Theft Of Swords: The Riyria Revelations

“Where did it come from? What caused the thing to attack?”

 

 

Esrahaddon shrugged. “The elves insisted they knew nothing of the attack, and that they had no idea where the Gilarabrywn came from, except that one Gilarabrywn had been left unaccounted for after the wars. They assumed it destroyed. They mentioned a militant society, a growing movement of elves within the Erivan Empire that sought to incite a war. It was speculated they were responsible. The elven lords apologized and assured us they would investigate the matter fully. The emperor, convinced that to retaliate or even make the incident public was unwise, chose to ignore the attack and returned home.”

 

“So what’s this about a weapon?”

 

“The Gilarabrywn is a conjured creature, a powerful magic endowed with a life of its own beyond the existence of its creator. The creature is not truly alive; it cannot reproduce, grow old, or appreciate existence, but it also cannot die. It can, however, be dispelled. No enchantment is perfect; every magic has a seam where the weave can be unraveled. In the case of the Gilarabrywn, the seam is its name. Whenever a Gilarabrywn is created, so is an object—a sword, etched with its name. It is used to control the beast and, if necessary, destroy it. According to the elves, at the end of the war they placed all the Gilarabrywn swords in the tower, per Novron’s orders. At that time all the swords were accounted for and all but one was notched to show their associated beast was destroyed.”

 

Royce got up to stretch his legs. “Okay, so the elven lords held one of their monsters back just in case, or this militant group hid one to cause trouble. The elven leaders tell you all the swords are in there. Maybe they are, or maybe they aren’t, and they just want—”

 

“It’s in there,” Esrahaddon interrupted.

 

“You saw it?”

 

“We were given a tour when we first arrived. Near the top is a sort of memorial to the war. All the swords are on display.”

 

“All right, so there is a sword,” Royce said, “but that’s not why you want in. You didn’t come here to save Dahlgren. Why are you really here?”

 

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” Esrahaddon replied, sounding every bit like the wise teacher letting his student know to be patient. “The emperor believed he had prevented a war with the elves and returned home, but what waited for him was an execution. While we were away, the church, under the leadership of Patriarch Venlin, planned the emperor’s assassination. The attack came on the steps of the palace during a celebration commemorating the anniversary of the empire’s founding. Jerish and I escaped with Nevrik. I knew that many of the Cenzars and the Teshlors were involved in the church’s plot and that they would find us, so Jerish and I came up with a plan—we hid Nevrik and I created two talismans. One I gave to Nevrik and the other to Jerish. These amulets would hide them from the clairvoyant search the Cenzars were certain to make, but allow me to find them. Then I sent them away.”

 

“And you?” Royce asked.

 

“I stayed behind. I tried to save the emperor.” He paused, looking far away. “I failed.”

 

“So what happened to the heir?” Royce asked.

 

“How should I know? I was locked up in a prison for nine hundred years. Do you think he wrote me? Jerish was supposed to take him into hiding.” The wizard allowed himself a grim smile. “We both thought it would only be for a month or so.”

 

“So you don’t even know if an heir exists anymore?”

 

“I’m pretty confident the church didn’t kill him or they would have killed me shortly thereafter, but what became of Jerish and Nevrik I don’t know. If anyone could have kept Nevrik alive, it would have been Jerish. Despite his age, he was one of the best knights the emperor had. The fact that he trusted his son to his care was testament to that. Like all Teshlor knights, Jerish was a master of all the schools of combat; there wouldn’t have been a man alive who could beat him in battle, and he would have died before surrendering Nevrik. They would both be dead now, of course—time would have seen to that. So would their great-great-grandchildren if they had any. I suspect Jerish would have known the need to perpetuate the line and would have settled down somewhere quiet and encouraged Nevrik to marry and have children.”

 

“And wait for you?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“That was the plan, wasn’t it? They run and hide and you stay behind and find them when it was safe?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“So you had a way to contact them. A way to locate the heir? Something to do with the amulets.”

 

“Nine hundred years ago I would have said yes, but finding their descendants now is probably a fool’s dream. Time can destroy so many things.”

 

“But you are trying nevertheless.”

 

“What else is there for an old crippled outlaw to do?”

 

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