Violet Eclipse - A time in shadow

Chapter 3 - Lottery

The next morning Elenoren woke Kritis early and walked him through his sword drills. He smiled thinking of her as he always did. Elenoren was once the greatest sword-master in all of Daskan's Fall, some five hundred fifty-eight years ago. She hailed from the floating Mountains of Belanda, home to the griffin riders.

She had developed the twelve songs of the blade and mastered the use of the hand and a half sword. Elenoren was as beautiful as she was skilled and was often called on by many suitors. None, however, could stand up to her single requirement. Nothing so brash as defeating her in a duel. She knew very well none could.

Her prerequisite was simply that he maintains her level of training. Her last suitor however was her downfall. The last to call upon her was the then young elven King Olieni, who sought to have the most attractive and most respected woman in all his lands as his bride.

Elenoren cared not that he was a King. She was not a traditional she-elf and she told him such. She informed the king that he would, as all the others, have to prove himself worthy of her hand. The King was determined to have his bride and did his best, but proved incapable.

Infuriated and embarrassed the king ordered her capture. This was, of course, at the great expense of many soldier's lives. Before she was captured Elenoren had slain more than a hundred warriors with a single sword while still wearing her nightgown. She was bound, gagged, and beaten severely. The King had Elenoren taken up to the high reaches of the Belanda Mountains. She was flown to the ancient forges high atop the floating volcano Aser.

There, the king gave her an ultimatum to either be his wife or be his tool. At the time Elenoren did not understand what he meant by being his tool. She spit in his face and told him she would be neither. The King smiled a demented smile and had her taken to the Sword-Smiths. Ancient elves believed to have been taught by the Elemental Smiths themselves.

Elenoren was strapped to a stand with hands and feet bound and outstretched. Her bare body burned being so near to the intense heat of the molten rock. For hours she stood there being baked, suffering while she watched the smith's craft a sword unlike any she had ever seen. The blade was three feet in length trailed by a foot long tang and was black as night. The cross guard consisted of four intertwining braids of silver. The handle was wrapped in a blackened wire mesh and the pummel was fashioned in a manner similar to the hilt.

The smiths cooled the blade and using their magic they assembled the parts. Hovering before Elenoren's eyes, the silver intertwining braid of the hilt slid smoothly up the tang and sat firmly becoming the cross guard. The hilt was followed by handle wrapped in the blacked wire mesh and the dark sword was made complete with the placement of the pommel.

The three weathered brawny elves laid the majestic weapon in the magic circle at Elenoren's bare feet. They began to chant and filled the blade with magic. The volcano bubbled and swelled as the master smiths drew strength from it. They continued chanting, feeding the volcano's immense power into the spell.

Elenoren knew then what was about to transpire and she screamed frantically. Elenoren pleaded with the smiths, with guards, with the King himself who stood by smiling. The chanting stopped, one of the smiths picked up the sword glowing with a dark energy. His eyes were glowing the color of burning embers. He chanted the final words of the incantation and drove the sword deep into her chest. A dark glyph of purple and black spawned above her chest and around the blade.

Elenoren let out a horrid scream as her very essence was forcibly torn from her body and driven into the sword. There was a bright flash and then there was silence. When the king and his elves could see again, Elenoren's body had turned to melting ice. The black blade possessed a light glow and was coated with frost.