She led them towards a fresh mound, the grass upon it festooned with yellow flowers and garlands of roses from the queen’s garden.
They stood in respectful silence as Connell knelt before his father’s grave and wept silently. Tears streaked his face and fell upon the verdant grass of the mound.
Connell was crowned King of Kesh, one year after his fathers death, his mother having passed quietly in her sleep. Some say she willing left this world to join her husband in what lay beyond.
The ceremony was held in the great throne room. He was the first King in several millennia to take the sacred oaths within the light of Aytor.
King Pelatus and Gaelan attended the ceremony, accompanied by a particularly rowdy Lord Burcott. The Visitors remained within the palace for several weeks and attended as guests of honor the betrothal of D’Yana and Connell.
It was a small service held in the highest tower of the spire. Upon a rooftop adorned with flowers and silk banners.
Word soon reached them that the Senatum had fallen and the usurper in Lakarra no longer ruled. Casius was happy for his friends still living in that land.
He spent many of his days wandering the lower levels of the spire. It was a treasure trove of knowledge as he discovered several libraries hidden away in secret chambers within the rock.
He was showing his latest discovery to King Pelatus when they were summoned to the entry hall.
Casius entered the chamber and smiled warmly. Standing amid a group of awe struck warriors stood his friend Yoladt. At his side the Se’estra was smiling in his direction. Though without eyes she knew he had come and greeted him warmly.
She gripped his hands firmly, surprisingly strong for someone of her great age. “You know why we have come.” She stated simply.
Casius nodded in reply. “I have felt it for many days now.”
“Felt what?” Connell asked.
“The final task of the sword.” The Se’estra answered without turning her head away from Casius. “A promise made long ago in the past that must now be fulfilled.”
“Task?” Connell repeated. “The sword has slain Sur’kar, what more is yet to be done?”
“Justice.” Casius answered. “It will not come easily, there will be a fight.” Casius warned the Se’estra.
“Aye,” Yoladt replied. “But nothing compared to the trials we have already faced.”
“Very well,” Casius turned and looked King Pelatus in the eye. “You once promised me any boon that was in your power to grant.” He said. “Does the offer still stand?”
King Pelatus nodded. “Of course.” He answered somewhat warily. “Ask and it is yours.”
Epilogue
Bjorn Ironfist stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the harbor of Cythera. He could not believe his eyes; the war galleons of Ao’dan had breached his defenses. Three of the massive vessels were now beached. Their iron tipped prows cutting deep furrows in the sand. Men by the thousands had disembarked and as he watched a fourth vessel ran ashore, dark cloaked warriors leaping over the sides before the vessel had ceased moving.
The towers of Torinth were aflame, dark smoke pouring from the narrow lancets along their sides. Beyond the smoke and flames he could see hundreds of vessels both large and small, all of them flying the red sails of Ao’dan. The crimson colors declaring them to be ships of war.
He clenched his fists in anger, as his long ships were set afire. Torch bearing men raced along the quays with no one to stop them.
He cursed and turned his back on the destruction unfolding below. He knew his days were numbered with the fall of Lakarra and the disappearance of Vool. It was only a matter of time before his enemies grew bold enough to strike.
But why Ao’dan, He wondered? He had always left the ships of that nation alone. His fear of their navy had kept them safe for many years.
His men fought bravely but they could not stem the tide of these invaders. Even from this distance he could see slaves taking up arms and slaughtering their former masters.
The door to his chamber suddenly burst open, Bjorn spun about his heavy war hammer in hand. It was only the cur G’relg.
“Why are you not at the docks?” Bjorn demanded taking a threatening step forward.
“The docks are lost.” G’relg answered hotly. He was sweating heavily and bled from several small wounds. “We must leave, the invaders are nearly here!”
Bjorn looked at him with disgust; the sight of fear had always filled him with disdain. “Where would we go, G’relg?” He asked through clenched teeth. “The forest? Perhaps to the very top of the Lycian Mountains?” Bjorn shook his head and lowered his hammer. “It would only delay the inevitable, there is nowhere we can run. The slaves know this rock better than we do, and they would ferret us out in a matter of days.”
Bjorn returned his attention to the harbor below. He could see the furtive shapes of the attackers gliding through the shadows, their swords glittering in the darkness. He could tell these were not men of Ao’dan. They wore no armor, and bore no shields.
“It would be better than dying here.” G’relg countered.
Bjorn was surprised that the man had found the courage to continue to press his point. “Better to die in combat than at the hands of slaves, G’relg.” He replied looking to burning ships with regret. If only one had remained he would risk it, but he was trapped with no way out. “They would be far from merciful to any former masters they captured.”
The sounds of combat erupted in the courtyard below. Bjorn’s guards fought bravely but they were driven back and retreated into the manor.
G’relg was sweating profusely now, his eyes resembling those of some wild beast caught in a huntsman’s snare.
The sounds of swordplay grew louder, the screams of the dying echoing down the hall outside the door.
Bjorn stepped past G’relg and slammed the door shut throwing the lock. “They’ve taken the stair.” He said to his unwanted guest.
Returning to his balcony he calmly poured himself a glass of wine and drank it. Only a slight ripple disturbed the fluid in the glass. His eyes were keen and his hands steady. He took a deep breath and set the glass down as the sounds of fighting ceased.
He knew the last of his guards had either died or fled. There was nothing between him and his enemy, nothing but a heavy oak door with a weak brass lock that a determined child could force.
The door burst open forced from its hinges, a score of dark cloaked warriors rushed in, swords dripping blood onto the ornately tiled floor.
Bjorn looked at his hammer and tossed it aside. He knew to fight would be suicidal and despite his earlier bravado he suddenly found the prospect of death none to appealing. “I yield.” He said simply as the hammer struck the floor with a loud clang.
G’relg was beyond rational thought; he had drawn his sword and stood with his back against one of the marble columns that supported the roof above the balcony.
A young man strode confidently through the doorway. The warriors stepped aside allowing him to move forward. He was dressed in dark ring mail over a sheepskin jerkin. His dark curly hair was cut short with a broad streak of white stretching from his forehead to the nape of his neck on the right side.
At his hip he wore a long sword the color of coal. The pommel was worn and from the way his hand rested upon it every one knew he was well trained in its use.
His eyes were cold and when they fell on G’relg they narrowed menacingly.
“You!” G’relg shouted in recognition. In a rage he charged swinging his sword with all the might his fury could give him.
The ebon sword flashed through the air and in a shower of sparks it knocked G’relg’s blade from his hand and slammed it against the chambers wall.
G’relg stood staring at the man in stunned silence. He did so only briefly before collapsing onto the floor, his heart having been pierced by the dark blade.
Bjorn was speechless; he had never seen the killing strike. He could swear that for a b
rief instant the young man’s eyes had burned as if a furnace raged within his skull. “I yield.” He repeated once more.
Casius stared at him coldly. “Did you give the people of Kale the same opportunity for mercy?” He asked.
Bjorn was about to reply when suddenly the point of the dark blade was pressed against his throat. He wisely chose to remain silent.
The pressure relaxed as the blade was pulled back. “I will not kill you Bjorn.” Casius said. “The justice of the Mahjie will decide your fate. These are their lands now.” Casius turned and looked at Yoladt. “As the Se’estra’s first what say you?”
“Give him to the slaves.” Yoladt answered grimly. “It is by his hand that they have suffered.”
Bjorn shook his head and backed away. He knew he would die horribly, as had so many of them had died. He turned and before any could stop him, he threw himself from the balcony. He fell screaming, fifty feet to the courtyard below. His terrified cry stopping suddenly as he impacted the cold flagstones.
Casius looked over the balcony at the broken body below.
Yoladt came to stand beside him. “He chose the cowards way out.” He said simply.
Casius lived with the Mahjie for a year as they rebuilt their society on the lush green isle that had for so many years been the scourge of the sea, a place to be feared and avoided by honest men.
He made one last journey to Kale; where he found only the burnt remains of his village. He said his farewells at his mother’s grave and returned to Kesh.
He eventually married a cousin of Connell’s and sired his own sons and daughters. He grew to be a wise old man much loved by the people.
And as the years passed even his nightmares ceased, he had paid a high price for freedom but in the end he knew it had been well worth the cost.
Of Aethir and Marcos’s ring little is known. Many believed Casius had sealed them away, in some hidden vault deep in the bowels of the earth beneath the spire.
So ends the Chronicles of the Dark Sword.
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.
Eol: Mist shrouded island
of perpetual spring. It lies in the southern sea. Adopted home of the Tal’shear and Marcos’s refuge.
Eramat: House of Hurin located on the northern shores of Lake Valdecar.
Evtor Wash: River that runs north to south through central Trondhiem to the southern border. Beginning in the Delin’ Tor hills and ending in the expansive mire of the Easterling Marsh.
Eyahn: Lord of the house of Whiten.
F
Fa’lain wood: dense forest that surrounds the hill of Ga’ron.
Fel’Tuin: Large bear that lives in the upper reaches of the Carec Mountains.
Fell Hound: Huge wild dogs of the northern wastes. Not quite tamed they are often found in the company of Trolls. Used by Sur’kar as trackers they are relentless when pursuing prey.
Forest Lord: Taur Di name for a Wood King.
Fro’Hadume: The Tower of the Damned, a ruined Citadel in the Bal’Trae hills. The Savages of the Randorien forest destroyed it four hundred years ago.
G
Gaelan: Prince and heir of Trondhiem, cousin of Connell Malkor.
Gal’adori: Legendary home world of the Tal’shear.
Galloglass Hall: Ceremonial chamber used by the King of Trondhiem, famous for its walls constructed of stained glass.
Galtor: Town on the shores of the Rildrun River.
Ganduil: Tal’shear vessel that crossed the darkling sea.
Ganeth: Usurper of Lakarra’s crown, a Brutal tyrant who is allied with the Cytheran Raiders and a servant of Sur’kar.
Gared: Connell’s older brother, the heir of Trondhiem who died in an accident. Thrown from his horse while on a hunt.
Ga’ron: Hill on the isle of Eol, where the standing stones ring the well of Sa’ramir.
Gaul-Tyrian wastes: desert lying southwest of Tarok-nor, Home of the Ahmed.
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