Tev sighed as he looked out the window and down into the small courtyard that bordered the main garden. There, squealing with delight, his youngest daughter Jena played with her best friend, Seania, Kora’s eldest. Watching over them as the two girls ran in and around the statues that dominated the courtyard was Kef, a young dragon in gray and silver. Only three months from his hatching, the dragon was already the size of a large horse. He was the youngest of Morin’s brood, the newest addition to the Stone Reaver Clan, of Gray Rock.
The lean human, gray touching his temples, and dressed in the finest of clothes, sighed again. So much had changed in the seventeen years since the end of the T’sar, so much growth, so much difference.
It had all begun with the day that marked the end of the T’sar. On that day, Nerith announced that she was there in fulfillment to the Phoenix Prophecy, an ancient utterance that saw the Sword of Blood as life giver, not life taker, as had the elven prophecies. With her mating to the Sword of Blood, the dragons would be renewed and their civilization given new life.
It had also marked a new age of cooperation with the humans and the Freeholder races. Humanity, dragged from their dark ages by a champion of limitless power, quickly developed culture and civilization, signaling a new age of prosperity and growth as they grew ties with the surviving Freeholder races. Kingdoms sprouted like wild flowers after a spring rain, breathing life and light into a land darkened by war.
The greatest of those kingdoms was the one formed by Tev, the kingdom of Bloodsword, with its capital at Par Evisdril. There the dragons made their capital as well, the ancient scions of that old draconian people shedding their disguises at last to rejoin Mortality in rebuilding Quelaezaun. And so Bloodsword became Gray Rock, the center of the new dragon civilization.
It didn’t take long for the dragons, for centuries without offspring, to feel the magical rebirth triggered by the bond between Tev and Nerith. The first clutch was born only months after Par Evisdril was rebuilt as the capital city, and was quickly followed by several more. The draconian Clans made Par Evisdril of Gray Rock their sanctuary and, by that token, the greatest center of power in all of Quelaezaun.
Of course it wasn’t coincidence that Tev and Nerith became the center of Par Evisdril, the Sword of Blood combining with the powers of the dragons to become Creation itself, the symbol of draconian power. Their children, born quickly and often in the beginning, were conduits and receptacles of that power. They had become known as the Brood of the Blood Dragon, each bearing the mark of the Sword of Blood on their breast, both male and female.
Even now Nerith was teaching their eldest child, their daughter Meaghan, how to use both her draconian and blood magic power to heal the land and work for the greater good with members of her clan, the Silver Rill Clan. At sixteen, the tall, lithe young woman was already a powerful magic user, able to shape shift as a dragon could, and wield the blood magic almost as well as her father.
But, even with all of this, Tev was not happy. With a final sigh, he stepped away from the window and walked to the broad desk that dominated this room, the one he had selected as his office. With Nerith and Meaghan visiting the Silver Rill, and Joran, Lax and Feral’Sath with his eldest son, Zekial in the far south, making contact with other surviving Freeholder races, the palace seemed strangely empty.
With a frown on his handsome face, the Sword of Blood sat in the comfortable, high backed chair before leaning forward to place his elbows on the desk.
“No need to lurk in the shadows, Oracle,” he said softly. “You can’t hide from me any more.”
With the soft sound of distant music, eerie yet comforting, the floating cloak that was the Oracle of the S’ia slowly moved out of the darkened corner it had been hiding in, carefully watching the Sword of Blood as Tev watched his daughter play.
“Well done, Tev,” it said in that soft whisper that was so familiar. “No magic is immune to your power.”
Tev smiled slightly.
“No, I suppose it’s not,” he admitted, before looking up at the floating figure, now only a couple of paces away. At this distance, he could feel the ancient magics that held the ethereal creature together.
“It’s been a long time, Oracle. I half expected you to show up some time in the middle of that whole T’sar thing. Not some seventeen years later.”
“And spoil the surprise?” the Oracle replied in a wry tone. “No, I was only supposed to put you on the path of discovery. Not hold your hand the whole way.”
“Well, that you did,” Tev muttered, memories flitting across his mind’s eye. They seemed to do that more and more each time Nerith left. It was as if his wife balanced the chaotic power that swirled in his blood. Without her there, it ran unchecked, dredging up primal urges and emotions, stirring up old memories.
The Oracle slowly turned in a circle, as if surveying the palace and its surroundings.
“Most impressive, Tev Bloodsword. You have created quite a world out of the ashes of the old.” Then it leaned closer, and Tev could feel its attention on him as it examined his face.
“Yet I sense that happiness is far from you. Do you not take joy in your accomplishments, Sword of Blood?”
Tev sighed before looking back out the window.
“Yes, it is true,” he admitted softly. “I've accomplished much. But none of those accomplishments, not even my wife and children, give me rest.”
“Surely it isn’t the burden of being the Sword of Blood that weighs upon you so.” The Oracle remarked softly. Tev grimaced.
“Sometimes. But today ... Today, something else bothers me.”
“Tell me,” the Oracle softly urged. Tev immediately laughed softly as he looked up at the ancient creation of a long dead people.
“Are you my companion now, my friend, that you may be my confidant?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as he examined the Oracle in turn. Then he looked back down at the table, speaking before the Oracle could reply.
“No matter. You will know of it soon enough. I am afraid,” he admitted in a low voice.
The Oracle leaned back, astonished. This man, with all the power and magic in the world, afraid? What manner of madness is this?
“But how, Tev Bloodsword?” it asked quickly. “How can a man with your power be afraid?”
Tev sighed and looked over at the Oracle.
“Because I am afraid that my people and the Freeholders will grow in power and knowledge until they rival the Mardish and the Solavar. Until they rival even the S’ia,” he looked away, out the window where he could still hear his daughter playing joyfully.
“And I am afraid that they will be lifted up in pride at their accomplishments, as were the S’ia, your ancient masters, and the Solavar and Mardish after them.” He paused to look back at the Oracle, pain on his face.
“And, Oracle of the S’ia, because of that, I am afraid this will all happen again.”
* * * *
The End
* * * *
YOU ARE READING
Bloodsword: War of the Leaf
FantasyThe Solavar and the Mardish; two ancient and corrupt elvish empires tottering towards a final, apocalyptic end war known in prophecy as the T'sar; the War of the Leaf. That same prophecy declared that only they who hold the Sword of Blood will emer...
