The Redemption of the Ald-Sune

Prologue

From the Code of the Ald-Sune, an ancient text discovered thousands of cycles ago.

Speaketh only truth,

                For deception poisons thy heart.

Showeth no fear in the face of danger,

                For cowardice my follow you to the grave.

Defendeth the meek,

                For they cannot defendeth themselves.

Seeketh not glory or riches,

                For humility softens the world.

Do what is right,

                Even when thy god is the only witness.

Upholdeth the justice of the land, realm or province,

                So that foreign lands remain amiable.

No brother shall findeth his grave where he doth not choose,

                For the Sea of Waking Dreams is vast.

Showeth faith to thy deity,

                For only the gods know thy fate.

Be kind,

                For in kindness the world shall remember thy name.

Showeth loyalty where it is earned,

                As friendship is eternal.

Be studious, so thee may outwit thine enemy,

                For only a fool dies once.

Remain chaste,

                For many men hath been felled by lust.

One sacrifice is permitted,

                For great power is forged with blood.

Be mindful and taketh great care of thy mount,

                For they hath crossed the Great Divide.

If thee fails,

                Lay thy sword down behind thee,

                                For thou hath proven thyself

                                                To be unworthy.

1

            She walked along an old stone wall. The wall went on as far as the eye could see and stretched up into the heavens. Her right hand trailed behind, running along the rough texture as small pieces of stone fell to the ground below. Pale verdant grass stood still only moving as she brushed against it. The sky was a dark grey hue absent of starlight and clouds. Her deep blue dress seemed to illuminate her surroundings. Her hair was a light brown and it also shimmer slowly between her shoulders. Her eyes were a bright purple not quite blending with the light from her dress. She walked for what seemed like hours until she came upon a huge wooden door. The door was easily three times her height. Its hinges and knockers appeared to shimmer between polished and rusty. She absent-mindedly stopped in front of the door.

            She stood, motionless.

            After what seemed like an enormous amount of time she jumped as the door slowly creaked open. The loud crack of the door reminded her of something. What was it? What was that familiar noise? She backed away slowly as the door swung fully open, a rush of air seemed to flee from the opposite side of the open portal. She could see something on the other side, way off in the distance. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. She continued to back away almost in a trance, unable to take her eyes away from the figure approaching her. Every fiber of her being wanted to turn away and flee, but her feet were heavy and slow. She looked down at them. They were dirty and bare. She glanced around her feet almost in a panic. She bent down and touched her feet, a look of bewilderment on her face. A pair of shoes seemed to shimmer in and out of existence on her feet.

            She looked up and there he was, a small boy dressed in a plain tunic and pants. Once again startled, she tripped over her own bare feet and plopped down on her rump. She sat there staring at the boy. He was wearing her shoes. A small pendant hung from his neck. She recognized the symbol, but could not recall from where. He had dirty blond hair, his eyes shone the same color as her dress, impossibly bright and vivid. He gave her a slight wave and crawled up a small ladder onto a platform and sat down in a large chair. She was sure the chair was not there a second ago.

            Once he was settled in his perch he said, “Hi”.

            She moved her mouth and tried to speak. No sound emitted. She tried again, but nothing came out.

            “It’s different here. You aren’t doing it right. And I don’t think you are supposed to be here yet.”

            She stared at him as she struggled up from the ground. She dusted off her dress and tried again to speak.

            He looked at her almost pitifully. The chair he sat on made a groan as he leaned forward, shifting between wood and a golden throne. “Come closer.”

            She obeyed.

            “Now, try again, slowly. You have to think about it more here. It isn’t as natural.”

            She cocked her head to the side and once again stared at his pendant. She then looked around, the look of bewilderment returning to her face. Finally, she said, “Where am I?”

            The boy clapped with delight. “Ah, there it is, now you’ve got it!” And just as quickly his tone once again became somber as he leaned forward. “You aren’t supposed to be here. It isn’t your time.”

            She looked around, behind her stretched bare grassland as far as the eye could see. The wall seemed to curve in both directions, going on for infinity. “What is this place?”

            “This is the Great Divide. I am known as the Gatekeeper.”

            “But you’re just a child.”

            His voice boomed as he stood up, “I am no child! I am the Gatekeeper!” He stomped his foot as he finished. Startled, she took a hesitant step back. He quickly softened and in one motion meekly slumped down and looked through the doorway, panic on his face.  “He’s coming. You should go.”

            “Who? Who is coming?”

            “Oh, he’s angry that you are here. You really should go; it isn’t your time yet. The Gatekeeper knows. I know.”

            She once again began looking around her surroundings. Everything seemed to be moving, almost as if she was underwater. The wall shimmered between brand new and old and decrepit. The only thing that didn’t seem to be changing was the Gatekeeper himself. She focused on him to help clear her head, a tactic that was not working. “I…I don’t know where I am, who I am…” she stammered.

            The boy once again looked at her with a look of pity. “I know. It’s different here. All you have to do is turn around and walk away. I will not stop you. I give you the Gatekeeper’s Promise. I shall not interfere with your escape.”

            BOOM! There was a loud crack that startled both of them. The boy once again looked beyond the gate. The girl took another step back.

            “Go!” the boy shouted. Suddenly the wind began swirling around them. Her hair whipped across her face, stinging her cheeks and forehead.

            “Thunder!” she shouted. “That was thunder!”

            “Yes, yes! Now go!”

            It took all of the effort she could muster, but she turned away from the wall and started to walk away. Slowly at first, but gaining speed as she walked, soon she was running. She turned around to glance at the boy, but he and the wall were gone. She stopped suddenly and looked once again down at her feet. They were no longer bare. She recognized her shoes. She glanced up and found she was looking up into the sky. Clouds lazily floated by. She could hear the soft chirp of birds, one calling, the other answering a few seconds later. She found herself lying on the ground. She sat up slowly and took stock of her surroundings. She noticed her basket lying nearby, its contents strewn about and trampled. Fresh apples, barely recognizable, were smooshed into the dusty ground. The acrid smell of smoke assaulted her nostrils. She sat up and that was when she saw it; her village, in the distance, flames dancing across the sky.

2

            Vlake rode his horse quietly. He longed for redemption. He had taken to mercenary work and was escorting a small caravan of nobles. There were three wagons in total and Vlake’s own horse. Vlake no longer wore armor and was dressed in a light leather tunic and riding pants. He had longsword tucked into a tight roll on his saddle, never more than an arm’s length away. His hair was cut short, but was dirty from the dusty road. His shoes wore the dust of the road as well. He had a clean cropped beard hiding a small scar on his chin. The nobles were a loud sort, always carousing and drinking. Vlake let out a long sigh and seemed to slump down in his saddle.

            “I was an Ald-Sune,” there was almost pain in his voice.

            Vlake spotted a monument, a monument he knew all too well. It was a single sword thrust into the ground, surrounded by various pieces of armor. The armor was rusted and worn, but still recognizable. Vlake stopped the caravan and dismounted. He approached the sword and knelt in front of it, facing away from the sword, it at his back, the same way the Ald-Sun who had left the weapon would have been facing. He remembered when he laid his sword down behind him. He had failed and had lost the favor of his deity, possibly in a similar way the poor sod who laid his sword behind here lost his.

            The nobles began poking their heads out of their wagons wondering why they had stopped. They wore various baubles and trinkets, making them attractive targets for Highwaymen. Their silk shirts seemed to glow in places where the dust of the road had not settled. Vlake ignored them and began silently reciting the Prayer. He mouthed the traditional words,

            “My battle hath ended,

             My failure complete,

             My vow I hath suspended,

             To defendeth the meek.”

             As was customary after the Prayer was recited Vlake allowed his mind to wander. To wander to the day he laid his sword behind him. He recalled his fall from grace. How he let so many of his compatriots die. He was instrumental in the Sea of Swords, a field stretched as far as they eye could see, filled with swords laid down behind. The Ald-Sune had fallen for the ruse, mostly due to Vlake’s urging to ride out and face the enemy head on.

            The castle known as North Ridge sat on a high cliff. Three sides plunged down into the North Sea. The castle was only accessible by a long winding path that crossed a giant chasm that also plunged into the sea. The path was barely wide enough for two horses to cross at the same time. Many armies had tried to take the castle, all failed. It was said to be impregnable and throughout history it was. There was a long winding stair case on the far northern cliff that led to a very small dock, large enough for only one ship. Three towers formed a triangle in the center of a vast courtyard. It was here, in the center of this triangle, where Vlake had watched hundreds of people executed by the King. He had ruled with an iron fist, even the most minor of laws were met with swift justice. This lead to a relative peace throughout the land, however it also lead to the demise of the King himself. Vlake remembered a specific face at the present moment, a young girl, hanged because she had stolen bread and medicine to feed her younger brother. Her death had been particularly brutal. When the rope snapped her head popped clean off, decapitating her.                                                   

            While they fought outside the castle walls a small contingent of soldiers somehow climbed the North Ridge and gained entrance into the castle. They slaughtered everyone. Women. Children. The King’s entire family. No one was left alive, save a single boy who met the returning warriors at the gate. When the Ald-Sune learned of the treachery they knew they had to recite the Prayer and lay their past down behind them. Vlake had done the same. His sword, if it was still standing, lay nearest the castle gate.

            Vlake rose from his prayer and mounted his horse, his penance for the day served. Vlake mounted his horse and silently resumed the escort. As if on cue, his ward’s resumed their excess.

3

            Vlake tied his horse to the post outside of the tavern. A plump woman stumbled out of her wagon and approached him. She stank of perfume, her eyes glossed over and vacant. She handed him a small sack of coin and stumbled into the tavern. Vlake opened the pouch and glanced at his payment, a frown on his face. He tucked the pouch in his leather tunic pocket and finished tying off his horse. He gave the animal a small pat on the head as he turned away and wandered down the main road of the town.

            “You’re no Heiseilan, but you are worthy mount.”

            The town was known as Coranis. It was relatively small and was built on the banks of two fairly large rivers. There was a great hall located at the center of town and all roads seemed to radiate out from there like a wagon wheel. The great hall was massive and could be seen from a great distance and Vlake marveled at it now.

            He could smell fresh baked bread from the bakery to his right and could hear the growl of a dog behind the inn on his left. The sky was a dull grey and a slight rain began to fall. Merchants called out to passersby. The rhythmic “ting…ting…ting…” of the blacksmiths filled the air. The growling dog wandered from stand to stand begging for scraps.

            As Vlake sauntered down the main road he noticed several of the buildings seemed to be closing early. An old woman closed her window shutters; a jeweler closed up his mobile cart and wheeled it quickly down the road. Everywhere he looked the town seemed to be fleeing from the weather. A few onlookers were staring and pointing toward the sky.

            Vlake looked up at the clouds. The rain poured down as a small speck, barely visible in the sky, swirled in a slow descent.

4

            There was a giant courtyard in front of the great hall in the city of Coranis. It was roughly square and left empty to honor the founders who first settled at the juncture of the rivers Niani and Osksi. The first building they erected was a great church with an open roof to remain visible to the gods. The church had long fallen into rubble, leaving the courtyard empty. It was here the dragon landed.

            It was a pale shade of red, its scales overlapping along its body. It had a long tail that seemed to flick independently of the beast itself. Two large horns protruded from its forehead indicating the animal was a female. Its large wings stretched nearly the entire length of the courtyard. They kicked up a thin cloud of rain and mud as the creature flapped to slow its decent.

            A man dressed in pale armor made not of metal, but some other material, rode on the dragon’s back. The man’s skin tone was a pale red almost matching the scales of the dragon. He wore a large open faced helmet, made of the same pale material as his armor. He had long black hair that protruded from the back of the helmet. His hand rested on the hilt of a sword hanging from his side. The man dismounted and landed on the ground with the grace of a cat and just like that the wyvern flapped its mighty wings and was soaring away from the town.

            The town’s guard has assembled at the edge of the courtyard and were helplessly shooting arrows at the dragon as it climbed toward the grey sky. One archer turned and loosed an arrow toward the mysterious figure. In one fluid motion the man produced a long curved sword from his hip, knocked the arrow from its flight path and sheathed the sword once again.

            The man held his hands low at his hips palms facing out fingers toward the ground.  “Hold, I am peace” the man said with a thick accent.

            Several archers trained arrows on the figure, while several pike men approached with their polearms at the ready. One shouted, “Hold. Hold men, steady!”

            As the man approached he kept his arms down and his palms exposed. He moved with grace. His long curved sword swung from his hip. He had two small daggers strapped to his back and several long throwing knives attached to his armor. His armor was dull and showed no signs of wear or use. It clung to his body and seemed to allow a full range of motion. Where his left eye should be there was a small scar.

            “I am Kun-Jai,” he stated. “Means “blade warrior” to you. I am peace. Please see me a leader.”

            The contingent of soldiers eyed the Kun-Jai nervously, several of them scanning the sky for the dragon. They approached cautiously and quickly disarmed the Kun-Jai who offered no resistance. He was bound and quickly escorted into the great hall.

5

            As Euclid approached her village she noticed the destruction was absolute. The acrid smell of smoke invaded her nostrils. All around her the “pop” and “sizzle” of dying fires met her ears. She could see charred corpses as she stumbled around the village. It was barely recognizable. Here was the front gate, here the stables, there the inn where she sometimes peddled her apple pies. All lay as piles of ash. She tore off a strip of her pale blue dress and covered her mouth and nose.

            Suddenly as if from nowhere Euclid turned and bumped into an old woman. Her face was half melted away and burnt. Her clothing was singed and seemed to have melted into her skin. The woman leaned in close to Euclid and said, “shhhhhh” as Euclid recoiled away.

            “Shhhhhh, if you lissssten clossssely you can hear them. Their whissspersss from acrossss the Great Divide. The tortured sssssoulssss caught in limbo!”

            Euclid pushed the woman away repulsed. The woman fell to the ground with a hard thud and slumped to ground motionless.

            “Oh, I am sorry,” said Euclid. She approached the crispy body and shook her slightly. “I am sorry, ma’am, are you alright?”

            No response.

            “Ma’am?” She gave another shake, this time a little harder. “Ma’am?”

            Suddenly the woman impossibly spun around and seemed to levitate up from the ground. She attacked Euclid ferociously. As Euclid attempted to fight her off, pieces of burnt flesh flung to the ground. Euclid let out a loud scream and pounced up onto the woman’s torso slamming her to the ground. She crouched low over the woman’s face, leaned in and opened her mouth. A purple swirl of dust and fluid began emanating from the woman’s mouth and into Euclid’s. Euclid breathed in the fluid and the woman fell dead. Shaking and trembling Euclid ran down the smoky road, tears streaming down her face. The town gate still stood, smoldering. As she ran underneath, it suddenly gave way and came crashing down toward her. She moved so fast she seemed to almost teleport away from the danger. The wood, ash and flame bounced hard off of the ground as she dove away. She paused briefly a heap on the ground, breathing heavily and sobbing. Slowly she gained her composure, stood and faced her destroyed village. She wiped away her tears as her eyes flashed a deep shade of purple.

            Euclid stood up tall, dusted off her pale blue torn dress, turned and walked away.

6

            The sky was clear and the day was sunny. Vlake watched as the Kun-Jai walked through the town square. The area was its usual bustle of activity. All of the shops were once again open and the merchants were peddling their wares. The Kun-Jai’s armor seemed to absorb sunlight and was a dull shade of brown. It made no noise while the bladed warrior walked.

            The Kun-Jai was childlike as he flittered from booth to booth. Each new discovery seemed to broaden the one-eyed man’s smile. He picked up various objects, examined them and returned them only to repeat the process at the next stand.

            The Kun-Jai walked past a blacksmith hut where a few men were toiling away with suits of armor.

            “Look at the fool’s armor! ‘Tis made of pottery! No more useful than the cup ‘twich holds me ale!” shouted a blacksmith. His companions roared in laughter. The Kun-Jai did not seem slighted in any way and calmly approached the men. Their laughter soon subsided and the men braced for a fight. The Kun-Jai pointed at the blacksmith’s hammer and held out his hand and gave a slight nod as in “may I”. The blacksmith handed the foreigner his hammer and waved at the chest plate fastened to the work station.

            “Be my guest.”

            The Kun-Jai looked around the area and noticed a man eating an apple. He deftly snatched the apple and placed it under the chest plate. He took a few test swings tapping the armor lightly giving off a high pitched “ting”. Then with one mighty swing he smashed into the chest plate mangling the metal and crushing the fruit below.

            All the men in the area laughed, as the blacksmith grew angry at watching his creation ruined. The Kun-Jai handed back the hammer and began unfastening his own chest plate. He knocked the destroyed metal off of the bench and replaced it with his own. He took a step back and motioned from the armor to the blacksmith.

            The blacksmith looked at the Kun-Jai with confusion. By now a large crowd had gathered and someone shouted “Eh, it’s your turn now Horus!”

            Horus’ eyes lit up as he realized what the Kun-Jai was implying. Horus rolled up his sleeves and approached the pristine chest plate. He took a few practice swings as well, barely touching the armor with his hammer. Just as he held the hammer at its apex and was about to deliver the smashing blow the Kun-Jai rushed to his armor and covered it with his shirted torso.

            The crowd gasped.

            Horus’ face was beat red now and you could almost see steam coming out of his ears. The Kun-Jai placed his hand up toward Horus. “Wait,” he said. Horus stared at him. With a smile on his face the Kun-Jai took his outstretched hand and placed it underneath the armor where the apple had been pulverized.

            The crowd quieted.

            Horus’ face softened and he took a few more practice swings. His muscles rippled as he put all of his might into the swing. The hammer smashed into the armor and made a low thud. Then it happened. The hammer bounced off the armor and hit Horus directly in the face. He fell to the ground as the crowd laughed and jeered.

            The Kun-Jai laughed as well as he once again donned his armor replacing it with a single gold coin. Several men helped Horus up as the Kun-Jai walked away.

            Vlake approached the Kun-Jai as he finished fastening his armor.

            “Well met foreigner. Fancy trick back there,” he said. The Kun-Jai nodded and continued to walk.

            “What brings you to our country?” asked Vlake.

            The Kun-Jai continued to walk as he answered, “Mine is gone.”

            “Gone? Your what is gone?”

            The Kun-Jai stopped. “My home.”

            “Aye. Then it’s true. You are the last Dragonrider from Mesanto?”

            “Yes. The final.”

            “Then the other rumors are true as well. The Sandman has found a rift in the Great Divide and is wreaking havoc across the land. He destroyed your homeland.  That can mean only one thing; ours is next.”

            “No. Not the dream invader. Another.”

            Vlake looked confused. They once again began walking down the dirt road. 

            “If not the Sandman, then who?” asked Vlake.

            “The…uh…how to say…one who is armor of black?”

            Vlake stopped once again and grabbed the Kun-Jai by the arm and swung him around to face him. “The Ald-Vec?! He has returned?”

            Now the Kun-Jai looked confused, “who?”

            “The Ald-Vec. The Black Knight. Sometimes called the Dark Knight.”

            The Kun-Jai nodded. “Yes. Knight with black armor, as I say.”

            “Where? Where did you see him last?”

            The Kun-Jai looked around and looked up at the sun. He pointed.

            “North?”

            The Kun-Jai nodded. “He is near the salt water, far to the up.”

            “He’s at North Ridge castle? The place has been abandoned for years.”

            The Kun-Jai nodded again. “He like the sword cemetery.”

            Vlake folded his arms and began walking away. The Kun-Jai looked around confused and then followed. Vlake seemed to be muttering almost to himself. “It cannot be coincidence. He must be feeding off the energy from the Sea of Swords. Or he has simply chosen that place to lure me in. No matter. He must be faced. He must be defeated.” Vlake turned to the Kun-Jai, they almost collided. “Will you come? Will you face this evil with me?”

            The Kun-Jai nodded. Vlake nodded back. “We mustn’t tarry. Now, can your mount carry the both of us?”

            The Kun-Jai nodded once again.

7

            The small castle rested on top of a hill. The town serving the castle started at the bottom of the hill and extended all of the way to the castle gates. When the light from the sun hit the castle just right it shined like a diamond. There was a wall running all around the town and castle. The wall was around three times the height of a man. There were several barbicans all along the wall. They jutted out from the top at regular intervals and resembled the teeth of a wild animal.

            The odd trio landed about a mile away from the castle. Vlake dismounted the dragon first and yelled up to the Kun-Jai, “Take the dragon around the rear of the castle and see if you can gain entrance from there.”

            The Kun-Jai nodded and took to the air once more.

            Vlake approached the large iron wrought front gate. Oddly there were no guards, and the town seemed quite. From his days as an Ald-Sune Vlake knew there could be such a thing as too quiet. He felt that now. He approached the gate apprehensively and tried to see inside the town.

            “Hmpf. Where is everybody?”

            He gave the gate a little shake. It rattled and gave off a loud “twang”.

            “That out to get them running” he said, almost too loudly despite the vacancy of the town. After a few moments of quiet, Vlake shook the gate once again, this time with a little more force. It “twanged” once again and seemed to loosen along its hinges. Vlake noticed a rusty, loose bolt on the upper hinge of the gate. He leaned in once again and tried to look along the inside walls of the town.

            Vlake stepped back and gave the gate a mighty kick along the side closest to the loose bolt. The gate rattled as the bolt flung loose. Vlake dove out of the way of the falling iron a second before disaster. The gate slammed into the dusty dirt road kicking up a cloud.

            Vlake rolled into a crouch and unsheathed his bastard sword. He remained at the ready for a few moments, half expecting an entire army to come barreling down upon him. When all remained quiet he sheathed his weapon and entered the city walls. 

            He walked cautiously down the main road of the town toward the castle. The town seemed deserted. There were carts turned over, doors kicked in, with items strewn about. As he approached the castle gate he unsheathed his long sword. The gate was open. He cautiously entered the castle proper. That was when he saw it. A pile of bodies, the whole town tossed upon one another in a macabre hill. There must have been two hundred victims, women, and children. Suddenly he saw one of them move. A pale skinned women in a blue dress. She was near the bottom of the pile and roused as he approached. She stumbled toward him, a purple glint in her eyes. She was barefoot and seemed quite confused.

            Vlake sheathed his weapon as she approached. He turned his head away from the woman as the Kun-Jai and the dragon landed behind him. When he turned back around she was on top of him. She grabbed him by his tunic and tried to kiss him, her mouth opening and closing as he held her at bay.

            The Kun-Jai reacted quickly, he unsheathed a throwing knife, cocked back his hand, hesitated for one second and let loose. The projectile missed its mark and sailed past the woman’s head. He readied another and flung it at his adversary. This one struck the woman in the left shoulder and she released her grip on Vlake. She let out a howl fit for a wounded animal and suddenly was on top of the wall surrounding the town. A moment later she was gone.

            Vlake turned toward the Kun-Jai and began yelling, “Are you crazy?! You only have one eye! You could have hit me!”

            The Kun-Jai stared at Vlake and blinked. “You not tell…” he pointed at his good eye and blinked again, “but this is wink.” He gave a slight chuckle and mounted his dragon.

            Vlake shook his head and looked back toward the castle wall. “Should we follow her?

            “No. She from across Shimmering Wall. Tell by glow in eye.”

            “North Ridge is close. Mayhap she will be heading there. If she does, powers or no powers she will likely die at the hands of the Ald-Vec.”

            With that he grabbed the outstretched hand of the Kun-Jai and climbed atop the dragon.

8

            They could see the Sea of Swords from the sky. It was a sight to behold. Thousands of swords thrust into the ground, armor strewn about, sometimes laying haphazardly, other times arranged in neat piles. Every type of sword you could imagine was represented. There were hand and a half bastard swords, greatswords as tall as a man, thin rapiers with ornate handles. Sometimes twin short swords accompanied each other. Occasionally a suit of armor remained and its sword was missing. This usually meant a looter had acquired the sword and would attempt to use it for gain. These thieves and brigands were not long for this world.

            Behind the Sea of Swords lay the narrow passage that lead to the castle gates. The castle could be seen in the distance. It was still in very good shape despite its years of neglect. Well-worn roadways had typical overgrown vegetation, but were still quite visible. There were various outlying buildings, some of their signs still hung over their doorways. Here a blacksmith, there a tavern.  The gate was open and the tall center spire could be seen through the gate. The other twin towers stood behind the center spire in a triangle shape if seen from above. The towers looked like fingers reaching toward the sky attempting to touch the gods. The odd duo saw it this way now.

            They landed at the end of the Sea of Swords and planned to approach on foot. This of course meant Vlake would need to wade through the Sea of Swords and right past his own abandoned bastard sword. It was not uncommon for a fallen Ald-Sune to see his monument; however few ventured this far north anymore.

            Vlake and the Kun-Jai walked through the field of swords left behind. It was a somber place, quiet and serene, a far cry from the battle that produced it. Vlake could see his monument from about halfway through the field. He could tell almost immediately that his sword was missing.

            He remembered the day it was forged. The metal used for the swords of the Ald-Sune came from one mine. It was located on an island to the east. A large volcano was at the center of the island with the mine at the foot of the volcano. The metal had to be acquired while in its molten state because once it cooled it was nearly indestructible. Because of this the forge was built on the island. The Ald-Sune had a ritual that involved using the blood of an animal to cool the sword. If done properly this sacrifice imbued the weapon with special powers. These powers depended on the chosen sacrifice. Some of the early weapons were fused with the blood of dragons. These were very rare. Vlake suspected the Kun-Jai’s sword was forged in this way. There were myriad options, unicorns, basilisks, and whartons. Some Ald-Sune opted for more ordinary creatures like horses, oxen and even toads. There were myths of thirteen special weapons forged with the blood of vampires, but no one had seen such a weapon in millennia, at least since the fall of the Guardians and the Sentinels in the Great Civil War.

            Vlake had chosen a griffon and thus his mount, Heiselan, was created. He missed the beast immensely. Vlake thought the whole process of sacrifice and forging somewhat barbaric now, sometimes leading to the extinction of various animals.

            He stopped at his monument and almost considered kneeling and reciting the Prayer till he realized the folly of that action. His weapon was gone; the Prayer did no good anymore.

            “Send the dragon away. The Ald-Vec cannot be harmed by its fire,” he told the Kun-Jai. Before he could finish the Kun-Jai waved his hand and the dragon disappeared into the sky.

            They entered the castle. As soon as Vlake crossed the threshold he immediately ran toward the center spire. The Kun-Jai readied his sword and gave chase. Vlake stopped at a pile of rubble and quickly began tossing stone after stone from the pile.

            “Sam! Sam, where are you?”

            The last time Vlake had seen Samantha he was still an Ald-Sune. She had just become the Bearer and was leaving. Ald-Sune were technically not allowed to marry, but Vlake had intended to ask Sam to cohabitate.

            The Kun-Jai sheathed his long curved sword as he approached.  “You seek who?”

            “An old friend, here help me. We must find her. I think she is trapped.” There was a tremble in Vlake’s voice the Kun-Jai had not heard before in their short time together. The Kun-Jai almost began helping Vlake from the desperation in his companion’s voice, but he was suddenly distracted.

            The Ald-Vec exited the center spire and approached. The Ald-Vec was tall, not quite twice as tall as the Kun-Jai, but close. His flat black armor covered his entire body, leaving no flesh exposed. His large helmet had two giant wings protruding from the side. He lumbered slowly. The armor seemed to almost absorb surrounding light. A matching black greatsword could be seen strapped to his back. He carried a silver sword that seemed almost tiny in his hands.

            The Kun-Jai tapped Vlake on the shoulder and then deftly unsheathed his sword. Vlake scarcely seemed to notice as the black knight approached. The Ald-Vec stopped a few feet away and threw the silver sword onto the cobblestone floor of the castle. The sword bounced and hit Vlake. He ceased his search and looked down at the sword.

            “My sword…” he almost called it by name. “It is not lost.” His eyes flamed with renewed determination as he grabbed the sword. He looked at the sword. “I should not wield thee…I have laid my past behind. You are lost.”

            The Kun-Jai shouted, “fight!” Vlake stood still staring at his sword. The Kun-Jai shuffled toward Vlake and hurtled himself into the warrior almost toppling him.

            The Ald-Vec unsheathed his greatsword from his back and placed the tip onto the ground. He stood, stoically awaiting his foes.

            “Fight! Now!”

            Vlake returned fully to the moment and locked eyes with the Kun-Jai. “Together,” he said. The Kun-Jai nodded. They raised their swords simultaneously and slowly began circling the Ald-Vec.

            The Kun-Jai slashed at the unmoving mass of darkness, but his speed was matched. The giant hurled his greatsword into the path of the Kun-Jai’s own sword and easily knocked the blow away. Vlake took advantage of his foe’s distraction and swung his bastard sword from high overhead his face stern and locked in a grimace displaying great effort. The Ald-Vec spun around impossibly fast and met the Ald-Sune’s stroke. Their weapons locked in a struggle for supremacy, Vlake gritted his teeth at the effort to ward off the Black Knight.  The Ald-Vec removed one hand from his sword and punched Vlake directly in the face. Vlake fell to the ground, dropping his sword. The Ald-Vec brought his own weapon down from high overhead and it whistled through the air toward the downed warrior. The Kun-Jai’s sword came thrusting through the pale black chest plate, but it was too late. The Ald-Vec’s blow struck home and nearly cleaved Vlake in half.

            The Kun-Jai quickly removed his sword as the black armor crumbled to the ground revealing the absence of anyone inside. The Kun-Jai sheathed his weapon and ran to the aid of his friend.

            He took one look at Vlake and knew he was dead. He kneeled down by the Ald-Sune and attempted to lift the body, but it was too badly damaged as blood and entrails slopped to the ground. The Kun-Jai set the mess down as gingerly as he could. He bowed his head for a moment. As he rose to his feet, he grabbed the sword of the Ald-Sune. As he entered the Sea of Swords he thrust the weapon into its former resting place.

            The dragon swooped low, the Kun-Jai leapt atop the beast as it rumbled past, gave a quick glance toward his dead friend, and they were gone.

9

                        Vlake recognized the shimmer of the Sea of Waking dreams as he awoke. It could mean only one thing, he was dead. He found himself in a cage suspended high above the ground. He was in the middle of a small outpost surrounded by three stone walls. The cage was attached to a large wooden scaffold. He did not remember speaking with the Gatekeeper, so that also meant only one thing, the Sandman was nearby. He could see the Great Divide way off in the distance. He wondered what had become of the Kun-Jai, his companion of the last several days. Was he also dead? Was he stuck in a similar trap? Suddenly a door he had not noticed before swung open far below him. Vlake could scarcely believe his eyes as the Ald-Vec entered the courtyard followed closely by the Sandman himself. The Sandman was dressed in a black cloth tunic and black pants. He wore a black hood that obscured his face. He carried no visible weapons but curiously continuously flipped a coin in his right hand.

            “So this is how I meet my final demise!” shouted Vlake as his cage swung lightly. “In a cage like an animal?”

            “No, Sir Vlake. This is only the beginning,” replied the Sandman.