The Return Of The Sword (Revised Version Of The Sword Of The Elements) (standard:fantasy, 4853 words)
Author: Nirvan	Added: Jan 07 2003	Views/Reads: 7728/2985	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A Story Of MAgic In The Lands Of Elves, Dwarfs, Men, And Trolls. An Exciting tale of war, betrayl, and revenge.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Yet he smiled in spite of himself for the future would reveal his 
secrets of his past, he would restore the magic's, he would aid the 
stones, the sword, he would destroy the spirits, He would see his love 
once again. Or he would die. Either way time would tell. 

“Kall you will not win, I will not let you, not again.” He whispered in
to the cold bitter wind that whipped by striking his face. 

His last thought was one of Why? Why did he live on while the rest of
his friends of the Equinox perish why? Take her why not me? He turned 
away staring through his hawk eyes into the distant and his home 
amongst the mountains. Soon he thought Soon. He turned back to face the 
shimmering lake, I am still Dwin I am the remaining, But I will never 
be the last. “I am coming wielders of the Sword, I am coming” 

He walked through the night passing over the Magi River as if it were
not there. He continued on passing the small hamlet of three point, 
through the days, through the nights, dawn till dusk, dusk till dawn. 
He continued on the equidor masked his presence, his soul, his body as 
he sustained a thorough pace at which he continued on walking, walking, 
walking. He traced the Leron Road by which to navigate from, he headed 
toward the Emerald jewel, of the elfin people, the city of Dewen. Less 
than a week had passed since he had left for the city and already the 
energy of the Esteron was waving losing its grasp more and more over 
the spirits, as more and more escaped, the armies were building. Dwin 
could feel it in the air and on the land the magic of the Esteron was 
failing. 

The night was cool a slight breeze all that disturbed the silence of the
night, night. A flowing sea of darkness across the sky, stretching 
forth from upon the horizon, a torrent, dark, black, cold. As through 
the sky a silent silver disc shimmered brightly upon the ever-rippling 
waters of the vast open sea. Through the dark night shift phantoms, 
ghosts, grey as stone sliding smoothly across the darkness's void. The 
river of night crept slowly up the rock falls cliffs and crags, up over 
the cliffs toward the villages, rivers, forests, and towns that spread 
across the distant lands. The man walked quickly through the deep dark 
forest shadows that launched over him engulfing him in their tight 
grasp. He walked quicker now as the darkness flowed further settling 
upon the forest of which he sought to leave, faster it came now 
settling fully upon the forest as he reached the end, the exit of the 
forests leaping surrounding shadows. He walked through the fresh night 
across the vast fields and land reaching the city by first light. 

The sun shone down radiant and pure across the rolling green hills and
meadows, across the small winding streams and rivers, along the tracks 
and through every window of every village, town, and city of the land, 
and finally reaching the distant sea. The spring air was cool upon his 
face as he stood upon the highest of high hills surrounding the quiet 
city below, all around birds sang their morning song, and cattle grazed 
the emerald green hillside. The man sat his body showed no signs of his 
ever growing age, yet his eyes still burned brightly full of a burning 
fire of life, he sat there his dark cloak pulled tightly about his 
towering figure, he sat watching the spring colours of life and the 
city's awakening. As through the distance the sea rippled, waves 
crashing into the towering cliffs, and smooth white shore of the wide 
open bay, the waters were tranquil blue a deep calming sea of blue that 
was pure unlike many things in this life. The sea had been smashing the 
resilient coast since the dawn of time itself, and would continue till 
the end of time. 

Dwin entered the city unnoticed by both guards and Elves alike; he
proceeded towards his destination the palace of the elves, and his 
loyal friend queen Lyra of the Elfin people. As he walked the streets 
people looked at him and dismissed him just as easily as he walked, now 
and again someone approached him, but left on his command, all around 
he saw merchants, tradesmen, and conmen alike, all trying to gain a 
profit. Not knowing what fate might befall them. The Palace was white, 
surrounded by colours of greens, blues, reds, yellows all the colours 
you could dream of. He approached the sentry of the elite command. 

“Speak stranger, or leave.” Spoke the commander, a short bulky elf
strong voiced, and spirited. 

“Calm yourself my friend, it is I, Foren” spoke Dwin softly. 

“Dwin, my friend you have returned,” replied Foren a smile crossing his
face. “Come, I shall inform the queen of your arrival” 

“Thank you.” They progressed through the palace gardens toward the
palace a manner of peace surrounded him, calming his soul, calming his 
body. As they walked through the palace's twisting corridors, decorated 
with some of the most exquisite artwork within the lands, capturing the 
imagination of many, Foren told him of many events, times, and comings 
or goings as they sat within the Elfin council chambers. The room was 
long and narrow containing a long table that stretched the length of 
the room near wall to wall. Surrounded by twenty high black, back 
chairs, the table seated the delegates of the Elfin settlements a women 
and a man per settlement. The room had six towering windows on either 
side that were coloured with many encryptions, all ancient elfish and 
have been yet to be deciphered. Dwin continued peering round the room 
as the arched oak doors were opened, and a woman dressed in blue 
entered. 

“Foren, you may leave.” Ordered the woman softly “Thank you” Foren left
closing the doors as he left 

“What is it Dwin? I hear you have news of greatest Importance,” asked
the woman anxiously. 

Dwin looked at her into her dark deep blue eyes, she was a young woman
she was an elf with long dark black hair silk as that of the night 
flowing down her back touching the base of her spine. 

“It comes again, the Esteron wavers, it's energy is failing, for the
spirits are coming, there armies are massing, armies of goblins, 
trolls, and even the black dragons, we must find the sword for it is 
all that may stop the onslaught and destroy the spirits once and for 
all.” Explained Dwin urgently. 

“You remember the stories, Many Generations ago a sword of magical
properties was cast into a distant land of magic, bound to the elements 
from which it was forged. Cast from the depths of the Esteron it came, 
a light in darkness against the evil subverted magic.” He paused 
studying her face for a look of recognition, “This sword was entrusted 
into the Four Elders, The Four Friends of the races. Erallon of the 
elves, Danar of the dwarfs, Trogon of the trolls and Navrin of the race 
of man. This Sword was used by these friends in the first war of the 
Spirits, in which the subverted magic broke free of the Esteron 
combined itself with the spirit of men, forming the shadows of darkness 
that threatened the land. Proceeding this they formed a promise, a 
promise of truth a promise to call only upon the sword in the face of 
the horrors of war, darkness and pain. 

They placed the sword in a vault, a tomb to protect the sword from all
who wish to use it in hatred. To protect it each of the friends crafted 
a stone of power to control an element, a key to release the sword, all 
of these stones were required to erect the vault, the dark tomb in 
which the sword was set. Over the generations that followed, a 
treasured history became forgotten an ancient forgotten myth, a legend; 
the races finally lost belief, and lost the stones. They lost their 
only defence against the shadows, against the spirits. The time is 
finally coming, four stones are needed.” 

“And you are sure of this?” asked the queen dreadfully “you are not
mistaken?” 

“No, I feel it in the air, and on the land time is running low, we must
it is the only hope” answered Dwin despondently “we must find the half 
elf's, both are needed.” 

“Who are they?” asked the queen a look of hope still in her eyes “Where
are they?” 

“One is resides in Elin and is known as Nirvan, the other resides in
Gallony and is known as Kera. They control both stones and swords, I 
will meet Nirvan, and Kera.” Finished Dwin 

“Ok I will send Jeniva to find Nirvan and bring him here we will go from
there. Agreed?” asked the queen, “I will also send word to the rulers 
of the other lands and of the situation.” 

“Agreed” whispered Dwin before leaving the city walls, thinking of the
elves as he left the palace walls. The Elves are fair beings and I wish 
I could help, aid them further, but all I have is as I have told them, 
the elves are the fairest of beings and the most trust worthy of beings 
they have lived many ages and are the wisest the most eternal folk in 
the lands. Slowly he slid out of the city cloaked in his magic. 

*** 

Bright glowing orange light was sweeping out over the vast green sea,
creating the dancing forest shadows, that were constantly launching, 
looming over the figure as he strolled quickly and quietly along the 
darkening, cold damp forest walk, his thin razor sharp throwing knifes 
strapped tightly, securely in his leather belt, he walked on quicker 
trying to beat the suns death, the coming of night. What little light 
remained still made his Elfin features defined and visible. He was 
quite tall, but his structure was still small. Light weight and agile. 
His small pointed ears protruded out from under his dark brown hair, 
along with his dark brown eagle eyes noticing every visible movement 
even in the darkening light settling around him. He was Nirvan. He 
stopped suddenly; a disturbance in the shadows caught his eye drawing 
his attention in an instance he had whipped out his throwing knifes, 
ready, for what may come next. The gleaming knifes gleamed silver, 
Smoothing was stirring, a presence he sensed, as suddenly it struck him 
a low dark voice echoed striking his ear. 

“FIND THE STONES, THE KEYS” 

Nirvan stumbled, his head in his hands as images flew by past, present,
future all tied into the images that passed before him. He fell to the 
ground as the images stopped as suddenly as they had came, he gasped 
for breath wheezing heavily. As a remote sound echoed along the forest 
walk toward his ear, closer, closer. He whirled around just in time, as 
a gallant white Unicorn sprung out of nowhere, bearing a cloaked rider. 
The white Unicorns rider slowly slid off the horse un-mounting from 
upon her white steed. 

“Who are you?” Requested Nirvan as the rider stood before him. He
gripped his knife more tightly. “What do you want? Show yourself.” 

“Shhh, Calm yourself I am no enemy, I am a friend.” Spoke the cloaked
rider in no more than a whisper upon the cool wind, it was a calm 
soothing voice, the voice of a young women. 

She slowly walked up to him, her crystal blue cloak billowing in the
cool wind, yet still wrapped closely about her. She stood before him 
slowly removing, lowering the hood of her long cloak. She was slightly 
shorter than Nirvan and had the same pencil eyebrows and small pointed 
ears. She had long dark brown hair near black in colour, a small nose 
poking out, and deep blue eyes as crystal as that of her cloak of which 
he wore. 

“I am in search of the Elfin settlement of Elin, please do you know of
it?” she asked softly 

“Yes I know of it, come I will lead you there, but who are you? Where
are you from?” asked Nirvan curiously his knifes tucked securely back 
within his belt. 

“Sorry, My name is Jeniva and I am bringing a message to one who lives
in Elin, and am travelling south from the settlement of Dewen.” Spoke 
Jeniva. 

“Bloody hell, Dewens at least a weeks gallop without break, and at full
gallop.” Replied Nirvan “Anyway my name is Nirvan from Elin.” 

“Your Nirvan? Then you will know for whom I search for? For he replies
to a very familiar name....” Jeniva stopped suddenly as a low rumbling 
in the distance struck their ears, they peered silently into the 
direction it came, the rumbling became louder, louder, closer, closer. 
It was coming. 

“Quick Now get on, come on, they are coming, they are coming for you!!!”
Cried Jeniva. 

Without question they mounted the gleaming white Unicorn. They set off
south at full gallop toward the emerald rolling hill of scrubland that 
surround the settlement of Elin 

The wind was thrashing at their faces; pale, white, colourless were
their faces. They came at them as she had said closer, closer, closer 
they came. Five horses pearl white skeletons, their blood red eyes 
shining brightly out from their cream skeletal structures. Each of the 
horses bore a tightly cloaked rider dark, which carried a glowing red 
broadswords. They came at the unicorn attempting to strike either it or 
the riders. Jeniva was too quick for them veering the horse hard to the 
right, whilst pushing a necklace to Nirvan. Nirvan grabbed the necklace 
but lost himself falling to the hard earth, the necklace still tightly 
in his grip, in the palm of his hand. As he hit the ground warmth 
surged through his arm, refreshing warmth, warming his body from head 
through to toe. The riders gathered round him blades ready to cut 
through him. They took a step closer as Nirvan opened his hand as the 
stone shone a green light glowing, emitting its rays, suddenly Nirvan's 
strength left him travelling up his right arm and into the stone. The 
stone glowed more, and more, and more before flooding the riders in the 
light engulfing them, in the moment it had happened the light vanished, 
where the riders once stood green dust lay. The last of Nirvan's 
strength left him as he collapsed on the cool hard earth. An hour of 
time passed before Nirvan awoke upon the back of Jeniva's Unicorn, upon 
the outskirts of Elin, it was nightfall for the stars were shining down 
silver from the sky specs on a dark velvet sheet, skirting out the 
stars danced behind the sliding clouds of grey, ghosts in the nights 
sky. 

“Jeniva What happened, what was that. The stones, the riders???” asked
Nirvan quickly in total puzzlement. 

“Calm down, the answers are coming Nirvan, the answers are coming.” Said
Jeniva speaking softly. 

They slowly trotted down to an old large ancient building, an inn, Known
as the Black Heart. They Un-mounted and strode through the crumbling 
oak door, the entrance. Once through they found themselves in a room 
full of tables and chairs. They wound their way through the tables to a 
table in the far corner. They sat for a while in silence sipping a 
there ales before Jeniva broke the silence. 

“I owe you an explanation, I am on a quest charged to me by the queen,
Lyra Elier to search out an elf, the one, I search out an elf named 
Nirvan. 

“Me but I'm nothing, I'm....” Nirvan stopped studying the reaction upon
Jeniva's face, searching for a reaction. 

“You are the one, an heir, who can place a hand upon the stones and
summon the lost sword of immense magical properties.” She said in know 
more than a whisper upon the moist air  “You must travel north to the 
city of Dewen tonight, someone, will meet you at the Rinder, Please you 
must go! Otherwise...” Jeniva paused a look of absolute fright covering 
his face, what little colour remained left. 

Nirvan broke into an array of questions “Otherwise what? Who? Why?”
asked Nirvan quickly without pause for breath. 

“Good luck Nirvan, Good luck, Take this necklace, and watch yourself for
more of the riders will be sent” she said placing the talisman within 
his hand. Her hand was warm, soft upon his hand. “Good bye” she 
finished staring at Nirvan rising, shifting through the entrance of the 
pub disappearing into night's grasp, night's tightening grasp. Nirvan 
sat there speechless glaring at the crumbling oak door bearing a half 
drained goblet of wine at his side. An hour passed, two hours passed, 
three hours passed until he rose and left still mulling over the 
possibilities. 

Slowly he left heading down the dusty, mud track toward his home. His
mind still buzzing with a thousand thoughts at once, whilst he 
continued on his way to his home he came to a definite, life changing 
decision. He would go. He would travel north to the city of Dewen that 
very night, if only for some answers to his very questions. Nirvan 
finally came to the end of the trail; the darkness cold against his 
skin, as he breathed a warm mist left his mouth dissipating into the 
night. 

Nirvan's home was a fairly small cottage, white in colour. Upon the
cottage sat a roof of golden beauty, thatched exquisitely, using some 
of the finest materials in the land. The reflective smooth surface of 
the large pine door glowed silvery blue by the mystical, tranquil, 
peaceful moonlight. Nirvan slowly paced up toward this door, facing it 
he stood staring at it, its soft surface, it's mirror like surface. 
Nirvan slowly pulled from within the shade of his cloak a long dull 
bronze key, which inserted perfectly into the gleaming bronze lock. As 
it turned an almost unapparent click sounded permitting entrance, He 
slowly turned the sleek, lustrous bronze doorknob clicking once more it 
gave way, creaking in pain slowly the door opened to reveal it's hidden 
secrets. 

Nirvan strode in closing the door as he entered. Nirvan peered around
the large room in which he stood; the roof was low as were most in the 
village. He continued to   peer through the orange light radiating from 
the lamps, his eyes drawn toward the colossal marble fireplace 
embedded, crafted into the right-hand wall, a long mantle piece 
stretched across the wall above it, cast of the oak of Elin wood. In 
front of the fireplace stood a shining oak lined glass table, around 
which sat large green chairs, towering over it, hiding it, confining it 
to where it stood. Against the dampened left wall, tucked up out of the 
way set aside, rejected, stood a lonely, forgotten dining table. It's 
carefully crafted, carved chairs lost under a mountain of old torn, 
tatty blankets. Nirvan shifted towards this mountain, reaching toward 
its depths a long gleaming broadsword, which he slide into its 
carefully crafted scabbard, and placed it upon his dark leather belt. 
Nirvan paused listening to the Owls shriek and the crickets cry. Slowly 
he turned pacing in the direction of another door. Slamming it shut he 
walked into a long narrow room which housed the kitchen, he stopped at 
a cupboard grabbing a selection of supplies of fruit, bread and cooking 
implements, before continuing up the dark winding staircase, a snake of 
the night. He froze suddenly, at the top of the stairs an object caught 
his eye, a ring, a ring engraved with the ancient dragon symbol. It 
came from a time of distant past, a time where both the dragons and 
races were one. It was entrusted into the hands of his father long ago. 
The ring sparkled like a distant star radiant and pure still unmarked 
through times of war, times of pain, it remained immaculate. He reached 
out, placing it upon his hand staring into its mysterious depths as if 
reading it's long dead past. Hesitating he gradually lifted from upon 
his palm, and placed it on his finger, promptly a blue glow emitted 
from the ring. Anxiously Nirvan starred closer at it as the glow built 
up stronger as the glow became not only a glow, but a light unfolded 
through the low light that wrapped about him. Anticipation flooded 
through him as he watched, closer, closer, as the beams became 
stronger, stronger. But as the light became more intense the rays began 
combining forming a narrower, and narrower beam of light. Nirvan 
stumbled back, falling to the cold floor as the ray shone at him, at 
his heart, entering his body. Nirvan closed his eyes, not willing to 
stare at the ring as he felt the energy flow through him, the magic 
trickling, streaming through his veins. He felt it stronger now, not 
only a stream, but a river. He had absorbed it. He had absorbed the 
dormant magic of the ring; slowly Nirvan raised himself from upon the 
hard, damp, distant floor. His body ached, though not weak, the energy 
continued to flow through him. He shacked himself off trying to forget 
the force that now flowed through his body. Nirvan starred at the ring 
a moment longer before progressing on to his chamber. 

Proceeding on into the towering room he grabbed a large leather bound
travelling bag from behind his door, placing within it's depths a 
collection of both clothes and blankets, A worn tatty map, and some 
simple hunting gear. Nirvan sat upon his bed staring out into the 
engulfing night that shrouded the land, the light of the moon was 
silvery blue upon his face, as slowly water trickled from upon his face 
refreshing water that cooled him. He sat there for a moment thinking, 
thinking, he had dreamed of this day, a day when he would finally 
venture from the Elfin lands into the lands of the other races, and yes 
he was ready as he had been for years, but not for an importance of 
this magnitude. Slowly he rose from his bed taking one final look at 
his chamber he left, to start his journey north, the journey that would 
change his life for ever, both for better, and for worst. Nirvan hiked 
from the village, through the reassuring streets into the rolling hill 
of open land that surrounded the village, the Emerald country it was 
known as, he now knew why. The light reflected off the dew that settled 
upon the plant life that surrounded his feet. He walked on for the rest 
of the night trying to gain as much distance as possible between 
himself and Elin. By twilight he had reached the woods of Elin, he 
walked on as dawn approached and left, and was well through the woods 
by late morning. As the sun rose to its peak, Heat pounded down him, 
pouring over him, slowing him, Nirvan rested then feeding on fresh 
fruits and vegetables. The sky was ocean blue as he continued through 
the afternoon, clouds wisped in white and fluffy from the east settling 
too a snails pace through the sky. Nirvan whistled tunes as he walked 
on through the day, leaving the wood heading over the open countryside, 
north towards the dark southern Leron forest. The countryside was 
blooming with magnificent colours of spring; he walked on happily along 
the country trails and footpaths. As night approached Nirvan rested 
under a towering, lonely oak tree, sleeping without wake until morning 
sounds awoke him. Nirvan awoke to a slow trickle of rain tumbling from 
the laden sky, as Nirvan sat beneath the towering oak the trickle 
increased to a downpour, a torrent of water plummeting down on him as 
he sat peacefully, Patiently beneath the groaning oak as the downpour 
slowed, slower, slower to a stop. Nirvan packed away and continued on, 
by early next morning he had reached it. He had reached the southern 
Leron forest. But as he sat smiling at his achievement, a sound of 
hooves struck his ear, coming closer, closer, closer. 


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