Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Chapter 34: From Shadow comes the Silver Flame

"Burned from the shadow's grasp by the fire of faith,

They were holy warriors like no other.

For they had a keen and intuitive understanding of evil,

Darkness having a great part in their creation.

Newly born beings of light, they hated evil like no other,

And sought its destruction in all forms with every iota of being."

- from a Var Ethisdil study on the origins of the Dark Elves

Unfortunately, as he was to discover sometime later, after getting something to eat and cleaning up himself, the white haired king of Aquila wasn't able to take his own suggestion. With the sheathed Sword of Aesthegon in his hand, he found himself restlessly wandering Hendris' massive house. 

 As he did, Ciradaan found the words of the dark elf leader, Kordin, returning time and time again to his attention: 'Know you this, king of elves: your burden will become far greater than it is now. For you hold Destiny close to your side, and closer to your heart. And, in the same breath, with a sword of legend in your hand, you will command the hosts against our dark enemy in battle so wondrous, so devastating and terrible, that its kindred has never been known. And you will taste both victory, . . . and defeat.'

'Both victory and defeat,' he silently mused as he stepped past a bank of windows on the first floor that afforded an extensive view of the park the mansion perched on the edge of. Noticing a door out to a covered porch, he opened the heavy wooden portal and stepped out to let the afternoon breeze waft over him, heavy with both the scent of the sea and the nearby park. Leaning against the rail running the porch's perimeter, he tucked the sheathed sword in between his body and the rail and let his eyes shift over the miniature forest spreading out before him.

The trees, with careful tending and constant moisture, were strong and bore rich foliage. But, as his thoughts continued to churn, Ciradaan both saw them without seeing them. 'Not sure I like the sound of that. Or that my burden will become greater, since I hold Destiny close to my side and closer to my heart. Since he mentions the sword later, he can't mean that. So I wonder if he means the human boy. Could the lad be an Ironstorm? Frost me, could he be one of the so-called chosen? And what exactly are they chosen to do? What are these 'weapons of power' the cleric mentioned?' He folded his arms over the sheathed sword, cradling it close to his chest as he looked down at the worn hilt and the sliver of blade that was visible above the sheath. 'Are they anything like this sword?'

Thankfully, despite Merikas' dire words, its magical blade remained dark, its built-in defenses untriggered by nearby dark forces. His frown deepening as his thoughts continued their inward spiral, Ciradaan let his eyes drift off the ancient sword and back onto the lush temperate green of the forest beyond. If only the weapon had come with a set of instructions on how to use it. An eyebrow slowly lifted as he pursued that thought.

How he wished that knowledge on the weapon's workings was the only question surrounding the Sword of Aesthegon. Unfortunately the arrival of the Norak Utterance and how the Var Ethisdil were handling it, had seen to the creation of a number of others. Not in the least that it still remained to be seen what part the ancient and powerful talisman would play in the upcoming unfolding of the prophecy. Or what part in the Var Ethisdil's ill-fated plan to bind the chosen of prophecy to the elven people the sword would play.

Ciradaan had to fight the urge to loudly snort in derision. Bind the chosen of prophecy? Frost him to the Abyss, it was madness! Either this Voice had an exaggerated opinion of its magical talent in spinning a spell powerful enough to bend fate itself to hold the chosen from their destiny or they truly didn't understand the forces he sensed swirling into being with each passing moment. If this Merikas was any measure of the Var Ethisdil, he'd wager the latter was more true. After all, hadn't they spent millennia simply looking for their purpose? Could the Var Ethisdil truly think they could hope to understand the prophecy after having it in their hands for less than two moondays?