The Sword to Unite Read online

  “When you can hit me, then I’ll let you swing two-handed like some deranged oaf.” Cedric sheathed his sword and gave his hand to help Galdwin to his feet. “Get yourself to the stables to feed the horses, and polish every saddle there for good measure.” Galdwin sighed in protest but nonetheless trotted off to the stables.

  Cedric retired to his study, a smaller room of the home, it contained a wide variety of books and stylish furniture. He sat stoking the stone fireplace in front of him, all the while enjoying the Sironde. His exterior appeared calm, but his mind was in discord, attacked by indecision. All his life he had lived in peace, no great journey, no epic poem to be told. A life of peace in his village was all anyone could ever desire, and yet he had a yearning, a deep and almost unspoken longing for a life beyond comfort, beyond pleasure, a life where not everything wanted was a guarantee. Cedric was violently awoken from his daydream when a shriek was heard in the marketplace.

  Chapter 2

  The Guardian of the Woods

  “The Guardian! The Guardian has Alfred!” The villagers huddled around the boy, covered in mud, with his left arm bleeding profusely. Cedric immediately rushed to his side, putting pressure on the wound with a nearby rag.

  “What were you two doing in the forest Edmund? You’ve been told time and time again never to go in there by yourselves,” Cedric’s voice was a mixture of dread and respite. The boy continued sobbing about how he and his brother had been looking for berries in the forest, with their goat Bessie, when the Guardian suddenly attacked them.

  Cedric waited for the boy to finish his story before responding, “Listen to me Edmund, you are never to enter that forest again, understand?” The boy nodded, tears rolling down his face. The boy quickly returned to his father, Sigmund, the herbalist of the village and the most advanced in years of the village elders. As the old man attempted to grab his axe to find his other boy, he seized at his chest; his body winced from the slightest exertion.

  “Alright…” Cedric said as he turned to Eadwine and the men of the village, “we have to get Alfred.” The townsfolk stood petrified, none who dared hunt the Guardian ever returned alive, let alone was enough of a body left to identify the poor souls. Even Eadwine, who knew the forest as if it was his home stood in fear. Cedric could feel his heart beating as if it were to break from his chest at any moment, he too was afraid. Cedric’s fear was somewhat tamed when he saw Beorn step forward.

  Advanced in age compared to the youthful Eadwine and Cedric, he had seen the world one over in his youth as a warrior but now was content in his rural lifestyle. Beorn spoke bluntly, “Well, no other way around it,” swinging his axe to his shoulder, “let’s get on with it.” The giant of a man shrugged his whole body and stood fidgeting his feet, unsure of what the others would do. One by one, the other men of the village began gathering their weapons, some wielding clubs, and axes, others resorting to rakes and wooden spades. To the side, Cedric spotted a young woman staring at him with a stern look. She did not budge nor speak as the wind blew through her hair. Cedric did nothing but grasp at his hilt, waiting for the men to be ready. Cedric gathered his army by the stone elf, and altogether afraid, they marched into the forest.

  In dispersed groups, the men combed the forest for the missing child and his goat. In Cedric’s group, Eadwine walked close to Beorn, practically using him as a shield. A youth of the village, Galdwin accompanied them, his shield and axe both weighed heavy on him, and he struggled to keep up, but never complained, knowing the severity of the situation. With every snapped branch or crushed leaf, there was a fear of the Guardian’s cry being its response. The men grew terrified as they went further and further into the forest, the trees soon blocking out much of the sunlight. Eventually, the group stumbled across the brook Eadwine had discovered last night. The elf hunter was first over and paused at the bushes through which he had seen the Guardian. Fear drove his body to freeze and yet compelled his arms forward, slowly reaching through the bushes. The men too froze in their path, each one clutching their weapon, as Eadwine pulled back the leaves. Nothing.

  Each man sighed a heavy breath of relief but soon realized this meant they needed to go deeper into the forest. Not far off the brook, they came upon the slain deer from last night, its insides had been picked clean, leaving only an empty carcass.

  “We should just head back, that boy has to be long gone by now, I mean look at what it did to that buck,” one of the village men spoke up, the rest of the group stopped and stared at him. He soon realized this and began awkwardly shifting his legs and wagged his mustache, “Well there’s no use in us dying with him that’s all him saying.”

  Cedric approached him, “what if that was one of your boys out there ey? Sigmund cannot help, so you must. If this is not a sufficient reason, then remember your oath.” Cedric lifted his hand, showing his ring and the symbol of the kingdom. Beorn placed his hand on Cedric’s shoulder as a sign of support while speaking no words. Eadwine was next to step forward, offended by this man’s words of fear. “We may all be filled with fear amongst other things, but do not doubt my skills in the art of the forest, I have lived half my life here. You keep your mouth closed and your eyes open, you’ll come out alright.” The dissenter and the men with him quickly fell back into line, feeling ashamed of their cowardice while all the while being overcome with fear.

  The youngest of them, Galdwin, walked nervously behind Cedric, leaping with every snap of a branch. He spoke with a hushed voice to his lord, “Cedric, what will we do when we find it? I’ve heard stories the Guardian can snap a man’s arm in two with a single blow. That it always sees who’s in the forest, but it will itself be seen, lest it wants to.” Cedric turned and placed his hand on the shoulder of the youth, and raised Galdwin’s sword arm high.

  “Galdwin, remember this blade, it is your protector, if you believe in it, you shall not fall today. It’s just like the tactics I’ve been teaching you, move softly and stay behind me.” The youngster silently shook his head, his eyes seemed to relax, and his shoulders loosened as they continued their way through the greenery of the forest.

  The group stalked and crept through the woods for near half an hour without the sound of a crackling branch nor the chirp of a songbird, and not even their boots seemed to make a noise. The whole of the forest was silent. Cedric felt the weight of all the men’s fears on his shoulders. Perhaps the men were right, Cedric thought. If they came upon the Guardian and the boy were still alive, what could a sorry band of villagers and a landed noble do against such a powerful beast? They would inevitably fail or worse, perish as a meal for the creature. Cedric was at his breaking point, as were the men, he could sense it. Even Eadwine had begun to look back towards the path they came, hoping that Cedric would call off the search. But Beorn never doubted Cedric. It was a strange thing, Beorn could easily turn back now, no man would dare to challenge his decision, and yet he continued in utter silence.

  At long last the men reached the top of a hill and rested beneath an enormous tree, their heavy breath bringing sound back to the world. They could see for miles across the land, the mountains and woodland stretching as far as the eye could see. In front of them, the hill rolled down into the forest, thick with leaves and needled pine. Cedric pulled out one of the Sironde, drinking as if it were the last drop he would have. “I’ll go just ahead lads, see what is to be seen,” said Eadwine, who appeared well rested and not at all winded. The men all sat resting, passing the Sironde around, each holding in their eyes a dark look, Galdwin sat on the side of a large collapsed branch, cleaning his blade. Not five minutes later Eadwine appeared like a rabbit running from a hound, bolting out of the wood and up the hill. All the men jumped up, weapons in hand, prepared for the Guardian to come rushing out after Eadwine. Out of breath, the elf panted, “I found its nest, the boy’s alive, come quickly!” The men ran with vigor down the hill, their feet carrying them like they were weightless. Through a thick bundle of thorny bushes and trees they discovered a clea
ring in the wood, and in a crater, the Guardian had made its nest.

  Within the crater lay an enclave that protected from the elements. Within it, bones and branches lined a large nest, and molted feathers and twigs made a cozy bed for the creature. The men stood behind the trees surrounding the crater, all grasping at their blades and praying to the gods. Cedric stared at the beast in total astonishment. This was no wretched wild animal with tufts of fur and broken teeth nor some cursed being, twisted by magic or some ancient god-like being. Before Cedric rested the most majestic animal, he had ever seen. Its feathers were of a dark red as the primary coat, and silky white graced its wing tips, with smaller black ones in a perfect pattern along them. Its beak was a near golden yellow, save for the goat blood. Its tail and feet, though covered in feathers, were that of a lion. Its eyes pierced the very soul of Cedric, without even making direct contact with the human. The Guardian was a Griffin. It lay in its nest, enjoying a snack of goat, using its two front claws to hold the body down as he tore off its head. It appeared as if it was playing with its food. The men’s fixation with this creature was interrupted by the crying of a small child. All at once they caught sight of Alfred, sitting just inside of the nest, clutching at his broken leg all the while crying. The Griffin kept the boy under its wing, dragging the child back at each attempt of escape.

  None of the men moved forward to help, what could they do, to confront the Griffin was a fool’s strategy, nor could any man hope to sneak past the crafty devil. Galdwin both was in distress, overcome with the dilemma to act, Beorn knelt trying to understand his foe, and Eadwine looked around the brush behind the beast, hoping for a clear shot. Cedric felt numb, and suddenly he did not even feel that. His body moved of his accord, and yet he gave no order for it to move. All the men called “Cedric get back!” In hushed tones. Fear overtook the noble, and his heart fit to burst from his chest, as he walked into the crater.

  The Griffin noticed this bold act, and gave a mighty cry, enough to shake the leaves from a tree, and yet Cedric advanced, not increasing or decreasing his speed. The Griffin hopped from his nest, and repeatedly dug its claws into the dirt, a sign it was ready to charge. Cedric stopped about twenty feet from the Griffin, the two stared in mental combat with each other, neither showing a sign of breaking.

  Finally, the Griffin initiated the physical battle, charging forward with a large gust from his wings. But Cedric did not move, not even to reach for his blade. The Griffin stopped dead in its tracks, just inches from the man’s face. It breathed hot breath on him, and yet Cedric continued to stare it down, never yielding to the king of beasts. The Griffin began to cry and buck, attempting to entice him to combat, and yet it failed. It started bowing his great and wide neck, all the while staring deep into Cedric’s eyes. It was a recognition of nobility, from the lord of beasts to that of man. The pair saw each other and knew one another, it was an incredible sight for the party accompanying Cedric.

  The Griffin let out one last mighty cry and retreated to its nest, Cedric’s expression remained like that of the elf statue at Orford and proceeded to pick up Alfred and calmly walk back towards his allies. As soon as he reached the forest and was out of the griffin’s sight, he nearly dropped the child and fell to the ground vomiting.

  Chapter 3

  The Festival and the Bird

  The people of the village rejoiced that night, the festival of Marsancius finally began and to add to that, the boy Alfred had been safely returned. When the search party returned to the village it was near the dusking hour, the whole of the village came to greet them. Sigmund collapsed at the sight of his child, and thanked his lord nearly one thousand times, kissing his ring and offering any reward. “None is needed, my good man. It was something any man in the village would do for you.” The others in the search party looked somewhat embarrassed by this comment. The last of the tents were pitched, and the summer festivities began.

  The previous aromas of foods and drink now seemed tripled, and everywhere Cedric looked, a villager was eating, drinking, or dancing under the light of lanterns. Beorn sat sipping at an exceptionally large flagon of ale, next to him his wife Hilde rested her head on his shoulder and his lad, Godfrey, bounced on his knee. The young child did not have many features of his father. He was more of a slim build like that of his mother. His mother had hair as dark as a raven with frayed ends, and her face was thin and pale. She wore a green dress which revealed that she was with her second child.

  Beorn smiled contently, his family was his pride and joy and was satisfied to sit rather than celebrate. His son was exhausted by this time and began to collapse in his father’s arms as the war dog lifted him up and threw him across the soldier like a freshly caught boar. Both of the two laughed with glee as they continued their game and Beorn had a massive grin on his face.

  Eadwine and Galdwin were an entirely different story. Both had drunk freely, causing any drop of alcohol to disappear as if they were an arid desert. The two were boasting to each fair maiden and villager willing to listen of their great taming of the beast. How without them, Cedric was surely doomed. Galdwin was truly sloshed, he sat on the ground, in a puddle of spilled wine, giggling with a wide grin. Eadwine on the other hand, leaped from table to table, a testament to his kin’s agility, all the while spilling ale on those below. “Come now good people of Orford,” Eadwine slurred, “a toast to our hero…Cedric!”

  All those in the tents raised their mugs, their contents spilling out and glowing amongst the lantern light while Cedric stood quietly and gave a humble bow. Eadwine collapsed from the table onto the grass below all the while attempting to hold his mug straight.

  The wood elf jumped up, with a look of determination, grabbing a lute nearby, he took a chair nearest Cedric and began to strum. All the people grew quiet, in hopes of hearing one of Eadwine’s ballads. The elf had a reputation of a bard in the village, though he had never trained, so the people often heard the tales and songs of the elvish culture. Their shrewd leaders, skilled warriors and beautiful princesses were the familiar stories for the people of Orford. “Gather around,” proclaimed the drunk elf, “and I shall tell you all the tale of Gendore, the forest master’. All the children quickly rushed to the bard’s feet, their eyes alight with excitement and all the men and women of the tents turned to face the storyteller. And so, strumming the strings of his lute, the elf began his tale,

  “There once was an elf named Gendore the Beast Tamer, his legend known far and wide. Of his imprisonment in old Geladhithil for the crime of theft. Brought before the king he did beg and plead, for a chance to prove himself. He said, “dear lord, let me pass through the trial of Animeister.” And so the king, moved by his plea, allowed this lowly thief to enter the den of the great lion. The whole of the land stood quiet, awaiting the assured fate of this fool. There was no sound of lions gnawing upon elven bone that day. Gendore was quick and tackled the lion, and he did force it to submit. After hours, the lion lay cowering in fear, of the lowly criminal who had now proven himself its master. And so, all the land rejoiced his name, and his charges promptly cleared. Now, all know the tale of the Beast Tamer Gendore and his battle with the lion.”

  All the children applauded with glee as Eadwine let out a mighty roar like the lion of the tale and all those seated were clapped and whistled. Cedric could only stand laughing, attempting to brush off the similarities of the two stories of the day, when again, on the opposite end of the tent, he spotted the young woman at the marketplace. The two exited the tent on opposite sides and met in a green meadow just nearby.

  Her name was Aderyn, and her features lived up to her name. Her face was pointed and yet had an incredible smoothness to it. Her hair was a dark brown and her eyes as blue as the clear summer’s sky. The two stood in the meadow for sometimes before speaking. Lifting his hand to her face, she broke the silence, “are you sure you’re alright…you could have used me today. I could have helped.” She spoke rather impatiently but with a caring nature.

>   Cedric looked down to her, “I know…I know, but you know you are not ready, not yet at least.”

  She responded, “If not now then when? We have been practicing for over a year now, and I am just as good as you.”

  Cedric stood back, jokingly he appeared stunned and offended, “my good lady, you insult my honor, and I demand satisfaction,” with a sneering scoff like an upstart noble, he drew his blade, striking a dramatic pose.

  Aderyn smiled and began looking around the meadow, until she came across, a sword, blunt and worn, it was hidden in the brush. She took a high stance, and the two began. As soon as the duel began, however, they immediately shifted to a serious tone. The pair seemed to dance around each other, the steel clanking with each parried blow, but seemed muffled, held back, as to avoid attention from the nearby party-goers.

  Aderyn was far faster than her counterpart, but she was reckless. With each swing of her blade, she shifted her feet as if the blade dragged them. Cedric quickly took notice of this, and focused on defensive strikes, waiting for her to make a mistake. And that she did, with a great overhand swing, she knocked herself off balance, and Cedric quickly tripped her to the grass. Cedric gave her his arm for support, but she quickly pulled him down as well. They both sat laughing on the green field, looking at the shimmering light of the moon upon their village’s lake.

  Cedric broke their silence, “you’ve certainly improved, no doubt about that, but there’s still much room for betterment. The real world doesn’t consist of battles with dull blades.”