Magic's Genesis- Sword of Wilmamen

by Rosaire Bushey

  “Greetings, wielder.” Burvig inclined his head toward Lydria and introduced Synca and Sturmgrae to her companions. Lydria bowed at the waist, Hokra and Relin following her lead quickly, and when they rose, she introduced the Eifen and Chag Ca’Grae.

  “Synca has told us what you have said, and we have considered the matter.” The dragons lay on the beach as they had in Dragaven, so they were not so imposing, and Lydria realized it was Sturmgrae who had spoken. Her voice was cleaner than Burvig’s, and not as deep as Synca’s. If someone had heard the voice, they would never believe it had come from the enormous, pale-sapphire creature staring at them now. “My husband and I would like to formally ask permission from the Prince of the Chag Ca’Grae to go to Safarngal, to live there for a time, and study the archives. Would this be acceptable to your people? In return we can offer only our assistance in protecting your home and sharing such knowledge as we glean with your people.”

  Hokra’s smile was radiant and he bowed and held his hands out to his sides. “If I may,” he said out loud, and when Sturmgrae nodded in assent, Hokra walked forward and stood in front of her snout, leaning forward again and kissing the scales between her nostrils. “You and your kind will always be welcome in any place the Chag Ca’Grae call home. In fact, you all are welcome, if you please.”

  It was Burvig’s voice that responded, “You do us a great honor, Prince Hokra. We realize dragons cannot maintain large communities as can men, or Eifen, or Chag Ca’Grae. Because of our size, and our appetites, we each need to find a home that suits us best. Sturmgrae and Bartra will fly south with you. Synca and Sanprax Veridian will remain here. Two, it appears, have chosen a home far to the south with Wynter. Soon others in Dragaven will find new homes as well. Drespida and Conbex will travel to Seaview on the edge of the Great Eastern Sea. King Keldon is making the arrangements even now. Their presence there will, I think, deter the pirates that scour the shores. Klamanx and Sryngax will go to the city of Nethyngal and prevent the Qorghal from returning. They are no friends of Eigrae and we have no desire for them to return to that place. Myself and my mate, Otlimus will remain in Dragaven, and Maxwen and Golpax will fly west toward the city of Eigraenal.”

  Not wanting to dampen the fine mood Hokra and the dragons had created, Lydria smiled at Burvig and begged his pardon. “Burvig, I am pleased to see the dragons are both well and preparing for a long future in Eigrae, but we have news from the south, and I would appreciate your thoughts and guidance on the matter of the Sword of Wilmamen.

  “You are generous of thought, Wielder. Indeed, we may stay long as we are now. It seems our fear of losing ourselves to the beasts was misguided. Indeed, the shape of the beast has no relation to how it may think or feel, and it appears, indeed, as if dragons have a capacity for peaceful thought that we did not possess as humans.”

  Lydria smiled and reverently stroked the dragon’s nose before telling Burvig of what Pars had learned about the Sword of Wilmamen, and the door to the dark spirits. To open these doors, Lydria offered, sounded like a poor idea, especially if it were to let loose a power that could destroy magic. “Such a power, I feel, could only be used for ill, whereas magic as we know it, can be used for much greater purposes.”

  “The spirit world, as you know,” Burvig said through a small sigh, “is changing. The Haustis may no more be needed to walk the lonely fields of this world when the gates to the spirit kingdom close forever. This is how it should be. The spirit world provided a star by which to guide the actions of men. Now that magic has arrived, the star has shifted.”

  “Yes, Burvig, but the Sword of Wilmamen, if what we have learned is correct, is capable of entering the spirit world and opening a door there wherein Dark Spirits are contained and letting them loose, possibly upon Eigrae.” Lydria explained in detail what they had learned in Safarngal and the dragons looked to one another as if considering what each might say.

  “We believe that would not be a welcome turn of events, though we know nothing of what might be hidden behind a door in the spirit world. If the spirits believe something should be locked away in their own world, we would be foolish to undo what they have done.”

  Lydria smiled and was suddenly filled with hope. If the dragons were to help them, they could easily overtake Wynter and the two greens, and recapture the sword. “So, you will help us then, Burvig? The dragons will go with us to the south and recapture Wynter whom the dragons have released?” The last detail was petty, Lydria realized, but also true, and the grumbling in the throats of the dragons that caused the earth to tremble under Lydria’s feet, told her they had not forgotten why Wynter was free.

  “As we have told you, Wielder, we will not become involved in what goes on in the lives of men, or Eifen, or even the Chag Ca’Grae. That two of our fellows have chosen this path is unfortunate, but no, we will not go south with you for the purpose you desire. The dragons will provide guidance where we can if we believe it is beneficial for Eigrae, but this fight is your own.”

  Lydria was disappointed but understood Burvig’s position. If dragons started to take sides, there would quickly be war and it would be more devastating than anything that had come before. “The dark spirits then, don’t present a threat to Eigrae?”

  If it was possible, Burvig smiled. “We don’t know what the dark spirits present. It may be that there are no dark spirits and the tale of which you speak was no more than a dream. Regardless of the dark spirits’ existence or their motivations, they are not here yet, so it is up to you to ensure they do not arrive.”

  Burvig wished Lydria and her party well and turned toward the other dragons before moving away and pushing his wings down and slowly lifting off the ground, headed north.

  27 - Welcomed Guests

  It was two days later when Haustis returned carrying news that King Edgar welcomed the dragons to make a home on the island. “He also had other matters on his mind,” Haustis told her sister when the two of them found a moment to themselves as the small boat was being prepared for its journey south. “He has asked for my hand in marriage.”

  Lydria’s smile raced upward and she reached out to embrace her, but it was obvious Haustis had not yet accepted the invitation. “Will you not marry him, sister?”

  “How can I, when being Haustis means I am never in one place?”

  “Haidrea,” the use of her birth name was not lost on the woman who had used her title as a name since inheriting it from her grandmother, “what have you told me about the spirit world? It will soon be closed to us. And the Eifen have moved from this area – there is no need for you to be Haustis here. You can be with your love.”

  “But I am unsure. I do not like living in a city. My home is in the forest.” Haustis’ head hung low and she offered a small smile to Kimi who had sensed her unease and pushed his considerable weight against her. “You understand, do you not, Kimi? That we cannot change who we are?”

  “Kimi says you are afraid. He can smell it upon you, and that it is not wrong for you to be this way, but that if you love Edgar and would be with him, then you must find a way to be the queen and be yourself as well.” Lydria spoke the words and only nodded to Haustis’ unspoken question as to the return of her power. “My place in Eigrae requires I have magic. What does Eigrae require from you?”

  “I told him I would give him my answer when I returned.” Haustis clasped Lydria’s hands in her own and smiled, before turning toward the boat to greet Relin and Hokra and help prepare for their departure.

  With both Lydria and Hokra helping propel the ship south, they docked at Port Ogdon the next day and quickly continued their way south to Safarngal. When they arrived, Hokra found his father and explained they would soon have guests who wanted to live amongst the Chag Ca’Grae.

  “Father, the scholars Sturmgrae and Bartra will arrive soon, but I do not know when. They have asked to live with us and study from the archives and share with us what they know. I believe it will be an arrangement much to the benefit of our peopl
e.”

  Lydria and the others shared a knowing smile, noticing the details that Hokra left from his announcement, but Graenel was delighted and told his son to see to lodgings for their guests. The king, Lydria thought, seemed preoccupied with something, and even Kimi noticed the excited activity going on throughout the town.

  “I have noticed it as well,” Hokra said when Lydria mentioned the bustle, “but when our guests arrive, I think father’s plan will falter.”

  “Do you know what he intends?”

  “I believe he intends to send our people to retake Nethyngal before the Qorghal return. I thought we had agreed this would be a foolish course of action, but it seems he has other plans. Still, he is the king and he can choose as he wishes. For now, I have to find a room big enough for our guests.” Hokra raised his upper eyelids in an exclamation of excitement by the prospect of Sturmgrae and Bartra arriving, and Lydria thought that he might be correct in his assumption that an expedition to the south would cease when the blues arrived.

  Pars had not been idle while they were gone, and the archives were already starting to become more organized. When he realized he was not alone, Pars hurried over to a long shelf built into a wall and waved the others to follow him. Lanterns had been carefully placed throughout the archives and with their light Lydria was amazed at how big a job Pars had undertaken. Several young Chags were busy moving boxes and lining up books on shelves and stacking scrolls in alcoves. The youngsters were industrious in retrieving items for Pars to look at as well, as near the man there were tables piled high with scrolls, and cabinets filled with curiosities that the historian had not yet had time to look at.

  “I’ve spent the time since you’ve been gone searching for anything I could find on the Sword of Wilmamen, and something kept bothering me. Relin’s story of Wilmamen ends with the sword burning like flame.”

  The others waited patiently for Pars to continue, sure he was about to divulge something significant about the flaming sword. After several moments, he looked up from his shelves and realized they were waiting. “I don’t know. Nothing I’ve found yet indicates why it may have been aflame. All we do know is that it was made by an Eifen of the west where there are or have been, known deposits of Farn’Nethyn and craftsmen of enough skill to make such a blade. How a warrior of Wilmamen’s reputation gained the skill to craft such a weapon is beyond me. If the blade works as Wilmamen suggests, it is a key to the prison of the dark spirits – but only when joined with a blue sphere. The spirits must have seen the coming of magic.”

  “How could an item be made in Eigrae to work in the spirit world?” Relin’s question was calm and deliberate even though Lydria thought there would be some hesitancy on Relin’s part to accept Pars’ theories.

  “I have no way to answer that question,” Pars said simply.

  “It is not unheard of for the spirits to help when we call upon them,” Haustis said, moving slowly from the shadows to stand between Pars and Relin. She was holding once again the small sword and she held it up to catch the lantern light on the silver hilt. “Perhaps someone in the spirit world helped Wilmamen?”

  “What of the fire?” Relin asked Pars, happy enough to move on from the question of craftsmanship.

  “Ah, well, to that too, I have no idea. I would say it was a trick of the light, or the poetry of soldiers recalling great deeds. I have never seen a blade burn.

  Feeling Lydria’s eyes upon her, Haustis put the small Farn’Nethyn blade on the stone counter near Pars, and seconds later a flame ran along the outside edges of the twin blades.

  “Your point is well taken Pars, but you should continue your search regardless.” Lydria smiled at the man as his eyebrows rose, and excused herself and Hokra, to prepare for the city’s new guests.

  Outside the light of the day was fading, and Hokra pointed out a section of the walls north of the city where no digging had yet occurred. “We will excavate the dragon’s home there – a suitable distance from the most northern of our own compartments in the eastern wall. We were going to open that up as our next expansion of the city, but with Nethyngal empty, it is more likely we will close compartments than expand.”

  Hokra had sent a group of miners to the area before the two had gone to see Pars and already they were busy grappling with chunks of newly hewn rock and removing the debris. “How long do you think it will take?” Lydria was amazed at the speed the Chag Ca’Grae worked, their massive hands gripping the stone and tearing it like meat from a bone. Still, a space to fit dragons was massive.

  “Now that we are here, I don’t expect it to take much time at all,” Hokra smiled, and his collar glowed for just a moment. Lydria still found it extraordinary how easily magic seemed to come to Hokra and how little pain he seemed to endure through its use.

  “We have several places on top of the cliffs where we use the rock we mine to build above the ground – fields for crops, emplacements for our scouts and patrols. We shift the stone to those places rather than dropping it to the river bank below so as not to intrude in the natural flow of the river.”

  Lydria followed Hokra through the compartments and up to the surface of the town, and they continued to walk along the grassy roof of Safarngal toward a new entrance point that was marked and guarded. Chags with wheelbarrows, came out of the entrance at regular intervals, the tracks of their barrows crushing the grass in several directions. Seeing the prince, the guard on duty saluted sharply, and nodded his head slightly to Lydria.

  Entering the tunnels again, Lydria could appreciate how much work had gone into Safarngal, as the opening she walked through now was damp and unfinished, the walls were natural with no smooth surfaces. Lydria was glad Kimi wasn’t with her, as the cat wasn’t fond of even the finished caverns of Safarngal but enjoyed the spaces near the river where he often could be found playing with the young Chags. Rounding the final bend of the entrance, and stepping aside for barrows moving up the slope, Lydria was amazed at the size of the cavern they had already cleared. When the workers in the cave saw their prince, a shout of welcome went out. It was obvious that Hokra didn’t stand on ceremony when there was work to be done, and obvious as well that the workers appreciated Hokra’s ability to move stone, which he started to do with his enormous hands almost at once.

  As Hokra’s hands bit into the stone, there was a second of silence as the other workers watched their prince, and then a shout went up and all hands were in the rock – even those moving barrows were at the walls and for several long minutes the Chags engaged in a contest to see if anyone could pull more rock than their prince. When they were finished, a female Chag looked to Lydria and said, “Wielder, will you not judge the piles of stone and tell us who has won?”

  It was obvious Hokra was the winner, but Lydria smiled and accepted the invitation and moved slowly up and down the piles of rock, lifting one with magic as if testing their weight – which drew tremendous applause. She picked out the third and second place piles before declaring Hokra the winner and adding that as the winner, he should buy a round of drinks for all the contestants. Thunderous applause shook the cavern, and Hokra smiled, and lifted his hands, entreating his friends to drink their fill. Several tables had appeared in front of Lydria with small wooden casks of beer and tankards, and the Chag Ca’Grae cheered again, clapped their prince on the back and each took a single mug and drained it, quickly moving back to work.

  Hokra brought a wooden tankard to Lydria and they drained the small beer quickly and turned their attention to the wall. Hokra knelt to place his hands on the floor while Lydria watched. In seconds, he had created a pile of rubble it would have taken all the Chags who had stopped working to watch, several hours to create. They all cheered as their prince was helped to his feet, draining another beer and bowing to Lydria as she prepared to take her turn.

  Lydria walked around Hokra’s pile of rubble appraisingly, arching her eyebrows and commending Hokra on a ‘reasonable job’. The comment drew laughter and heckles from the Chag mi
ners who were enjoying the competition between the wielders. Lydria walked across the hole Hokra had created and the Chags counted off her steps, chanting the numbers, each more loudly than the last. Then she walked across the section of stone she would try to clear and again the Chags picked up their chant, hoots of surprise and laughter as she continued far past the count of Hokra’s wall.

  When she was confident the crowd was at peak anticipation, she made a great show of waving her hands and drawing out the magic until her collar was a blazing blue, causing the Chags to shield their eyes. When they opened them, the Chags laughed and stomped their feet. Lydria had accomplished her feat, and the rubble from the new hole filled in Hokra’s and extended well into the main chamber as well.

  Hokra handed her another beer and she drained it in a single pull resulting in more thunderous cheers. “Well done, Wielder, I concede,” Hokra said. “Now let’s get out of the way so this mess can be cleared out.”

  “I would love to, dear prince, but I can’t seem to move my legs.” All the Chags, including Hokra laughed out loud again, and soon several enormous hands lifted Lydria in the air and moved her to the cave opening where they settled her on a large stone Hokra quickly fashioned into a seat, and then they went about their business clearing away the debris in barrows.

  “We could have moved all this directly to the top, you know,” Lydria said.

  “We could have indeed,” Hokra said, staring into his empty mug, his collar pulsing. “Magic is a very good thing, Lydria, but its overuse could lead to people looking to wielders to solve all their problems. It’s important people see limitations in magic, even limitations that aren’t there, so they don’t forget how to do things themselves.”

  Lydria smiled. Her father would have loved Hokra and how he made clear connections between things. Lydria looked at the new space they had just created – a space big enough for a family of dragons. As the rubble was being loaded and moved away, Lydria saw they were just in time as the silhouettes of two dragons were just visible high in the sky, catching the last of the day’s light.