Faerdin
Rune Knight
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Original Story
Rune Knight, He Who Stands Between
Rune Knight, Book Three
I. Twenty-Five Years
II. Why Do You Fight, Rune Knight?
III. Nightingale
IV. Twenty-Five Eternities
V. Whispers in the Night
VI. Why Do You Fight, Doom Knight?
Nightingale
Losing Ground to Gold
The winds of Oaklore's western forests had once been a cradle of warmth. They wound through the war-torn trees, ravaged by elements as they sought equilibrium and harmony in a world where that was all but lost, and they whispered promises that life would continue. So too did the earth agree as its children recovered from the dissonance. The water whimpered and the roar of fire in Lore's core acted as a clarion call to all who lost their way before the Sundering. Shadows knelt in defeat to light, and all seemed at last to have destabilized, but the earth and the wind held. So long as they stood, the other elements would rise upon their shoulders. The elements cared for their own as much as for themselves, for the fire was the water, the water the wind, the man the earth, the earth everything- such had been the way of Nature, and such it remained.
But the wind bit bitterly now into Faerdin- or was he Gelevren?- as he pulled his cloak about his shoulders. He squinted through the blackened leather and violet feathers of his mask to watch the stars. Only the stars remained a reliable guide. The elements were uneasy and restless in a way Gelevren had never seen before- he could feel through the numbed fingers in his gloves. The wind cradled no longer. It whipped and tore. Perhaps it is me, Faerdin thought.
As he wandered beneath the windswept canopy, he wondered what force was compelling him to continue. He was The Rose no longer. He was a Hand of the Avatars no longer. All he had was the songs and melodies Aurauris had taught him over the last twenty years, making his living as the mysterious bard Gelevren in Swordhaven and, eventually, Falconreach.
Aurauris. The very name plucked the iron strings of his heart. I have to save her. I have to... Then they could return to that comfortable life. A life of song and storytelling and slumber. But where to begin? He brought himself to a stop and a clatter of iron startled Faerdin into glancing at his wrists.
The shackles still bound him. Espina Rosa...
Aurauris was still there. That should be his destination. They tore her away. Those mindless monsters. Those black-hearted mongrels. They would pay just as the Magus Hansa had for their intrusion into the comfort of their life. And they would all pay. He would seize her and let loose a torrent of terror upon their ranks, the thunder itself booming high above as the earth split and fires cried from the center of the world, trapping them in an eternal cataclysm to burn and writhe in agony for all eternity-
The humming in his ears halted. Gelevren felt his fingers trembling against the earth's foundation as it braced him. Pushing himself onto his knees, he looked back in horror to find a path of arcane fire blazing behind him. The trail was long. For how long had he been running? Where was he? Only then did Gelevren feel how his body shuddered and choked for breath. He was under the water like he was long before, choking and drowning.
So Faerdin clung to the earth. Waiting and waiting for his body to calm, hoping and hoping for the flaws in his mind to melt away once more.
Vitality leaped through his form at the sound of a whinny, a thud, and an unmistakable scraping of metal upon leather; someone was drawing a sword. "Who are you? What do you want from me?!"
He grunted and pulled himself back onto his feet, invigorated by the clamor of conflict occurring not too far away. The earth flew beneath his feet and steadied his every step. All Faerdin could hear was the pitter-pat of steps beneath him and the rush of air in and out of his lungs, his heart pounding like a drum in rhythm with the whipping of the wind. Each step brought him closer. Closer. Closer, until he entered a clearing and was blinded by a flash of golden light.
Two flashes. Three.
A man in armor of marbled yellow and silver stood firm against three figures in the shadows. On a shield in his hand was embossed the depiction of a winged helm descending upon an empty, white landscape. His blade was pointed at his attackers, and he cried, "By the Light, these backstabbers shall not take me so easily... Do you hear me, Kara SuLema?! Light, come to me in my hour of need!"
Another wave of gold descended on the shadows, and they answered with their own arcs of energy. Both victim and assailant alike were calling upon the power of light. And the light answered, for they were the light. Gelevren watched as the man hefted his blade and charged at the shadows, trading blows with a multitude of monsters in the dark and confronting them with the kind of valor known only to the Paladin Order. Yes, he has to be a paladin, Faerdin ascertained. But just as it seemed the mysterious paladin had gained an upper-hand against his attackers, it happened.
A figure seemed not only to flap wings, but flutter behind the man even as two others advanced. The assassins gripped their prey's arms and grappled for his weapons at the very moment the night was rent by a metallic shriek. Man and metal cried their agony to the moon until they lay still, blood painting the torn plates scarlet even in the scarce light.
"Enough!"
The Sigil upon Faerdin's hand flared and cast the assassins into the same light they used against their prey. Before they fled, he could see the delicate forms and shining wings of fairies.
Fairies.
All seemed dulled to the Nightingale while he stepped to the paladin's side. He knelt by his side and probed his wound- prying out the murderer's blade before so doing- only to acknowledge that all was already lost. And the entire time he asked himself over and over, Is to be thus anything but to be safely thus?
A hand clasped Faerdin's shoulder, and he looked up into the man's eyes. He recognized their stark silver. "Malakh..."
Lord Malakh's eyes seemed to light up in recognition. "Faerdin... Tell the king of this final act of service. I have served him well..." Then he lay still, though that light within him did not fade.
The life left, but the light did not die. Faerdin rose to his full height and looked up once more to the stars. He would burn in their visage and be heralded as a hero throughout the universe- regardless of who he had served. He thought to himself once again, To be thus is nothing but to be safely thus... There is no safety, no place of hiding. I must do something. The fire and the water, the earth and the wind, the light and the dark- all hummed before the magnitude of his realization.
The curtain has fallen.
A screech resounded in the distance. Rays of white smothered the stars in long streaks as shadowy figures flew across the sky in search of prey. A low, whining siren flared to life in the distance, and Faerdin set himself against it.
I will be the light.
< Message edited by Faerdin -- 6/15/2014 21:30:32 >
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