Galdor and the four swords - PART 5. Original Steemit fiction

_{Previous parts of the series:}

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

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PART 5

Ilemdor looked at the four swords as one would admire a cherished possession. His hand slowly came over them, stopping above one with an elaborate quillon block and blue etchings along the blade. Just before his fingers made contact, Ilemdor pulled his hand back and took a deep breath.

"I wanted to show these to you."

Galdor stepped closer. The detail work was finer than anything he'd seen his father make, and the inscriptions were unprecedented. "They're amazing." Galdor reached to touch one of the blades. "What do these mean?"

Ilemdor grabbed his son's wrist. His grasp was firm, but his voice gentle. "Don't touch them."

Galdor was afraid he offended his father, but it was a pleading look in Ilemdor's eyes. Galdor slowly brought his hand back and Ilemdor released his wrist. "Since we first came to the colony I've had visions in my dreams. I hadn't found rest until I created these. I'd find myself standing in a cloud of strange light, like the nebulas painted by Ysara in the sky, but I wasn't myself. I was a great Valdari warrior fighting shadows rising from the ground. The shadows were endless, two rising when one fell. I felt the sword giving me power, determination, but its form was a mystery to me. Each time I woke I failed to recall the blade's form and design. It started to plague my thoughts.

"When I tried to examine the blade in my dream, something else happened. Another warrior appeared at my side, fighting with me. At first it was a Dverg, or how I imagine a Dverg might look. He battled to keep the shadows back with all his might and his sword seized my attention. The only clear thing in my vision was his sword. When I woke the blade I held was still a mystery, but I could recall every detail of the Dvergrinn sword.

"I was compelled to create this blade. Instead of sleeping at night, I worked. I thought creating this sword would bring me closer to knowing the one I wielded. I finished it to the last detail: round gold pommel, gems inlaid on the quillon, the red inscription on the blade."

"What does it say?" Galdor asked, leaning over to inspect them closely. "I don't recognize the symbols on any of them."

Ilemdor grinned, shaking his head. "I've no idea, but I could recall them perfectly from the visions. And I didn't find comfort when this one was done; another warrior materialized from the nebulous light. This one had indistinct features, taller than the Dverg, obscured in a blur; I'd never seen such a being until today. I believe it was an approximation of man before we even discovered they exist. But, like the last warrior, his sword was clearer than anything I'd ever seen. Again, I woke from these images with the blade searing my mind, and again, I brought it to reality: a broad blade, exaggerated hand guard, details and inscription in copper.

"When a third warrior appeared in my visions I thought the torment would never end. I enjoy my craft, but this became an obsession. With each blade, the desire to know the one I wielded grew stronger. This new warrior matched my height but possessed a massive body. His head was oddly shaped, adorned with two tremendous horns. The blade, as you can see, would be difficult for a Valdari to brandish even with two hands.

"I crafted three blades like nothing I'd ever made before; surely this must be Ysara's doing. Finally in my dreams the three warriors, the shadow beings, all faded away. I lifted the sword in my hand and could examine its every detail. Each night in my dreams I'd study it until I could think of nothing else in my waking hours. I knew the sword more intimately than any of my works before, and took great care bringing it to life; each detail just as it was in my visions. The claw pommel, a quillon of layered precious metals like feathers. The inscription reflects in the moon with Ysara's nebulous light. It's beautiful."

Ilemdor stopped speaking, staring at the blade he just described. When he broke the silence again his voice was different. Galdor could hear the weight of sorrow. Shame, maybe.

"They're like children to me. Fruit of my desire, results of a devotion I hadn't known before. And the one I strived for most, in my very grasp each time I had these visions, I know I cannot keep." Ilemdor turned to look at his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I need your help Galdor. These swords have a purpose, one I don't yet understand. The temptation to keep them secret is too strong; I don't know what to do next. You discovered the race of man. These Z'rak must be the shadows in my dream. I see your calling now Galdor, even if Ysara has not spoken it to you."

Galdor had never seen his father in such a fragile state. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, how something could so severely unsettle the man he looked up to, or what it meant.

Ilemdor looked again at the four blades. "One for the Dverg, one for men. One to a race we've yet to meet. One for the Valdari..." Ilemdor sighed and rolled the sheepskin, covering the swords. He tied the ropes, securing the bundle. "I can't keep these any longer. If they stay with me they'll remain hidden, agonizing me. I covet them. You're the next piece Galdor. You're the one to find the destiny of these swords; find the warriors who will bear them with strength, fierceness, honor."

He looked to Galdor with his hands resting atop the bundle. "These are no simple blades. Ysara has bestowed something great in them I don't fully understand. Will you help me, son?"

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