by Henry Otis Clarke

To acquire the means to avenge his daughter, Vohl must face the Guardian of the Blade. But can a man defeat a creature that can't be killed?

I

Thick steam puffed and faded from the Garwolf's mouth that sat on its haunches beside Vohl. Before them mountain loomed. Snow cover had abruptly ceased and a clear border marked its perimeter. Vohl and Hovaritch stood upon snow packed ground. A few feet away, dark sandy earth rolled toward a high jagged peak that seemed to pierce the sky and soak in all light. Tendrils of fear crept along Vohl's soul. He breathed uneasily as they stared at their destination. A cave was cut at the mountain's base. Something dwelled there.

“The Iron Tooth,” Hovaritch said, “This is the lair of Kjølen, the Blade Keeper.”

“And I must face him,” Vohl stated rather than asked.

“Yes Doyen, if you would win the Blade to avenge your child.”

The wind picked up and snow swirled around them. It murmured softly, stirring the reddish brown fur that wrapped his massive black frame. No snowflake fell beyond the invisible line that formed a border around the mountain. A small circle of rocky soil stretched between them and the Iron Tooth. The mention of Alía galvanized Vohl, and he willed his fear into subjection. He turned to the great lupine beast that was both his companion and his mount.

“Time we finished this thing,” he said.

“Yes”

Vohl reached for his weapons and selected a long hooked sword. It was wrapped with coarse leather toward the bottom which ended in a dagger-like blade. A crescent shaped blade guarded his knuckles, its horns pointing outward.

“Doyen?”

“Yes wolf.”

“I will be with you, but I cannot go in.”

Vohl looked at the lupine behemoth with furrowed brow, “What do you mean you cannot go with me?” He removed his cloak and strapped two long thin blades to his back, ignoring the searing cold. He placed sharp star shaped throwing knives in pouches under his close fitting shirt.

“I mean there are rules that must be followed. Our minds will be one as you go in, but each warrior must face Kjølen alone. And you must speak true. Your cause must be just.”

Vohl reached down and slipped a dagger in each boot leg. Small satchels of explosive powder were tucked in his belt. He paused and looked at Hovaritch.

The Garwolf seemed bemused.

“And how will you be in my mind wolf?”

Hovaritch yawned, exposing sharp silver fangs.

“As I am now only closer; I will see through your eyes and hear through your ears.”

“And if there's a beautiful woman in there?”

Hovaritch licked his mouth, drops of saliva sparkled onto the snow.

“You don't mind a little voyeurism do you?”

II

All sound ceased as Vohl stepped onto the bare dark ground. Behind him Hovaritch stood, his thick silver fur tousled by the sharp artic air. No breeze blew upon Vohl; and his feet crunched against the rough soil as he approached the cave's mouth. Images welled up in his mind. Alía, bright eyed and red haired like her mother, smiled a fox's smile gained from her real father.

<Pretty child>

“Indeed.”

Hovaritch felt the pain his Vohl's heart; felt the anger and determination. First his wife and unborn son, now Alía too is dead. Vohl gritted his teeth against the tears that seeped into his eye sockets. Tears later, he thought, vengeance now. The cave mouth gaped with deathly silence and Vohl stood at the entrance listening.

He sniffed the air, inhaling slowly as his ears and eyes strained for any sign of life. He noticed his senses had changed. He smelled the earth at his feet; tasted the light acidity of the air. Suddenly a distant noise pierced the land's hush like an exhalation in winter.

<It calls you>

“And I shall answer.”

Vohl reached back with both hands and retrieved the thin swords. They flashed in the dull light of clouded sky. He held them before him and entered the cave. Instantly his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He proved to be in a corridor that led to a larger chamber.

“Is this how you see all the time?”

<Most of the time Doyen>

“And at other times?”

<I am a shape shifter. I see many ways>

He felt the air change, as if something had joined him as he walked. Vohl glanced about with his enhanced vision and saw no one. He struck his foot against something and looked down. A human head, its skin dried tightly over the skull and bits of hair stuck out like dead vines, tumbled down the passageway. It rolled against the arching wall and stopped; its empty sockets stared at the ceiling. The presence was still with him.

“Hovaritch.”

<I feel it too doyen.>

Suddenly the walls dropped away and Vohl entered a vast chamber. A dull light of blue glowed at its center, outlining the shape of a sword.

<The Onyx Blade, Lord Vohl.>

“Aye.” Vohl said as he stared at the weapon. He couldn't make out its design. Blue strobes of light danced along its surface and wicked of into the surrounding air. Vohl had never seen such simple beauty. Despite its unearthly nature, there was something inherently organic about the scene. The sword seemed to respond to his proximity and blazed brighter, casting a long shadow behind him. A whisper formed in his mind.

Why do you want it?

“You know why I want it. What are you asking me?”

<Doyen?>

“What.>”

<I had not asked anything.”

Something struck Vohl's face, snapping his neck back and sprawling him across the room. The swords flew from his hands and clattered against the hard stony floor.

<Vohl!> Hovaritch's voice boomed in his head.

<Vohl! The Sentinel-- Kjølen has come!>

Vohl looked up to see a shadowy figure with glowing red eyes.

“So it would seem.”

III

Blue light bathed the chamber hewn from igneous rock, pulsating with ever increasing tempo. Vohl fought to stay conscious and catch his breath. His dark massive form nearly matched the coarse soil that bit into his back as he recovered from the blow. His adversary stood over him, a silhouette with glowing eyes the color of burning coals.

“Why do you want it?” Its voice rustled like the dead leaves of autumn.

Vohl sprung to his feet away from the thing's reach. He raised his arms close to his body, bent at the elbows with his hand curled to mimic claws. His knees were bent to lower his center of gravity. He remained silent. The creature took a similar stance and began circling him. Vohl watched the Sentinel as they moved.

“Why do you want it?” Kjølen asked again. Suddenly its foot lashed out, barely visible in the blue light. This time Vohl was ready and blocked the kick. His hands flurried blows against the creature's wiry chest, feeling leathery skin over brittle bone that seemed to snap. It staggered back but remained standing. Vohl saw that its face was oddly human. A pointed nose jutted from the center of its face. Ears shaped like inverted teardrops poked upward on either side of its head. Its lips were thin and its smile was toothless. Ember eyes narrowed and the smile grew menacing.

“Why do you want it?”

The light had grown in its intensity. Vohl could see that the creature was corpse-like and wore a tattered tunic, browned from age. It charged moving quickly in the azure luminescence. Its fist assailed Vohl and he blocked them, parrying and then thrusting punches in return. Vohl landed a blow against the dead thing's jaw. Instantly the Sentinel reached around and locked arms with Vohl and head butted him twice. It turned and flipped Vohl. He landed on his back and heard the ground crunch as it neared. Once more the query came.

“Why do you want it?”

<I think it's a test Doyen. You must answer him.>

“If I'm wrong?”

<Perhaps you will be right instead>

Kjølen stood waiting for an answer. Its gaze never left Vohl as he slowly rose to his feet. He was beginning to hurt. His head rang from that last slam to the ground. He had to come up with something that would justify receiving the weapon. If this was a test, then the answer must be a noble one. Would it be a matter of principle then? Instead of taking another fighting stance he said, “I want the blade in order to bring justice and punish wickedness. I want it to slay evil doers who would prey on the helpless.”

The creature stared at Vohl. Its eyes revealed nothing in their diabolical lambency. A rattling laugh hissed from between its lips as it slowly wagged its head.

“Not enough.” It said and flew at Vohl. Vohl dodged the attack and kicked at it as it passed. Kjølen rolled and landed on its feet with eerie agility. Vohl attacked again, taking the offensive. The Sentinel stood firm and once more they traded blow for blow, kick for kick. The sword sent streaks of cerulean lightning outward and seemed to witness the battle. The two combatants fought on their bodies strangely similar in the odd lighting of the cavernous chamber. Their shadows pantomimed the fray against a nearby wall. To Vohl it seemed as if it were some kind of bizarre choreography; a dance where two of the participants would fall to the others.

<The Prophecy Doyen, the Dance of Four Shadows had begun!>

Vohl had no time to respond. Sweat fell from his body and he felt his thick wooly hair begin to crackle from the energy of the blade. He knew he couldn't hold up much longer. He had to do something to defeat the creature. In that moment it landed a blow to Vohl's chest. He staggered backward bewildered and the Sentinel dove after him; catching his right arm and wrapping its own around Vohl's neck. It pulled and squeezed slowly. Pain exploded from

Vohl's shoulder as pressure continued. His air was slowly being cut off.

<Doyen! To your left!>

Vohl looked with his eyes and saw one of the thin swords not far from him. It reflected blue light against the black ground. He stretched to reach it, feeling his strength ebb with each second.

“Why do you want it!” the Sentinel rasped.

Vohl's fingers grasped the hilt of the sword. He turned the blade toward himself. And drove the blade up. It passed him and found its mark in the demon's throat. The creature howled and released him. Vohl rolled away gasping coughing. He stood, watching the sentinel's eyes that now seemed to glow with pain. The full length of sword protruded from the back of his neck.

Vohl's breathing returned to normal, though his throat was sore.

“I want it for the strength to defeat the enemy in battle, and to defend my lands and my countryman.”

The pained expression changed. Once more the eyes of the creature narrowed into evil slits. It reached up and pulled the sword. The blade came out cleanly and the dead thing let it drop to the floor. Its lips curled into a malevolent titter.

“Not enough.”

It lunged at Vohl once more. Its strength seemed even greater than before. Vohl ducked a strike at his head and felt air pass as he dove into his opponent's torso. He lifted the thing and slammed it against the volcanic floor. It made no sound and was on its feet before Vohl could follow trough. It spun and its foot caught Vohl's head.

Light flashed within his skull from the pain and he felt his face strike the floor. His hand fell against a raised part of the floor. He was near the dais that held the Onyx Blade. Its light glowed and beckoned him. The creature seemed to be waiting. For what?

<Vohl, I think it's waiting for you to take the sword.>

“But I haven't answered its question.”

<Yes. I know. This could pose a problem. Every time you've answered wrongly, it seemed go get stronger. If you're wrong now Doyen, the sword itself could kill you.>

Vohl gathered his strength as the demon stood by. He looked up at the sword. The blade was straight and wide. Its hilt seemed overlaid with a precious metal perhaps gold. The cerulean light distorted other colors. There was a symbol sculpted at the pommel. Vohl heard the rustling voice of the Sentinel once more. It hung in the air with its point to the earth.

“Why do you want it?”

Vohl breathed in and pushed himself up. He lunged for the sword and felt a surge of energy as his fingers wrapped around the hilt. He stood and pointed the blade at the creature. The Sentinel seemed unmoved but amused. It held its arms out from its body. It tittered and gibbered for a moment; then,

“Why, why, why do you want it?”

Vohl approached the thing. Understanding came to him he took hold of the Onyx Blade with both hands.

“My daughter is dead. The wizard killed her. I want vengeance for her. I want to kill the bastard.”

The creature's hands fell to its side. The smile remained but softened. A long sigh filled the chamber and it lunged at Vohl, impaling itself upon the blade. Blue lightning engulfed its body and Vohl smelled an odor akin to aged death. Its face was close to Vohl now. Its mouth moved.

“Enough.”

The flames consumed the creature. Its body fell apart and off the blade as Vohl watched. He took a deep breath and exhaled. The light of the Onyx Blade paled and the chamber was dark save for the faint glow that seeped through the corridor from outside. His strength renewed, Vohl started the hike toward fresh air and daylight.

<Well done Doyen. Now we can face Tuathal.>

“Not yet, Garwolf, I need more than the blade for this.”

<But the Onyx Blade is all that is needed to defeat the Ethereals.>

“Yes, but to reach Tuathal and end this thing I'll need an army. And it can't be just one nation. All must be involved.”

<And how may I ask are you planning to involve all of the races of Man?>

“I've been throughout the inhabited earth. I know who to seek and where to find them. It will take a while, but not too long.”

Cold air assaulted Vohl as he exited the cave. Snowflakes fell at its mouth, covering the bare black ground for the first time, perhaps in ages. Hovaritch stood still in the artic landscape. His lupine face appeared frozen, his eyes fixed upon the entrance of Iron Tooth Mountain.

“Hovaritch, are you all right?”

<I am Doyen; I just need a moment or two.>

“What's wrong?”

<I must get back.>

“Back from where? Where are you if this isn't you in front of me?”

<Did I not say I'd be with you?”>

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