The Pillar of Fire

Chapter 3 - In Pursuit of The Truth

Chapter 3
In Pursuit of The Truth

Orek stepped from the blacksmith’s and out into the city, which was thriving with activity. The smith’s was located in an opportune section of the city for business—the streets were alive with merchants who brought in customers—but for nothing else.

He didn’t have work today. No one did, for today was the Spring Advent. It was a celebration unique to the city of Kun, as relief from a long winter was greatly anticipated and even the slightest climb in temperature called for celebration.

The day felt as beautiful as it looked. The combination of the sun shining on his back and the cool breeze blowing all around him was heartening. It meant that after almost six months, winter was beginning to recede into spring. The thick blankets of snow had melted to a grey slush, and water ran in little rivulets down the road.

He was filled with questions, and Rasheda had evoked more than he had answered. He realized now that he was unjust in condemning his father. In all honesty, he would never know why his father had chosen this path for him. But as little as he knew, something told him it was alright. Even a small bit of pride had leaked through. He wanted to learn more about his father, and he found himself almost jogging as he mad his way to Archimedes’ house.

Kun was a fairly uniform city. Its streets were broad and worn down from hooves and erosion. The buildings were crammed closer together as you moved closer inwards in the city. Because of this, they were all three stories tall, to make up for lost space.

Orek turned right at the next intersection of road, and counted five houses down from the corner, which was necessary because houses had no addresses.

He was now standing in front of a tall house like all the others that gave the illusion that it was hanging slightly into the street. He knocked three times on the door and stood back, waiting for someone to answer.

Finally, the door opened.

Archimedes stood in framed in the doorway. He was smiling, but his eyes showed a great weariness, that hearkened to the amount of sleep the mage had gotten last night. He wore a flowing red robe and a pair of thin, rectangular spectacles. His long, silver beard was combed down so it fell to his collarbone. He glanced down at the scimitar and then motioned for Orek to enter.

“Come in, come in” He said, allowing Orek to step past him. “I’m happy to see you’re all right. I expected you’d sleep through the day as well. What with that fever you were running.” He looked back and forth down the street before closing the door and locking it.

“What happened…? Rasheda wouldn't tell me, but...” Orek trailed off as he looked at Archimedes, who was smiling a little.

“Ah, so it talked to you then?”

“What? Oh, yes… yes it did.” Orek replied.

The mage nodded, still grinning.

'Please tell the wizard to stop referring to me as IT,' said a voice from deep within Orek, who flinched at the sudden exclamation.

'No,' Orek replied, trying hard to project anger through his thoughts. And don’t do that again without warning me; people will think me possessed.

In a way, you are.

Although he knew this to be true, Orek pushed it aside and focused upon the task at hand. The demon laughed uproariously at this.

“Quit playing with the boy, Rasheda,” Archimedes said out of nowhere.

“You heard that?!”

The wizard smiled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Now come, there is much I must tell you and we cannot do it standing here like this.”

Archimedes ushered Orek into a comfy sitting room off to the side. It was very extravagant, with plush, red rug covering the hardwood floor. The walls were paneled with Getu wood, a commodity only the rich could afford. He motioned for Orek to take a seat in one of the comfy chairs opposite his desk. Orek sank slowly into the red armchair. It felt heavenly. Archimedes gave a casual flick of his wrist, and the fireplace ignited into brilliant, dancing flames.

“Did you do alright last night?” he asked, pulling a pipe from his pocket and lit it with a small flame from his fingertip. Orek nodded, choosing to withhold the bit about that thing by the window. He would do that after he learned a bit more.

Once the mage had lit the pipe, he leaned back thoughtfully and blew a puffed out a smoke ring, which coiled around itself in the air before dissipating. “I’m going to start from the very beginning,” he said. “Feel free to ask questions, but sparingly, as I’m trying to recall almost two hundred years worth of information. If you would be so kind as to put the sword on the table for me, I will begin.”

Orek did so, unlatching the case and laying the scimitar upon the desk. Archimedes looked at it for a moment, and then began.

“The story begins almost three hundred years ago, in the last days of the elven rule. In those days, people began to whisper of things growing within the east. A sorcerer who called himself Morgrim Fateless had risen up in the mountains of Dukas…a sorcerer who claimed to have foreseen the death of the High Elven Rule over Arridaea. The elves scoffed at him, too caught up in their own arrogance to realize the threat that he posed.

“This infuriated Morgrim, and he set out to fulfill his own prophecy. From the ground he raised a mighty temple to himself and his followers, of which he still had few. Below it, he delved deep into the earth, where he believed he could begin a process that would spawn new life, allowing him to create his own army of beings to worship and fight for him. And thus the orc was born.

“The elves got word of this and began to show the smallest bit of fear and much revulsion at this new creature. To them, it was a perversion of nature. Orcs were designed to be the most vicious fighting forces upon Arridaea. They fought with an animal ferocity that made it impossible to break their lines or faze them.”

“Yes, but I know all of this,” Orek interjected. “It’s basic history. It’s the sword I want to know about… that and my father.”

“It was about this time that your father and I met. I lived in Artacum among the elves, as did he. He came to me one night, having heard of my craft, asking for guidance on something. He had been reading volumes of ancient texts, and had come upon something that he believed was the key to Morgrim’s demise. He showed me a passage about two ancient scimitars known as the Mantis Blades. I must admit, I was overwhelmed.

“The text told that in the early days of Creation, two powerful demigods fought for dominion over the continent of Arridaea. Their names were Rasheda and Ramos. They fought so bitterly that eventually, the other gods grew tired of it. As punishment for their foolishness, they were imprisoned within two swords, and hidden in separate corners of Arridaea. Your father already had one. It was an heirloom passed down through your family, and the means by which he had stumbled upon the location of the second.

“But your father could not just pack up and leave, for in his time spent in Artacum he had fallen in love, and was due to be married in five months. I vouched that I would distract the woman while he was gone. He set out the next day.

“Zain sent word to me a week later that he had encountered three of his old friends, who were being pursued through the desert. Instead of making haste back to Artacum, he and the group pressed on. With no time to prepare another lie, I was forced to tell your mother the truth about her husband. She was crushed that he would so blatantly lie to her and she vowed to confront him when he returned.

“It turns out that your father never made it to the location of the sword, wherever it may be. The foursome was confronted by a company of Morgrim’s orcs. Zain fought hard, but it was too much for him. His friends barely survived, but were able to carry Zain to the desert city Pendrek. Your father was taken back home from there, where he spent his last days alone. We all wondered then what he was doing then. There is no doubt in my mind, though, now. He was arranging to have his last and most valuable possession passed down to his son. And here you sit today, bound to the same cruel fate of your father.”

Archimedes breathed a sigh. Orek looked blankly stared off into the wall, absorbed in his own thoughts.

“So, what does it do?” Orek asked. He hoped that he didn’t sound too childish in this.