The Secret of the Sword

PROLOGUE

Mother!" Joseph called out as he stepped into her sleeping chambers. He was surprised that she was not there. He had seen her only moments before slipping through the ball room door, clearly attempting to make a discreet escape from the noisy crowd gathered for his birthday party. He didn’t blame her, he had thought of doing the same thing many times throughout the night, but it was impossible since it was his birthday.

Besides, she had looked completely exhausted, that wasn’t surprising considering the festivities had begun at sunset, and the sun was nearly rising. Unfortunately for him, custom dictated that the party was supposed continue for another full day! Most would either leave or sleep wherever they passed out, but it was Joseph’s duty to persevere.

He glanced quickly around the suit. Seeing that it was truly empty, he left it behind and began walking through the castle corridors, glancing into each room as he passed by, looking for his mother’s distinct red hair.

Her hair always stood out like a fire in the night against all the dark brown’s and black’s that was more common to the southern lands. In fact, other than her own fiery shade he had never seen a person with light colored hair.

His was dark, like his fathers. He’d taken most traits back after his father, who like Joseph was tall, with the lean hard physique of a sword fighter.

Which he in fact was, he had trained from the time he could walk to handle a sword, and many other weapons, even his bare hands were deadly weapons. His teachers claimed he would soon be a master in all of the martial arts, and weapons of war. This was a feat that even his father, a venerated warrior, had not accomplished by the time he was Josephs age.

The only trait Joseph inherited from his mother was his eyes; a deep blue-green that she swore would melt hearts one day.

But these things were not present in his mind as his long legs propelled him through the castle corridors; instead he focused on the sourceless dread that began rising within him.

Something in her eyes, as she slipped through the door beckoned to him. He would have followed immediately, had a very drunken friend of his father’s not been clutching his arm, regaling him with stories of adventure past.

After what seemed an eternity though, the man slipped into drunken mutters and his manacle like grip finally loosened, which allowed Joseph to break away without giving offense. He now deeply regretted those few moments..

Something inside him said that such a short time, in the wrong circumstances, had brought about more than one disaster. His leg’s sped up; he was running now, and no longer pausing to look into rooms, just a quick glance as he passed them by.

There were so many rooms, why did the damned castle have to be so big? He searched room after room, corridor after corridor. Continuously pushing his body for more speed, coaxing his muscles for just a little more. The dread he had been feeling increased to panic. A sense deep inside of him was screaming at him, telling him that something was very wrong. It was the same voice that spoke to him in training when his teachers were pulling him into a trap. It was that voice that he had been told all of his life to trust, it might save his life one day.

Finally after what seemed days, he admitted to himself that his mother was not in any of the main floor rooms, and the castle had hundreds of rooms spread across its four floors, not to mention the four towers, one on each point of the compass.

He would take hours to search them all without help, but even if he did get help he was sure it would be too late by the time his mother was located. She was in immediate danger and he needed to find her now!

He tried to stop and think, but the hard soles of his tooled leather boots had trouble finding purchase on the smooth marble floors of the palace. For a moment he feared he might crash into one of the many decorative tables that displayed his families’ priceless treasures. In this case a beautiful vase formed of rose colored crystal from the Planes of Matheen.

It was one of his duties to know all of his families’ assets, and that vase could easily feed three large families for a year, he would never be forgiven if he destroyed such a treasure! Luckily he came to a stop just short of the three legged display table.

He drew a deep breath, and forced his mind to some semblance of calm, and his thoughts began to order themselves. He began to rationally consider his mother, and all that he knew of her habits, trying to figure out where she might have gone. It took only seconds for him to figure out exactly where she would be.

Every morning, just before sunrise, she traversed the long staircase of the east tower to stare into the still pre-dawn.

He knew this was her routine because it was also where he trained in weaponry. Why do you come here every morning? He had asked her as he passed her by on the stairs, one morning several years earlier, when he was barely eight years old.

Because she said as she knelt down to look into his eyes, "The time, just before the sunrise, is when all the night animals are going to bed, and all the day animals are still in bed, the world is always at peace then. That’s what draws me here, those few moments of peace, when I can enjoy the beauty of life as it was intended.

The next morning, Joseph woke up early, and walked the long tower stairs with his mother. He stood quietly looking across the familiar landscape and holding his mother hand.

Do you understand now? She asked him, as she turned away from the window. He smiled and shrugged embarrassedly, not really understanding what it was his mother saw. It’s ok I guess. But if you like it, I’m sure it’s very pretty.

Her laughter filled the room, like falling flower blossoms. Sometimes, old women forget, that young boys don’t see things the way they do. But yes my love, it is very pretty for me. Well, if you like it, then I do too. She kissed him gently on the cheek, and made her way down the stairs.

He’d made a point from then on to spend one morning a week standing in the tower with his mother. She shared many thoughts with him there, and taught him many things, that only a mother could teach her son. Ideas like kindness, compassion, and understanding. Which, she seemed to feel was most important to teach in a room dedicated to war and death. He mulled these things over as he ascended the stairs. His long strides taking two at a time, but with two hundred and fifty steps, he had counted once, it was still a long way. By the time he stood in front of the huge oak doors, he was completely out of breath and panting.

He stood for a moment and allowed his breathing, and heart rate to slow. When the pounding in his ears cleared, he realized that he could hear voices. This should have been impossible, the door was three inches thick, and enchanted against eves droppers.

He could only hear a low indistinct mummer, but that meant someone was being very loud.

He opened the door a crack, the enchantment still held unless the door was thrown open wide, but he could understand a little better. He heard his mother’s voice, the words were still low and indistinct, but it was obvious she was pleading with someone, and she seemed to be kneeling. He could see her feet and legs sticking out behind her. He could also hear another voice, it seemed to be singing, and the voice seemed familiar to him. But he could not place it Mother? he said as he opened the door wider.

What are you... the words fell dead in his mouth, as she turned to him. The fear in her eyes left him dumb struck. She reached a plaintive hand out to him, Joseph, no, you must.... Before she could finish her thought, a sword appeared seemingly out of nowhere and her head disappeared. Her lifeless body slowly doubled in on itself over and fell to the floor.

Joseph heard a double thump as her body struck the wooden planks, and something heavy rolled against his foot. He looked down, into his mother’s lifeless eyes, the lids still blinking, the lips still moving. Still trying to tell him what it is that he must do. What was it? Run, perhaps she was telling him to get help? He did not know, and it no longer mattered. All that mattered now was the deadly rage that he felt burning in side of him.

His mother, the woman who had guided him gently through life, was gone from him, ripped from his life for all of eternity. He knelt slowly and took a lock of her red hair between his fingers. The fire seemed to fade from it before his very eyes. He stared for what seemed an eternity at the hair he would never again feel touch his shoulder when she kissed him good night.

He spied a movement from the corner of his eye, which broke him free of the spell.

He looked up and saw the face of a man he’d known his whole life, a man he had trusted and loved. It was now the face of a stranger, a murderer, a monster.

You, he whispered, hatred seething in the word. How could you do this? He slowly stood, feeling the rage surge forward. She loved you? He screamed as he raced into the room on the balls of his feet, his fists landing blows to the monsters short ribs as soon as he was in reach.

The grunts of pain only increased Joseph’s blood lust. The feeling of a rib cracking drove him mad with desire, he wanted to feel more, to see the life blood drain from this creature.

In the midst of the fury, he brought his open palm up, towards the creature’s nose. He could already feel the cartilage cracking as it broke away, and the sharp bone piercing the creature’s brain. This was a killing blow. He could see the creature’s death throws in his mind’s eye. But at the moment of impact, his hand simply whistled through air. Somehow he had missed!

Suddenly the world was a blur! He felt himself tumbling head over heels, and everything faded to blackness

Bright whiteness blazed in his eyes, searing them in their sockets. He sat in blinding agony for what seemed an eternity before the world again came into focuse.

He looked around, he was still in the tower, and seemed to be setting against the single wall that enclosed the circular room. What happened? then he head began to throb. He then remember the feeling of flying through the air, and hitting his head. Was I knocked out? As he raised himself to his knee, fighting the stomach churning sickness that threatened to make him spew out every morsel he had ever eaten, and looked around the room.

For a moment he feared that he had been unconscious for minutes, and surely Marl, the man who he had once adored, had disappeared. To his surprise and relief he apparently had only blacked out for a matter of seconds. Marl stood just a few steps away from the point where Joseph had originally attacked hid, staring in the direction of Josephs mothers dead body. This moment of distraction might be the only real chance that Joseph stood of Killing the bastard, and if he didn’t take full advantage of it there was a very real chance that he would not leave this tower alive.

A weapon, I need a weapon. He looked around the room, the walls were lined with weapons, but all were under lock and key. Given time he could break the locks, but time was the one thing he didn’t have. He began to cast around for something else, anything, when he felt the sudden pressure on the boundaries around his mind. He fought to reinforce them, but it was too late and the defenses on his mind too weak at the moment to put up a struggle.

"So boy" raged the familiar voice in his mind. "You would kill me? Are you so eager to become a man? Joseph fought to ignore the invasive presence. His mind felt as if it were tearing itself apart in the process.

ANSWER ME! The sheer intensity of the last sending sent Joseph reeling across the floor. For a moment the fog returned to the world, when it cleared, he found himself staring at the ceiling, flat on his back. He still felt the alien presence in his mind. However, the rage that had flooded through overwhelming connection being forced upon Joseph’s mind had cooled somewhat. "When I ask a question you must answer, or expect to be punished."

He had lost his chance, Marl was in his mind with such a powerful presence that he would never be able to force him out. However he refused to die cowering! He flung out his hands, attempting to push himself to his feet, and there he stopped completely, he had just felt something very familiar.

Soft worn leather, like that used to wrap the hilts of swords. He’d felt such leather many times in his life. He grasped the hilt tightly and felt a surge of strength through his body. Immediately marls presence was forced from his mind,. Not by his own doing though, it was some alien power that surged through him when he laid his hand on the sword. Joseph, Marl said in a cautious whisper, put that down. It doesn’t belong to you; you aren’t ready for it yet. He reached his hand hesitantly towards Joseph, as if trying to calm a wild animal.

Joseph picked the sword up, and brought it before his eyes. It was very familiar to him. He’d seen this sword many time strapped to his father’s waist. But why is it lying on the floor? Then he remembered the metallic clang during his brief attack. Marl had used it to kill his mother. Your right, he whispered it isn’t mine. But, it’s not yours either. This is my father’s sword, and my father is dead. At the utterance of these words a peculiar thing happened, the singing voice returned.

Its soft wordless melody filled the room, and a new strength surged through Joseph. A look of pain stricken shock flashed into Marls eyes as Joseph uttered the words. Joseph stood slowly, refusing to break eye contact with Marl. He was stronger now, much stronger, and had a weapon.

He could kill this unholy beast, he knew he could. But a voice, much like the singing voice that filled the room, cautioned him to wait, that now was not the time. He hated to do it but he listened to the voice. His new found strength was too alien, and felt tenuous at best. Should he attack now, and it fail him he would surely die.Slowly he edged around the room, keeping the creature at sword point. Which seemed pointless, Marl looked confused, unable to move anything but his head. Which tracked Joseph, or more likely the sword, around the room?

When Joseph’s was as the door he began to slowly back through it. I will come for you some day! He said as he slammed the door and quickly barricaded it.

Running again, Joseph made his way quickly down the stairs and through the castle. He heard many voices calling after him to stop. Asking what was the matter; he simply ignored them and continued running. Although he had known most of these people almost all of his life, they were all friends and servants of Marl’s. Some may have been willing to assist him, but the chance was too great that they would turn on him. At this point he was in enemy territory, and surrounded by hostile forces. His only chance was that at this moment they didn’t realize the fact.

After a series of turns and short hallways he burst into the main room filled with party goers, In front of him stood the drunken story teller. His abrupt entrance had snapped the man to a semblance of sobriety.

Joseph, my boy, what’s got you in such a huff? Instead of answering he ran to the door across the room and burst through it. But as the door slammed open he heard a question that brought him to a pause, Where are you running to? the drunken man called to his retreating back. "Where am I running to?" Joseph whispered.

Turning he took stock of exactly where he stood, and compared it to the mental map of the castle in his head.

An idea occurred to him, and he began running again. After a labyrinthine series of turns, twists, and stair cases he burst through yet another door. This one leading to an exterior square, across the small cobbled square stood the castle’s stables.

He quickly crossed the open space and into the building. The smell of horse flesh and clean hay hit him like a wall.

The stables had always been a place of joy for him, he loved the horses, and the old stable master was always patient with him whenever he asked questions, such as the time he’d told a hand to clean up some droppings, and after an hour, when the job wasn’t done, he immediately fired the man.

Joseph witnessed the dismissal, and when the hand left the premises asked why the man had been treated so roughly. It seemed an overreaction to Joseph, as the stables were always immaculately clean, far cleaner than those in the town which always held an underlying stench of manure and urine.

The old man smiled wisely and said Well, the fact is, clean stables means healthy animals, and you father owns the best horse flesh in the region. So I have to keep them extra healthy. So, when I tell a man to clean something, I mean now. If he can’t do that then how am I to trust him with more important tasks? I can’t have a man around that I can’t trust or your father won’t be able to trust me. Do you understand now? Joseph nodded, thinking that he really did understand. Good then, the man said with a nod, Now off with you, I’m a busy man.

As Joseph entered, thinking of this, it reminded him to look around and make sure the stable master was not around. It was rare for him to be away from his stables for any length of time. He was pleased to find this was one of those rare occasions.

He quickly made his way to his little pony, Krace, who was already saddled for the hunt that was supposed to take place later that morning as part of his birthday festivities.

Quietly now Krace, Joseph whispered in the horse’s ear. He was a smart pony and had picked up on his master’s nervousness, so when Joseph mounted him he began whinny and prance. Thankfully though, with a few soothing words he settled quickly.

Joseph rode the horse through the tall stable doors. As he exited an old servant opened the door across the court yard. "Master Joseph, what is going on? People are searching the entire castle for you. They say there was some kind of up roar. He squinted and the roll behind Joseph’s saddle, where he had tucked away the sword.

When the old man realized what it was he was looking at his face turned pale, "Oh my, oh Master Joseph, what are you doing with that? His tone was both scandalized and fearful. You get down off that horse this instant and put that where it belongs!" Sounding far too much like a mother hen, even for his own taste by the sour look on his face, the old man reached for Joseph.

Quickly, before the old man could touch him Joseph heeled the horse into full gallop. Krace’s withers brushed the elderly servant and knocked him to the cobblestones with a cry of pain.

Guilt surged through Joseph, the old man had always treated Joseph with a fatherly kindness, but it was easily overpowered by his sense of panic, besides He was already righting himself and calling for Joseph to return Right this second, as Joseph aimed Krace at the small service gate that opened to the road that led to the town below.

Marl, stood at one of the many windows in the east tower watching as Joseph’s dust trail slowly faded. He still felt shock over what he had just seen. The sword, or rather the sword’s magic, had accepted the boy, however provisionally. The sword was not fully his yet but still, he never should have been able to hold it more than a few seconds. Much less wield its power. Marl felt a twinge of fear as he tried to understand what this might mean. There was little he could think of that did not lead to disaster.

Chapter 1

A fat autumn moon hung low in the sky. Staring down at the land of Haelth like a great impassive eye chronicling the rise and fall of king and pauper alike with an unfaltering gaze. In the capitol city of Sidion, where Lord Pathanes decided the fate of the land word had finally arrived of the plight of one small village, in form of a desperate request for aid.

Sidion stared into that great eye, and imagined that even now it’s gaze was focused to the East, on that nameless village that according to his maps was little more than a wide spot in the great that had once ran straight through the mountains that blocked Haelth from all of it’s enemies.

However, the maps were no true indication of what the village was. The villagers would not have said they were any great town by any means, and it certainly wasnlt bustling city that it would have been had trade with the lands across the mountains not stopped with the lands across the mountains. But it was still more than a wide spot in the road.

Unfortunately, however, the vampires that had once held sway over the lands withdrew their strength, the darker creatures in the wilderness beyond the mountains grew strong, and passage became impossible, and the growth that had once been so promising had come to a standstill.

Still, travelers did pass through. Often times they were men who sought to reopen trade with the rich lands that were further to the east, and grow rich in the process themselves.

Others came in hopes of finding the forest people. A mystical race that, it was said could cure any sickness, or heal any wound. These people often had sick and dying family members at home for whom they would risk anything.

And still fewer people came in hopes of finding Faeron, the Great Dragon himself, the creator of all land dwelling creatures. Often they sought to seek his favor or ask for a blessing in their lives.

Regardless of their reason, the people still passed through, and though perhaps not in throngs, then enough to keep the little village thriving. At least until the troubles started, now for the first time in centuries, people began to think of abandoning their home.

In fact that’s exactly what Amos Michel was thinking as he lay beside of his sleeping wife listening to her breaths as he stared into the darkness.

He owned the town mercantile, and it was a good business. He had made a good profit from it since he’d inherited it from his father. His father had inherited it, and the small family fortune that came along with it, from his own father. But no amount of money was worth the lives of his children who slept soundly in the next room. He had already lost one if his children to the bastard’s that came in the night and stole away the towns children. He refused to lose another!

His little ‘shell was the first to be taken. Amos had been away on a weeklong hunting trip the night it had happened. Otherwise, he would have died with the others that rode out and tried to take Shelly back. The party had been completely slaughtered, and the bodies mutilated so badly that hardy men turned sick at the sight.

Amos had not seen these men himself, but he had been told that the cruel depravity that was evident from the state of the bodies was beyond recounting. Still, he would have gladly faced such fate if it had brought his baby girl back home safe and sound.

Because these dark thoughts refused to stop plaguing him and let him sleep, he was wide awake when the first screams ripped through nights still silence. He wasn’t surprised by the heart rending sounds of anguish; the whole place had expected to hear it soon. The whole village had.

There was no doubt whose scream that was. He could even picture the poor child’s face, as it contorted with terror and horror. Her name was Mally, a sweet and beautiful young woman, who’d had a long run of bad luck.

Her whole family had been cursed with such luck, as far back as anyone could remember. He father and grandfather had been hardworking men, who would get job’s tilling others fields all day, and then come home and work in their own late into the night.

Every year though, something seemed to happen to the crops they would raise, either blight, or bad weather or poor seed, theirs was always the smallest and poorest of the crops brought in. The other villagers helped the family as best as they could, giving the women chores to earn money, and gifting the children with castoff cloths, but no one in the village was really rich, even Amos only made a moderate income. Still they were loved here, and everyone did what they could.

But poor Mally, she had the worst run of luck ever. The child had lost her husband to the takers, and her mother to the winter fevers, and now her