The Seventh Sword

Metal Minister

New Year, Still Old School!
May 8, 2012
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This thread will be an "as I get a chance" (lol) installment of a story I've been working on for sometime. I went back and forth on whether I wanted to make this a novel, but realized I was just writing for the joy of it, and wanted to share it, not try to make money on it.

Basic Synopsis:
An evil sorcerer emperor threatens the world as he conquers one land after another. The remaining free people's last hope lies in combining 5 of the 6 mystical swords to create the fabled 7th sword. However, when the sword vanishes, the fate of the world may lie in the hands of a slave that belongs to the same evil emperor...

I'll create a "peanut gallery" thread for folks who'd like to give their opinions or inputs. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

*peanut gallery thread*
http://www.christianforums.com/t7863551/
 
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Metal Minister

New Year, Still Old School!
May 8, 2012
12,140
591
✟29,999.00
Faith
Baptist
Marital Status
Married
Politics
US-Others
PROLOGUE

He leaned over the marble pedestal, hands flat on its smooth surface, shot through with every mineral known to man. His eyes followed every line, each manipulated to form a complex symbol that looked completely natural.

"Stanus, please. We need your vote."

Stanus' s head snapped up, eyes locking on the wizened old sorcerer, but said nothing. Most believed Stanus to be slow witted, almost simple. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Stanus's mind was in fact his greatest weapon. Where others reacted, he'd already planned. It was how he'd become arguably the best swordsman in the group. He'd developed a fighting style unmatched by the others. Every move, every slash, every thrust, sharp and deliberate. No wasted motion, no wasted energy. Let others tire themselves with grand flourishes and sweeping motions until spent, fatigue causing them to make their fatal mistake. Let them have their admiration and relish the compliments of their techniques."All the flash in the world means nothing if you're dead," Stanus's father's voice still echoed in his mind.

He slowly looked at each of the other members of the Chosen. They had little, if anything in common. He was king of Altana, his sword passed down from father to son, the symbol of their reign and promise to their people to defend them always.

As if in response to his thoughts, the shield that formed from the cross gaurd sprang open. Each of their swords had been forged by a thamaturge several millenia ago. So far back in history that his name had disappeared from knowledge. Each blade had been given it's own magical properties and given to a specific bloodline. Beyond that Jannick, the wizened wizard, had been unable to find out much more.

The bloodlines, it was said, were to defend the people, to be their champions. It seemed to Stanus, only his bloodline had lived up to that calling. The rest had fallen into petty thievery or become mercenaries.

One such sat across from him. Romil sat behind her massive sword, leaning on it almost nonchalantly. The blade itself was over four feet long and wider than a man's thigh, yet it's magic allowed her to wield it as though it weighed nothing. Even at it's size it was sharp as a razor, and once the weight was moving, no weapon or shield could so much as deflect it. Save for Stanus's own.

To her right sat Greghus. A spindly thief whose short sword could vanish from sight at his will. He claimed no matter where he dismissed it, it would always return to his hand when called. Stanus could not discount the claim, considering what the man to his right could do.

Zephis held only one sword, a long slightly curved single edged blade. The blade alone was unremarkable, aside from what it could do. Stanus originally assumed it was related to Greghus's sword, as on command, an identical sword would appear in his off hand. Zephis however, insisted the the blade became two mirror copies in less than the blink of an eye.

And finally, to Stanus's left, sat the one man who drove him to the point of madness. Bristan. His sword, he claimed, actually cured people when it cut them! He'd oft stated "so long as a person still draws breath, my blade can heal any sickness or injury!" They way Bristan made his claims reminded Stanus of a cart vendor in the market. Barking his wares to draw a crowd. It set him to grinding his teeth. Bristan toured the lands healing people in the name of Dia, claiming to be the Creator's priest, yet seeming to bed a different woman nearly every night. Stanus had read the Holy books, and Bristan violated nearly every tenet on a daily basis.

"Please Stanus, the others have voted. We must know if the vote is unanimous or if further deliberation is required." Wizard Jannick prodded.

"I know full well the weight of our actions wizard!" Stanus spat the word like an insult.

In truth the title of wizard was more honorary than anything else. True he could cast some spells, but most were severely lacking in power. The title was bestowed upon him for one reason. He was a Searcher. Able to detect the smallest hint of magic even from great distances away. It was how he'd found the underground room they were currently in. Immediately after it's discovery, Jannick had set out to find all six bloodlines. To the detriment of the world, he'd succeeded.

"Before I cast my vote, do we all understand what we're doing? We are giving up five of the most powerful weapons known, in hopes of creating just one. One that is to go to..." He paused and looked at Jannick, "How did you put it wizard? To the one of the true line?" Jannick nodded solemnly. "And yet we do not know who among us that person is. We only pray it is one in this room."

"What else would you propose Stanus?" Romil asked. "We all know the sixth sword is more powerful right now than any one of ours. With it in that demon's hands, even more so. Even together we don't stand a chance."

"The writings state if at least five of the blades are joined they will create a single sword of immense power, and it will be delivered unto the the champion of the true line. I believe it was done this way for just such a threat. So if one became too powerful, it could be kept in check." Jannick stated emphatically.

Stanus glared at the wizard. "Yet the word champion could mean anything. It doesn't necessarily mean a champion of the light, it could easily mean a champion of the darkness."

In a way, Stanus believed this was the wizard's fault. In his eagerness to locate the six enchanted swords, he'd informed quite possibly the greatest evil known, the emperor of the lands to the north, that the heirloom he possessed, collecting dust on the wall, was actually a powerful artifact of millenia past. He couldn't place the blame entirely on Jannick's shoulders though. No one knew the depth of the blackness that had infested the dictator's soul.

Precious little had been known about the empire to the north. It was separated by the Infinity Spires, the massive mountain range traversing the entire continent. It was known that they controlled the vast bulk of the land on this side of the ocean, but until recently they seemed content to remain where they were.

Stanus looked back down at the pedestal. The uniting orb, a massive stone the size of a wagon wheel, perfectly round and smooth, glowed a deep violet. All the lines of minerals met at the orb.

"I simply do not like that our enemy is nearly at our doorstep, and we may be losing our only edge voluntarily!" He slammed his fist down the punctuate his point.

"None of us likes this Stanus." Romil replied unmoved by his outburst. It took a great deal to ruffle the mercenary's feathers. "I like even less the idea that someone the likes of Bristan may end up wielding this weapon." She shot a glare of pure venom towards the self proclaimed messenger of Dia. "I've no doubt it would quickly end up under the bed of every courtesan from here to the coast. However we all know we cannot stand against this threat. Our edge, as you put it, is no edge at all. In fact right now it is a detriment." She stood, the pommel of her sword lining up between her eyes while the tip remained grounded. That she was nearly as tall as Stanus made the image her sword made even more impressive. Raising it reverently, she kissed the blade and laid it into the relief of the same shape in the pedestal. "I refuse to allow that monster the chance to destroy everything I hold dear."

Bristan snorted a laugh. "A mercenary like you holds something dear?" He stood and placed his blade in the relief in front of him. "For me this isn't that difficult. I know the Creator has seen my good works for him and will reward me with the Seventh Blade."

"Your arrogance knows few bounds eh Bristan?" Greghus sneered as he rose and placed his blade.

Zephis stood, and without a word, brought forth both blades, flourished them once, and then just as quickly rejoined them and placed them in the pedestal.

Now all eyes lay on Stanus again. Reluctantly he drew his sword. He held it before him, gazing into the blades polished mirror surface. In it he saw his own reflection, and he hated it. The indecision was written on his face. With a deep sigh, he lowered the sword into the depression in front of him. It fit perfectly.

Jannick stepped forward and placed a hand on Stanus's shoulder. "You're doing the right thing."

"You'd better be right wizard."
With practiced perfection the five recited the incantation that would unify their swords.

"In this time theneed is great,
To avert impending fate
In this day good men are few
Deliver us our champion true!"

As they cried out the last word, intense blue light burst forth from the orb. The once dimly lit stone room was now brighter than looking at the midday sun, but none needed to avert their eyes.

The lines of minerals flashed silver, and something with the appearance of liquid gold began to flow from under the orb down small channels in the pedestal. When it reached the point of each sword, a crimson rune glowed to life. As they watched, each sword lifted into the air, pointed toward the ceiling. The orb gave off a white flash, and they began spinning in a circle, faster and faster until they began to blur. The swords leaned down, until their points touched just above the top of the orb. With a thunder clap of released magical power, the five swords were gone, and a single blade hovered over the pedestal, bathed in the light of the orb.

All six stood in awe of the weapon before them. It's hilt was wrapped in a deep black leather, it's cross gaurd was made of a gleaming white metal none of them could place, and shaped like twin dragons rearing up. The blade itself was a beautiful cobalt blue with a sinuous eight legged dragon running along the center of the blade. The air literally crackled with its contained power.

None of them moved, awestruck with what they'd witnessed, and now with the masterpiece before them. Long moments passed until the ground began to quake as though trying to tear itself apart. Dust and Dirt began filtering down around them, and as they grabbed for the only solid thing in the room, the table, the sword vanished in a shower of sparks. Seconds later, the shaking subsided.

Stanus looked at the now empty space above the pedestal, mouth agape, the turned toward Greghus with death in his eyes.

"Bring it back Greghus!" He roared, but Greghus just stood there, ashen faced and speechless. "I said bring it back!" He shouted again while grabbing the man by his collar.

"It's bad enough to know that a cutpurse like you is of the true line, but you do not need to hold it over us by keeping it hidden!"

"I - I don't have it..." Greghus whispered. "I don't know where it is." He looked around, panic setting in. "I don't know where it is!" He shouted. "It's as if someone has stolen my right hand! I could always feel where my sword was, but now....nothing." He trailed off.

"Do not lie to me theif!" Stanus bellowed.

"He speaks the truth!" Jannick announced.

"What did you say wizard?" Stanus turned his attention on Jannick.

"I said he speaks the truth." Jannick replied. "When the blade came into existence I couldn't think clearly as the power hammered my mind. Now I feel nothing, nothing at all. It's as if it no longer...no longer exists..." his voice dropping to a rasp. The shock of realization ghosted across Jannick's face, and he slumped to the floor. "All is lost...." He whispered.

Before anyone could confront the wizard, the warning horn from the parapet above the castle sounded. The enemy had arrived.
 
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