given a room within the tree. He relaxed somewhat, for the hospitality shown him was generous. The sumptuous and ingeniously appointed room was situated in the hollow of one of the massive branches on the Mother-tree. A male Elf, assigned to wait on Bladeborn’s needs, said, “You must be very tired from your journey. Mahjulah himself asked that you be given anything you wish to eat, and be allowed to rest. Tomorrow at noon, there is to be a jubilee to celebrate the return of the Five Wards and the fulfilling of the vision from Arlen. Mahjulah has also said that you bear relics from the Elvin Pyramid. He has suggested that there may be things you cannot find a use for. He is willing to bargain with you for them and give you what would be a fair price.”

  Early the next morning Bladeborn met an Elf he would be working closely with.

  “Hello, good Bladeborn, my name is Vingral,” the tall Elf said. “I am Mahjulah’s nephew, and it is I who has been assigned to help you sort through whatever treasures of the Pyramid you plan to repatriate to our people. It was but a month ago that our Wizards could locate the Pyramid, after half a century of waiting. We had planned to travel to the Pyramid’s current location soon, but our chief priest fortuitously delayed the expedition. As we now know, things have worked out ideally.”

  Bladeborn said to Vingral, “You and your people could try to retrieve the Pyramid from its location with the wards, right?”

  “I fear that would take a lot of effort,” Vingral said, “for I am told that the volcano near it is active. Even damaged as it is, the city’s value makes it worth risking almost anything to try. Mahjulah has used his ‘device of remote seeing’ to view it. Now, there is no way for us to free it from the lava, or so our Elf King has said.”

  They talked more over breakfast and got to know each other a bit. Eventually Bladeborn said, “So these items… let us see what they are.” He began removing them from the sack.

  “Many of them were intended for our kingdom in the first place. They were being shuttled from the capital of Foresti to our land when the Pyramid was lost sixty years ago,” Vingral said.