Aethir

by DeWayne Kunkel

  Behind them Casius could see more people moving within the gloom.

  The warriors stopped a few paces from the domes edge. The leader of the group stood with his arms crossed looking on them with obvious disdain.

  He was a powerful man with broad shoulders and closely cropped hair that had gone gray at the temples. “Has the second Seh’ja grown soft?” He asked their guide with obvious displeasure.

  Their guides back stiffened at the rebuke. When he spoke anger tainted his words. “Is it the place of the first Seh’ja to question the second?” He looked at the warriors behind the man barring their way. “Stand aside,” He said forcefully. “Or does Stilgart now stand in the Se’estra’s place?”

  “I am sworn to the Se’estras protection.” The warrior said menacingly. “Surely you know that outsiders are not welcomed here.”

  “Stand aside Stilgart,” A frail yet commanding voice echoed from the dais. “I have summoned them.”

  Stilgart stepped back and bowed to the seated figure. With a glance filled with fury cast towards the outsiders he waved his men aside.

  “Come forward Yoladt,” the voice beckoned softly. “Your Seh’jas service has always proven true.”

  Their guide bowed to the figure and led them forward.

  Behind the chair stood an elaborate incense burner of silver encrusted with gems. Thick smoke seeped from its many openings filling the air with a heavy floral scent that reminded Casius of jasmine.

  Twelve women knelt beside the chair; they were dressed in robes of white with sashes of red, blue, or green. They watched the group approach with keen interest.

  Yoladt ignored the attendants and fell to his knees before the throne, pressing his forehead to the cold stone. “Blessed Se’estra,” He said reverently. “You honor my Seh’ja.”

  The figure upon the throne stirred, coming to her feet slowly the Se’estra smiled in greeting. She was ancient, well past ninety years. Her hair was thin and as white as the robe that draped her emaciated frame.

  Although she was frail in appearance she carried herself with a regal bearing full of confidence and purpose. She lifted her head towards them, shocking them into silence. Two empty sockets greeted their gaze; the Se’estra was blind, born without the gift of sight.

  She placed a thin, age splotched hand on Yoladt’s head. “Rise brother Yoladt,” She said kindly. “You have honored your Seh’ja.”

  Casius’s gaze drifted among the Mahjie present beneath the dome. All but Stilgart looked upon the old woman with open adoration. There was no fear in this place; the Se’estra was revered by her people.

  Casius looked once more at Stilgart, he could see a trace of envy burning in the man’s gaze. Yes definitely envy, and perhaps a trace of loathing as well he decided after further thought.

  He returned his gaze to her time ravaged face, his anxiety eased, evaporating beneath her kindly smile.

  “Se’estra,” Yoladt said coming to his feet. “These outsiders know the hidden paths. They came to the dawn gate without misstep or delay. Only once upon the ice bridge did their knowledge seem to falter. Even then did they find the path of safety.”

  Stilgart arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Then it would appear that the hidden way is not as concealed as your Seh’ja would have us believe.”

  “Well enough to befuddle a member of your house.” Yoladt responded, his anger at the insult barely suppressed.

  “Be at peace,” the Se’estra commanded softly, cutting off any response Stilgart would give. “One of the old ones walks among them.” She said directing her vacant eye sockets directly at Marcos. “Few secrets can be kept from their sight.”

  Marcos smiled and bowed slightly in respect. “It would seem that the Se’estra’s vision is sharp indeed.”

  “One does not need eyes to know the world.” She said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I have felt the stirrings of power in the west, growing stronger through the years. Malignant and vile it stretches its dark arm farther with each passing season.”

  “You are fortunate that the Kin slayer has not taken notice of you.” Marcos said in warning. “Had he known of your existence he would have brought his might down upon your people.”

  The Se’estra nodded knowingly. “His dark eyes are always looking east. I have only risked his discovery a handful of times and would not dare do so again.” She seemed to shudder at some remembered vision. “Foul and hateful is his mind, all that he is burns brightly with seething rage.” The Se’estra shook her head sadly. “I mourn for this world old one, and all who live within it. Should he succeed in his designs then all hope is lost.”

  “I am known as Marcos,” he said taking her frail hands into his. “Named Ash’Kelon by my people. I was born long ago upon the fair vessel Ganduil. I am the last of the Warders and the sworn enemy of the dark.

  “With me stands Ravin Suni, warrior of the Anghor Shok and my sworn protector. My other companions are Connell Malkor, prince of Kesh, and Casius Rhaine from the isle of Kale.”

  The Se’estra smiled kindly and bowed as smoothly as her aged back would allow. She returned to her seat with a sigh. “Forgive me but my body has failed to remain as hale as my mind.” She said apologetically.

  “Of course,” Marcos said in understanding. “We will not tire you with meaningless pleasantries. My need is great and time is short, we have come for Aethir.”

  The space beneath the dome erupted as the assembled Mahjie reacted to Marcos’s statement.

  Stilgart shouted for silence, his face burning red with indignation. “You cannot have it!” He exclaimed.

  “Curb your tongue, Stilgart.” The Se’estra reprimanded him. “Is it your place to deny them that which is not in your power to give?”

  Stilgart shook his head in anger, “You would allow these outsiders to attempt the test?”

  The Se’estra nodded in reply. “One of them has the power to rend this very mountain from its roots.” She stated facing the angered warrior. “Even his might will not grant him the blade.

  “We will not hinder their quest,” She proclaimed in a stern voice that allowed for no argument. “Allow the Thorn to judge their worth and trust to the wisdom of the our forefather.”

  Stilgart knew he could not win and he accepted his defeat with barely controlled anger. He bowed sharply and stepped back to stand among his fellow warriors.

  “We are a dying race, Marcos.” The Se’estra said. “Two of our Seh’jas stand empty where life once flourished. Every fifty years a new seer was born to us. Bereft of eyes but gifted with the powers of far seeing and wisdom beyond their years. Within the fullness of her time she would come to lead the Mahjie and safeguard our trust.

  “I was born almost ninety two years ago, no other seer has been born to replace me. I know I am the last, and my days are drawing to an end.

  “What does this mean for my people? I do not know, my sight fails me when I seek to look beyond my life’s end.” The Se’estra rubbed her temples in weariness. “Perhaps you are meant to take the blade, if so then our purpose has been served and the Mahjie are freed of their task.”

  “We have not come to destroy your way of life.” Marcos spoke softly. “We have come to preserve the lives of all men.”

  “What is this judgment?” Casius wondered aloud.

  “It is a test of worth,” Stilgart answered with a sly grin. “None have ever proved worthy of the blade.”

  “Thoron’Gil in his wisdom, yet protects Aethir from foolish hands.” The Se’estra added from her seat.

  “Connell,” Marcos said turning to face him. “Aethir is an artifact of great power. It was forged for Thoron’Gil and attuned to him. It is possible the he knew of his impending death and placed a command upon the blade. A restriction that would prevent anyone from taking the sword.”

  “Throughout the ages none have been able to master the blade,” Stilgart said smugly. “You will fail as have all who have made the attempt.”

  Yoladt shook his
head, “Your desire for the weapon to fuel your ambitions led to your failure Stilgart.”

  Stilgart’s face flushed with anger but any response he would make was cut short by an outburst from the Se’estra.

  “Enough!” She commanded sternly. “Stilgart, Yoladt, your hostility is a stain upon the honor of your houses.”

  The warriors flinched at her harshly spoken words. They both hung their heads and stepped back from the throne in supplication.

  “Who among you shall go first?” The Se’estra asked Marcos.

  “I cannot safely touch the weapon,” Marcos answered. “And the Anghor Shok will not betray his vow.”

  The Se’estra nodded in understanding. She turned her eyeless face towards Connell and Casius. “Then only two remain.” She said solemnly. “Who shall it be then?”

  Without hesitation Connell stepped forward. “I will,” He said confidently. “This burden falls upon me.”

  “Very well,” She said coming to her feet. “I will show you the path to the resting place of the father.”

  Connell gave Casius a reassuring wink as he followed the Se’estra around the dais towards the back of the pyramid.

  His companions started forward and were stopped by the assembled Mahjie stepping before them.

  “The one being tested must walk alone.” Yoladt explained. “Pass or fail your companion will return unharmed.”

  Connell followed the Se’estra across the shadow of the dome. Behind them the white robed attendants followed chanting softly.

  “Be true seeker, let the father’s wisdom judge you and prove your worth.”

  The Se’estra came to the top of a narrow stair leading down the back of the pyramid. She stepped aside and motioned downward. “The way stands before you,” She said urging him onward. “Stay on the path and all will be well.”

  Connell spared his friends one last look and descended the steep steps briskly.

  The Se’estra returned to her seat and sat down wearily. “All there is left for us to do is to await his return.”

  “How long?” Casius asked.

  “Two or three hours at most.” She motioned for her attendants to come close. “Only rarely does it last any longer.” She clapped her hands. “Food and drink will be brought.” She announced sending her attendants on their way. “Your journey has been both long and dangerous and it has left its mark upon you.”

  The attendants returned quickly, bearing trays of steaming mutton and fish, bowls of thick stew and platters of pale cheese and bread.

  Casius stuffed himself, the meal was a feast compared to what he had eaten of late. His concern for Connell continued to gnaw at him and as it grew his appetite diminished.

  Marcos ate sparingly. Listening intently as the Se’estra told him of the history of the Mahjie and how their city had come to be.

  Casius listened as well and learned much about these stoic people. What he heard explained why the Morne gave these mountains such a wide berth.

  The Mahjie guarded the mountains and no Morne has ever ventured into them and survived. Even the noble Rukash patrolled the crags and nothing evades their sharp eyes and razor edged talons. Many a Morne has been plucked from his saddle and dropped down upon the heads of his kin. The tales quickly spread among the reptiles of great dark spirits of the air that haunt the snowy crags.

  Casius grew weary, the spiced wine and warm food tempting him with sleep. He began pacing about the throne fighting to stay awake. As he passed behind the dais he came face to face with Connell.

  Connell’s shoulders were slumped and his hands were held in tightly clenched fists. He looked at Casius and in a voice filled with sorrow he spoke.

  “I have failed Casius, and the world is damned because of it.”

  So ends Aethir.

  Book two in the Chronicles of the Dark Sword.

  The Saga concludes in Blackthorn’s Doom.

  Glossary

  A

  Aenos: Small city south of Graystone in Lakarra.

  Aderis Rendir: Hero of lost Thelikor, slayer of the serpent Ysrex.

  Ahalm Iban: Herald of the Sahri.

  Ahmed: Nomads of the Gaul-Tyrian waste.

  Ahmed Kai: Nomadic name for the Gaul-Tyrian waste.

  Aethir: Greatest of the four swords forged by Ma’Rail also known as Blackthorn. Wielded by Thoron’Gil, lost following the breaking.

  Aikinor: Ancient god of the sea, patron deity of the Cytheran Raiders.

  Aithas: Warrior of the Mahjie.

  Alagond: Storm biter, sword forged by Ma’Rail. Carried into battle by Caen, Captain of the armies of man.

  Alcedoria: Island nation north of Ao'dan.

  Amberoth: City in the land of Morne.

  Ameldor Plain: Low lands in Kesh surrounding Red spire.

  Amil Gallas: Rock of the south watch, southern entry into the land of the Mahjie.

  Amothteir: Bell that is rung in Red Spire to welcome home a returning hero.

  Amthur: Evil King who once ruled Kesh.

  Anatha Di: Area of sand within the Gaul Tyrian waste that pulls anything that walks upon it down into the earth.

  Anthail: Warrior of the Mahjie.

  Anghor: Mountainous kingdom of fabled warriors. Its exact location a closely guarded secret, it lies west of the Gaul-Tyrian wastes.

  Anghor Shok: Warrior from Anghor, sworn guardians of the Tal’shear warders.

  Ansell: Village on the coast of Lakarra near the Copper hills.

  Ao'dan: Nation on eastern edge of continent.

  Arkett: Guardian of Amberoth’s well.

  Armon’oth: Bells of the Mahjie forged to herald the selection of the sword bearer.

  Arn: Island lying between Kale and Cythera.

  Ash’Kelon: Marcos’s real name among the Tal’shear.

  Asua Tuell: Mother of all trees, lies within the heart of the Nallen Forest.

  Aytor, Stone of: Artifact given to the Kings of man by the Tal’shear. It has the power to reveal all falsehoods with its light.

  B

  Balar: Younger brother of Burcott Fullvie

  Balhain: Servants of Sur’kar, Tal’shear warders enslaved by his power.

  Baln Longwyrm: Lord of Kale and Founder of New Hope.

  Bal’Trae Hills: Low group of hills rising above the fork where the Evtor Wash and the Songart River meet.

  Bel’Lendil: North wind, sword forged by Ma’Rail. Carried into battle by Ce’Loth, Warrior of the Tal’shear.

  Bel’Vir: General who slew king Amthur.

  Bjorn Ironfist: Lord of Cythera also known as the Raider king.

  Blackthorn: Sword also known as Aethir.

  Blackwatch: Mountain range forming the eastern barrier to Tarok nor.

  Black Trumpet: Flower from which a powerful narcotic is made.

  Braelin Wood: Forest bordering the fields near Graystone.

  Bri’Amor: Lake to the west of Rodderdam.

  Brymir: Scarcely populated land east of Trondhiem.

  Burcott Fullvie: Veteran warrior of Trondhiem and lord of the largest house in the Landsmarch.

  C

  Cal’Arev: Hill upon which the city of Rodderdam was built.

  Caleph: Small area of land on Lakarra’s western coast.

  Carec Mountains: Chain of mountains that run west from the Copper hills forming the northern wall of the Varsus valley. Also known as the Carec mounds.

  Calriss: Warrior of the Mahjie.

  Carich: Fortress that wards the Tro’marg pass leading into Brymir.

  Carl Dunburrow: Farmer who lives near Ansell.

  Carthos: Sparsely populated land south of Trondhiem on the shores of the Southern Sea.

  C’arl Finnerson: Keeper of the bridge across the Koran.

  Casius Rhaine: Son of Urold Rhaine ship thane of Kale.

  Cewyn Rhaine: Mother of Casius, Urold’s Wife.

  Chaobol: Legendary land in the far west, reputed to be the home of Warlocks.

  Cias: Stone Mason of Carich Keep.

>   Connell Malkor: Prince and heir to the throne of Kesh. Superb swordsman unsurpassed by even his legendary father. Known as the eagle, for a brand he gave himself as a child.

  Creators hammer: large asteroid that nearly destroyed Sur’kar during the war of the breaking.

  Copper hills: chain of low mountains on the eastern coast of Lakarra. Named for the rich veins of copper found there.

  Cyndra: Capital of Lakarra, located on the north east coast.

  Cythera: Island, home of the Raiders. A nation ruled by Ruthless cutthroats. They patrol the seas ransacking coastal villages and merchant ships.

  D

  Dal’Entor: Fields south of the town of Tor on the edge of the Nallen wood.

  Darkling Sea: The void between worlds, space.

  Darkwater River: River that flows out of the copper hills into the sea, water is dark with sediments from the Mountains.

  Dar’lea: Death’s blooms, small golden flowers that grow only in Trondhiem. They can only be found on the graves of the honored dead.

  Delin’ Tor hills: Heavily forested outcrop of the Rahlcrag Mountains laying to the south of Timosh.

  Demilion: Statue before the entry into Red Spire.

  Dragord: King of Ril’Gambor.

  Dulrich: Cytheran Raider, member of G’relg’s crew.

  D’Yana: Man hunter and consort of Connell, Nicknamed Dy by him.

  E

  Easterling Marsh: Swamp that lies between Trondhiem and Carthos, fed by the Waters of the Evtor Wash River.

  Edwall: Son of Lord Eyahn of Whiten.

  Elain: Wife of Gayn.

  Elkrun: City on the shores of the Darkwater River.

  El’radrien: Sacred hill in the center of the isle of Eol.

  Elrendil: Queen of Kesh, Mother of Connell.

  Enchanter: Human who wields the Phay’ge.