The Sword of Feathers

CHAPTER ONE - THE LEGEND

It was in that particular moment when the sun rose from the Eastern Mountains. Have they ever moved from they were? It’s said that every blood moon the sun would rise from the north, but this time: The night had gone red but the sun rose just as normal, just as blue.

“Do you think it’s time now, brother?” – Said Fúrin, my brother. “I’d rather wait for these three nights to come.” – I replied. Fúrin, my brother, was a young stud, brave, and decided. But yet his fears grew every now and then, he isn’t the biggest or strongest but swift he is and when wielding the feather-like sword he found on our grandfather’s grave, magic takes upon him.

“Now then, we must not falter! For the dawn is the announcement of our movement towards our destiny. Come forth men! We ride!” My command gave wake to those un-aroused and then the sun struck our eyes as we started to settle our horses. Thus I wasn’t the most fearsome captain; I knew that men had strength while in a pack. Like wolves and lions, we roared into the wilds, venturing upon a sacred sanctum of an old enemy to seek what was ours and to reclaim the glory of my Father.

“No longer rest is needed, my dear Ballund. For I must enter a slumber to cleanse my soul of the evil sight of these days” – I remember his voice every morning and his last words to me before the foul news came of his tragic death. He died in battle trying to carry on this quest that I follow. His sword was so powerful that given it was to the wrong hands, and fell into darkness. Everything my father had built with his magical sword: our kingdom, our race, our legacy. Broken by the beast of his shield-brother one who he once trusted; a man of dark-silver armour knowing a deadly wisdom of dark magic and foul incantations. Kearös was his name, as even darkness came with the pronunciation of his wretched name.

Father and Kearös joined the White Army, the royal forces of the King. But it did not last at all, as Father gave him word of what he was crafting with the wizards at the Old Temple. With a potion of strength, of loyalty, of honour; along with a potion of love, kindness, and order, Father managed to conquer the secrets of Light-Magic. Twenty two years had passed since he started the enchanting of his weapon. But, when the day came in which he would make a better order of our realm, to make peace, and be crowned King of Landaar, Kearös was there at the right hand of Father, waiting for his moment to come. His chance was one in his ugly lifetime, to strike Father and steal his powerful sword, he managed to run all the way from the throne room to the outermost gate of the palace and disappear with the sword in his hands.

Since that very day, the skies are now dark and red. The sun is no longer blue but there are days in which even the Cosmic Gods are fighting each other, so the Blue Sun prevails but only lasts a day or two. Kearös not only had betrayed Father, he took his sword and cursed it and turned its Light Magical powers into corrupted and foul Black Magic. Now he remains hidden somewhere in the Aryunt Forest. In his sanctum, founded in dark roots and high trees that take of any sight or ray of light, the place where Father once travelled but died in the attempt.

Father had used his strongest shield also forged in the highest of the wizard’s towers; he wore silver armour and wielded a feather-like axe brought by the Cosmic God of Autumn. He marched towards the hidden forest in Aryunt. Every monster he saw, he had slain. Every wild animal and even he prayed to the skies to terminate the treacherous winds of the North. He was, as you see, a very strong man. Took over fifteen thousand men to war with him.

Third day of the first Blood Moon, three days have passed since the theft of the Glorious Sword of Landaar, the blade of our family, our kingdom. When the armies of Landaar had started to trample against the enemy’s lines, Father quickly ran up the highest tree where the dark palace was, climbed as fast as he could watching how the blight of war took his noble army and how death came to his loyal guardsmen as a blanket quickly pouring down the darkened skies.

He entered the main hall and silence took the place.

“Your quest for this has driven you mad, Feardur.” – Said the wicked voice throughout the hall.

“I come for what is mine! And you are giving it now!” – Father screamed as he removed his helmet. His golden beard and long hair would show up and bring a bit of light to the hall.

“No man has ever gone this far, you deserve a medal. As you always did! You had every acknowledgement, every honour, every medal, every blade and everything that made you be king of Landaar. But that is no longer needed, since you left your home looking for me into my domain.”

“Kearös, stop this madness! You shall give me back my weapon and everything will be left in peace! Show yourself!” – Said Father in a roaring howl.

“You try to negotiate, but the strongest survives when there is no catch!”

Shadows had taken Father’s life there and then, in that very moment when Kearös froze and struck him in the neck, making him bleed quickly. Not giving the slightest chance to scream for help. Kearös had taken Feardur’s life, my Father’s life.

The moment always comes to my mind as I imagine it, every Blood Moon; it haunts my mind and creates my nightmares. But several years have passed and I along with my brother and finest shield-brothers shall be the ones that break the evil of Kearös’ foul magic and bring peace once again, just like Father have wanted to happen. We are the strongest throughout this land and the other realms and kingdoms of fellow kings that knew of this quest to be made.

“We’ll show that bastard that only we seven will make the work of the fifteen thousand your father left at the forsaken woods.” – Said Gaolon, the dwarf, stubborn as he was proud. He was the son of a very powerful wizard who once helped Father to craft his sword.

“Well then hurry up, Gaolon, for we must reach the West Valley by nightfall and I’m not in the mood for giants today. So we must move on.” Even as we moved towards the west, we could see how the rain was taking that area. We must be able to reach the border of Landaar with Halgram and spend the night in Rivredat.

Seven we were and seven we shall remain by the end of the quest. We venture into the depths of Aryunt, reclaim what is ours at any cost, killing the bastard and coming back to restore peace. I pray to the Cosmic Gods for our journey, but it is not clear to me our fate or doom in these paths. Fúrin always kept his runes with him, so that we could be in touch with the Cosmic God of Autumn.

“You never know when a pack of brown wolves will attack, Ballund, not even when a fourth Blood Moon has been up in the skies.” – Said Thelios, the elf.

“Well, ready your bow, Thelios, and when you see something coming or sense them howling, you let us know.”

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[Stay tuned for the next chapter]