Vagrant - Part VIII

          “I did want to know more about your sword,” Van said as his laughter died down.

“What would you like to know?”
“First, I’d like to know if I can hold it,” Van said eagerly.  

“You’re my brother now, but a sword is a personal thing.  Nevertheless,” Finnian smiled as he drew the blade and handed it hilt-first to Van.

Even up close, the sword was a work of art to behold.  Van delicately wrapped one hand around a hilt made of what appeared to be ivory.  The cross guard was a silver metal that gleamed like a star in the light of the moon.  The blade itself was perfectly balanced in Van’s hand.  Even though Van was not gripping it with two hands, as the weapon required, it still felt incredibly light.  In the moonlight, the blade was silhouetted with a dull glow.  

“Incredible,” Van said with the awe of a priest who had just met his god.  “What is it made of?”

“Starlight,” Finnian replied quickly.

“What?” Van took his eyes from the blade and looked at Finnian questioningly.  “Come now.  No more cleverness.”
“I am not being clever,” Finnian replied, looking straight on down the road with an intense gaze.  “Truthfully, I do not know what it is made of.  But my father brought it home on the day he returned from a long tour of duty in Crixia.  His small company had traveled all over that land battling the Crixian raiders, burning their ships so as to keep them from launching a naval assault on our kingdom.  For some time, my father said he and his fellow soldiers found themselves in a strange land where the sun never rose and the forest was so thick with trees that the sky itself was invisible.  He never had the proof to confirm it, but he and his fellows were sure they had stumbled into Golganon.” 

“The night lands?” Van asked in disbelief.  “The realm of death?”

“Yes,” Finnian agreed as his gaze narrowed on the road ahead.   

“But Golganon is a myth.  A fairy tale,” Van said with an easy laugh.  “We heard about it as boys, the land of eternal night that finds you when it has need of you.”

“I know,” Finnian’s tone did not waiver.  It remained heavy with sincerity.  Whatever Van may have thought, whatever anyone may have thought, Finnian believed what he was saying.  “That’s what my father believed when he was a boy.  Yet there he was, in the endless dark.  Only the light of their torches to lead them through the forest.  After some time, my father did not know how long, some of his comrades went mad.  They could not endure the immortal black that surrounded them.  They took their own lives.”

“Your father saw this?” Van asked, invested in Finnian’s tale.

“Yes,” Finnian replied.  “By whatever means necessary.  One young man even asked my father to stab him in the heart because he was too afraid of the idea of killing himself.  The gods don’t look favorably on men who take their own lives.  My father refused.  It was, perhaps, another day that passed before that man found the courage to do the deed himself.  Gods be damned.”

There was a moment of silence then.  Van did not know what to say, and Finnian was lost in thought.  

“It was not long after that young man’s death that everyone began to despair,” Finnian went on.  “And not a momentary despair that could be shaken off with a rallying speech or a call to the senses.  It was a heavy despair…that fell on them as a curtain falls on the stage to signal the end of a play.”

Van instantly thought back to all the plays he had seen and resolved to not visit the theater for a long time.

“Somehow, my father kept going,” Finnian said.  “He did not know himself how he found the strength.  He told me he heard a voice in his head that demanded he keep going.  It was the hardest thing he had ever endured, moving further and further in the endless dark.  He tried to rally his fellows, but one by one they all gave up.  Finally, on the verge of giving up himself, my father saw something he did not expect to find in that dark place.  Light.”

“Light?” Van asked dumbfounded.  “But you said he had a torch.”

“Not firelight,” Finnian clarified.  “It was a beautiful, pristine, white light that he saw.  He followed it, and as he did so the light grew brighter.  He came to a small grove, and in the center of that clearing he said he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.  It was a young woman, lying wounded on the grass.  She was glowing.”

“Who was she?” Van was completely immersed.

“My father asked her that very question when he approached,” Finnian answered.  “She told him she was a star, fallen from the heavens because her time had come.  She was dying.  My father asked if there was anything he could do for her, and she said it was too late.  But for coming on a fallen star, and simply sitting with her so that she would not have to die alone, she would grant him a boon.  Anything he wished.  My father told her his greatest wish was to escape that evil place.  She told him that if he stayed with her, after she died he would be granted the ability to find his way out of that accursed maze of darkness.  My father pitied this young woman, and he had seen so many of his comrades die already.  So he took her hand in his, and stayed with her until the end.”
“Then what happened?”

“She died,” Finnian said flatly.  “But then, my father said, he saw the most incredible thing.  As she died, her light only grew brighter.  After she breathed her last breath, the light from her became so unbearable that my father had to close his eyes.  When the bright light died down, and my father opened his eyes, he saw this sword lying in place of where the woman had lain.  The blade glowed with a dull light.  My father picked it up and held it aloft.  And then, as though his night was not miraculous enough, he discovered something extraordinary.  As he moved throughout the grove, he discovered the blade of the sword would glow brighter facing one certain direction and then fade when it was pointed away from that path.  My father quickly surmised that this was the star lady’s gift.  So, taking her word on faith, he pointed the sword where it shone brightest, and followed it.  Eventually, he came to the edge of the wood of night and escaped the land of death.”