Ironblood; Sword of Iron
Ironblood or The Sword of Iron; Prologue
It was raining, not a light spring rain, it was a torrential flood from on high. Nattius could barely see five feet in front of him, but even through the torrent he could see the fire of the Stonemaker torches spreading throughout the city like a million angry fireflies and still he stood. He could hear the screams of the dying, mingling with the battle cries of the invaders and still he stood. He could smell the ash and the blood and hear the crashing rumblings as the city was torn apart and as he did so every fiber of his being, every instinct told him to rush to the aid of the city. Yet, still he stood. Like an oak tree in a winter storm he stood, perfectly still, his left hand held onto a massive iron broadsword and in his right he clenched a shield.
Upon his shield a black pine standing on a red field was engraved. He was the personal guard of the king and the heir to the house of Dormatin. He stood still, for his orders were to protect the king, not to protect the city and Nattius was a man of his word. He stood on the top of the second tallest and oldest tower in the city as the stonemakers burnt down his city and murdered the last of his people. As he watched he noticed the screams steadily growing quieter and the battle cries turning into cries of victory and rejoicing. The enemy had finally won, tears of sorrow and bitter anger streamed down Nattius’s face and yet still he stood and remembered.
The monsters had begun their attacked two days ago, just after the storm began. Bows and even swords proved of little use in the driving rain against these creatures. They had torn through the five outer walls in the first three hours and had ground the outer city into rubble in half that time.
The inner city had held, but even the strongest oak pales against the endless wind. After a day the inner walls also fell and the stonemakers had begun their systematic hunt for every ironborn within the city.. The reserve guard had abandoned the Capitol and relocated the king to this tower in a hope that the enemy might provide an opening for escape in their mad looting. What the reserve guard did not count on was the enemies complete and utter hatred for ironborns. They refused to break ranks or even pause in their search for every last ironborn and thus when the last desperate counter attack was made the enemy not only held but returned the strike with a dramatic increase in their savagery and haste to destroy every single living ironborn.
With the guard decimated and all hope of a general escape dashed, the remaining soldiers and citizens massed together in a desperate final attempt to hold off the stonemakers long enough for the emperor to escape. Nattius had been the one selected, against his will, for this task.
That was how he had ended up here in the tower watching Paldor burn while his brothers and sisters gave their lives… Nattius shook his head to clear it. These thoughts were getting him nowhere and he had a job to do. As he did this he realized that the emperor had been speaking to him.
“my lord?” Nattius said, the words coming out bitter and sharp. The emperor smiled, put his hand on Nattius shoulder and spoke in a deep comforting voice.
“come. You can do nothing for them. It is best that you fulfill your mission and keep your sworn word while you still draw breath.”
Nattius nodded slowly and turned frowning toward the exit, “It is time to go, my lord. Captain Elswere is waiting on your company, she believes that you can still make it out.”
The emperor turned from the window to look at Nattius, the emperor was not an impressive man to look at. Nattius towered an easy half a foot over him at 6 foot, but when you looked into the emperors eyes there was a measure of confidence and strength that caused even the strongest men to doubt themselves. The emperor was old and looked it, but he still held himself with the air of a man who will overcome any obstacle. Even now at the end of the world, at the breaking of the city and the desecration of their home he still carried himself with that pride and confidence.
“let us go then Nattius of the house of Iron. The blood does run in your family does it not my son?” the emperor said this with a gentle, but intense smile and Nattius took a step back, both flattered and confused that the emperor knew who he was.
“ye...yes, my lord. My goodmother is ironborn”
The emperor nodded at this and began walking down the steps as he said, “do you know what it means to be ironborn, son?”
Nattius, walking behind the emperor shook his head before remembering that the emperor could not see him and said, “uh, no. no, my lord I do not.”
“it is a blessing from the God, to balance the gift of power. Ironborn will never wield the power, but they also are immune to all its effects.”
Nattius nodded sadly at this as the emperor continued, “Which means that they cannot be hurt by a sung blade or by the song themselves. For this reason Nattius I surrender unto you and your ancestors the Blade of Shizamar.” the emperor stopped here and pulled off the scabbard and longsword that hung at his waist. “this blade was created to slay the darkness and is no mean gift. Pass it down from second son to second son for generations to come. Keep to yourselves and let no one know what it is that you possess. Now Nattius, I must ask you to leave in my place and let the enemy come to me. For I fell my end coming open me and do not wish to die hunted like prey.”
Nattius opened his mouth to protest but ended up accepting the sword and retreating through the passageway. But, as he did so something inside him hardened and he turned to the guards and said in a strong commanding voice, “Men, make sure the emperor escapes. I will guard the tunnel until I know you are free.”
The emperor hearing this frowned and was about to order the men to do otherwise when Nattius looked at him and said, “we all have are duties, my lord. Mine is to see you safely outside the walls and I will do just that. “
To Nattius’s surprise the emperor closed his mouth and kept his thoughts to himself. The emperor then turned to the guards and nodded. With that they swiftly vanished down the tunnel and into the darkness.
Nattius sighed with relief once he was sure that they had gone, he had been worried that the emperor would put up more of a fight.
Just then a loud banging began on the trapdoor above, the Stonemakers had found the entrance and soon would break through the door. Nattius readied himself for the fight, raising his new blade and saying a quick prayer to the gods. However, what came through the door was not what Nattius was expecting.
There was a massive explosion which rocked the tower and caused the floor to ripple slightly. Nattius was tossed to the ground as a monstrous creature burst through the trapdoor, as it did so the already weakened floor broke under Nattius and he fell into the darkness.
He awoke hours later, his left leg was completely broken and his right was not doing so well either. He had lost Shizamar in the fall and glanced around finding it near a strange machine giving off a low glow.
Nattius crawled towards it confused and still dazed by the fall, he was losing a lot of blood. However when he reached the machine and grabbed the sword he noticed an open manuscript. Taking it and reading it quickly he turned completely pale and let out a silent prayer and whispered, “we have doomed the world. “
1000 years later.
An old crow flew high above the clouds, floating on a northern wind. He disliked the cold of air but, he was no longer a young crow and long given up fighting against the wind, the wind would change or it would. The old crow knew that time would come when the wind would change then he would float south. As for now what he wanted was food and so, he floated and listened for sound of food.
As luck would have it, the sound of crows calling in delight at a feast came circling up from below him. As the crow descended he began to hearing the sound of metal singing against metal and men crying out in rage, sorrow and pain; the sound of battle, this would mean a feast.
As he circled lower with his brothers and cousins the scene of the battle began to become clearer. Snow fell gently in large flurries covering a large stone city and gently smothering the hungry red flames which licked greedily at the wooden roofs of the cities stone buildings.
In many of the streets of the city short, stocky, pale humanoid creatures wandered in groups looting and celebrating their victory but, even as the crow watched a horn sounded from outside the broken walls as an army of humans from the south came to challenge the pale creatures. Soon fierce battle issued and the more fell but, these creatures were not like the natives of the stone city. These humans came from southern lands and had a music all their own, and with this music they created bright balls of fire and spears of ice which slew hundreds of the pale ones before they even had a chance to meet in battle. The pale ones were shocked by these strange musics for those who dwell-ed in the city had not had such weapons; yet the pale ones did not falter in their swift charge and soon the sound metal on metal came soar up to the horde of crows.
After many hours of battle, and thousands more slain, the battle ended. The pale ones had not retreated and despite lacking the ability to sing elemental weapons into existence had still given good account of themselves. The southerners sung sad, sweet songs as they buried their dead and then wandered through the fallen city searching for survivors.
It then that the crows decided to descend upon the fallen, making sure to keep a healthy distance between themselves and the strange southerners. The old crow paid little attention to the southerns except to notice one of them watching them gently descend.
What the old crow could not have know nor understood was that, that particular young man was the commander of the southern army. His name was Harold Busyman and he was only 25 years old. He had heard of a beautiful city to the north but, to see it like this, it broke his heart. There had always been rumors of an ancient race of people living in the far north, a race that could remember the ancient days, was artistically gifted and, most surprising of all, was immune to binding. To see the rumors confirmed in this manner was hard. For as far as Harold could tell every single one of the northmen, or Ironborn as they were called in legend, had been slain by the pale ones (or goblins).
Harold looked up from his wandering feet and noticing the gorgeous ironwork of a temple wandered in. the interior was gutted from the fire and what was once an incredible roof had collapsed but, the grounds were still in good condition. Harold smiled at the new grass and the lovely flowers and sat in the garden. After an hour or so, the moon began to set and Harold stood to leave he had long day ahead of him and would need as much rest as he could get.
He walked to the far edge of the garden and took one last look before turning to exit, but as he did so he though he heard a voice calling out from amongst a large patch of bushes. He moved cautiously to investigate and to his surprise found a two-year old boy sitting in a small hole crying softly. Harold took one look at the child and in an instant knew what he must do, after the campaign he would give up his career and head south to raise the child as his foster son in some forgotten village. To this end he swore an oath, gathered up the child in his arms and returned to the camp.
Ironblood or The Sword of Iron; chapter one
Twenty years later.
Rain fell gently down creating pools and drifts of mud in the old worn road. The last rays of the sun cast glorious shadows upon the trees and hills and draped the rest in warm orange and peach. These last rays of light spread gently over a the watchtower of a small village in the distance as three riders worked their way down the road. Two were arrayed in expensive and well used armor, clearly embedded with extensive spells, while the third wore a unusually long cloak. The armored riders were twins, brother and sister, and sat on sleek black warhorses. They were a handsome pair, tall with ruddy skin, light brown hair and blue eyes. In contrast the cloaked man was short, with dark-brown eyes, raven black hair and large nose. The twins carried themselves in a proud silent manner while the third man chattered away at them laughing and jesting at the slightest provocation. Occasionally the stolid composure of the twins would break and they would giggle at the cloaked man’s jokes but, for the most part they remained serious.
The male twin was clearly the leader of the group and took his role seriously. He had an experienced face that looked far to exposed to pain, it was forever steeled in a grimace and only for a moment when he laughed for smiled did the lines of care disappear.
The woman on the other hand, looked young and trusting, not innocent for in her eyes one could see experience which had aged her beyond her years. Yet when she laughed she shed all her cares and reveled in the joy.
So it was that the three riders came upon the mountain village of Dornfrost and the Forgotten Inn. They had heard rumors of this village and the famed ruins it sat under for not more than a dyas journey up the slopes of the mountain was the ancient ruins of the Elvish city of Pyren. Not a day went by in the nation of Dragonport that some artifact or treasure was not rumored to have been found here and so, adventurers and treasure-hunters from far and wide made the pilgrimage to this mountain to seek their fortune. Thus the village of Dornfrost was born and the Forgotten Inn.
Rumors and legends surrounded this inn, for not only did it lie under these famed ruins but even its founding had a legend. It was said that the famous hero of the north, once-commander of the southern army Harold Busyman, had disappeared with an orphan he had saved from the fortress of Winter Creek.
CHAPTER 2
The rain had just stopped It was a
busy night in the Forgotten Inn, there were dozens of travelers from
the coast, treasure hunters and wanderers looking for a fight and
fame. This small city of Dornfrost was on the edge of the mountainous
ruins of the ancient fortress of Pyren built by the vanished Dwyvren.
It was on account of the fame of this fortress that Dornfrost existed
at all. As the fame of the ruins spread across Dragonport and Paldor,
adventurers began seeking the ruins to try their luck and where
fortune hunters gather food and drink is in high demand. Thus the
Forgotten Inn was born, it was built on the fortune of a middle aged
warrior, named Harold busy-man, who had made his fortune in the
northern wars. He ran the inn with his adopted son, Dominic, who he
had found abandoned along side of the road during the war.
Dominic was a young, well-muscled
man with brown hair and bright eyes. While he was skilled in weapons
of war such as the bow, sword and pike, his true gift lay in his
finesse with a thrown dagger and swift sword. He had learned the
traditional styles of fighting with shield and sword but, had
forsaken the shield for a speed and agility of a dagger. His
unconventional fighting style and emphasis on hand-to-hand combat had
brought him the respect of travelers as well as fame within the
nearby villages. Few men had not heard the stories of Dominic and his
dealings with troublesome guests. Truth be told, both Harold and
Dominic were wasted working in an inn and everyone knew it. “Men
like that were made for war”, was an oft heard saying. However,
Dominic was not fool enough to run after adventure and too loyal to
consider abandoning his foster father and Harold was to wise to throw
away this good life. So, the both of them waited, day after day,
listening for a call, a token or deed that could take them from the
trap they had built for themselves. Thus it was with an eager ear and
hopeful heart that Dominic served drinks on this busy night in the
summer of the year.
He kept an eye out for anything
out of the ordinary, but for the most evening there had simply been
the usual travelers and adventurers, some young, some old but all
inexperienced and hopeful. Dominic chuckled to himself at the sight
of them gathered by the fire, sharing their plans and expectations of
riches and easy wealth. He had seen too many travelers go through
Dornfost to share their excitement but, he wished them well just the
same. Dominic was in a good mood this night, he felt certain that
something different was going to happen and so it was little surprise
that when the twins walked into the Inn Dominic noticed them.
They were a fraternal twins, male
and female, same height, same light brown hair, same brown eyes and
features so similar that it was impossible not to not to think of
them as twins. What drew Dominic’s attention to them was not this
fact but, that they were both dressed head to toe in heavy plate mail
and bearing massive broadswords. As they entered many turned their
eyes toward the two strangers and wondered at their presences here,
for these were no mere adventurers. For one thing, armor like that
cost a fortune both in the buying and in the training and the ease
with which they walked showed that they certainly had the latter with
enough years of experience to make them feel comfortable wearing it.
In addition to this the broadswords spoke to them being warriors, for
while well-made and taken care of the swords were very well used.
The two of them stood in the
entrance for a few moments as the crowd look them over, but after
seeing that the two were not about to do or say anything interesting
the chatter quickly resumed to its full measure and calls for song
and drinks once again filled the great hall.
Dominic began filling the orders
and handing them to the servers to pass out, all the while he keeping
an eye on the twins. It was this vigilance, as well as, his natural
gifts of observation that allowed him to notice that the twins were
carefully humming as the walked through the crowd to toward the bar.
With a start, Dominic realized
what this meant, they were song-masters.
CHAPTER 3
As the twin song-masters crossed
the great hall toward the bar, Dominic searched his mind for every
fact Harold had taught him about the art of binding and song-masters.
He remembered that every individual being upon the continent of Iross
had a particular song or vibration, one that was particular to their
genre, species, family and individual. This music was bound to each
individual’s being and was known as the music of life. He frowned
for a second as he tried to remember the specifics of binding and the
five connections to the music. He had never thought any of it
important as he somehow did not have any connection to the music,
himself, nor even a song that was his own. In a world where
everything, even a stone, had its own song Dominic was an extreme
anomaly. He never thought about the music as this abnormality of his
disturbed him greatly however in this moment he shook off his fear
and focused on what he had been taught.
He remembered that all beings
have some kind of connection to the music according their complexity.
For example plants can grow toward light in order to bring the music
in the light in greater harmony with their own; or animals which can
sense other creatures music to more or less of a degree. Rational
creatures were special in that they were blessed with true
connections through their one or more of their five sense,
song-masters were the few blessed with a connection through all five.
Every humans is born with the
connection of the voice, those with only this connection are known as
binders and are able to create music through clear song. They swiftly
learn the ability to bind elements and objects together (hence the
name) through their music and with training can become extremely
adept at this skill.
Most humans are also born with a
second connection to the music through one of the other four senses:
those connected to hearing, are known as warders; those connected to
touch are called formers; those connected to smelling are called
sniffers; those connected to seeing are called seekers.
While it is fairly common two have
two connections, it is extremely rare to have three let alone all
five. Those extremely rare few have an incredible connection to the
music and are called song-masters.
As was mentioned above in order
for any binder to use the music he must sing or chant the music in a
clear voice, this necessity for clearness decreases with the singers
natural ability and number of connections the singer possess but,
only song-masters are able to bind through humming (and requires
extreme concentration as well as years of training and practice).
All this flashed through
Dominic's mind as the twins arrived at the bar and took a seat. He
swallowed, took a deep breathe and stepped toward them. “greetings,
travelers! Would you care for a drink or a warm meal? Perhaps a room
for the night? We have several large ones available?”
The armored man smiled and in a
strong but, surprisingly soft voice said, “Thank you. I would like
to purchase three rooms for the night.”
Dominic nodded and called to a
servant, “David, take care of their horses, make sure that are
groomed and well-fed”. As David left to care of the horses, Dominic
grabbed keys to three rooms and turned to the armored man. “Here
are the keys to the rooms. Now, is there anything else I can do for
you? A warm meal? Some drinks perhaps?”
The armored man shook his head
and said, “none for me”
The woman however turned to
Dominic and with a smile that seemed closer to a grimace and replied,
“I will have a glass of your strongest.”
Dominic nodded and filled a glass
of Dragonport Brandy as the armored man pulled out the coin to pay
for it, he dumped a few gold coins onto the counter. “will this
cover it?”
Dominic picked one coin out of the
small pile. “this will more than cover it. What is the rest for?”
“Information. You seem to be in
a position to hear rumors and gain confidences. Answer a few simple
questions and the rest is yours.”
“Sounds fair but, first. Your
names?”
The man nodded as if that was what
he had expected and turning to his twin said, “my sister’s name
is Regina of the house Heleg and I am Haleram of the house Heleg but,
you may call me Hal. Our companion who you may have seen on your way
in” here he pointed to a short hooded figure who had somehow
slipped in despite Dominic’s watchful gaze. “His name is Garrett
Stonewarden. You may have heard of him.”
Dominic had heard of him, Garrett
Stonewarden was a famous ranger and rumored assassin. He was a weak
binder who had a knack for binding unusually strong illusions and
vanishing mysteriously. In short he was a legend.
Hal chuckled at the surprise and
astonishment on Dominic’s face and then continued, “ I see you
have heard of him but, now it is time for my questions.”
Dominic nodded silently and
looked expectantly at Hal’s face but, to his surprise it was Regina
who began with the first question. “
“we are looking for a young
man, about your age. From what reports we have he is brown-haired and
is well-trained. He would be in the companionship of a man named
Harold busy-man, an older warrior who gained his name and a good deal
of fame in the goblin war of the north.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes
thinking quickly, this man they were describing it could only be
himself but, why were they searching for him? And how did they have
all this information and not know that he was in fact the one they
were searching for? Unless… they did know? He answered carefully,
“why do you want to know?”
Hal snorted and smiled, he
obviously expected such a response. “well to be honest we came here
to find him and bring him back with us. We have good reason to
believe that he is in danger.” Hal watched Dominic's face closely
as he said this, clearly looking for a reaction. Dominic did not give
him the satisfaction of one and instead folded his arms and with a
sigh replied, “I am the one you are looking for. Though I suspect
you already knew that. Now, why am I in danger? Who is after me? Why
would they want an orphan who cannot even bind?”
Regina and Hal nodded as he asked
the questions as if they expected nothing less and when Dominic got
to the last one they exchanged a look. Hal then turned back to
Dominic and in a whisper replied, “I will answer all your questions
once we are on the road but, first where is Harold? We must leave
tonight. Now. We have horses ready for the two of you.”
Dominic nodded, “ he is in the
back room. Let me just go and grab him.”
“I will go with you.” Regina
said, speaking up. Dominic thought for a moment and then nodded at
this. He turned and motioned for Regina to follow him. They had only
been walking down the passage to the storeroom for a minute when the
sound of fighting broke out behind them. Dominic turned to head back
but, Regina grabbed his arm and said firmly, “No! Leave them to
Hal. We must go now! Is there another exit?”
Dominic paused, unsure but,
before he could answer Harold ran around the passage and grabbed
Dominic then continued down the passage with Regina next to him. They
entered a room and passed into the cellar, at the corner of the room
stood an old disused iron stove. Dominic ran up to it and pulled a
lever hidden in the pipe above stove, causing it to slide over and
reveal a hidden trapdoor.
Harold opened it, dropped down
and swiftly Regina and Dominic followed. As soon as they all dropped
in Harold closed the trapdoor and pulled another lever. The stove
swiftly moved back over, leaving the three of them in complete
darkness.