Fox Elvensword the Champion of Tanger

By George Allen Butler II.

The whispers of the past begin to echo in the present. A bargain made two thousand years before to protect the city of Tanger, now threatens to destroy the elven future...

Fox Elvensword, the one-time bearer of the Sword of Bhaal, is on a journey to the University of Teare to become an Elvish Knight and prove his nobility exists in more than just his blood. He finds his efforts fraught with unexpected perils, thanks to the scheming of an evil provocateur.

To defeat the wheels within wheels that are turning against the Elves of Tanger, Fox must learn lessons not always taught in class. He must navigate the riddles of war, love, and self-doubt to prove his mettle. The enemy of all he loves knocks at the gates, and failure will mean a dark age for all elvenkind. To succeed, he must become
THE CHAMPION OF TANGER!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491818039

George Allen Butler II.

George Allen Butler II was born in Danville Illinois on Oct 20th 1968. He graduated from Danville Area Community College in 1988. After trying several lines of work, he enlisted in the U.S Army Rocket Artillery in 2000. He served in several overseas tours of duty from the Liberation of Iraq in 2003, Korea in 2004-2005 and 2010, Enduring Freedom Afghanistan in 2008, and Operation New Dawn 2011-2012. While deployed, George Butler sat down to write the book he always wanted to. Fox Elvensword and the Sword of Bhaal is his first published work. Fox Elvensword, The Champion of Tanger is the continuation of that work.

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© 2013, 2014 George Allen Butler II. . All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/05/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1805-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1804-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1803-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013916926

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

1.  The Glade

2.  Plans

3.  Dwarves

4.  Dark Elves, Barbarians And Tanger

5.  Illusions

6.  College

7.  Enrollment

8.  Classes

9.  The Big Fight

10.  The Fox And The Dragon

11.  The Next Day

12.  Omens Of War

13.  Ghawron’s Office

14.  Tanger

15.  Expulsion

16.  The Streets Of Tanger

17.  Tannish

18.  Wolves

19.  The Southern Gate

20.  Refugees

21.  Dark Elves

22.  Horde

23.  Halting The Assault

24.  Dark Ones

25.  The Surprise Assault

26.  The Wall

27.  Fox Versus Goreim

28.  Fox Awakens

29.  The Award Ceremony

30.  Return To Tanger

To Josef McCoy who spent long hours and put forth much effort to make this the best book possible.

To my son Aaron, whom I love very much, words cannot convey the hope I have for you.

To Matthew Garver and Jeremy Stroud, for all the hard work you put in as well.

To Michelle Chesnut, my sister, for her photography skills.

. . . And I saw him standing there. His skin was bronze, forged in fire and his muscles were shaped, hard and strong like the mountains. His face was framed in long golden hair and even though he was elven, he had the stern look of the gods upon him. His blue eyes looked right through me as if seeing into eternity. Despair had never touched his face and he cast a terrifying shadow of death. He walked as if all the daemons in the abyss should part at his passing. The blood of his enemies dripped from his fingers gripping tight the sword of his birth.

. . . And his sword shined like lightning shot from the sky. Reds and gold fought for dominance on the handle. The blade was long and straight like a ray of light from the sun itself. It had an edge like none other and a clean spotless appearance that reflected the death one would receive if cut with it. Forged in the mountains by the very gods themselves from the death of the first morning star, its legend will have no equal.

As revealed by Thaddeus, the first day of the world

Here I stand at the edge of forever, looking deep into the eyes of eternity. My heart beats steady for I have conquered fear. Still there are those that think I can be beaten, because they underestimate me. I will remain true, for I am the undisputed master of my destiny. Should evil tempt me, I will strike, for I am the champion of my soul.

Lord Fox Elvensword

PROLOGUE

SWIFTWIND AND REDEMPTION

49397.png RESTON SAT ON HIS horse deep in the Jagged Teeth Mountains. Being his job to patrol this stretch of the mountains, it was his responsibility to make sure the area was clear of dangers to the north of the City of Tanger. His snow white horse munched on grass as he watched the stars move slowly in the night sky. Creston’s heavy bronze armor creaked against his saddle as he looked back and forth at all the heavenly bodies. From time to time, he would stretch and Zephyr would whinny in protest at his movement. A cold chilly wind blew across his face and he pulled his heavy green cloak up over his head.

It’s going to be one of those nights, Creston said as he patted his horses neck.

Just then, a flash of light caught his eyes and he twisted around in his saddle to see what it was. A ball of fire was flying across the sky and started its descent toward the ground. Red shavings shot off of it and burned away as it streaked toward him leaving purple and green ones in its wake, revealing it to be a falling star. He had seen thousands of these out here on the mountain side, but this one was much bigger than any he had seen before.

Zephyr saw it and reared back on his hind legs and kicked out with his front hoofs as if he could ward off the falling rock with his powerful display.

Knowing what his master wanted, Zephyr moved before Creston had the chance to spur him forward. The horse charged off through the brush in the direction of the falling star.

Creston watched in awe as the object continued to burn and spray colors as it fell. Then it struck the ground and Creston felt the mountain tremble. Zephyr came to a halt and reared back in fear. Plumes of smoke and dust burst into the air as chunks of the ground sprayed outward in a massive explosion of dirt and rock.

Easy boy! Creston exclaimed. His heart raced as he feared the horse would toss him and sprint off, leaving him behind.

He patted the side of his mount, I think this deserves a closer look.

Shielding his eyes from the great flashes of light and heat radiating from the impact, he rode to where the rock crashed into the ground. The taste of dust filled his mouth and he was forced to cover his face with his cloak to keep from choking. Smoke roiled all around him as he urged Zephyr forward. The big stallion moved hesitantly to obey.

At the source of all the smoke, he dismounted and peered through the dust cloud at the huge crater in the ground. Fire from the molten rock was destroying things that did not burn normally and he took his time with his footing as he walked closer. Lady Constance came to mind. The hard metallic look of the meteorite reminded him of the metal he saw in the forges back in Tanger. She was a master craftsman and would be wanting to study something like this. Duty-bound to report this, he considered his options. Morning would be too late to bring her as he feared it might burn a hole into the ground too deep for anyone to retrieve it. He would have to get help now.

He thought about whom he could use to help and Josef came to mind. He was not far off and this thing was still burning out of control. Perhaps Josef knew some way to get it back safely.

JOSEF SAT ON his horse watching the northern sky, and was not surprised to see Creston racing toward him on horseback. The fire that shot through the sky was impressive and if it had struck in his area, he would have checked it out. He sat in anticipation of Creston’s report.

There is something back there that is burning a hole in the ground, Creston exclaimed as he rode up.

The thing that fell from the sky? Josef asked excitedly.

Yes, it shook the whole mountain, Creston said as he turned his mount back the way he had come. Please, come have a look at it.

Josef did not need to be asked twice. If Creston wanted his help, then it was his obligation to give it. He urged his horse to follow his close friend. Anticipation flowed through him as he rode behind.

SOMETIME LATER, THEY walked through the same smoky fog Creston had braved earlier, which had Josef covering his nose at the smell of burnt sulfur. He squinted with wonder at the metallic rock that sat at the center of the biggest fire pit he had ever seen. Smoke wafted off the meteorite like a huge piece of burning coal.

I need to get this back, Creston said aloud. Constance will want to see it. She always knows about things like this, but how do you think we can get it back? Creston asked.

"We could use our pilums, Josef suggested, his hand gently rubbing his chin. The long iron shafts will be strong enough to lift it and the wooden handles should protect us from the heat, but not until it cools a little." He walked back and pulled two of his throwing spears from his saddle harness and walked back to the rock. Creston came up from behind and dropped a set of his own spears on the ground and watched as Josef wove the spears into the familiar cradle carry. Then using their swords to push the rock, they maneuvered it onto the spears.

Do you think this is going to hold, Creston said, Tanger is miles away.

We shall soon see, Josef said as he picked up two of the spear handles and waited for Creston to pick up his pair.

The two horses followed the soldiers as they trekked back through the mountains to the gates of the city. Guards nodded at the two patrolmen as they labored with their burden. The still hot chunk of rock was turning the metal of their javelins red. Smoke wafted from their rapidly cooking leather gloves as they held their precious cargo balanced carefully.

What do you think Constance will do with this if we give it to her? Josef inquired. Why not sell it in the market? Surely it is worth a lot.

She is the only one who would know it’s true value. Creston started. "Besides, can you think of a better craftsman or someone more skilled in the arts of magic? Have you seen some of the swords she has made? They are spectacular!"

You know, Josef offered breathlessly from his exertions, you should have Constance forge us a pair of swords for all this work we are doing.

The greatest weapon smith to ever have lived will not stoop to help lowly soldiers such as us, Creston predicted.

Why not? Josef asked. Did you not find it and bring it straight away to her? I think that is worth some reward.

Creston looked back at his friend hopefully, Do you really think she would?

I do not see why she would not, Josef shot back.

It would be great to have one of those extravagant swords, Creston said, trailing off as he imagined what it would look like. We could become knights with weapons like that.

CONSTANCE STOOD OUTSIDE her workshop as the two guardsman walked up with the smoldering globule of metal. The odd way they were walking with a rock piqued her interest. She knew this was bound to be a good story and she wanted to hear it.

I take it, this is what fell out of the sky to the north? she asked as Creston lead his friend up to her open barn doors.

Yes milady, we though you would be interested in this as it looks to be metallic, Creston answered.

Constance looked over the sizzling rock with great expectations. Stars rarely fell out of the sky and stayed this large. She had not known anyone to have the privilege of working with one so fresh from its journey. Its special radiance glowed eerily in the darkness of her workshop.

Seeing the cooling rock resting precariously upon the two metal javelins carried between Creston and Josef, she quickly looked around for a place to set it. She knew it would burn to ashes anything she set it on, except the edge of the great forge. But the forge was covered with metal shavings and scraps of iron. If any of those touched the virgin metal . . . She shook her head at the thought of what she would do to return the metal to its pure form if it became contaminated. A broom served to brush away the once valuable crafting materials.

There, she sighed from the exertion. Now set it here, she commanded.

It is yours, provided you do something for us, Creston bargained as he helped Josef shift the weight of the object onto the hearth. I will be very grateful if you could fashion swords for us, like the ones the cavaliers use.

It is a blessing, a true gift of the gods Constance whispered as she looked at the now smoldering rock, only half hearing Creston. The value of something like this was well beyond her means, well beyond any of their means.

It’s going to be a lot of work my friend, Constance said still considering how she would go about constructing such fine weapons from this. It was going to test all of her skills. The challenge was well worth the risk though.

I accept your offer, She said as she stared at it.

I am glad, Creston replied, smiling broadly, provided that the weapons are a representation of your finest work.

Constance returned the smile as she looked at the still glowing rock, That they will be, I assure you.

Creston smiled at Josef, elated and as hopeful as Josef had been earlier when they talked about doing this, Then I shall leave you to your work my good lady for it has been a long and eventful night.

She watched Josef follow Creston out the doors and into the night.

It was truly worth millions if not priceless altogether, she thought as she turned her attention back to it. Surely craftsmen would come for miles and bring her gifts just to look at it sitting there. She would have to create a stand; nay, a glorious pedestal for it. Maybe one suitable for it could be found in the market. Visions of beautiful swords passed through her mind as she pondered.

THE NEXT MORNING found her sitting on a wooden bench in front of a matching table she often used to study. The hearth was ablaze with an oak fire. Plates of buttered toast and a pitcher of steaming hot tea sat off to the right of a pile of books filled with writings on how to forge the type of weapon Creston would want.

She came across the ancient words of Thaddeus and stopped cold. She had an epiphany that struck her to her core, reading the words Thaddeus had written so long ago about a sword that would be forged in the mountains from the death of the first morning star. Was she chosen in an odd way to be the one to forge the blade of the one who would come? She stared straight into the rock as she continued to envision the weapon she was blessed with creating. The gods had chosen her last night and only now did she see the truth of it. There was an even greater sense of urgency now to see the blade of the chosen one forged.

She shook her head dismissively as she flipped from page to page of other texts on sword crafting, discounting those that required ritual sacrifices. She held no desire to put anything to death for the sake of creating something glorious. She could not see why the chosen one would carry a weapon tainted in its creation. Finally, a spell caught her eye. It looked simple enough; just a few obscure things, nothing drastic. In fact, the only thing she saw that might be questionable was that the blade needed to be quenched in the blood of a hundred lost souls.

At first glance this seemed impossible, even a taint evil, but in reality was plausible with the near starving band of barbarians living outside the city. They would surely offer up some of their blood for the chance to weather the winters here in the walls of Tanger. They already understood the nature of spending some of their blood for the things they needed from a certain point of view. A drop here or there was always spilt in the quest for food or the defense of the cave. Then she smiled as she realized that she could use magic to replenish that which was spoiled in the quenching. Just a few drops from each one, she thought to herself, and magic would do the rest.

It was risky. She pulled the parchment closer and scratched her ideas on it in case she could not find a better solution. She perused with interest, attempting to find a better procedure, but to no avail.

She kicked back from the table, munching on toast and washing it down with tea that was far too sweet and hot. She watched as her human servant Terra, a buxom brunette in a simple blue dress, walked in. Terra quickly fed the fire without looking at Constance. Another piece of toast disappeared and Terra collected the plate and scurried off. Surely some of the young barbarian girls would want to work in the homes of the elves around the city, she thought.

Coming to the conclusion that that was the way to get what she needed, she decided to trade homes and jobs in the city for the blood. Each family that gave would get a fair and equal share. All that was left was to convince Governor Terrance of his part in all of this and then go to collect the blood.

Terrance would never go for this, she thought as she stood up and fixed her sleeping gown. She thought nothing of it as she slipped her boots on. Constance was a striking woman and her revealing gown would serve to hold his attention as she explained how this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She would tug on the collar of her gown showing him the flesh of her chest when he objected. Then, she would explain how the city needed repairs and a new gate in the south. She would suggest that he put all that human muscle to work repairing the city for everyone’s benefit.

She fastened the lizard skin belt around her waist that held her latest masterpiece, a longsword she named Slayer and strode out the door and into the morning sunlight.

TERRANCE HAD JUST finished holding morning court when she walked into his office, unannounced. A fresh plate of cooked eggs over bread sat on his desk beside a steaming pitcher of black coffee. Even though he was starving, he was not looking at his food. The only thing going through his head was how the color pink made Constance look somehow more available than she was.

I am glad to see you milady, he stated playfully, although my instincts tell me I should be afraid of what brought you here before you’re properly dressed.

I need a favor milord, she said as she fumbled shamelessly with the shoulder strap, as planned.

Terrance turned around so she could not see him blush. I suppose this has something to do with the smoldering rock Creston brought you last night. The whole city is buzzing with talk about the fallen star.

I need the blood of, and then she paused before daring to continue, knowing how it would sound, a hundred or so wild barbarians.

He turned back around and tried to hide the horror on his face. The image of sending troops to murder the poor starving people entered his mind. Then, he dismissed it as she simply had to be joking.

I would love to help with that, milady, but as you can see, I am just one, and elven to boot, he joked.

I know that you have plans to expand the south gate area, she stated.

I fail to see where the two are connected, he replied turning around so he could grab a slice of bread.

You know what I want Terrance, she said flatly.

And what exactly do you want me to do about it? he asked.

I want you to expand the southern gate to include room for thirty or so more human families. she replied.

He nodded as he munched, And you thought I would do this for the sake of your next project. I mean, what do you think adding so many more outsiders would do to our fair city?

Once more considering the seduction tactic, she walked over and broke tradition by pouring him a cup, added sugar and handed it to him.

We have servants for that, he said.

We also need a new southern gate complete with guard quarters, she reminded him. Why not bring in more help to do the job.

The city won’t hold more, he said, ignoring the logic. Not the number you’re asking for.

More reason to bring in more help for the expansion, she pleaded. You know the elders wouldn’t say no to larger manors. Have the barbarians build to earn their place this winter. The elders cannot find a less expensive workforce

He nodded as he placed yet another slice of bread covered with a cooked egg into his mouth. In truth, he needed to bring in more help and there were plenty of nomads to recruit. It was just what he was arguing for moments earlier in court, albeit not as many as Constance wanted. There was just no way with all that was going on to bring in that many more humans just to satisfy her need. Still, he felt some form of responsibility to her project. He knew what it meant to Creston and her work was used by many soldiers. She constantly furnished excellent weapons to the army. To keep her happy was to keep them happy. Keeping the army happy was his responsibility.

I will do what I can Constance, but don’t expect anything like a full hundred, he said as he chewed. That is just too many, but I will do what I can

She turned on her heels and headed out the door with a smile on her face. She already had a plan worked out. Thirty or so males with families were all she would need. Even less if she could find big families. Her next stop would be the cave she knew the barbarians all used for shelter not twenty miles away, but not before lunch and a hot bath.

TERRA STOOD UP when Constance walked in the workshop as did Jacob her male servant, who helped Constance with stoking the forge. His rippling muscles were covered in sweat and his long black hair cascaded over his shoulders in that special way Constance preferred her male consorts to wear their hair. For just a second, she toyed with the idea that he had done it by accident, but she knew better. He had seen her primp her suitors before going out with them. No, this was no accident. Too bad she never even considered humans as actual prospects. He had no chance of ever holding her, but he didn’t need to know that.

Keep that fire hot Jacob, she instructed pleasantly as she passed. We can ill afford to let the metal cool.

Jacob grunted his acknowledgement as he pulled down hard on the bellows lever causing the fire to grow brighter. Then, Terra put another handful of oak on the fire.

Constance watched them for an instant before heading to her wash room. She had faith that they would keep the meteor hot until she got back.

For just a second she considered locking her servants in a room for some time, so she could treat them as lost souls. Just long enough to meet the spells requirement. She waved those thoughts off like some bothersome fly. She was determined not to commit evil acts for the sake of this holy weapon she had been chosen for. If not for the time constraint of keeping the meteor hot, she would even have ventured off to see the library in Te’are or even gone to see the dwarves in their far off mountain homes to find another way. No, she thought, this spell was the best she had with the time she was given. Constance didn’t want any of the rocks magical essence to be lost if it cooled naturally. She was convinced that everything was taking place according the gods and goddesses plans.

THE BATH WAS comfortable and as she toweled off, she watched yet another servant prepare her a quick meal. She needed the blood now, far sooner than the nomads would take to get to the city on their own. She would have to go to them and carve off some of the rock for Creston’s sword tonight. She knew just by looking at it that there was enough for at least four weapons even if one was just a dagger. Not one ounce of it could be wasted.

She thought for just a second more before pulling her traveling clothes on and buckling her fighting boots over her pant legs. She considered, for a moment, wearing her chain tunic. No, Slayer would have to be her armor as well today, she reasoned. She could ill afford to look too threatening for this task.

Holding still, she started her teleport spell as she concentrated on the exact place she wanted to go.

TERRANCE WALKED INTO the workshop shortly after she left, just to have a look at the fallen star. He queried the servants to see where Constance had gone off to and they confirmed what he already suspected. He wanted to throw a fit, but there was no one here that would care. That was the one thing about dealing with the bull headed craftswomen, you just could not stop her once she got something in her head.

Forced into a situation he did not want to be in, he knew he had to help her now. There simply was no option. He would have to somehow convince the council to accept the barbarians that were coming. He would argue that this was necessary for the safety of the city, for where would the cities defenses be without those fabulous blades she forged? Her projects were as much or more a part of the cities defenses as the warriors who stood their posts. He only hoped that these would be all Terrance imagined they could be. He hated to be forced to go along with her plan. The only thing left now was to sit down and wait for her. He grabbed a piece of parchment to begin rewriting the plans for the south gate in resignation. The servants steered well clear of his dour silhouette.

MEANWHILE MANY MILES away, Constance watched as the last of the tribe walked by the collection bucket. The promise of a new home and a good life in Tanger was too much for the humans to pass up. They eagerly lined up to donate with rusty and filthy daggers in their hands. They even forced their wives to donate blood as well. Constance cringed time and again as the filthy blades were forced against the arms of reluctant women to add blood into her collection bucket.

It was far too easy to get what she needed, provided that Terrance came through on his end. If not, then there were going to be a lot of angry barbarians for him to deal with. She chuckled at the thought of his fuming face.

The star had been a blessing to them all. It would be a sin against all the gods if she failed to create the sword the chosen one would need to fulfill the prophecy. The meteor was a sign of things to come, an everlasting gift from their goddess to elven kind. The weapon was bigger than them all. Again and again she assured herself of it.

She took the time to thank those who had chosen to participate, cast a spell of preservation to stop the blood from spoiling, and said her goodbyes. The short walk to her safe spot in the mountains was made arduous by the care she took not to spill a drop from the bucket.

TERRANCE, WHO HAD waited for her, jumped up startled when Constance silently teleported into her safe spot in the corner of the workshop. She crossed the room carefully with the bucket of blood she had bargained for. He waited patiently for her to settle in before asking the question he so deeply wanted the answer to.

How many are coming? he asked.

Just thirty two families and no more, she said as she grabbed the paper he was sketching on. Making the new plans to expand the south gate area I see.

It’s not as if I have much of a choice, he growled looking at her. For the life of him he could not see how someone so beautiful could cause him so much trouble.

It’s a small price to pay to see the sword of the chosen one forged, she said as tossed the plans aside.

Creston is not the anointed one and neither are you, Terrance nearly shouted, or are there others I have not met waiting on swords from this?

Don’t be a fool Terrance, she chided. There is only one possible reason why this landed here.

Creston found it, are you telling me he is the chosen one? Terrance quipped skeptically.

Constance had to consider that before continuing her argument. She collected her book off the table as she pondered the possibility.

He is bragging that you are hard at work on his new sword right now, Terrance continued, or have you tossed that promise away with the half of our city you just promised away!

It is not such a grand city as you think it is, she spat. You are so melodramatic.

We live here Constance, he scolded back. In peace I might add.

They are just hungry and looking for what we have, she replied more calmly. They will be peaceful and hardworking additions to our home.

She got up and walked to the rock to look at the swirling heat still trapped within. The fact that there was enough for four weapons gave her an inspiration. Perhaps the gods had considered Terrance’s objections as well. She saw providence in the amount she was given. I have not told you what your reward is in all of this,

What reward could I possibly receive that would excuse me for selling the city out, he asked, thinking of all the resources that it would take to house those barbarians, all just to get some mythical sword forged.

A blade to rival Slayer, she answered.

He twisted around to see the blade strapped to her waist, the blade he so desperately desired from the first day he set his eyes on it. Yes, he could live happily with one that would put that one in its place. If she could do it, then that would be worth more to him than any shame he felt for his actions. Visions of the power he would control with that sword convoluted his mind.

His hand came to his face and he closed his eyes for a moment as he imagined himself explaining why he chose to bring so many humans to guard the south gate and why it had to be so grand. Then, as if her words earlier made more sense, he saw himself explaining that they were expanding to build larger houses for the elders as well. He never saw her walk to the doors of her workshop.

I will let you figure out the details at your own home milord, she said as she held the door open for him to leave. I have important work to do.

FOR THE NEXT fourteen days, Creston and Josef both made the workshop their home. They took turns giving Jacob a rest at the bellows, ensuring the metal would stay perfectly heated. Constance worked tirelessly, pounding and sculpting throughout the night. The only time she allowed anyone to rest was when she was hard at work casting the spells that ensorcelled the weapons.

Creston’s longsword was the first to be completed. The blue-grey blade was eerily dull as the light shined on it, almost as if the weapon captured the light and held it captive. A double blood groove ran from the cross guard to one foot short of its three foot length. Reflective rounded metal twisted around to form an ornate hilt. The black leather strips wrapped around its grip were knotted on the flat side. A huge silver setting held tight the two inch sapphire that adorned the pommel.

Its name was made known to Creston when he held it. He held it up and whispered, Challenge, as he looked at it. He thanked Constance heartily as he held up Challenge and admired its beauty. Never had he seen a longsword so marvelous in all his life. All the aches and pains in his muscles from the long hours of work melted away as he left the shop.

The second was forged into the shape of the first, ensorcelled, and set aside to be given to Josef. She made it to compliment the first in battle, giving it powers more defensive in nature. A twin in all respects to the first lest either think he had gotten the lesser of the two. She cut the words Honor into its blade thinking the knight would find it appropriate. He knelt and kissed her hand as tears welled up in his eyes when he took it from her. He grasped it with both hands as he stood and walked out without saying a word.

Terrance smiled widely when it was his day to receive the weapon Swiftwind. It was a two handed affair, balanced so that it could be used with one hand easily and a shield if desired. The cold steel blade reflected the light as if it had been meticulously polished, unlike the others. Dark tan leather wrapped its hilt and was edged in gold twisted wire. The Pommel ended in a hollowed beveled rounded triangle. A triple blood grove was carved into the blade only to be interrupted by the word Swiftwind. The brass cross guard reached forward like a crescent moon.

Terrance so loved his new weapon that he called a special meeting of the council. Holding the weapon out for all to see its beauty, he proclaimed that whoever held the weapon would hold his office as well as the duties of protector of the city. Nodding their approval, they drafted a law and ratified the spoken proclamation, forever placing the sword to the position of power he held. From hence forth, when the current owner died, a tournament would be held and the champion would be sworn in with the sword.

In truth, the first three weapons were just practice for the fourth and final one. Constance spent hours in the temple before starting; studying the words of Thaddeus, so she could be sure she had the right construction in mind. New servants were secured and shifts were laid out as she prepared to craft the weapon Redemption. She was careful to allow only the most select and pure logs for the fire. The males were carefully dressed so as not to drip sweat on the heated blade. Even the tongs she used were ensorcelled to protect the weapon from impurity. She manipulated the spells as she went, being more and more aggressive, adding enchantments to the weapon until she was sure that this one would be her finest creation.

On the last day of its construction, she held up the weapon and admired it. It was perfect, an exact copy of Swiftwind other than the fact that it was longer in both the blade and handle. She had used a superior quality of leather and it was a shade darker. Even the old elvish script she used to inscribe the word gave the impression that she meant to trick one into confusing it with its shorter twin. If Swiftwind was a masterpiece, then Redemption was perfection personified.

On the day of its final empowerment, she had beseeched the priestesses of all the deities and sent them to the top of Mount Fury for her final casting. She cast the dweomers that would ready the weapon to accept its final blessings.

Pray on this, she begged as she walked around the circle of priestesses. Cast your holy magic on this. Make this the finest weapon to ever exist.

All the priestesses in the circle bent to her will as they truly believed she had forged the sword of the chosen one. The Flame of Bridget gave the weapon the ability to ward off the pain and heat of fire. The servant of Tyr gave the weapon the strength to persevere in the face of injustice. The Priestess of the All Mother imparted life into the blade so that the chosen one could overcome death if needed. The blade glowed white hot as the gifts of the gods themselves infused Constance’s creation.

With reverence, she cast the final spell. Tears welled in her eyes as the emotion of the moment overtook her. The sky thundered as she finished and the ground shook violently. Looking up, Constance saw the clouds approach from the ocean miles off. Seeing this as a sign that her goddess approved of her actions, she held the weapon high in the air. Lightning violently struck the blade.

Redemption began to glow so brightly that the elves and humans in the City of Tanger came outside; to look up at the mountain and marvel at the new star rising in the sky. Then it was over. Constance lowered the weapon, so all the priestesses could look upon what they had made. All smiled and made comments that the one that would come later would be proud to carry this into combat against the enemies of the elves.

And then, Redemption was sheathed.

CHAPTER ONE

THE GLADE

(2,327 years after the forging of Redemption)

49403.png S FOX SLEPT ON the cold ground, his mind wandered back to the caves of the dragon. He was running through the passageways and breathing a lot harder than he remembered. The acrid smell of fire and sweaty filthy lizard skin permeated the air. Sweat ran down his neck as he turned right and then left in search of the dragon responsible for killing his true love, Ellwin.

Where are the lizards we faced outside?

Then, they appeared as if summoned by his desire. The lizards, with their teeth as sharp as razors and dripping spittle, licked their lips in anticipation of the taste of fresh elf flesh. Fox looked deep into the slit eyes of the creatures as he mentally practiced the first flurry of his attack sequence. The leader reached out to stab Fox as soon as they met face to face. Fox ended his life with a quick cross-body slice, following through with his left into the stomach of a second creature. Blood sprayed his face as more of the creatures continued to charge forward. He quickly spun his swords left and right as he chopped and cut the throng of lizards to pieces.

Flame, please don’t fireball us just yet, he thought. He so hated the feel and smell of fire. He hated being burned even though the amulet protected him from harm.

He spotted a head rising up from the throng of lizards and brought his left sword around to decapitate the monster.

The dragon would burn him even if Flame did not. He regretted his decision to cast spells of fire repeatedly to mask the movements of the group through the caves. But it had worked had it not? Where was the fire, he thought?

He glanced back to look at Flame, but she was not there, nor were Celenae or Pellanor.

Fox looked back at all the dead lizards lying on the ground before him. Rotting corpses littered the floor. Didn’t I just kill these? How could they be this bloated already? It was as if they had been killed months before and not seconds. The smell of the dead carcasses was everywhere. He put his arm over his face to cover it from the stench. There was no evidence of fire here. Flame had not used her spells as they had discussed.

He looked back again wondering where his friends had gone. Why are they not here with me?

The sound of monstrous claws scratching on stone caused him to turn around. He knew what it was before he saw it. His old nemesis, the dragon Terantheraxis was approaching and Fox quickly tried to slice the beast as it closed in, mouth open, with the intent to bite him in two. He swung his swords savagely in an attempt to fend the beast off, but he was too imprecise. The creature shrugged off the strikes as if they were nothing and clamped its jaws around Fox’s chest and began to crush him.

Fox dropped his swords and realized he no longer held the Sword of Baal as he would never have dropped it. He grabbed at the mouth of the beast and tried with all his might to pry open the jaws so he could get away. Fox’s mouth flew open, and he screamed as he felt the razor sharp teeth penetrate his skin and his blood pour out. He was dead, and he knew it.

He felt the hands of death upon him, and he immediately struggled with them. He grabbed at the fingers and tried to push them back. Then blood, white hot, splattered his face and he quickly rubbed it away from his eyes lest he be blinded in his mortal battle with the dragon.

Fox, death cried out as it once again tried to pull him into hell. Fox, wake up.

He twisted and turned as he fought with the unseen servant of hell that sounded so much like his sister.

Then, his eyes shot open. Bright sunshine blinded him and he raised his hands up to block the sun. He touched the face of his attacker and wrapped his fingers into her hair. In shock, he tried to twist away from the demon that was the spitting image of his sister Celenae. Where is the dragon?

Realizing that he was actually looking as his sister, he reached down and grabbed at the sheets that had twisted tightly around his waist. In total embarrassment, he sat up and untwisted the sheets. The blood covering his face was nothing more than cold water. I must have cried out in my sleep and woke everyone.

I hope you beat her again, Pellanor joked from his own bed roll. I would hate that we are all dead and only the dragon survived.

Hush you, Flame scolded from her position on the other side of the camp. Dreams like these are often visions of the future.

Fox sat up and unlike the dreams he had had before, he chose not to talk about it. He grabbed some wood from the pile and stoked up the fire.

About time I took over, Fox said to Celenae.

You will get no complaints from me, she said as she walked to her own bed roll, which was far away from Pellanor’s, and sat down. Chunks of her armor crashed on the ground beside her bedding as she stripped down to sleep.

After tossing a few more logs on the fire to chase off any bothersome bugs, Fox sat still as his friends went back to sleep for what was left of the night. He said nothing as he sat there imagining the lizards of his nightmare burn up in the fire. If what Flame had said was true, then he would have to put the puzzle pieces of his dream together and discern what it meant. He sat quietly contemplating as the night passed by without event.

CELENAE PRACTICALLY REFUSED to get up hours later. She twisted over each time and asked for just a few minutes more every time Flame tried to rouse her.

As they had decided to camp at an apple tree grove, Pellanor was happy to be munching on fresh apples and was pulling for Celenae to continue to hold out