The Sword Of Midras Part 13

A great pleasure, Mikas responded, bowing in Syennas direction. Opalis welcomes you.

And Aren Bennis, Captain of the Westreach Army of the Obsidian Empire, conqueror of Midras, and adviser to General Milos Karpasic, Zhal said easily.

The murmur of voices from the citizens crowding the edges of the square suddenly diminished to an uncomfortable, shocked silence.

Trevan looked askance at the loremaster, as though he were expecting Zhal to break out into laughter over his own joke. Aren watched as the knowledge quickly dawned on the commander of the Opalis Legions face that his old friend was in earnest.

Captain Aren Bennis, Trevan said in somewhat icier tones than before. His smile fell slightly at the corners, and the commanders eyes shifted sharply toward Aren. He took him in all at once, and his eyes narrowed under furrowed brows when he saw that Aren was allowed to wear his sword, but yet his hands were bound. Opalis welcomes you as well. I am most curious about you, sir. I am keen for a most earnest discussion between us. May I offer you the hospitality of the Opalis barracks?

Captain Trevan. Aren nodded toward the commander, his ears filled with the silence of the square. I look forward to such an opportunity, if it does not put you out.

Oh, I insist, Trevan said emphatically. He then turned to the loremaster. What brings you back to Opalis the Beautiful, old friend?

Consultation with our loremistress, Zhal replied. Is she in residence?

I believe you will find her in the Athenaeum, as usual, Trevan replied, pointing down the wide avenue to the left as they entered the gate. May I accompany you?

I can see it from here, Zhal said, laughing. I hardly need a guide!

Even so, Trevan said, his eyes fixed on Aren. I believe I shall insist.

Lanilan Stranthas, Loremistress of the Athenaeum of Opalis, sat with her elbows on the desk in the center of the Athenaeum, both hands cradling her chin. Her thick, curly hair was tucked up into her flat cap, its annoying ta.s.sel pushed out of the way at the back of her head. Her large, dark eyes took in the ma.n.u.script pages in front of her with such devout interest that she had completely forgotten the rest of the world.

The ma.n.u.script had recently been brought in from ruins discovered far to the east of Jaanaford in the Blackblade foothills. The parchment, discovered in a stone box, was badly deteriorating but could still be separated and was remarkably legible. She had been carefully transcribing the text to new papyrus sheets when the contents had distracted her. She became so absorbed in the story they told that she forgot that she was supposed to be writing it down.

It was the tale of ancient royalty"a lord"who had once walked the face of the world in the days before the Fall. His deeds were mighty and miraculous. It was not the first time that Lanilan had encountered stories about this lord, for he appeared in tales told in diverse and distant cultures. There were great differences between the details of the stories, but each one had several common elements, the most unifying of which was the belief that this lord"regardless of which name he chose"would return to the world after the Fall and bring with him its final judgment: doom or redemption depending on the cultures need.

This particular text dealt with the shattering of the moon. It told the story of the lord"named Brinist in this version"fighting the Dragon of Chaos. Lord Brinists sword swept across the sky to deal the final blow to the dragon, but the dragon was too quick, and dove beneath the arc of the blade. The sword of Brinist, missing its mark, cleaved the moon instead, dragging it across the sky and causing the remains to bleed white blood.

The loremistress shook her head and smiled to herself. This was actually an Avatar story in most of the renditions of the tale, but for some reason the author of this text had mistakenly combined the Avatar and the lord figures into one character. She wondered if whoever had originally written the text had purposefully left the Avatar out of the story for some reason of their own.

Lanilan returned to examining the text.

The wound it caused in the heavens broke the bones of creation, which fell as sharp blades from the sky and wounded the world. In rage, the lord turned upon the Dragon of Chaos and Mistress Lanilan?

She became aware of people standing in front of her.

Lanilan looked up. She could not be entirely certain that they had not spoken her name several times.

Oh, my apologies, she said, standing up. She straightened her deep blue mantle, the silver chevron of her office extending down from her shoulders to a point in the front, and reached back to place the ta.s.sel in its proper position over her right ear. There were a number of people standing expectantly before her. Greetings, Loremaster Zhal!

Greetings, Loremistress. Zhal bowed his head toward her. Did you not get word of our coming?

I did. Lanilan nodded, still trying to extricate her mind from the story on the desk before her. I did but I was not expecting you quite this soon. But, no matter. I am prepared to a.s.sist you as I can. What have you brought me?

Zhal turned, gesturing toward the man with bound wrists who was standing behind him. This man"

He is of Drachvald, judging by his complexion and the shape of his ears, the loremistress said at once. The clothing would indicate that it originated somewhere near Rhun most likely part of those commonly issued to the ranks of the armies operating in the Midmaer. This means he is either a mercenary or a regular warrior, most likely in the service of the Obsidian Cause, which"

Loremistress! Zhal interrupted. We know all that. His name is Captain Aren Bennis"hes a warrior of the Westreach Army of the Obsidian Empire.

Really? the loremistress asked. He seems shorter than I would expect.

Well, be that as it may, he is, Zhal continued to press on. This is Syenna, a shieldmaiden of Baroness Baden-Fox.

How do you do? Lanilan nodded. Ive never met a shieldmaiden either. Tell me, the Rite of the Shieldmaidens"do they still involve the four tests of"

Loremistress, Zhal continued insistently. He was apparently intent on keeping Lanilans curiosity limited to one subject at a time. You already know Commander Trevan.

Well, yes, of course! But then why did you bother to bring him to me? Lanilan blinked at the loremaster.

It is not Trevan, but Captain Bennis who we have brought to you, and it is because he is the bearer of something that is a mystery to us, the loremaster said. Zhal turned again toward Aren. Show the loremistress your sword, Captain.

Aren raised his eyebrows, holding his bound hands forward.

Zhal sighed and then reached out, unbinding the captains hands.

Aren rubbed his wrists, then reached across to his scabbard, pulling out a sword. It gleamed even in the dim light of the Athenaeum.

Lanilans eyes widened with wonder.

Do not touch it, Loremistress, Zhal warned. There appears to be some sort of curse a.s.sociated with the artifact.

Syenna spoke up. We believe it to be an Avatar blade.

As indeed you should, Lanilan said, nodding. Do you think it would be possible for us to get a rubbing of the blade on papyrus? I would dearly like to study the writing on the blade more closely.

That may not be of much help, Zhal commented. The engraved writing on the blade appears to change from time to time.

That, itself, is significant, the loremistress said, leaning closer to the weapon.

Commander Trevan, who was standing behind them, stepped forward, frowning as he, too, looked at the blade. Is this why youve come?

What do you know about this blade, Loremistress? Zhal asked.

Lanilan considered for a moment before answering. I believe it may very well be a blade of the ancient Avatars. Its shape is in the pattern found in several of the Scrolls of Libris. The question may be not whether it is an Avatars weapon, but rather which Avatars sword.

What do you mean? Syenna asked.

Lanilan took a step back from her desk as though it would give her a better perspective on the artifact. There were many Avatars before the Fall, and many Avatar blades. Many of them were named and had specific qualities. You see the symbol on the pommel at the end of the hilt? One curved sword is showing there when there should be three.

Aren lifted up the hilt to look at the pommel more closely. Thats odd. Id never noticed that before.

The chamber where we found it was filled with symbols of three interlocking blades, Syenna said.

And so it would be. Lanilan nodded. Its a cla.s.sic symbol of the Avatars and found in a number of different places. What we need to determine is which sword you have found.

An Avatar blade? Trevan spoke up. The Avatars were the embodiment of the ancient Virtues! How is it that a sword of the Virtues can be held by this servant of death and darkness?

That may depend on which servant of death and darkness youre dealing with, Aren said with some irritation in his voice. Can I put this away now? Please?

Yes. Lanilan nodded again. Ive got to research some texts from the vaults. Once you have found lodgings, Loremaster, perhaps you could return and a.s.sist me?

Certainly, Zhal responded. I would be delighted.

Commander Trevan? Syenna said suddenly.

Yes, Lady Syenna?

Would you be so good as to find appropriate accommodations for Captain Bennis? she said. I think he would be most comfortable surrounded by other warriors.

At once, Lady Syenna, Trevan said. His grip on Arens arm made the captain wince. Will you be joining us?

Presently, Syenna said. Ive a question for the loremistress.

Trevan drew Aren with him out of the Athenaeum, Loremaster Zhal at their heels. Presently, the great doors shut in the distance. Only then did Syenna turn back to face the loremistress.

What is your question, child? Lanilan said.

My my sister, Syenna whispered, her voice quavering.

Yes, child, the loremistress asked, leaning across her desk. What do you want to know about your sister?

CHAPTER.

17.

Crossroads Commander Trevan dragged Aren awkwardly into the antechamber of the Athenaeum as Loremaster Zhal closed the doors behind them. They had pa.s.sed through this room before on their way into the Athenaeum. The narrow windows of leaded gla.s.s on either side gave gentle illumination to the room. The opposing set of double doors, Aren remembered, led back out of the building and to the crowded street.

Im afraid I must insist on your handing me your sword, Captain Bennis, the commander said from behind Aren.

Aren turned his head toward Commander Trevan. The mans left hand had a grip like iron. You might want to reconsider that, Commander.

Trevans eyes narrowed. Which part of insist was not clear to you?

Probably the part where you try to take a cursed sword from the only man, so far, who has been able to touch it, Aren replied. Trust me; this is a really bad idea.

Trevan grimaced, reaching down with his right hand to the grip of the sword.

No! the loremaster cried out as he turned from closing the doors.

Trevans fingers closed around the grip of Arens sword.

The commanders eyes went suddenly wide. They shifted in an instant to focus on Arens face. Trevans mouth opened as though he wanted to speak, but all he managed was to draw in a long shuddering breath. His right hand started to shake so violently that the blade rattled loudly inside the scabbard.

Aren gazed back into the eyes of the commander as he held as still as possible.

Suddenly Trevan released his grip on both the sword and Arens arm. The commander staggered backward several steps before he regained his footing. He stood there for a moment, considering Aren before, at last, he blew out a long breath and then nodded to himself as though he had just answered his own question.

Commander! said Zhal as he rushed toward Trevan. Are you all right?

Yes, I I am quite myself, Trevan answered, although his words were more confident than the sound of his voice.

What happened to you, Commander? Zhal asked, his words coming in a rush. Please, tell me: what did you experience when you"

Not now, Zhal, Trevan said to the loremaster, though his eyes remained fixed on Aren. We will talk about this later.

I did try to warn you, said Aren as he held both his hands up, his palms open as a sign of submission.

Trevan drew in another breath and then nodded. Yes, you did, Captain. May I ask you, what were your intentions in coming to Opalis?

Aren shook his head, and gave a wry smile. Believe me, Commander, I had no intentions whatsoever in coming to Opalis. The loremaster and Syenna, however, both seem to have had a large number of intentions in bringing the sword here. I believe that if they did not need me to be the pack animal for this prize, they would have been just as happy to have tossed me into the Bay of Storms.

Will you give me your word that you will do no harm to my city? Trevan asked.

Trevan, what are you thinking? the loremaster spoke quietly to the commander. Can you seriously trust a warrior of the Obsidians cause?

He will honor his word, Trevan responded, and then turned back toward Aren. Well, Captain? Will you promise not to harm Opalis or its citizens?

Aren considered the question for a moment before answering. Commander, you know that is a promise I cannot keep forever. The Obsidian Cause is a force of order and destiny that will not be denied. There may come a time when its armies may be at your gates, and I may be among its ranks. However, there may be an oath I can take that will satisfy both of our honors. Loremaster, how long do you expect your investigations will take into this apparently useless weapon?

It is difficult to say, Zhal replied, stroking his mustache in thought. Theres getting access to the texts in the t.i.tans library, the research itself and, perhaps, some experimentation with the blade. We could, of course, stumble upon the answer in a matter of days, but it is more likely that the answer"if there is one"will be known in three to five weeks. That is also a.s.suming your cooperation.

Aren nodded and turned back toward Trevan. Then I may offer my word that I will do no intentional harm to Opalis or its citizens for a period of, say"

Three months, Trevan said.

One, Aren countered.

Two, Trevan offered. I need at least two months.

Aren smiled and shrugged. Two months, then. You have my word.

Two months? The loremaster looked at Trevan in disbelief. And just what are you going to do with those two months?