The Ritual of the Sword - part 1

          While I have little intention of maintaining an obsessive attention to chronological order in my telling of the adventures of Draknahr Otherian, the flow from my first encounter with the young warrior, when he saved me from a pathetic embarrassment at the hands of a pair of street thugs, to our first genuine adventure together should make for an interesting and dramatic contrast.

          After being safely delivered to the door of the Sorcerers Guild, it took me several weeks to get adjusted to life and responsibilities in this new guild-house. My time spent as a student in Salran and Wehlor had left me filled to the brim with formal knowledge, but desperately short on practical skills and experience. My arrival in Del Caet brought me into a city and nation that had known more than a century of peace and prosperity, but with subtle political intrigue among the wealthy senatorial families, as well as between the Sorcerers Guild, Witches Guild and the Church of the Dawn. While outright assassinations were quite uncommon, espionage, burglary and assault were the order of the day. Thus, it took me longer than expected to get my bearings and discover my role in the guild and in Del Caet.

          Finally, finding several hours with no other pressing matters, I made my way to the guild archives and set about doing the research Draknahr had asked of me. Sadly, his instruction to look up a item called a “shadow scimitar” were initially fruitless. Fortunately there were volumes written on the former Knight of Caeleon named Atrius Vellerius, and it was there that I found information about the sword Draknahr had spoken of.

          One hundred and twenty years previously, there had risen through the ranks of the Order of the Caelish Knights a warrior and tactician of immense skill and ability. He had been born to a leading senatorial family, but had been the youngest son and had stood to inherit little of his family's lands or wealth. He decided, as a few others in his situation do when their ambition reaches higher than their station, to join the Order and seek his name there. Atrius Vellerius's ambition was far greater than anyone initially imagined.

During the early stages of the Caelish civil war, Vellarius came to the attention of the last Emperor of the realm, then called Zarthurian the sixth, now referred to as Zar the mad. Zarthurian elevated him to his right hand, and he became the commander of most of the Imperial forces. In later days, it became known that Vellarius was already initiated into the Witches Guild when Zarthurian had elevated him, and had begun a rapid rise through the ranks there as well. It has been speculated that the Witches Guild, and Vellarius himself were in some way responsible for the bloodthirsty madness that dominated Zarthurian's reign, but definitive proof will likely never emerge.

          During the late stages of the civil war, Vellarius ordered a purge of the Order of Knights after a group of them refused his order to destroy a village in northern Caeleon, thought to be harboring renegades. This finally caused the Order to rise up against the Emperor and Vellarius. The Order joined with the renegades and ambushed the Emperor's army in the field. The Emperor initially escaped the battle, but was ridden down by a group of knights whose identities were never revealed. They killed him and returned his body to Del Caet where it was entombed in the Mausoleum of the Emperors below their tower on the Highland, in the center of the city. Vellarius however, did escape with a fiercely loyal personal guard and a group of witches.

          Two years later, the Order tracked them down to a cave on the edge of Lake Erstead in the north, near the Galdorian border. For weeks, the Order sieged the cave, but it eventually fell to members of the Sorcerers Guild in Del Caet to give final closure to the civil war. The Sorcerers, using elemental earth, sealed the cave, trapping Vellarius and his people inside. The Order stood guard at the cave for ten years, just in case the witches he had with him managed to devise an escape, but no sign of them was ever seen.

          Notable in all of these events, was the escape of Vellarius himself in several situations where he was utterly defeated and facing certain capture. Also of note, when the cave was being sieged, every tree for miles around was cut down and burned around the cave day and night, so that not a single shadow would show on the ground. The Sorcerer writing the account knew the reason, but did not say it in the text.

It took me several further days of research to determine that Emperor Zarthurian had given Vellarius a sword, as an award for his loyalty and service. From a single account, that sword was identified as one that had been given to Emperor Zarthurian the first, more than three hundred years earlier, as a gift from the Grand Sorceress in thanks for Caeleon's help in defeating pirates that had been raiding Arisus for decades. This sword had no official name, but the description of a scimitar of exceeding quality, and possessing an aura of shadow left little doubt in my mind that it was a magical sword of great power.

          After reading all of this, I confess that I was having many doubts about pledging my support to Draknahr. While there could be little doubt that few more illustrious swords existed anywhere in the world, this one carried with it a history that I found troubling. After sending word to Draknahr that I had completed my research, I then met with him the next day to discuss it at an inn offering some of the most affordable Therian food in Del Caet. Draknahr has always had a tremendous love of Therian cuisine, and while I have today grown fond of it through familiarity, at this time, the spices and preparations made it quite challenging. Fortunately, I had enough on my mind to distract me from the food.

          “Alan, sit and tell me of your research,” Draknahr said warmly, and with a friendly smile as I entered the inn and spied him sitting at a small table against one wall. I had not seen the young man since our initial meeting. We had corresponded in writing several times, but I had not yet told him what I had discovered.

          “I'd actually like to hear what you know about it first,” I ventured, sitting down across from him. Already there was a small bowl of olives on our table, and two tankards of ale, Draknahr's already half gone. I sampled my ale and found it to be a touch bitter, my palate more accustomed to wine or mead.

          “It is a sword of great renown, and of superior quality. I know where it is probably located, and I know I will need a Sorcerer with me to get to it,” Draknahr replied simply and took a large drink from his tankard.

          “You also know that this sword is magical, crafted by a Grand Sorceress, and that it probably has killed hundreds of your countrymen?” I asked in a whisper. Draknahr however just shrugged and gave me a wry smirk.

          “A sword never killed anyone. It is the hand and will of the wielder that kills, the sword is simply the vehicle. Atrius Vellarius might have killed hundreds with his hand, but he killed thousands with his words and the hands of others,” Draknahr answered smoothly.

          “Draknahr, I am worried,” I said plainly. “I mean you no offense, but I have great doubts that a sword like this should be in the hands of a sixteen year old boy. Vellarius used it to terrible ends, and I cannot be sure that you will not do the same.”

          I worried that I had said too much. That I had been too offensive to the young man, calling him a boy, and accusing him of harboring malevolent intentions. Draknahr, despite his gruff and stoic disposition later in life, was much more open and kindly in his youth. Instead of taking offense at my words, he deliberated on them for several minutes in silence before nodding his head and smiling at me.

          “Alan, I have put you in a difficult position. You know little of me, and without spending years together, all you have is your instinct and my words. Know this; I am the perfect person to use the sword. I have ambition, not to control or dominate other people, but to protect and assist. I am honorable, and I am loyal. Never in your life will you regret helping me in this task,” Draknahr told me with earnest simplicity. Truer words were never spoken.

          One of the most under appreciated benefits of being a member of the Sorcerers Guild is the freedom it allows. While most trade organizations, and the Witches Guild certainly, are somewhat constraining by design, we Sorcerers assume that our guild-mates are ever engaged in their own compelling research, and generally we offer support only when sought. We have some obligations to the guild certainly, as well as to the nation hosting the guild-house to which we are assigned, but it came as little surprise to my fellow Sorcerers when I informed them I would be away for a week at least doing research on an important magical item that had come to my attention. This announcement provoked some curiosity, and even a bit of skepticism, but the kitchen packed up my provisions, and after packing my rucksack with the few items I thought I might need, I was off. Things were not so permissive for Draknahr.

          When I arrived at the enormous fortified complex that was known throughout Del Caet simply as the Training Ground, I was greeted with no hospitality at all by the guard manning a stout, iron banded wooden door. All I could see of him was the upper portion of his face through a narrow slit in the door, but I could easily tell that his expression was not a welcoming one.

          “You're the magician here to assist one of our children,” he stated more than asked.

          While I had heard it many times previously, I was always taken a bit aback when I was referred to as a magician. It was a mocking and derisive term used by people who had no understanding and little interest in what Sorcerers actually do. Instead, they chose to simply group us in with the illusionists and charlatans who frequented taverns and street corners, trying to win their dinner through slight of hand. Fortunately the term has gone largely out of fashion in the last few decades.

          “I am from the Sorcerers Guild to see Draknahr Otherian,” I replied unnecessarily, for the door was already opening.

          Another guard looked me up and down when I entered the halls of the Order of Caelish Knights, and seeing no weaponry, and little to be impressed with in my tall, skinny frame, he led me into the fortress. After passing through largely featureless halls for several minutes, we finally arrived at another wooden, banded door which the guard threw open. I found myself looking out across a sandy field, square in shape and vast. Towering above the field on all sides were the inner walls of the fortress, with rows of balconies overlooking the sand. I stepped on to the soft sand, and looked above me in some amount of awe. The huge opening above the field was mostly covered with stretched canvas, looking like a tent or sail designed to keep the field mostly dry and shaded. Standing in the very center of the field were three men in full, sparkling armour of polished steel. Kneeling before them, yet looking anything but insignificant, was a stout, red haired young man.

          I approached the group of men, trying to show a confidence that I in no way felt. The three knights watched my approach with grim faces, and one actually shook his head in apparent disappointment as I got close to them.

          “Halt Sorcerer,” the eldest looking knight commanded when I was ten paces from them. I complied immediately. “I am Commander Camrian. You have been summoned to this training ground to act as companion to novice Draknahr Otherian in the ritual of the sword. Do you understand your responsibilities?”

          “Not entirely, Sir Camrian,” I replied honestly. Draknahr had not been entirely forthcoming on the specifics.

          “Hmm,” Camrian grunted. “In all the years this Order has been in existence, only six novices have ever chosen a Sorcerer to act as their companion, and none even half as young as you. Draknahr has told us nothing of his plan, as is his right, but I sense danger along your path. As his companion, you are to provide for his defense as necessary, as a dagger and wooden training sword are all he is allowed. You may provide suggestions to assist in the completion of the task, but the novice is to make all decisions, as this is also a test of his leadership ability. You may only disobey his orders when you believe doing otherwise would create imminent danger of death. Do you agree to this?”

          “I do,” I replied with a twinge of doubt.

          “Sorcerer, I do not wish to offend, but overconfidence is a common affliction of youth. Draknahr is a highly promising novice, and I would not like to see him fail tragically at his task due to youthful bravado. I need to see a display of your skills in order to accept you in this role,” Camrian said and waved his hand.

Seconds later, from the sides of the field, two men in rough, belted tunics dragged training targets to the center of the field, finally erecting four targets twenty paces behind the senior knights. Each target was slightly larger than a man, and looked to be made of burlap stuffed with straw and nailed to a roughly man shaped frame. Over the burlap, each training target was covered with rigid leather armour pieces and a leather helm. All the armour looked like it had seen many years of abuse.

          “For this demonstration, I will ask you to disable three of the targets using whatever means you like. You will only be judged on your efficiency,” Camrian said while walking toward one of the four targets. In a single fluid motion, he drew the longsword from his side and delivered a devastating strike which caught the target just under the leather breastplate and severed the wooden pole acting as the target's spine. As the upper portion of the target spun in the air, Camrian flicked his wrist and sliced again, removing the burlap head with helm still intact.

          “See, simple,” Camrian said with a humorless smirk and walked back to the side of the other knights.

          At this point, Draknahr glanced back over his shoulder at me with an encouraging nod.

          “Sir Camrian, I cannot promise that the armour will not suffer damage,” I advised, having noted that Camrian had not touched the armour of his target in any way.

          “We can replace it,” Camrian said with a rough chuckle.

          This was the kind of demonstration that had never before been asked of me. Demonstrations of skill within the Guild almost always consisted of tests requiring great control and finesse. This, while also a test of control, was simply a display of controlled power. Fortunately, power was not something I lacked.

I looked at the three targets, all sitting within about ten paces of one another, and I immediately knew what might make the biggest impression. I waved my arms and called upon my inner reserve of elemental air, then I pushed a bit out toward the center point between the three targets and set it rotating. I fed in ever more air, and what had started as a small disturbance in the dust grew in a second into a tiny but violent tornado, sucking the three targets into the spinning vortex violently. While this probably would have sufficed to pass the test, for some reason that day, I was feeling a bit ostentatious. Perhaps it was the guard who had called me a magician, but I felt a need to leave a lasting impression.

          I held the vortex of air, and then I pushed out with elemental fire, which has always been my strongest attunement of any of the elements. I held back very little in feeding flame all at once into the vortex, and suddenly I knew I might have gone just a bit too far. A wave of incredible heat hit us all, and a deafening shrieking and howling came from the spinning cone of flames. I cut it off at once, though I had nearly depleted myself, and within a second, all that was left of the horrifying tornado of fire was an image of it seared into my vision, and a small section of sand that had been turned to blackened glass. There was no trace of the three training targets, and the pieces of the fourth sat smoking from the heat.

          The silence that filled the field after the shrieking of the inferno was complete. No trace of the faintest breeze, not a single chirp from a bird or buzz from a bee could be heard, and all of the men in the center of the arena looked at the blackened, glassy sand wide eyed and stunned into paralyzed silence. I finally and sheepishly broke the silence.

          “My apologies, I got a bit carried away,” I said. When the three knights and Draknahr looked back at me, each one wore an expression of amazement.

          “We had always heard that the Sorcerers were powerful...,” began one of the senior knights who had not previously spoken.

          “How often can you do that?” Camrian asked, his tone a fearful accusation. I then understood instantly that I had indeed gone way too far in trying to prove myself.

          “Alas,” I said in as non-threatening a tone as possible, and began telling a series of half-truths to reassure the knights that I was not quite as terrifying as what they had just seen, “I may be the only Sorcerer alive who can do that, and I could only attempt it again after some rest. I also must admit that presenting me with a target of highly flammable burlap and dry straw made things look quite dramatic.”

          While they appeared to be at least slightly reassured, Sir Camrian looked long at the patch of glass littering the floor of his training field, and he clearly recognized that even without a sword in my hand, a powerful sorcerer, even one as young as I was, was not a man to be trifled with.

          “Very well,” Camrian said. “Assuming that you can display wisdom and self control, I see no reason why you cannot perform your duty as Draknahr's companion.”

          “Sir Camrian,” I replied humbly, “the way of the Sorcerers Guild is one of studious contemplation. I will provide only well reasoned guidance. As for control, you asked for a demonstration of my power, and I gave you one. If you would like me to light a campfire, or your pipe, or simply warm your bath water, I can do these things as well.”

          Without another word to me, Sir Camrian bade Draknahr to stand before him.

          “Novice, your companion has been approved, and the ritual of the sword begins. Go with bravery, and return to us an apprentice of the sword,” Commander Camrian said, dismissing us both. As we walked off of the field, I looked back over my shoulder for the briefest moment to see Sir Camrian kneeling down over the blackened glass, staring at it in renewed amazement.