The cloth glided effortlessly across the flat of the blade, as if the metal were ice instead of steel. "Its been a while since Ive cleaned you properly, hasnt it?", Dern said to the blade. And it was true. The battles have been constant lately, and quickly wiping the blood of his foes off the blade after the battle had left a haze over the sword. But now the blade was clean enough to reveal the superior craftmanship in its mirror-like finish.
That is when he saw it.
Admiring the blade, Dern saw a light appear behind him in the reflection. The light grew to an intensity that he recognized, but when he turned to look, it was gone. In its place was a dark alley, the type that one would not enter; not unless they had to.
Dern quickly checked his forearms, where the mark of the Chosen Twelve had been. They had not returned, but the last time the light had appeared to him, they were there. He did not regret the passing of the marks to another. He had gotten long in the tooth, and the Chosen Twelve that bear the marks now have done him proud.
"But we are not twelve at the moment" Dern thought to himself. "And with that Infamous chosen being consumed in the Inferno before he could find the other twelve, the task is tougher".
"Perhaps Isos guides me to one of the twelve" Dern said to his sword before he sheathed it. Then he rose and walked towards the darkened alley. Dern moved to the side of the pathway as he entered the alley, so as to avoid the raw sewage that flowed down the center of the way.
"Isos, you give us sight in the dark places..", Dern muttered, as he placed his hand to his nose, "..perhaps you can do something about the smell as well."
Dern rounded the corner at the end of the alley, not knowing what he would find. What he did find was the source of the darkness -- a greater heartwood tree.
This noble specimen of the tree family had an impressive network of branches which grew above the rooftops, and managed to keep the seemingly unimportant courtyard ever-dark beneath its shade. It appeared that nothing could possibly grow in the tree's shadow, but one scrawny sapling was struggling to survive at the base of the mammoth tree. Dern could not understand how this sapling received enough light to survive, but survive it did, somehow.
Sitting on a set of stone stairs in the corner of the courtyard, was a small child. The boy was dressed in rags, which at one time might have been of some color, but now they were stained the hue of soot. Likewise, his arms and face were similarly dirty, enough so that he almost blended in with the color of the stairs. Had it not been for the wooden sword in his hand, Dern may not have even realized he was there.
Noticing Dern, the child exclaimed "I found it!” obviously too excited to remember that he was talking to a stranger. The boy then thrust out his arm and held the sword sideways to proudly present to Dern his find. Taking a couple of steps forward to get a look at the sword, Dern noticed the quality craftsmanship of a skilled woodworker, and the inscription in the blade; which read: S w o r d o f T r u t h.
"My, that’s a mighty fine sword you've got there." Dern said, with a wiry grin.
“Yea, my father gave it to me!” the boy said, as the smile ran from his face. “He was going to bring me a shield too..” he paused as his momentary joy completely drained out of his face and posture. “..but he’s… dead, now.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your loss.” said Dern, as the smile faded from his face just as quick. There was an awkward silence as Dern watched the grief and tears well up inside the child. Finally, Dern asked “Can you tell me about your father, or is it too hard to talk about?”
The boy would not look Dern in the face, but stared out past the great tree, as if he expected his father to appear home at any moment. As he stared into the darkened courtyard, he related to Dern what he knew about what happened, at least as far as he could understand from what he overheard the others saying about it.
His father was a guard in the city of Parian, and he was attacked and killed by a minion. The hairs on the back of Dern’s neck bristled at the mention of that word… “minion”. Apparently, the minion attacked the boy’s father, cutting his throat, and then ran off laughing. The boy had trouble understanding this, because as far as he knew, minions were small winged creatures that were no match for his father, because his father’s shoulders were as broad as a tree trunk, and he wielded a sword with much skill and power. The boy was also confused about the fact that he had never heard of a minion using a blade to attack, nor had he heard of them running, or laughing for that matter.
The child repeated the fact that the last thing his father gave him was the wooden sword in his hand. This seemed to break him out of his far-off stare, and his eyes rested upon the sword.
“I was so upset.” he started up again, “I thought I had lost it forever!” Pointing to a crevice between the stone stairs, and the wall he said, “It fell in there, and I couldn’t see it.” Dropping his chin to his chest, the boy continued “I was too afraid to reach in the darkness, because I thought a minion would get me.”
Dern’s heart flared with rage, and melted at the same time.
“But then,” the boy said with a more excited voice, “everything got bright all of a sudden, and I could see the sword, so I grabbed it!”
“I see..” replied Dern.
“I know its just a wooden sword, but it means so much to me”, the boy said with a sniffle, “because my father gave it to me. It was made from the wood of our tree.” Pointing to the canopy overhead, he said “Just a few weeks ago, a storm came through and one of the branches fell into the courtyard. My father took some of the wood to Parian with him, and said he would have a surprise for me when he returned.”
The boy stopped there, and sat shaking form the re-living of the experience. Emotionally exhausted, the child‘s mind ran through a series of incoherent memories of his father. Dern did not know what to say either, and so they were frozen in the moment, with the only noise being the sound of the wind in the branches of the great heartwood tree.
Dern was the first to speak, “Would you like some pie?” Dern winced as the words left his lips. “Oh, good one there, Dern, you idiot!” he thought. “The boy has poured out his soul to you. Telling you about the death of his father, which is probably the most tragic thing he will ever experience in his life. He’s also shared his fears with you, and all you can say is ‘do you want some pie?’”
The child’s ears perked up at the mention of the food, confirming Dern’s suspicion that the boy probably hadn’t had a decent meal in days, so Dern produced a couple pieces of pecan pie from his backpack. The boy took a slice, and then handed Dern his wooden sword, so he could grab the second slice with his other hand.
Looking at the sword again, Dern noticed that it was indeed made of greater heartwood. He turned the blade over in his hand, and read the inscription again, “Sword of Truth”.
“This poor child does not know the truth at all” Dern pondered, “but how am I to explain it to him?”
Indeed, how could he explain that the “minion” was not a winged creature, but in fact a 'Minion of Talazar'? How could Dern explain to the child that Talazar was once a dutiful member of the kingdom, like his father once was? How could he explain that Talazar once bore the marks of the chosen, like Dern once did & that Talazar had the same quest as Dern to destroy these items of evil? The same items that eventually tuned Talazar into a daemon lord and leader of the “Minions” that killed the boy’s father. How could Dern tell the boy this “truth”, when the child was in such a condition already? Dern decided that he would have to give the child some truth, but he was not sure yet what that would be.
“I am going to be traveling to Parian” Dern said as the boy finished the first slice of pie and started on the second. “It is a long journey” Dern continued as he reached into his backpack, “much too long to be carrying something as heavy as this.” Dern pulled a Hammer of Veldan out of his backpack, and handed it to the small child.
The heavy hammer pulled the child’s whole side of his body down. The head of the hammer smacked the stone stair with a sharp crack, and twisted out of the boy’s hand. “Oops, sorry!” Dern said as he picked up the hammer and set it on the stairs with the handle sticking straight up in the air. “See, I told you it was too heavy.”
Dern looked around the courtyard, and spotted exactly what he was looking for. An old wheelbarrow was lying on its side at the far end of the courtyard. “Perfect!” Dern said to himself, as he turned back to the boy.
“Could you do me a favor?” asked Dern, and to which the boy nodded. “Great! I need you to take this hammer to the bank for me, you can use that wheelbarrow over there” Dern said, pointing over his shoulder.
“Do you know Alzatar, the banker? Dern asked.
The boy still had a mouthful of pie, but answered “Yes”, showering Dern with crumbs.
Dern laughed, and brushed the crumbs off of his cape. “Well, Alz is an old friend of mine. Take this hammer to him, and ask him to place it in my bank. Tell him that I said for him to give you as much venison, and beef steak, as you can carry. Could you do this for me?”
Still eating, the boy responded with a nod this time.
“Excellent! I will pay you for this service, of course.” Dern started to loosen the strings on his coin pouch, but decided instead to untie the bag from his nightfall belt. Then Dern pressed the small bag packed with gold coins into the boy’s free hand, and said “Give this to your mother. She will know what to do with it.”
“Thank you!” the boy said as he finished his pie, and started licking his fingers.
Then Dern crouched down and got on one knee, so as to be on the boy’s level, and said “Little one, do not fear the darkness.” Dern paused a moment and looked over his shoulder up at the canopy of the greater heartwood tree that blocked the sunlight. Turning back to the child, Dern gave him his sword of truth.
“Do not fear the darkness, for ‘The Light’ is with you.”
Dern’s muscles began to tighten with anticipation of what he was to say next, so he stood up once again.
“As for ‘The Minions’, I shall see to them, for that is why I am here.”
Dern could feel his desire for justice, and his wrath, begin to etch a fierce scowl into his face. He did not want the child to remember him this way, so he turned and walked over to the great tree. The young sapling was brushing against Dern’s leg as he thought to himself “So, Parian it is. I shall need the speed of the deer.” Dern produced his sword, and held it before him as the green glow of the spell illuminated the darkened courtyard.
Dern was not going to turn around, but when he snuck a peek in the reflection of his blade he saw a woman, obviously the boy’s mother, standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs. Dern wondered how long she had been standing there, and turned to meet her sad eyes. Her hand was pressed firmly against her mouth, so Dern could not tell if she was crying, or smiling, but it seemed like both.
“Sir!” the boy shouted. “The hammer… the banker… who do I tell him… I don’t know your name!”
“My name is Dern Ironskull, and I am one of ‘The Chosen’.”
Dern placed his hand, which was still holding his sword, to his chest, and bowed to them both; a slow, deep, and low bow. Dern bowed like one who had received a great gift would give to their benefactor. Then Dern turned and headed down the alley, moving at a speed greater than legs at his age would normally go, and not noticing the smell of the alley at all.