Ultrecht leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. They had been in Tycho for three days. After Calista's adventure in the back alleyways, Armegon and Avery had expressed an interest in the dark skinned elves, and they had insisted on delaying their journey a day or two. Calista, on the other hand, remembered very little of the episode, and had passed the time shopping and browsing--on Ultrecht's money, of course.
As for Ultrecht, he had decided to take advantage of the time to visit the Northern Archives. As Avery had told him, the library in Tycho was lacking in magical or technological theory. There was, however an impressive section on metallurgy and the magical properties of different metals. He assumed the abundance of material on this subject might have something to do with the mining industry in the surrounding villages.
There was also a fascinating amount of history and religious texts available. When he had mentioned this to the others, Armegon had asked him to check on a prophetic passage concerning "death in the hand of the war". He had searched several books and finally found the passage after five hours of reading. The writings were the dictation of a blind and deaf man named Jenner Mek.
According to the introduction of the text, Jenner Mek was abandoned by his mother on the altar of a shrine dedicated to a god named Woeden. The monks who cared for the shrine raised the boy and taught him to perform menial tasks to pay for his keep. Being deaf, the boy could not speak, but blabbered incoherently. Then on the sect's most holy night, the night of the double full moons, the boy entered a trance and spoke plainly the passages of the text.
Ultrecht read the manuscript:
Behold as the days grow long I see the heavens grow troubled. War rages throughout the land and the gods are restless. The Godking is found wanting in showing favor. Yea, the Godking's end is heralded by death in the hand of war.
Know then that order breaks over the horizon and the final period approaches.
Parole! Parole is sought and denied to all but a handful. Let the father of many step forward and seek to right the wrong made so long ago. He shall not be denied and there will be a reckoning of forces.
A token long lost shall be the first of many signs that the song is in its last verse. Beware. Let the Godking fear the tiny feet of the land's unborn. When they are united they shall return the clay to the mold and the world will be forged anew."
It sounded like a series of statements with no continuous theme save it spoke of some upcoming coup amongst the immortals. Ultrecht considered it total nonsense, but decided to write it down anyway. He activated his scribe spell and began reading the passages aloud.
When he finished, an aged elf sat at the desk where he was working. "So you have an interest in the prophesy of Mek?"
"A hobby only," Ultrecht assured him. "A friend of mine wanted a copy of this passage for his collection."
The old elf smiled. Lavender eyes brightly twinkled under a mane of snowy white hair, much like Armegon's. "Can I interest you in some other prophet's works?"
"You are the librarian?"
"Not exactly," the old elf explained. "This is not really a library, but a museum and I am the curator."
"Oh?" Ultrecht said interested. "What kind of exhibits do you have here?"
"Various kinds," the curator informed him. "We do have quite a few books like this," he said patting the text Ultrecht had been reading. "We have an artifact or two of powerful magic as well, would you like to see?"
Ultrecht was enchanted. "I would be thrilled," he answered.
The keeper of the museum took Ultrecht down several corridors and through a large doorway. "This vault is kept in a null magic field," he explained. "And the guards outside are specially trained fighter/magic-users whose sole job is to guard against theft. There are never fewer than five guards present at any time and they each are kept on nonsynchronous rotating shifts so that no three guards ever pull the same shift together more than two days per year. In addition each guard has a special bracelet designed to sound an alarm at the first sign of trouble."
"Very impressive precautions," Ultrecht said admiringly as they entered the vault. and followed the elf to stand before a tall metal box. "Why the worry?"
"To keep this secure," the elf announced as he lifted the box's lid exposing a splinter of obsidian-like metal with engraved runes. "This is a piece of the Sword of Chaos, Midnight."
Ultrecht reflexively reached forward but found his hand halted by an invisible barrier. His aborted attempt, however did not go unnoticed as the unified sound of five swords being drawn shocked him back to alertness. The elf spoke a few word in an short crisp language that was neither elvish nor common, and the guards relaxed.
"As you can see this shard of Midnight is well protected." The elf closed the lid. On the top of the lid was an engraving. Ultrecht read the words.
The Mark of Chaos screamed high and loud.
By arrogance it was made far too proud.
Its challenge made, its challenge heeded.
The Dawn of Law came forth to meet it.
As a candle breaks the darkest night,
So Justice became Midnight's plight.
Behold the slayer of gods victorious,
And the runesword's pieces five before us.
To distant worlds and far away lands
The shards were carried by Law's faithful hands
Lest reunited them end to end
An age of Chaos will begin again.
"So what does it mean?" Ultrecht asked.
"It is a story about the sword named Midnight." The elf reopened the box and Ultrecht looked upon the shard. "The story goes that a tyrant wielding the sword which this is a piece of was confronted by a saint wielding the Sword of Justice. Midnight was shattered in the battle and the pieces were scattered to preventing it from ever being remade. It was said that Midnight was sentient and malevolent." He gestured at the shard. "This piece is genuine, and as long as it remains safely here, Midnight is no threat to anyone."
Ultrecht was impressed. "Are there any more swords like it?"
"Good question," the elf praised. "I can see you are a thinker. To answer your question, none that we know of, but there are those who think the sword called Reaper is a sibling sword or at least is very similar."
"This has been quite educational," Ultrecht said. "Are there any other references to this sword, or the one called Reaper for that matter?"
"This passage," the elf said, "is from the Capellan Chronicles. There is a little prophesy in there, but mostly the Capellan Chronicles are poetic history."
May I see these chronicles?" Ultrecht asked as he inspected a blue crystallized horn. The display plaque read. Saphirus Monocerus: The Sapphire Unicorn
"Sapphire Unicorn," he repeated inquisitively as he gestured at the horn.
"Yes," the elf said. "It is a bloody shame. I am told that they were beautiful creatures even more beautiful than the common unicorn. The Prismatic Unicorns were hunted to extinction by the gods long ago. The priests say that the Godking created them but that they were disobedient to the gods and so were hunted down and destroyed. It is supposed to be an object lesson about obedience to the gods, but..."
"You have doubt?" Ultrecht asked. He was thinking about what the dragon, Brandor had told Armegon and himself.
"Well let us say that I and some others have reason to believe that the gods are not as truthful as we are led to believe about how this world came into being."
Ultrecht could see that this was an uncomfortable subject, so he changed it. "It’s of no consequence," he said. "You were going to show me the Capellan Chronicles."
They left the vault and returned to the library. The elf pulled an old dust covered book from a shelf and handed it to Ultrecht. "Good reading," he said as Ultrecht accepted the book. "If you need anything further, I shall be in the map room."
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