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The Return Of The Sword (Revised Version Of The Sword Of The Elements) (standard:fantasy, 4853 words)
Author: NirvanAdded: Jan 07 2003Views/Reads: 6680/2209Story 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.


The water tumbled through the dark night sky, the sparkling stars
raining down pure silver, striking his blood stained face as he charged 
thoughtfully down through the enclosing alleyways, his heart pumping 
faster, faster. He stopped suddenly his chest throbbing in pain, his 
mind an array of thoughts, where could he go, who could he trust. He 
stared around panic rushing through him; the memories of the night 
tainted his mind, tainted his soul. Blood gushed from his wounds a 
river running off his face, his time was running ever shorter, only one 
thing could save the magic, only one thing could change what had 
happened, he knew what he must do as he ran off into the tumbling rain. 

Slowly he came to a stop the blood drenched his clothes, stained in deep
red blood dripping onto the cold earth as he stood within the Emerald 
Park, a pillar rose before him. He stared at its glowing light that 
emitted radiating silver the magic rising within his soul a connection 
between heart, mind and body. It rose from within the magic of the 
ages, white light launched spears from his fingers striking the tall 
pillar. The Pillar shone brighter, lancing silver light over the land, 
“Magic of the ages, emit your purity, Esteron arise,” He coughed blood 
while spoke “Cast the spear of light” As from within his robes he 
brought a sword, and in one sharp push he placed the sword in the 
pillar. He felt the earth tremor beneath him slightly as the pillar 
erupted bright spears of magic across the land, and slowly he collapsed 
on the cold wet grass. 

Across the distant plains the armies had met, battle cries sounded
across the savannah, metal clashed sharp raw sound. The floor was red 
stained with the blood of the races alike, arrows rained down on them, 
cries of pain echoed out across the plain as people died all around 
fighting to save the men, women, and children of the races the goodness 
in life. The armies of the spirits were gaining land thriving on the 
souls of men. Suddenly silence shrouded the land as white light flowed 
over the land passing through the armies of spirits pushing them back 
into the barrier of the Esteron' s magic. Slowly the men of the spirits 
returned their lives restored. 

The man lay there he was gone, he could feel it, the blood was still
flowing from his body, but he was weak. His strength was leaving him as 
he stared up at the night sky, he had saved the races, but not himself, 
at least soon he would see his foregone one. Suddenly in the sky a 
white being hung motionless staring at him. 

“What are you? Leave I am gone, take the sword to the kings for I am no
more, I am gone.” He choked on his words, pain leaving him, he was 
dead, he was gone. 

“Enron Dwinon, I am past, present, future, I am the soul of magic, I am
the crafter of the sword.” Spoke a girls voice, as the white angel like 
figure hung before him, ”You have won Enron, we have won the magic 
lives on, life lives on, you live on, for you will not die this night,  
you must aid the most powerful magic since the Equidorians coming” 

“What, I'm Dead, leave” He spoke his strength gone, he lay back on the
damp grass closing his heavy eyes, the pain began to ease slowly as he 
lay drawing his last long breath “Goodbye....” 

The man stood there, his eyes snapped open lost in the deep thought of
the images that had just flooded past him, the memory he thought so 
distant buried in his distant past was for ever his, as clear as the 
day it had occurred.  He stood there pondering this thought standing 
upon the soft shore of the Myris Lake, as the sun glimmered off the 
surface low in the sky. Light was fading as it flowed over the lake a 
river of light running from the distant horizon. The waters rippled 
slight in the wind as it breathed another breath. Through the sky 
shifted the light, white, fluffy, clouds of spring birth. He had been 
there for days thinking, thinking of times past, thinking of times 
present, thinking of times that may come or may not, thinking. He knew 
for he had seen it. He had seen the many past generations through his 
eyes. Yet he was that of a thirty year old un-aged since his beginning. 
He remembered the destruction of his friends at the fall of the 
Equinox, He remembered the arts of the Equidorian magic, He remembered 
the losing of the four great magic's, along with the greatest of all. 

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