The Blade Heir (Book 1) (5 page)

Lucius understood now why the leader of the
Cyngorell
held him in such low esteem. The thought of his patronizing voice suddenly angered him.

"But despite his objections, you would not be turned aside so easily," Helmer confessed with a smile. "Unlike many of the Councilors, I viewed your arrival as a blessing to this land. I chose to defend you, Lucius, and desired for you to have a place in my house equal to a son of the Silverhart line."

Lucius slouched in his chair and pondered Helmer's confession. "Why, Father? What deemed me worthy of such an honor?"

"Nothing, Lucius. I saw your vulnerability as an infant and, like Kiret, I had pity on you. You see, like many of my kinsmen, I have long grieved for the children of men and the world they inhabit. So much war and malice wrought by their hands when they are capable of loftier pursuits. And I did see a lofty pursuit in keeping you among us." Helmer stood up and walked to the lattice window. He looked at the moon for a few moments in silence, contemplating how to phrase what he wanted to say next. "The
Cyngorell
did not easily concede to my wishes for you to have a place in Evingrad. They needed to be convinced you would not be a threat to Verdania or to the peace of D'arya. It proved difficult to sway them, considering you were not only a child of man, but also a royal heir of Aldron."

Lucius' eyes widened and his posture straightened. "What? An heir? How can you be certain of this?"

Helmer placed his hand inside his garment and pulled out a flat, stone octagon the size of his palm. He handed it to him for closer inspection. The seal was lighter than Lucius expected and had a slight sheen in the candlelight. On its surface was a carving of an eagle with wings outspread, clutching a sword with its right talon and a scroll with its left. Above and below the carving there were words inscribed in an ancient language of men, but Lucius could not decipher their meaning.

"'In the Lord Yéwa do we stand and in his son, Yesu, do we trust.' This is their meaning," Helmer said.

Lucius raised his brow and searched the stone for any further meaning, "I don't understand—"

"How this pertains to you?" Helmer finished the question. "The stone carving you hold is the crest of the King of Aldron, Cervantes Nostra. Kiret found it among the blankets you were clothed in."

Lucius knew little of the legendary king, Cervantes, who had reigned in the kingdom of Aldron nearly a millennia ago. In those days, elves and men fought together against the Draknoir of the east before their alliance faded into gloom. The current ruler of Aldron, King Alfryd Dermont, was not from the line of Nostra. The third generation of Cervantes' line had been hunted down and killed off by the Draknoir and various enemies of the throne. A servant of the Nostra house named Gareth inherited the throne of Joppa and established his dynasty in the southern province of Azuleah. Knowing the Nostra line had been wiped out for years before his birth, Lucius saw the stone as nothing more than an artifact and not evidence of royal status.

"This stone proves nothing, Father. The house of Nostra has been desolate since before I was born. I am no heir to the kingdom of Aldron or the province of Joppa," he said, setting the stone on Helmer's desk.

Helmer laughed, which slightly annoyed Lucius. "Desolate? Who told you it was desolate? Siegfried?"

"Well ... yes," Lucius admitted.

"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 request 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.