"My son, Cervantes had many sons and daughters. When the Draknoir invaded Joppa ages ago during my youth, Cervantes ordered his family to be evacuated in a caravan led by the king's servants. Cervantes died in the ensuing chaos the Draknoir inflicted upon the city of Aldron, but his children were hidden throughout Azuleah secretly. The Draknoir have an intense hatred of the Nostra line—and all of mankind for that matter. They have forever cursed the day when men settled on the southern shores and challenged their dominance of the region.
"After King Cervantes fell, the Draknoir searched Azuleah for his scattered heirs and descendants. Many were found and killed, including women and children. The long hunt for the remaining survivors of the Nostra line lasted for centuries. Eventually, rumors began to spread throughout Azuleah that the great royal line had been completely destroyed by the Draknoir. But many believed a few descendants were still alive and lived as nomads in the far north, constantly on the move to hide from their enemies," Helmer said. He walked up to the desk and picked up the Nostra seal. "This seal proves you are indeed a descendant of Cervantes and heir to a great dynasty. Seven of them were made for each of the Nostra heirs and were passed down over the generations. You are of noble blood, Lucius."
Lucius let the truth of his past sink in. An heir to the throne of Aldron? He could barely imagine himself taking the role of a Protector of Breninmaur, much less of a king over thousands of subjects. The responsibility of such a position was far beyond his imagination at this point in his life. "What does all this mean? Am I to return to Joppa and challenge the rule of Alfryd?" he asked apprehensively.
Helmer shook his head. "No, Lucius. There will be a time for that, but I do not believe it is now."
He sighed in frustration. "Then what is to become of me, Father? I feel a sudden burden from all these revelations you bring me."
"I am sorry, my son. I did not wish to make you sorrowful over all this. But you are of paramount importance to your people. You would not have been left on the threshold of Verdania if it were not so." Helmer sat down again and began looking through the assortment of papers on his desk.
A question lingered in Lucius' mind as the wise elf foraged through the tomes and scrolls. "Does the Draknoir know I am here? You said the descendants of Cervantes were hunted and killed by them. Could they have followed whoever left me here?"
Helmer looked up at him with serious eyes, "I'm not sure. But I can assure you no Draknoir fiend would dare enter the sanctuary of Verdania, lest a swift descent to the grave be their desire."
"What are they?" Lucius asked curiously.
Helmer's countenance turned grim, "They are a fallen race of the ellyll. An ancient race of elvish warriors who were once highly favored by D'arya, but their lust for power led to their downfall. They abandoned the ways of the Elf Queen and embraced the detestable dragon god, Nergoth. Through Nergoth and his dark magic, they were given an abominable power, which consumed them and, in the end, transformed them. They are no longer elves, but beings of darkness. No more do you see fair-skinned folk seeking peace, but scaly, monstrous beings waging war and yearning for blood.
"In the years after their fall, the Draknoir allied themselves with the dragons of Ghadarya paying tribute to their lord," Helmer paused abruptly and whispered, "the Black Dragon, Kraegyn."
Lucius felt the blood drain from his face. The blue fire of the great dragon consuming his flesh immediately filled his thoughts. His heart raced in fear of the hypnotic blue stare of the Black Dragon's eyes.
Helmer sensed his sudden burden, "What is it, my boy?"
Lucius hesitated, "It's nothing."
"Tell me, has another dream or vision disrupted your mind?" Helmer asked.
He wished to remain silent, but his father's incredible foresight would determine the answer at some point. "Yes."
Helmer nodded his head. "I feared you would have another one. Was it more vivid than the last?"
The Black Dragon's hot breath burned in his mind. "Much more vivid."
Helmer sighed and started digging through the clutter on the desk again. He pulled out a withered tome and quickly searched the pages. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight, darting from side to side as he read the text.
"Ah, here it is," he whispered. "Read this page, my son."
Helmer handed him the book, pointing at the inscription. It was written in the common language of Azuleah. The text was very faded and written with quick pen strokes. It read:
Yéwa, the deliverer of the race of men has spoken to his prophet. He has found favor in Joppa through Yesu, the Great King to come. A star has fallen on Azuleah and spread through the land. Men have partaken of the land and have lost their way. Yéwa has seen the evil of Nergoth; his time is coming.
King Yesu has chosen the line of Cervantes, in whom the Lord Yéwa was pleased, to lead the men who fell from the sky. One like a king will rise from the house of Nostra and serve. He will lift Yéwa's name in Joppa and a song for Yesu will be heard from the North. Nergoth and all who follow him will tremble at the sound of his footsteps and know Yéwa is with him. He will not forsake him nor allow harm to come upon him if he trusts in Yéwa with all his heart.
These are the words of Yéwa, our Deliverer, and Yesu, our King.
"Is it a prophecy?" Lucius asked, looking over the text again.
"Yes, Lucius, it is. It was inscribed by a man named Zebulun, one of the servants of the king and a loyal follower of Yesu."
"I know of Yéwa, the god men worship, but who is this Yesu?"
"I could probably speak all night to you about him, but perhaps you should figure that out for yourself, my son," Helmer opened the top left drawer of his desk and fetched a scroll. "I have been saving this for a very long time, Lucius. It is a near perfect copy of a great heirloom in the kingdom of Aldron. The answers to many of your questions can be found here."
Lucius leaned forward and took the scroll. He unrolled it, revealing many small characters in elvish script. The scroll was about the length of his arm. But because of the complexity of the elven language, it would take a day or two to read it completely.
"There is something more I wish to reveal before you go and rest."
Lucius closed the scroll and listened attentively, anxious to know what else the wise sage could reveal in one night.
"Zebulun's prophecy correlates very well with an elven prophecy foretold many ages ago. I reminded the Cyngorell of it when we debated years ago whether you should stay with the elves or be cast out. The words of the prophecy read thus:
'Behold, a light will fall on D'arya's doors
Unknown to the fair folk of old
A child without home among the poor
But with a quest told once before
A sword and scroll he will hold
On his way to quench the flame
Which defiles Ellyllei's name'"
Lucius sighed deeply, his hands shaking slightly. This morning he had been an ordinary young man, wishing only to become a Protector of the forest of Verdania—the limit of his aspirations for greatness. But now his path was leading to a place he did not wish to go. The daunting role of Ellyllei already burdened him as much as the chilling prospect of facing the Black Dragon.
"Your path has been foretold, Lucius. Your people need you, and even the elves need you, though they may not yet know it," Helmer said softly.
"I do not know if this is the path I wish to take, Father. Fear overtakes me at what may meet me on this path. Why must I rise to such responsibility? Why was I chosen? My mind is full of questions, and my mind is unwilling to hear the answers," his head sank.
Helmer stood from his chair and walked to his son's side, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder to comfort him. "I know there are many things that have not yet been answered, my son, but do not be discouraged. It is best now if you rest. We shall talk further in the morning."
Lucius wanted to object, but he suddenly realized how tired he was from competing in the tournament. He stood up at Helmer's re
quest and went to his room.
For the first few minutes, he laid on his bed, afraid to sleep. Kraegyn's piercing stare was still vivid in his mind. Eventually, sleep overtook him, and he dreamed of a great palace on a golden plain.
Four mighty bastions stood high on each corner of the palace, along with two spires jutting into the air: one from the northern wall and one from the southern wall. Large doors stood in front of him, adorned with a golden eagle whose wings were outspread. A voice from inside called his name. It was soothing and beautiful to his ears.
The doors opened slowly, and a light brighter than the sun illuminated from inside the palace. Despite its radiance, Lucius found no need to cover his eyes. An elegant lobby lay ahead with polished marble floors and gleaming white walls. A tall statue of a bearded man holding a scepter stood at the center of the lobby. The man wore a crown on his head and a flowing robe draped over his muscular frame. His face held a stoic, determined gaze. Behind the tall effigy, there was a wide, double banister staircase rising to a wooden door below a gilded archway. A large elm tree was embossed on the door. He was compelled to go up the stairs and into the door, but the voice spoke again before he took his first step onto the staircase.
Lucius. The voice spoke from inside his head, but somehow he sensed its source came from overhead. He looked up and saw a ball of light pulsating from the ceiling above. He cowered at the immensity of the light.
"Here I am," Lucius said, his voice cracking.
Lucius ... the time has not yet come for you to enter the door.
"When will it be time?" he asked curiously.
Soon, but now you must forge the Requiem Sword. Go and seek counsel in the swamps of the north. The light began to ascend and fade within the ceiling.
"Wait! Why must I do this? I don't understand!" Lucius cried, but the light did not respond and continued to fade away. The regal lobby began to fade as well, and Lucius heard a faint call in the distance.
FOUR
The Path of the Ellyllei
Lucius woke with a start when he heard the knocking on his door. Siegfried had been calling his name on the other side and knocked several times to wake him. He got up, still half asleep, and opened the door. Siegfried stood outside with his arms crossed and a stern expression on his face.
"What's wrong, Siegfried?" Lucius asked.
"It's Father. He's gone to the Cyngorell to request our departure from Evingrad," the elf replied calmly.
"Departure? Whatever for? Does he mean to cast us out?"
Siegfried smirked. "No, Lucius. The time has come for us to go outside of Verdania and fulfill Zebulun's prophecy."
Lucius swallowed hard. "I do not think I am ready to embark on such a quest, brother."
"My father believes you are up to the task, which is why he has faced much opposition from the Council. We must go, Lucius," Siegfried said earnestly.
Lucius quickly got dressed and set out with Siegfried to the Council House where Helmer's appeals were taking place. Siegfried explained to Lucius the main cause for concern if they were not allowed to leave Evingrad. The Cyngorell considered it treason for any elf to step outside the forest of Verdania, except for those who bore the rank of Protectors or who were sanctioned by the Council. Quetulya was presiding over the proceedings and was against the idea of allowing anyone to leave the sanctuary of Evingrad, even Lucius. Lucius found it odd that the Councilor suddenly had a change of heart concerning a man dwelling among the elves. He could hardly wait to hear the Grand Councilor's reasoning for preventing his departure.
There was a slight chill in the morning air, and the grass was still wet from the dew overnight. Siegfried led him through the narrow winding roads to the center of the city. The sunlight gleamed in the east and trickled through the canopy of Breninmaur's branches. The few elf-children of the city played their wooden flutes and lyres on the rooftops of their houses and in the branches overhead. The sweet music they played was lost on Lucius, whose thoughts were on his adoptive father and what penalty he might face for confronting his fellow councilors. But as they neared the Tower of Evingrad, Lucius pondered his own fate and the revelations of the previous night. It seemed as though the whole land of Azuleah depended on him now— a frightening prospect. The music overhead began to crescendo, accompanying the growing anxiety Lucius felt at the thought of being cast out from Evingrad. Will I ever hear such beautiful music in Azuleah again?
The Council House was a large marble building with a stained-glass, domed roof. The building stood a few feet away from the green seal where the tournament had been held the day before. Lucius and Siegfried ascended the long staircase of the Council House and opened the oak door. Inside there was a small amphitheater where the Cyngorell sat listening to Helmer. Daylight shone brightly in an array of colors through the stained glass onto Helmer, who stood behind an ornate podium as he spoke to his fellow Councilors. Quetulya stood behind a similar podium nearby and watched impatiently as he spoke.
Lucius and Siegfried sat down on marble benches designated for the general populace of Evingrad. They both listened closely as their father explained his case to the elves of Evingrad.
"I believe it is highly imperative we send Lucius and Siegfried to Sylvania to forge the Requiem Sword. My fellow councilors, I stand before you today to declare the time our elders spoke of has now come. Dark days are on the horizon for all peoples of this land ... for Kraegyn has returned to our world," Helmer said, his voice echoing through the room as the crowd gasped in response to the Black Dragon's name.
Quetulya's eyes studied the audience. "The Lord of Ghadarya was defeated ages ago at the hands of our ancestors, Reyeon and the King of Aldron in Arkadeus."
"Yes, but the Draknoir sorcerer, Scipio, uttered an incantation before his dying breath that sealed the Black Dragon's soul into the ruins of Arkadeus. Since that time, Scipio's descendant, Memnon, has succeeded him. Who can say whether he has aided the beast in garnering its full strength or not?" Helmer asked indignantly.
Quetulya scoffed, "It is not the purpose of this Council to consider possibilities, Lord Helmer, only realities. Even if what you say comes to pass, what does your son and Lucius have anything to do in the matter?"
Lucius straightened in his seat, eager to know the answer to the Councilor's question. Helmer grabbed a scroll from the top of his podium and unrolled it. He recited the elven poem Lucius had heard last night, but there were additional verses at the end he had not heard. The poem spoke of a vanquished evil rising from an ancient ruin and enslaving the world with a force greater than D'arya herself could muster. The four corners of Azuleah would fall in its wake, and blue fire would consume all life. He shuddered at the image of searing flames engulfing his body. Helmer continued reading the prophetic poem solemnly. A man will be chosen by the peoples of Azuleah to banish the evil once and for all, but he will not do so of his own accord. Yesu will accompany the man and all who stand with him. The enemies of the chosen man, known as the Ellyllei, will fall from the blade he carries. The blade will be forged by an elf's hands and possess great power over the dark forces of the world. The sword will not be forged from a common metal, and specific instructions for its creation will be revealed to a seer of D'arya.
"In light of all this evidence, Councilor," Quetulya uttered, "you still have not determined the reasons as to why Siegfried and young Lucius should be permitted to leave these sacred woods to Sylvania. There is no prophecy concerning that city. Why, then, does this quest to vanquish evil start there?"
Helmer smiled, undaunted by Quetulya's question. "Sylvania has long been a sanctuary for all peoples of Azuleah, most notably, elves and humans—"
"Vagabonds and criminals, Lord Helmer," Quetulya interrupted.
"Some, yes," Helmer retorted. "But there are many skilled blacksmiths within the city, many of which are elves. It would be the opportune place to forge the sword to slay the Black Dragon. More importantly though, Sylvania is home to a D'aryan seer by the name of Lumiath."
The Councilors seated in the rows ahead of Lucius began to whisper to each other and shake their heads in disapproval of the D'aryan seer.
"I know there is much controversy over Lumiath within the Cyngorell—"
"Councilor, Lumiath is an exile of Evingrad and has disassociated himself from D'arya," an elf with blonde, shoulder-length hair spoke from the second row.
"He cannot be trusted," another elf blurted out, and others began to join in.
Quetulya raised his hand to quiet them, "Peace, Councilors. Surely Councilor Silverhart has a good reason for suggesting a firebrand such as Lumiath."
"I believe in his ability as a seer and a loyal follower of D'arya, Quetulya," Helmer admitted proudly. "And if he is not the elven seer the prophecy speaks of, then he will undoubtedly lead us the right way."
Quetulya disagreed, and many of the Councilors were divided on Lumiath's reliability. The debate continued on for an hour. Siegfried slipped outside while Lucius continued to wait on the Cyngorell's decision. In the end, the Council sided with Quetulya. They did not believe Helmer's plan to send Lucius and Siegfried to Sylvania was the only option concerning the prophecy. Many suggested when the time was right, D'arya would reveal the identity of the seer to the High Elves of the Cyngorell, only then should Lucius be sent out.
Quetulya did not believe Lucius was the man prophesied to seal Kraegyn's fate. His resentment towards Helmer was evident, and Lucius disliked him all the more for it. Before the decision had been made, Lucius felt a slight reluctance to be sent to unknown parts of the world on some wild adventure, but when the opportunity had slipped away from him, he eagerly desired it.
When the final deliberations were made, Lord Helmer stepped down from his podium and dismissed himself from the audience in the Council House. He walked past Lucius, bearing a sullen look in his eyes completely uncharacteristic of the sage. Lucius followed him outside, after glancing back toward the amphitheater where his gaze met Quetulya's smug expression.
The Blade Heir (Book 1) Page 4
