by Steven Drake
“Something’s happened,” she said, not bothering to sit down. “Grandfather told me to come get you. They want to talk to you.”
“Um, what…” Jerris began to speak but Nia had already grabbed his arm and started pulling him along. They headed out of the door and along several wide streets up to the Halls of Judgement, the largest building in the city. Once inside, she finally let him go. “What’s happened? Did you finally get the Archmage to meet with me?” he finally managed to ask.
“Grandfather said that they’re having a council, and they want to talk to you. I’m sorry that’s all he told me,” Nia said apologetically.
This building seemed completely different than the more public buildings of the city. The halls were narrow, and the walls were stark white, unadorned, without windows. It felt stifling, like being inside a cave. Nia led him through the confusing series of near identical hallways. Within a few turns, he had lost all sense of where he was and how to escape should the need arise. Perhaps they had built the building this way on purpose. They climbed a dim spiraling staircase several floors up, then Nia turned down a slightly wider hallway to a set of heavy oak double doors where two large men stood guard.
“This is Jerris, the one they asked for,” she said, and the man on the right nodded and opened a door.
They went into a room with a number of colorful tapestries on the wall, and a dozen men and women sitting at a long rectangular table. Nielas stood in the far corner, and nodded to Jerris as they entered. So this is where he was. One of the men at the table, a thin, scholarly looking man with gray hair streaked with light brown, addressed them. “Thank you Niarie. I take it this is the elf you told me about.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Niarie, what have I told you? In formal settings, you should address me as Archmage.”
“Oh, yes I remember. Sorry Grandfa…er…Archmage.” A few scattered chuckles followed, prompting Nia to squirm and look away.
“Very well. Please sit down.” Jerris sat down and Nia started to leave, but was interrupted. “You too Nia. We may have questions.” Jerris sat down at the table, followed by a reluctant Nia, and the Archmage addressed the young half-elf. “Your name is Jerris, I am told.”
“Yes, sir. I am Jerris Tolmirran, from the city of Kadanar.” There were incredulous looks on several of the faces.
“Niarie has told me you are the crown prince of Kadanar.”
“Oh, er, yes sir. I’m the heir to a kingdom from a long time ago, but I’m not really a ruler. I might be someday, but not right now.” Jerris had somewhat embellished his importance, hoping to impress Nia, but now, confronted with a table of stern looking men and women, very much regretted it. Several of the men looked rather doubtfully between themselves.
A frail, bent spectacled man sat at the head of the table. The dark circles beneath his eyes suggested he had slept too little lately. He rubbed his forehead and spoke. “Alright then, young man. My name is Edoard Maximilian Anor, and I am the Grandmaster of the Order of the Golden Shield. You journeyed here with Darien the Executioner. You were present when he was arrested. You know him?” Jerris nodded meekly under the piercing gaze of the elderly man. “I will be plain. This council is charged with deciding Darien’s fate. Before we do this, we would like to hear what you have to say. We have, of course, interrogated him, but he has been less than forthcoming about his whereabouts these past several years. He seems more than willing to divulge every secret he can remember about the Demon King and the Order of the Shade, but he refuses flatly to speak about you and the elves at all. We find this quite suspicious, and we hope that perhaps you will explain what he has not.”
“I… can’t tell you where Kadanar is. I am sworn to secrecy, and even if I weren’t, I could not betray the safe haven of my people.”
“We do not expect you to break any vows of secrecy, and we have no wish for a quarrel with the elves. All enemies of the Demon King are our friends. Sir Eldrick, Niarie’s grandfather, has told me you told her quite a story. We would like to hear it from you.”
Jerris took a deep breath, and began telling the gathered men and women everything he had told Nia, without the embellishments, rather wishing she were not sitting beside him. The council members listened intently, nodding here and there as he spoke, stopping to ask the odd question. When, at last, he’d finished, he leaned back in his chair, exhausted, and hoping they wouldn’t ask anything else.
“Well, what is your opinion, Grand Inquisitor Barris?” The old man addressed a stern looking middle-aged woman with dark brown hair, worn in a tall and complicated looking bun. She wore and immaculate white robes and several pieces of showy jewelry. She sat arrow straight, with practiced poise and obvious confidence. It seemed clear even to Jerris that her opinion was the most important in the room.
“He shows no sign of deception,” she replied as she drummed her fingers on the table. “I detect no trace of spell or enchantment. He possesses uncommon natural magical talent. I doubt even the Executioner would be able to influence him to any significant degree.” Jerris smiled. The woman could not realize how right she had been
“And you, Antonius?” the Grandmaster asked.
A large bearded man wearing silver armor spoke. “I believe he is telling the truth. The avalanche at Galad, the siege of Mandala fortress, the appearance of Alistair the Abyss in Vorog, my sources have informed me that all of it was part of a plan to encircle and trap the traitor Darien. His story is perfectly consistent with our information, including the location of Avirosa’s body, and the site of the battle. Our searchers found evidence of a battle and traces of powerful magic in the canyon in question, and what they believed to be the remains of Avirosa the Wraith nearby. Faerie magic would explain why our searchers could never fully investigate the river cavern.”
A younger looking man sitting next to him spoke next. “He claims to know Tobin Tostag. We can test that part of his story easily enough.”
“Yes, Traiz, I thought of that as well. I’ll send for him” the Grandmaster agreed, then turned to a small mole-ish looking man seated to his right, and whispered something that prompted the man to trot quickly out the door. Jerris was confused by this, wondering what they meant. The old dwarf that he had met in Vorog seemed far too old to be traveling. The Grandmaster adjusted his spectacles thoughtfully and spoke. “Alright, thank you for your information, young man, you may go.”
“Wait,” Jerris cried. “I’m not going. You can’t execute Darien. He’s not your enemy. If he dies, it could make the Demon King more powerful. There are things about the sword you don’t understand.”
“Actually, we’re well aware of the situation,” the cool voice of Traiz interrupted. “Your presence is no longer required. You have been asked to leave, so go.”
“Come on, Jerris.” Nia had gotten up and was pulling on his arm.
Panic suddenly struck him as he tried to think of something to say that would convince these people to let him stay, convince them to spare Darien’s life. Finally, without knowing what else to do, he steeled himself. He stood up, jerked his arm away from Nia, and slammed his fists on the heavy wooden table. “No, as a representative of the elves of Kadanar, I demand to be heard. You cannot execute one of my people without at least allowing me to speak in his defense.” His voice dropped deeper than it ever had before, and he surprised himself. The stern speech set everyone in the room back a bit. “You have heard everything I have said. Darien has only ever acted honorably towards me, and towards my people. I owe him my life. If he wanted to, he could have already escaped. If he wanted to, he could have killed every one of those knights who arrested us. He may have done terrible things, but he is no longer your enemy, and poses no threat to you. He might even allow you to execute him, just because he doesn’t want to fight you, but I will not be so forgiving. If you take his life, any friendship that might exist between my people and yours will die with him.”
“Very well,” the Grandmaster spoke. “You m
ay stay, as a representative of your people, but the final decision is mine, and after hearing your words, I have made it.” Everyone watched in silence as the Grandmaster himself got up, walked to the door, and said, “Bring the prisoner up here.”
Chapter 13: The Executioner’s Judgement
Three days after the Tribunal, Darien was again led from his cell by a half dozen guards, this time by a different path to a different room. The guards led him in, where he saw many of the same individuals who’d questioned him at the tribunal, several more he’d never seen before, and someone he did not expect.
“Jerris. Why are you here? Did you get captured? What happened to Ceres?” Jerris slouched in his chair, and it told Darien all he needed to know. Of course, his student had come after him, in spite of his orders, but that still left the question of what happened to Ceres. Darien was about to ask when the Grandmaster spoke up.
“There will be time for that later. Guards, remove the shackles, we won’t be needing them any further.” As the shackles were removed, the Grandmaster continued. “Please, have a seat and be comfortable. We have serious matters to discuss.” Darien sat down across from Jerris and gave him a withering stare. Jerris slouched even lower. A moment later, the door opened again, and a dwarf with a long white bushy beard, thick mustache, and eyebrows so thick his brown eyes were almost hidden walked in, grumbling something about the inconvenient size of human stairs. He wore plain brown woolen clothes. His white hair was braided and ran halfway down his back. Darien recognized the dwarf immediately.
“Tobin.”
“Well, well, didn’t figure on seeing you here? I’d ask what you’re doing but I’ve a notion I’m going to find out anyway.” the old dwarf replied in his deep gravelly voice, then he turned to the Grandmaster. “Well, I’m here. Want to tell me what I climbed all those stairs for?”
“First a simple question, and then I’d ask you to stay. We have a representative of the elves, and I’d like to have a representative of the dwarves as well.”
Tobin looked up and down the table, finally setting his eyes upon Jerris. “Oh, so it’s you. Jerris, was it? Still following Darien around? That’s a good way to get killed, but I suppose you have your reasons.”
“So you do know them?” the Grandmaster remarked.
“Aye, they showed up in my shop about a year ago asking about a book. Darien was on the run from some assassin. Haven’t seen him since.”
“All right, thank you, Tobin. Please take a seat.” The Grandmaster stood and motioned to the nearest empty chair. Then he stood, and began speaking.
“This council’s stated purpose was to decide the fate of the criminal Darien the Executioner. As Grandmaster, the final decision falls to me. I have heard all the opinions, and this is what I have decided. There can be no doubt of this man’s guilt, and justice would demand his life. However, this man has now expressed regret, if not remorse, for his past deeds, and when he took the Demon Sword, he took on a curse far worse than any punishment we could give. Even if I ordered his execution, I am not certain we have the ability to carry out that sentence, and his death would serve no clear purpose. I must also concede that the Executioner has not acted as I would expect an enemy to act. He has exercised considerable restraint, both in his arrest, and subsequent confinement. He might have done a great deal of damage. I have decided that as he exercised restraint, so will I. Any man who inspires such loyalty out of one so young cannot be beyond redemption.”
Jerris shrugged, and Darien simply looked confusedly at him. The broad silver clad Geoffray grumbled something to himself.
“Now, I must ask you, Executioner, did you speak earnestly at the tribunal? Do you really intend to stop at nothing to kill the Demon King? I would give you what you seek, and send you on a quest more desperate perhaps than any that has ever been attempted, but I must know your resolve is true.”
Darien stood, and looked to each of the figures seated around the table in turn, then answered, “I did. On my mother’s life and death, I swear that I will finish what I started. I will kill the Demon King, or die in the attempt.” A cold and solemn silence hung over the room after the words were spoken. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to break the deafening quiet.
Traiz looked over at the Grandmaster and asked, “So, you intend to follow our plan after all? History will remember your wisdom.”
“Bah,” Geoffray grumbled, waving his hand.
“You know where to seek the Star Sword?” the Executioner asked the Grandmaster.
“I do,” he replied solemnly. “Much of the history that we tell the people is a lie. You have no doubt heard the tale that Sarenna was struck down by the Gods, the people punished for pride and wickedness.”
“I have heard the tales. I thought them nothing more than superstitious nonsense.”
“They are, but the truth is no less unbelievable. It begins with Arcanus Reza Saren, the first man who held the Demon’s Blade. He lived long after the war against the demons, his life unnaturally prolonged by the power of that weapon. He founded the Kingdom of Sarenna, but he turned the kingdom’s rule over to his younger brother and gifted the Star Sword to the royal family. Arcanus disappeared. Some say he searched the world for a way to free himself from the sword, while others believe he spent the years hunting down and eradicating all remaining traces of the demons and their allies. Perhaps there is some truth to both ideas, but Arcanus did return occasionally, to prevent calamity and grave injustice. After many generations, the royal family grew to resent his interferences, and sought to obtain the Demon’s Blade. The Mage Knights of Sarenna opposed this plan, and they found Arcanus and warned him. Unfortunately, even the noblest cannot hold forever against evil. Over the decades, Arcanus had fallen increasingly under the sword’s influence. He confronted the royal family in a rage. Unfortunately, the magics arrayed against him were clever, the machinations of the royal advisor, a man known at that time as Varias. It is recorded that Varias knew things about the Demon Sword that no one else knew. The Mage Knights assumed he must be one of its forgers, an elf. Though we cannot be sure, we still see this as a possibility.”
“We don’t understand how it happened, and perhaps we never will, but we know three things happened. Arcanus was killed, the Demon Sword was captured by Varias, and the city of Sarenna was utterly destroyed, as was most of the surrounding countryside. The land sunk into the earth, and was filled by the river Saldean, becoming what is now Lake Kalena. The Star Sword, however, was taken by a young daughter of the King, who brought it to the Mage Knights before they fled the city. It is recorded that the Blade of Stars chose the girl named Elicea as its bearer, and while she lived, she kept it with her. She lived a long life, and helped establish the Golden Shield, but when she died, none were found who could hold the sword. The Golden Shield was still weak then, and surrounded by more powerful nations that had arisen after Sarenna’s fall. We lacked the strength of arms to hold such a powerful artifact, and rather than have the sword become a source of conflict, we placed it as far out of the reach of our enemies as we could.” The Grandmaster paused, and rubbed his temples.
“Where is it then?” Darien pressed.
“One thing more, I must ask first,” the Grandmaster cautioned. “You have claimed the Star Blade can destroy the Demon King, but you have not explained how. Before I reveal this secret to you, I insist upon knowing how you actually intend to use it.”
“That secret is not mine to reveal, but there is one here who has that authority.” Darien turned toward Jerris.
“My people have guarded their secrets for a long time, but if we are to defeat our common enemy, we have to trust each other,” Jerris conceded, then took a deep breath. “The Star Sword and the Demon Sword were not simply forged as two separate weapons. The two are linked, shaped from the same starstone. They were made to be used together. When the Star Sword touches any demon, its power and its soul are captured forever in the Demon Sword.”
Looks of confusi
on passed between the faces at the table. They did not yet understand. “The Demon Sword is a kind of prison, and the Star Sword is the key,” Darien added. “The elves sought to harness the power of their enemies, and use it against them. It was a desperate risk, but it gave them a way to imprison the demons, and ultimately destroy them. The lorekeeper of Kadanar claims the Demon’s Blade had the power to destroy a demon, but he did not say how.”
“So that’s it,” Traiz interrupted. “You believe that the Star Sword will have a similar effect on the Demon King, even though he isn’t technically a demon.”
“I can’t be sure it will work, but that is my plan,” Darien answered. “The Demon King may know of the Star Sword’s existence, but not its importance. It is imperative we retrieve it before he discovers that.”
“Don’t you fools see what he’s doing?” Geoffray interrupted. “As soon as he vanquishes the Demon King, he increases his own power. We’ll be replacing one Demon King with another.”
“That is a valid point.” Archmage Eldrik rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What would stop you from seizing power afterwards? You cannot really expect us to take your word on this.”
“No, I can’t,” Darien said. “My intention is to die with him, but even if you do not trust that, you must concede that with both of us tired from facing one another, there will never be a better opportunity to kill both of us.
Eldrik nodded grimly, seeming to accept this answer.
“So, that just leaves the question of where it is,” Tobin added thoughtfully. “Let’s have it then.”
It was now the Grandmaster’s turn to breathe deeply and prepare himself. “What is said now, does not leave this room, ever, upon pain of death. We did not trust any of the human or dwarf kingdoms to guard such a treasure, but Elicea had forged an unlikely friendship with the Ebonscale tribe of dragons. The sword was given to them. If you would find it, you must convince them to tell you, assuming they still know.”
