Song of the Sword

Summary
The history of Tonras, a magical blade associated with the Grassland or Ardyth in general, is traced from its first creation to when it is lost after the death of Valren. The tale is related by Ultor, who notes that he bases this telling on a poem heard from a traveling bard.

Author
Spark (Magical Griffin)

Story
Song of the Sword

By Ultor, a researcher and historian of folklore at the University of Ochak

Much has been written of the enchanted sword Tonras and the heroes who have wielded it, especially Valren the Bold. However, few authors have told the true tale of how Valren came to have Tonras. And this makes sense: many false stories circulate around the Grasslands and the Jungle about this event. Some say that he won the sword in a duel against a great tyrant. Others say that the sword was given to him by a Hexalios or even by one of The Five. Still others say that he forged it himself from a fallen star. But, according to my research, the real story is none of these. The tale presented here is adapted from a poem which I heard from a traveling bard near the eastern border of the Grasslands.

Part One

Long ago, when the world was new and none of the three realms had been formed--before even the Grasslands had been united--raiders from the Wastes came across the seas to steal from the villagers along the northern coast of Grasslands. From a temple of 39_Sultans they took a glowing green emerald: a great gem formed deep in the earth in the shape of a heart. This Heart of Grass they brought back to the mountains of the Wastes. It passed through many hands; disaster seemed to follow in its wake. Eventually it came to a master smith, a Radidon by the name of Urrach. He used the magic of the gem to forge a longsword the like of which the worlds had never seen. The blade was silver; the hilt was bound in dark green leather from some beast of the Wastes. Green runes shone along the edge and a small piece of the original jewel gleamed on the pommel.

Unfortunately for the smith, a tyrant rose up in the Wastes. His name was Nayroy and he was a Neroxide of surpassing cruelty. Hearing of the enchanted sword, he brought his army to the home of Urrach and threatened to kill him and his family if he did not yield up the blade. Now Urrach loved the sword, but he loved his family still more. Kneeling before the tyrant, he presented him with the beautiful weapon, the greatest he’d ever created. As the smith bowed, Nayroy took the sword in one pincer. He stabbed it down into Urrach’s skull and then ordered his soldiers to kill the rest of the smith’s family. Thus he hoped to prevent any weapon being created to rival his new blade.

As yet, the sword had no name. In anticipation of a long rule, Nayroy named the sword “Waodey” (that is, “Power”). He continued in his conquering ways and in a few years half of the Wastes was under his control; the free peoples of the mountains became little more than slaves.

But a hero rose up to fight him: Finsok the Venid. Nayroy had killed most of his clan, and the survivors were now forced to work in the deep mines under Mount Tya. Swift-winged Finsok himself had only escaped the tyrant’s soldiers through sheer luck. Wandering alone through the valleys and caves of the Western Wastes, he began to despair of ever freeing his clanmates. At last in his wanderings he came to a cave under Mount Hris where he settled down for a while.

He was just beginning to feel that perhaps here he might start a new, peaceful life, when he saw one of Nayroy’s soldiers flying over and knew that that could never happen while the tyrant still breathed. He knew that he had to learn how to fight.

From then on, he trained every day. Stealth and swiftness were his strengths; as he trained they became his arts. Soon he could catch a diving falcon before it even noticed his presence; he stalked the valley like the shadow of Death himself, hunting even the strongest and wariest of beasts. But still he had no weapon. He wondered what would work well for his high-speed attacks; eventually he decided that perhaps he needed two weapons: a small knife and a long-handled sword to stab deep where the knife could not reach.

Not knowing the art of smithing himself, he began to travel again, seeking a worthy smith to make these blades. Through village after village he travelled, hearing of Nayroy’s conquests at every turn. Eventually he found a smith who could forge his blades; to him he told his story and requested his help. The smith, whose name is lost to time, consented and forged the blades: one short, one long, both deadly and enchanted never to rust or grow dull. Finsok thanked him and promised that once the tyrant was dead he would be greatly rewarded.

From then on, his travels were straightforward. Through valleys and caves he journeyed, heading for the tyrant’s citadel on Mount Dognas. Once he was near the fortress, he waited patiently to learn the patterns of the guards and of Nayroy’s own behavior. Legend says that for three days and three nights he sat in a tree, observing the citadel. On the fourth day, he attacked.

As Nayroy came out of the fortress to gloat over the dragons toiling under the watchful gaze of his soldiers, Finsok launched himself from the tree. Just as an arrow, launched from the mantled archer’s bow, flies straight and true through the parted airs with only a hiss to mark its passing, so flew swift-winged Finsok at the over-bold Neroxide. His long-handled sword he held in one hand, the small knife in the other. Nayroy managed to parry the strike of the sword with a pincer and pull Waodey from its scabbard. He was unable to use it however; green blood spilled from his chest as the small knife slipped between two plates of his armor and pierced his heart.

Finsok took Waodey from his enemy’s stiff pincer. As he raised it aloft, the runes glowed brighter and most of the Nayroy’s guards fled. The few that remained bowed before him, expecting to feel the embrace of grey Death at any moment. But the swift-winged Venid spread his wings and set the point of the sword on the ground. “Fear not,” he said. “I did not come for you. If you will swear fealty to me on this sword, I will spare your lives.”

The soldiers approached and laid their hands or pincers on the pommel stone. They swore fealty to Finsok, as he had asked. Finsok looked at the mighty blade again and spoke thus: “In the hands of the tyrant, this sword was called Waodey, Power. But I name it Tonras, Justice.”

Escorted by the guards, he took control of the Neroxide tyrant’s citadel. Messengers were sent forth into all the lands Nayroy had captured to tell the inhabitants that they were free. The mines were emptied of captives. Those of Nayroy’s followers who swore fealty to Finsok were allowed to survive; those who refused were hunted down and killed.

The over-bold Neroxide’s fortress still remained; Finsok made it into a place where the clans and nations of the Wastes could gather in peace, even if war raged through the skies and mountains. At last, when Finsok had lived many years and had many children, he declared that his work in Inrya was done. He commanded that Tonras be sent back to the temple of 39_Sultans whence the Heart of Grass had come. His family tried to dissuade him from this: if he lost the sword, what claim to power would he hold? But Finsok the Venid replied wisely that if he needed a sword as his claim to power, then his work in the Wastes had been in vain. If he needed the enchanted blade to keep the people in fear of him, he was a new Nayroy.

Finally his family consented to let Tonras return to the Grasslands where it rightfully belonged. The sword was given a place of honor in the temple and remained there for centuries, gazed at in awe by the dragons who came to worship the brown Solarizon there.

Part Two

Three hundred years later, when the Grasslands had been united under one rule and was beginning to form those alliances with the Jungle and the Ocean that would eventually create Ardyth, an army from the Desert and Volcano lands crossed the western border of the Grasslands. They marched under the command of Lord Jan the Magmip, head of House Fnya. Across fields and hills they marched, burning the countryside as they went. Those who tried to stand against them fell to sword and fire; those who fled were for the most part killed as they ran.

But one dragon survived: a Rocirus by the name of Gund. He flew on wings sped by fear to seek aid from the council that ruled the Grasslands in those days. The council listened kindly to the words of Gund, and determined that an army had to be raised that could be matched against the invaders.

At the head of the army they put Izayon the Dexyn, who despite being a dragon of the Jungle was as loyal as any native-born Grasslander. General Izayon’s second-in-command was Kefel the Saurium, a dragon skilled with both sword and words. But as yet their forces were small, by no means an even match for Lord Jan’s army which with every passing day drew nearer to the heart of the Grasslands: its capital. The General sent Kefel to journey throughout the sleepy villages of the Grasslands and call the peaceful people to arms to defend their homes.

By Kefel’s wise words and swift speech the army grew until it was almost as large as that led by the head of House Fnya. General Izayon knew that the army was now as great as could be hoped for; he began marching west to meet the forces commanded by Lord Jan. But before he departed the capital, he sent out a messenger to the temple of 39_Sultans in the north to bring back the enchanted sword Tonras to inspire the people. He planned to have the messenger carrying the sword meet the army at Ferao, a citadel in the west of the Grasslands.

But even the plans of a hero may fail. On his return, the messenger was waylaid by one of Jan’s scouting parties; he managed to escape with his life, but without the sword. Wounded, he somehow found his way to a nearby village, where he told the inhabitants of what had transpired. As the messenger’s wounds were treated and he told his story, one young Saurium warrior decided that he could not let the Heartsword fall into the hands of outlanders. He slipped out of the village at night, followed by his best friend, Brenvaris the Rocirus. That warrior was Valren, later known as Valren the Bold.

Silently they flew through the black night, only stopping to check for the tracks of the scouting party. At last they came to the place where that particular band of raiders was encamped. One Agricos, sitting near the campfire, was polishing the marvelous sword Tonras as he looked at it with the pride of ownership. A few more dragons sat around the fire keeping watch; the rest slept in their tents.

Valren and Brenvaris fell on the sentries like hawks upon sparrows. A Khepera and a Numine fell to the Rocirus’ mace and with his waraxe Valren brought down a Venu and the Agricos who had held the enchanted blade. Having taken up Tonras, Valren flew back to the village with Brenvaris, triumphing as dawn broke over the roofs of the houses.

The messenger, now almost healed, was overjoyed to see the sword returned. He asked Valren to give it to him so that he might carry it back to the army, but the proud Saurium refused. He had taken it from the soldiers of Lord Jan, not the messenger, he said. If anyone was going to take it back, it would be him. The messenger was not too happy about this, but he was willing to let Valren and Brenvaris travel with him to Ferao if Valren promised to relinquish Tonras once they arrived. The Saurium and his bright-winged friend agreed to this and soon they set off.

Their journey was not long, for the village they left behind was less than two days’ flight from the fortress of Ferao. Having arrived, the messenger led Valren and Brenvaris to General Izayon to present him with the mighty blade. Kefel stepped in front of the great Dexyn to take the blade in his name, as he didn’t really have the hands to wield such a weapon. Valren and Brenvaris bowed deeply as she took the sword; the runes along the edge glowed like green fire as she raised it heavenward and spoke. “Go,” said she. “Return home to your village, for you have done a great thing for us. No obligation rests upon you to remain here.”

But Valren raised his head and spoke proudly. “I will stay. The Grasslands is as much my home as it is any other dragon’s. I will defend it with every drop of fighting blood that flows through my veins and every ounce of strength that lies in my arms and flame.” And Brenvaris nodded assent.

Kefel spread her wings and dipped her head in acknowledgement of this. She stepped back as wise General Izayon cleared his throat to speak. “Very well. There is food in the citadel in plenty; there is no lack of provisions that would cause us to turn you away. Only see that you do not start fights with the other warriors here.”

Valren and Brenvaris bowed once more and went forth into the citadel. For three days the army stayed there and the two friends kept watch on the walls; on the fourth day the army set out. Valren and his Rocirus friend travelled with the vanguard of the army, hungry for battle. After a day’s journey, they could see the smoke of the devastation caused by Lord Jan’s forces floating blue on the horizon. After a few more hours of flying and marching, they could see the brown and gold banners of the soldiers from the Volcano and the Desert.

The two armies set up camp on the Plain of Angels, for it was evening and the sun was beginning to sink below the far-off hills. Just before dawn, the Dexyn General ordered all but a quarter of the army to attack the forces of Lord Jan directly. The rest of the army had been sent in two groups at night to get around the flanks of the soldiers led by the fierce Magmip. These two groups of Grassland warriors waited until they heard the shouts of battle before charging against the enemy flanks. The strategy seemed to work; the dragons of Volcano and Desert were confused by the attack from all sides in the pale twilight and began to flee.

But Lord Jan the Magmip gave a loud roar to rally his troops. They hearkened to his call and began to press back against the Grassland soldiers, who were smaller both in size and number. The defenders of the land fell back, unable to withstand the giant dragons under Lord Jan’s command. Yet two pressed on: Valren and Brenvaris. Valren swung his waraxe fiercely, killing dragon after dragon. Brenvaris was just behind him in glory, his mace sighing as the strong Rocirus swung it through the air, bringing it down on the head of one dragon and now another. There were two more who did not fall back. General Izayon and his second-in-command Kefel the Saurium strode into the battle, dealing death to all who came near.

The tide began to turn again. The small dragons of Grasslands stood up to Lord Jan’s soldiers, and it seemed that the battle would soon be won. But alas! For General Izayon fell in the fray while fighting two Magmips and a Venu. Valren was at his side in a moment; as he gasped out his last breath, he told Kefel to give Tonras to the bold young Saurium.

As Valren took Tonras, the runes blazed even brighter. He held it over his head and roared a battle challenge. Lord Jan stepped forward to face the inexperienced warrior, knowing that if he took the enchanted blade the battle would be all but won. Long was their duel; long did they fight by the body of Izayon the Steadfast, as Kefel and Brenvaris stood aside. At last, dodging a blast of lava-hot flames, Valren stabbed Tonras deep into the Magmip lord’s chest. The hearts of Lord Jan’s forces turned to water and they fled to the west, hoping to escape home with their lives. As the warriors of Grassland watched and Lord Jan bled slowly on the ground, Valren raised the longsword once more and cut off the Magmip’s head.

What happened then is known to all: how Valren, Brenvaris, and Kefel were celebrated as heroes by the folk of Grasslands; how Izayon was given a tomb befitting a king in the midst of the battlefield, which dragons still visit today; how Valren and Brenvaris went on to help unite Ardyth, using words to bring dragons together and the sword to drive off their enemies. What is not known is what happened to Tonras: some say it was destroyed after the death of Valren, some say it lies in one of the vaults deep below the temple of 39_Sultans, some say it remains in some armory of the Grassland army, forgotten in the passing of time. Still others say that before Valren died, he hid Tonras in the southern mountains to be found by the next hero who had need of it.

Trivia

 * Valren the Rocirus was named after Valren the Bold.