Stories in the Stars

“It's the eye of Filinthirium, ever watchful over the world, looking for those who do harm, and keeping track of it. Then, when they wish to cross over to the Aeternium, they must make an accounting of all the harm they have done, righting the wrongs, and balancing the scales, before they get their ultimate reward.” The elf grinned as he lay back on the knoll and stared up at the stars.

The dwarf beside him cleared his throat, but not in a way so as to clear up congestion or inhaled rock dust. “Fine story, lad,” he said. “But we all know it's really the gem of Fornought. Dug from the heart of the world, it shines brightly upon the night as a warning to ne'er-do-wells do behave. The radiant light is known to make a clear night less dangerous, and even make most cloudy nights less grim.”

Before the elf could retort, the star, whether it was the eye of Filinthirium or the gem or Fornought, exploded, filling the night sky with a temporary brightness. Both lay there on the side of the hill, silent.

The sound of two boots stepped behind them. As one, they looked up. It was Rowyn Ashthorn. The fact that they had heard his bootsteps indicated that he had meant for them to hear them. He had dropped all pretense of being the humble hunter, and was now openly Caelric, king of Velemir. Still, to Kofi and Ti, he was still Ashthorn.

“If you'd ask my opinion,” he said in his normal, serious tone, “I would say that it was neither of those things, yet, perhaps, both.” He looked up at the sky, the brightness like a scar across its dark surface. “Millions of years ago,” he said, “that star exploded.” He looked down at the two. “Long before the elves sailed forth on their ships of wood, and long before the dwarves crawled forth from their caves of stone. Long before the age of man.” He looked back behind him where a red mage and an Angelus with a lone black wing stood. “Long before the first mage, or the first Angelus.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Momiji.

Caelric ignored him. “That star was so far away, that, though it has not existed for as long as we would recognizably be the creatures you see before us, we have seen its light our entire existence. Only now has it told us that it has died.” He turned away.

The dwarf scrambled to his feet, followed, more gracefully, by the elf.

“Wouldn't it be funny,” Kofi muttered to the elf, “if that Kenichi lad had something to do with it.”

Tivareth chuckled. He looked back at the sky. The light was fading. “Quite a show,” he said. “I wouldn't have put it past him.”

It was just the five of them. Oren and Korrael had gone off on their own adventure, and Pukku had returned to his people. In exchange, they now traveled with Gertrude, the daughter of Kamiael. She kept to herself or hovered about Caelric like a shadow, her lone black wing and red eyes not entirely inviting to the others. Caelric saw something in her that the others were unable to discern, and so nobody, not the elf, the dwarf, or the sage, questioned him when he had brought her along.

Momiji was studying a map. Caelric stepped up beside him, and Gertrude stepped up behind him. “You're sure this is the place he indicated?” the sage said.

Caelric studied the map with keen eyes used to scanning a field, looking for elusive game. “Yes,” he said. He stuck a finger to a point on the map. “Right there,” he said, then drew it back toward the place where they currently camped. “It's about a mile away. We should get there in under an hour.”

Momiji nodded. “This sure would have been a worthwhile weapon to have during the battle with the dark lord,” he muttered.

In the distance, something meowed. Everybody remained quiet, holding their breath, not moving, hoping their heartbeats wouldn't give them away. When nothing came of it, Caelric exhaled. “With the rise of the shadow cats,” he said, “I would imagine we'll find a use for the sword soon.”

They broke camp, hiding all traces that they had resided there. Still, they could do little about their lingering scent. Caelric just hoped there would be enough wind and rain to make them harder to track from the shadow cats’ keen noses. They were black shadows with glowing purple eyes. They only started to appear after Kagamikurai perished at the hands of Kenichi, but they were ferocious. They instilled fear into those they encountered, and with the fear, control. Honest men turned to thieves, and dishonest men to murderers. Caelric did not begin to understand the chain of events that led to the shadow cats, but he knew that he would be the smith to break it.

He just needed the Eternal Blade of Tenrai.

They kept close to the outcropping hills as they moved toward the place Kenichi had indicated on the map. “Is this a speed run?” Kofi asked, giving cumbersome emphasis to the strange phrase he had heard Kenichi say.

“This is more of a side quest,” Tivareth said, again, the words, while both familiar, made little sense when he stuck them together.

Momiji glared at them. “It is merely a task to acquire a powerful weapon,” he said. “We need no such otherworldly jargon to describe it.”

Kofi and Ti shared a glance before both laughed. After a moment of trying to hold a glower, Momiji too began to laugh.

“Perhaps it's a plot coupon,” he said when he had finished.

“Or a piece of pie,” Caelric suggested, a rare smile crossing his face. Gertrude whispered something to him and he frowned. “Cake,” he said. “A piece of cake.”

They all had a good laugh, even the Angelus, and Caelric did not stop to wonder if it was at his expense for mixing up the phrase. The mood was light and it made their feet less sore and their backs ache less. Then they came upon it: the Eternal Blade. It stuck out from a stone, as if some god had plunged it into the heart of the world, and then had second thoughts, and had tried to pull it out again, but the stone stuck to it like dough. They all took a moment to appreciate the scene.

“This is it,” said Caelric. He looked at the sage. “What do we do next?”

Momiji pulled a worn book out of his satchel. He licked his finger before flipping through the pages. He stopped at one and ran his finger down the page, looking for the text in question.

“Someone has to grab it,” he said. Caelric stepped forward. “But not the person who intends to bear it,” he added quickly.

Caelric stopped. He looked at his companions. “Who among you will do this for me?” he said.

Kofi looked at Tivareth. Tivareth looked at Kofi. Momiji looked at a butterfly that had just appeared. Only Gertrude looked at Caelric, then at the sword. She nodded. She stepped past the king and up to the blade. She wrapped her hand around the hilt and gave it a pull. It did not budge.

Momiji consulted his book. “Oh,” he said. “I should have continued reading.”

Caelric looked at the sage. “What?” he said, his voice carrying an edge of anxiety.

“Someone needs to be prepared to make a sacrifice,” said the sage, his red beard twitching.

Caelric spun to look back at Gertrude. She began to ascend into the air, her hand still on the sword. “Let it go!” he said.

She shook her head, closed her eyes, and still she rose. Then, eyes opened, bursting forth with a brilliant glow. “WHO AMONG YOU IS READY TO MAKE AN EXCHANGE FOR THIS BLADE? ONE SACRIFICE FOR ANOTHER.”

The eyes of Gertrude, no longer her own, scanned the group. It settled on Caelric.

“YOU HAVE ALREADY MADE A GREAT SACRIFICE. NO LONGER DO YOU BEAR YOUR ANCESTRAL BLADE.”

Then to the dwarf and elf.

“AND YOU TWO HAVE SACRIFICED. BOTH EXILES, NEVER TO RETURN HOME AGAIN.”

Kofi and Ti looked at each other. They both pointed at each other and silently mouthed “exile?”

“AND THIS ONE,” said the voice from Gertrude's mouth, “HAS SACRIFICED SO MUCH JUST TO BE WITH THE MAN SHE LOVES.” The long black wing flickered. Gertrude pointed a finger at the sage. “WILL IT BE YOU, THEN, SAGE?”

Momiji dropped the book. “Why, I've made plenty of sacrifices,” he said. “More so than all of these others combined,” he added.

Caelric looked from one companion to another. “Come,” he said. “Won't somebody do this? I would, but my fate belongs to the Blade.” He looked at the elf, the dwarf, the sage, the Angelus. He quickly looked away from the Angelus. “Won't somebody help?”

Gertrude laughed. “WHAT FATE YOU HAVE LEFT SEEMS TO BE BALANCING ON A THREAD.”

“Fine then,” said the king. “I shall make the sacrifice.” He marched up to the blade, to Getrude. He reached out to grab the blade. “What is your price?”

But his hand was intercepted by one in red robes. Momiji shoved himself between the sword and the king. He looked back with sad eyes. “She is right,” he said. “I have not yet made a great and terrible sacrifice. I have lived the carefree life of a sage, never to worry about my future, for it spread out before me like an endless river. My magic and my wit could get me through anything, and if it couldn't, my longevity could outlast my oppressors. I've never had to make one sacrifice of significance in my life, as nothing was significant to me, except myself.” He grabbed the blade. “I shall pay the toll.”

“GOOD,” said the voice. “PLEASE STEP BACK.”

The sage nodded. He hiked his robe up a bit over his feet and took two steps back. “What is your price?” he said, his voice shaking but firm.

“IT IS ALREADY DONE,” said the voice from Gertrude's mouth. Then she collapsed. Caelric rushed over to her, caught her, and held her while she recovered. Her eyes fluttered open, and with a mix of shock and relief she placed her hand on Caelric's cheek. He helped her to stand, and when she was able to support herself, he pulled the sword free from the stone. It rang across the valleys with its freedom.

“This truly is a mighty and terrible blade,” he said. “I have seen three other swords in my lifetime to compare to it: Caerroc, the Mirror Sword, and Drowsysword, the blade of Kenichi.” He placed it into the scabbard at his waist and looked toward the sage. “Thank you, Momiji, for whatever sacrifice you have made.”

The sage nodded. “Let's leave this land,” he said. “It gives me quite a shiver.”

The five turned to set off in the direction of a nearby town several miles off. However, after taking a lone step, Momiji froze. His breath caught in his throat, and his arms shot out at odd angels.

“What is it, man?” Caelric said, but the sage did not reply. His fingers went rigid, and his skin turned rough and grey, like the bark of a tree. Leaves shot from his fingertips, and his limbs grew unnaturally long. When it was done, Momiji the Red Sage no longer stood there, but in his place, a tree with five-pointed leaves. If you looked at the tree, you might still see the shape of a face with a flowing red beard, but that could have just been your eyes playing a trick on you.

Caelric stepped up to the tree. He patted it on the shoulder, or what might pass for a shoulder given a tree, but stopped instead to give it a hug. “I shall not bear this sword in vain,” he said. He picked up the fallen bag of Momiji's and handed it to Gertrude. “Let's get out of here,” he said. “Momiji was not the only one to get an ill feeling from this place.”

They left as the sun was beginning to rise. A streak of light shot across the sky. Kofi elbowed the elf in the leg (because that's the place his elbow naturally would have struck). “My people call that one the Khizeru Chariot. In the old days, dwarves would use rails to haul their ores, and one day, a crafty dwarf by the name of Fandermolun built a steam-powered cart for the tracks. It was so powerful that one day, when placed upon unfinished tracks, it shot into the sky. Now, whenever you see a streak of light across the sky, you know it's the Chariot.”

Tivareth snorted. “My people say that it is the Golden Bridge of Lanyu. Once a terrible dragon threatened the people, a dragon full of jealousy and rage. It swam through the rivers of the village, turning men into creatures not quite alive and not quite dead. Lanyu built a golden bridge over the river, and under it, built a net to capture the creature. The creature swam so fast toward the bridge, that it knocked it into the sky, the dragon trapped within the net.”

Caelric looked at the sky. “Normally, I'd say that it was a bit of stone from another world burning up by passing through our air faster than most rocks do, but it has a strange glow to it.” He shrugged. “Maybe it is a cart or a bridge with a dragon trapped in it.” He sighed. “I am weary, though, and have no time for further speculation.”