This room could equip an army…
Everything he saw was a treasure. A piece of equipment or weapon that would have been the best of any Aravae House. And it had just been left here. To rot. He wanted to ask Helgrom why he hadn’t mounted an expedition to come get these wonders. The sale of half could buy a kingdom. He wouldn’t have to run a poky inn! But the silence spell stopped his words from reaching Helgrom’s ears.
The dwarf wasn’t transfixed as he had been by the carved doors. Instead, he was pointing and directing Elasha, Snaglak and Glom towards various pieces that they should take. He gestured for Darcassan to go to his left and gather some rather remarkable bows made out of black wood with strings as white as unicorn hair. Maybe it was unicorn hair.
Darcassan moved towards the items even as he felt exhaustion nipping at his heels. As he made it to them, he found himself having to sit down for a moment. The wonder of the doors and then the armory had caused him to forget his tiredness from keeping up the spells. He sank down and rested his back against an armored leg. It was then that he noticed a long wooden box that was half stuffed under the armor’s feet, nearly hidden from view. The box must have been very fine at some point, but it looked scarred, stained and even burned…
Curious, Darcassan grasped the edge of the long rectangular box and pulled it out. Kneeling before it, he undid the half-broken hasp. Whatever was in here was old and clearly had survived some terrible battle. The moment he opened the case he felt its magic. It washed over him in an arctic wave. His hold on the spells wavered. He felt like a candle flame that was about to be snuffed out.
What is this? What could it possibly be? It’s powerful…
And perhaps that was all that mattered. He found himself throwing back the top to see what was inside. His lips parted in wonder. He knew what this was. But he had expected it to be in Illithor, if it still existed at all. It was the Luminerian or Sunshard. The sword that Vex had forged for Ailduin during the height of their friendship.
Even in the slender histories that he had been able to locate of that time, he had read of the Sunshard. The blade was gold in color and inscribed with countless runes that enchanted it to bring light to the deepest darkness. The hilt was white and felt worn from Ailduin’s hand holding it. And at the base of the hilt was a single diamond. It glittered like ice.
His mouth went dry as his fingers stole over the sword. Now this could turn back the Leviathan. In the right hands, it could cut down whole armies. And it was made for a Sun Elf. For his own blood.
He glanced over his shoulder suddenly though he had heard no sounds of the others coming up behind him. His spells ensured he wouldn’t. His heart hammered in his throat. This was Ailduin’s sword. Surely Helgrom would have no objections to him taking it.
Objections?! This is my family’s sword! It does not belong in some armory of the Dark Dwarves! It is ours! It is… mine…
Why didn’t Helgrom tell us about it?
Maybe he didn’t know.
He’s never been here before… yet he acts like he has been…
The sword… he knew it was here. But he didn’t want us to find it. Didn’t want us to take it.
But it is not his decision.
With trembling hands, Darcassan closed the lid on the box that held the Sunshard then he slid the whole thing into his enchanted bag. The bag remained the same size and weight it had before. No one would know what was inside but him.
I found what I was looking for after all.
Darcassan smiled.
Forgiveness
“You!” Rhalyf’s mouth worked, but nothing more came out.
“Me.” Vex smiled with satisfaction as if merely speaking of himself was pleasurable.
Rhalyf’s sword arm quivered, but Lament went no closer–not even a millimeter–towards his uncle’s neck. A neck that was black with Blood Tattoos up to his chin.
So many…
Were there a few more since he’d last seen his uncle? Rhalyf shook himself. Now was not the time! And yet, he found himself really looking at the Night King in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. In truth, Rhalyf had been careful never to look at Vex for very long since then. Now he found himself staring and absorbing his uncle.
Moon pale skin, mostly obscured by the black “ink” of the Blood Tattoos. Broad shoulders. Muscular chest. Flaring black silk pants that were cut up the sides. No shoes. More Blood Tattoos on the tops of his bare feet, which looked scrupulously clean despite the fact that Vex was walking around without shoes in the dirt, dust and rock of the Under Dark. Long silver hair, shaved on one side, that hung to his mid-back. Intelligent, intense, mesmerizing red eyes that were locked on Rhalyf. He quickly dropped his own. If he had hoped that avoiding that gaze would help him gather his wits, he was sorely disappointed.
“Y-you!” Rhalyf repeated.
“Me!” Vex laughed.
This was getting ridiculous! He had to say something intelligent! And it couldn’t be, “Uncle, you tricked me!” Because, of course, Vex had. It had been a really impressive glamour, because unlike his “Gran” version, Vex had pretended to be someone Rhalyf knew very well. He’d even gotten her magical signature right, which–compared to his uncle’s right now–was substantially different. Just a quick glance at his uncle’s signature now was like staring into the heart of the Sun. And yes, he was aware of the irony of describing the Night King’s magical signature that way.
“Uncle, what a surprise!” Rhalyf finally got out.
