sought to destroy the kingdom of the elvish tribes, for they were a threat to him. He worked first to destroy the royal line of succession, then to sow discord among the tribes about whose right it would be to sit upon the throne when Alaron’s rule had passed. To enlist the aid of elves among those tribes, he used bribery when he could, and magic when bribery would fail, and in the end, he succeeded in driving the tribes apart into warring factions. The kingdom fell, and Alaron was forced to flee into the forest, where he expired of his wounds. I found him, as I found you, half-dead. Unlike you, however, he was beyond my help. Before he died, he gave his sword to me, a sword famed among the elvish tribes as Galdra, the sword of kings. He knew it would not serve him anymore, for he had lost his faith, and he was dying.
“He bid me take it,” she said, “and keep it safe, so that it should never fall into the hands of the defilers, for the blade would shatter if they tried to use it. Alaron did not want the symbol of the elvish royal house destroyed. ‘I was cursed never to have a son,’ he said, ‘and a proud tradition dies with me. The elves are now a beaten people. Take Galdra and keep it safe. My life span is but the blink of an eye to a pyreen such as you. Perhaps, someday, you will succeed where I have failed, and find an elf worthy of this blade. If not, then hide it from the defilers. I can at least deny them this.’ And with those words, he died. “Alaron always was my friend,” Lyra continued, “and I could not deny him. I hid the blade, and as the years passed, I moved it from one place of concealment to another, never being satisfied that it was truly safe. Then, one day, after many years had passed, I met a young villichi priestess on a pilgrimage, and that priestess was Varanna. I had been surprised and injured by a young dragon, which mistook me for a human, and I was too weak to properly heal myself. Varanna stopped to help me, and I sensed the goodness in her heart, and saw that fate prepared her to be high mistress. I realized that nowhere would the blade I had been entrusted with be kept as safe as in the villichi convent. I gave it to Varanna, and told her what it was, and what it represented, and she has kept it all these years.”
Sorak glanced down at the sword, then looked up at Lyra with a puzzled expression. “But… why, then, did she give it to me?”
“Because she knew I would approve,” said Lyra, with a smile. “Varanna understood why I had brought you to her. Ten years ago, when I heard your call, I felt your power, and when I found you, I sensed what you were… and what you could be. The sword has been a special bond between Varanna and me, but it was held only in trust.”
“For me?” said Sorak, gazing at her with a puzzled expression. “But I am not of the elvish royal house. If the line died out with Alaron, as you say, then I could not possibly have any claim to this blade. And I am not even a full-blooded elf.”
“Nevertheless, there is elvish blood flowing through your veins,” said Lyra, “and Alaron knew that Galdra could never pass to his successor, for the line would die with him. His only hope was that someone worthy of the blade would come along one day. Varanna believed that you were worthy, and I perceive the potential that you have within you, but you have yet to prove that worth. Not to me and not to Varanna, but to yourself and to the blade. You seek answers to the question of your origin. I cannot provide those answers, but I know who can. Only the preserver magic of the Sage would be strong enough and pure enough to serve your needs. But first you shall have to seek him out, and in your quest for him, you shall serve his needs, and mine, and that of your forebears.”
“How?”
“By aligning yourself with him against all defilers,” said Lyra. “The Sage is very powerful, but he has many enemies, which is why he must remain hidden in seclusion. The