A Story of Swords, Part 1 (Revised)

Currently in Earphones: "The Venture Departs" from the King Kong Soundtrack, composed by James Newton Howard.

Righty, then, here's a second go round of Chapter 1 of my Story of Swords. Let me know what you all think!


Chapter 1: Justice (Revised)

From his perch on the grassy knoll, Touchstone could see far over the rolling hills into the distance. It was the beginning of spring, the chill winter colds having gradually been driven away and replaced with a balmy warm. It felt good to finally sit outside in the cool morning air while watching the sun rise, after months of being cooped up in the keep. The recent freedom wasn’t going to last, he reflected, conflict had been slowly brewing almost since the snows began to fall, and he was no less involved in the culmination that would come to the surface later on in the day.

The young Fool was a good friend of Ginndem clan, in whose keep he had been resident for the past winter. Having lost a life in one of the principates farther south, he had fled north with a single possession. A Sword, looking to be exactly a meter long, its black hilt un-mistakable: The white circle embedded in the smooth black had been a comfort as he had traveled north, its simple design soothing in comparison to the life he left behind.

Touchstone now fingered the midnight hilt, the cool morning wind rustling through his brown hair as he remembered how it had come into his possession. During his flight those many months ago, he had come upon a magician and his apprentice, the former a dark and wiry man. He had worn a strip of cloth tied about his eyes, and it was the sword at his side that had taken the young Fool’s attention.

“Who’s there?” said magician, as Touchstone had approached the fire.

“I….seek safety,” The young Fool stammered, his voice raspy with disuse, “may I rest here?”

The magicians’ eyebrows met together in a frown over the strip of cloth, and he rested his hand lightly on the black hilt at his side. Touchstone, though too tired even to ready himself for combat, thought he saw the sword vibrate ever so slightly. He blinked, and the effect was gone. The frown disappeared from the wiry man’s forehead and he relaxed, “Come, boy, there’s room around the fire for another, and we have enough food for three, do we not, Lo-Yang?”

The other man nodded, and though suspicion still was evident on his face, he began filling a third wooden bowl with stew from the small cauldron they had on the fire. Handing it to Touchstone, the three sat equidistant from each other and ate.

The meal was carried on in silence, and Lo-Yang gradually relaxed as it became clear that the young Fool really was seeking only shelter and not conflict. As they finished, the blind magician turned to Touchstone.

“My name is Keyes. Normally I wouldn’t be so open, but the Sword of Justice here is amply named. Its reaction tells me you are in a bad way, and I don’t need Doomgiver here to tell me you mean us no harm.”

“I’m Touchstone,” said the young Fool, “But…Sword of Justice? What do you mean?”

Keyes scoffed, “You haven’t heard? After we told that loudmouthed Bard about our little misadventure I figured the whole country would be filled with talk of the Swords.” At Touchstone’s confused look, he continued, “Here is what has come to pass…”

He told the young fool of the Twelve Swords of power, forged by the Gods as a game amongst them, and how he and Lo-Yang had thwarted the divine use of them and how the blades had scattered across the world. He also told of how Doomgiver had protected him further after their adventure with the Gods and as his eyes healed; a result of his experimentation with it. Touchstone asked many questions and clarifications along the way, and Keyes became impressed with the young Fools attentiveness, becoming more talkative and relaxed as the conversation continued.

When the story was finished, Touchstone asked, “If Doomgiver deals in justice, would it ever work against the user if his or her intentions were less than savory?”

Keyes smiled, “An apt question, but one I’ve not yet tested. I do know, however, that it won’t protect you from acts of stupidity. Though it kept me safe if my intention was to travel without the use of my eyes, it wouldn’t save me if I intentionally tried to walk off a cliff.”

“Indeed, master,” said Lo-Yang, one side of his mouth curving wryly upward, “had I not been around your experimentation with the blade might have fallen rather short.”

Keyes’ smile twisted to mimic his apprentices now mischievous grin and, addressing Touchstone more than Lo-Yang, said, “I’m glad my apprentice has only recently decided to become thick-headed, otherwise my story might have ended sooner than that, say at the mercy of Mars in that forsaken cave.” Lo-Yang chuckled and Touchstone smiled in spite of himself.

“Stonecutter is simple enough,” said the young Fool, looking towards the two black-hilted swords strapped to Keyes’ load beast, “But the Tyrant’s Blade…it would seem that that should be destroyed as quickly as possible, or given into wiser hands.”

Keyes nodded, “My thoughts exactly. I don’t plan to possess that Sword for much longer.” He then stirred the fire with the toe of his boot, and continued, “But what of you, lad? What exactly is it that you’ve left behind?”

Touchstone became more somber, pulling his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t suppose I need to illustrate much when I say it was an affair of the heart.” The two men nodded in agreement, and the young Fool continued, “I lost something…someone…very dear to me. I don’t know if I will ever see her again. That element being gone, I had no real reason to stay where I was, and so you see me as I am now.”

“Such stories find their way into every man’s life,” said Lo-Yang, who then looked sheepish. “I would have been a Bard myself, if my Master hadn’t been the man he is. I’m afraid it was mostly my doing that the Song of Swords now exists.”

“Now that it is mentioned, I do recall hearing a verse of two of this Song of yours,” said the young Fool, eager to talk of other subjects, “I shatter swords and splinter spears, / None stands to Shieldbreaker…?”

“…My point’s is the fount of orphans’ tears, / My edge the widowmaker,” finished Lo-Yang, “Yes, that is the one.”

“And a particularly dangerous one, at that,” said Keyes, gruffly, “The Sword of Force is one to be reckoned with.”

“Could it destroy another Sword of Power?” asked Touchstone.

“In theory, yes, though once again we haven’t been able to experiment with it,” Keyes replied, and a thoughtful look began to cross his face, “but what do you think, boy? Which Swords pose the most threat, or the least?”

Touchstone thought for a moment, and then replied “Shieldbreaker, followed by Soulcutter and the Mindsword as the most dangerous. Shieldbreaker trumps all, while one could decimate many people with the Tyrants Blade or gain great power with the Sword of Glory. On the other hand, Stonecutter doesn’t have much of an effect on mortal mind or body, and Dragonslicer only works on those great beasts, so those two could be the least dangerous.”

Keyes leaned back, a satisfied smile growing on his face, “And what of Doomgiver?”

“Well, if it draws from Justice, then little would matter of its wielder. If the bearer were a good person, he could be in possession of the blade with little detriment, and if the bearer used it maliciously, I imagine it would turn back on him and deal Justice as it saw fit.”

Keyes nodded, and said, “Since that seems the case, it would matter little who was in possession of it. I’ve sensed you looking at this blade, lad, you like it?”

“I’ve loved swords since I was little,” Touchstone admitted, “And its power intrigues me.”

“Then perhaps you would like to have it,” Keyes concluded, and he held up a hand to quiet an objection coming from Lo-Yang, “You’ve got a good mind for this knowledge, and from what I’ve seen of you, you have good qualities enough for being the Swords bearer.”

Keyes undid the scabbard from his belt and held out the sword in both hands. Awestruck, Touchstone received it. When his hand touched the black hilt, he felt the slightest thrum travel through the blade, and a small part of him suddenly felt lighter.

“I imagine you’re now feeling a bit calmer,” said Keyes, “Doomgiver does indeed balance the pans. Though the extent of that power may yet be discovered, I believe it is safe in your hands.”

Belting the Sword to his side, Touchstone could only find a few words for the magician, “Thank you, for everything.”

Keyes bowed his head, and said enigmatically “May Demeter’s caution protect you.”

The sun had just started to crest a line of hills in the east when Touchstone said his last goodbyes to the two men. Without their company, his own situation had once again weighed heavy on his heart, but he had set out with new hope and the Sword at his side. After a week of traveling northward, he had reached the gates of Ginndem Keep.

To Be (eventually) Continued in Chapter 2 (Revised)

Enough, More Later.
- James