Oberon's Dreams - By Aaron Pogue Page 0,57
“I do pay attention to the things that matter.”
“I do, too,” Corin said. “And I saw the sword he wore upon his hip when he went to see Aemilia yesterday. It looked fit for a king.”
“He wore it still when he arrested you,” Avery said.
“It’s true,” Kellen said. “I noted it as well, but the lady isn’t wrong. Despite this evidence, the lord protector never wears a sword.”
Corin shook his head. “A man might make an exception for that blade.”
“What blade was this?” Avery asked. “I only saw that he was armed.”
“A relic, by the look of it,” Corin said, remembering it fondly. “Daemescin blue the blade, traced with whorls and serpents. A Rikkeborh guard, if I had to guess, but with a Castelan crosspiece chased in silver, and a ruby in the pommel—”
“Larger than your thumbnail,” Avery finished for him.
“So you did see it?”
Avery shook his head. “I know this sword by legend, if not by sight.”
Corin frowned. “You have legends?”
“Doesn’t everyone? This sword is more than most. It belonged once to a warrior.”
“Aeraculanon,” Kellen cut in, eyes bright with sudden understanding. “Proofs! The prince is wearing Aeraculanon’s sword?”
Fear closed tight around Corin’s heart. “No! That cannot be. My people have this legend, too. You cannot be telling me that Ephitel owns the sword Godslayer!”
Kellen shrugged. “It doesn’t have a name.”
“Though that’s a good one,” Avery said. “Aeraculanon forged that blade to slay the pagan lord of war. I had heard some rumors Ephitel owned the blade, but no one really thought it true.”
“But when could he have gotten it?” Corin asked.
“From Aeraculanon?” Kellen guessed. “They served together in the Hivernan War.”
Corin frowned. “How long ago was that?”
“Six hundred years?” Kellen looked to Avery for confirmation. “Seven hundred? Something near to that. My father earned his name holding the Pyren Pass while Ephitel and his regiment laid siege to Maedred.”
“And Ephitel has owned it all this time?” Corin asked. “Why wouldn’t he have shown it long before?”
“You have seen the blade,” Avery said. “Would you wear that where it might be lost or stolen? As you said, it is a relic.”
“And yet he wears it now.”
“Wore it.” Avery frowned. “He had it when he took us to the dungeons, but not when he stormed out of the palace.”
Kellen chuckled. “Would you wear a legendary sword of god slaying to go before King Oberon? Especially if you had real plans in motion?”
Corin groaned. “But that explains the timing. It is more than a trophy. Ephitel means to wage war with Oberon. It could begin at any moment, so he wears the sword in readiness.”
“Age of reason,” Avery cursed. “This is more than just your fever dream. This may be real.”
“It’s real,” Corin said. “And for all his silly rhymes, Oberon is wise enough to see it.”
“That’s why he bade you fetch the sword!” Kellen shouted.
“Aye,” Corin said. He dragged a hand across his brow. “But I would have no part in this. I am not meant to wage a war. I just want to go home.”
Kellen clapped him on the back. “You have been at war since the moment I met you.”
Avery nodded. “I would follow you into the fray.”
“But—”
“For glory,” Maurelle said. She wiped a tear from her eye. “For Iryana.”
Corin looked around the circle, considering each in turn. He sighed. “I would love to get my hands on that sword.”
“Excellent!” Avery said. “Now…how?”
“He didn’t have the sword when he went before Oberon,” Corin said. “Would he have trusted his lieutenant to hold it for him?”
“Ephitel trusts no one,” Kellen said.
“Then he has stashed it somewhere.”
Kellen nodded. “He has an estate here in the city.”
Corin tried to judge how much time had passed while they were locked within the cells. He shook his head. “It would have to be close.”
“Just across the bridge.”
“Perfect,” Corin said, sarcastic. “I suppose it’s well secured?”
Avery nodded. “I have never seen anything like it.”
“We won’t stand much chance in a fair fight,” Corin said. “How do you suggest we take it from him?”
“Quickly,” Avery said. “You heard him at the palace. He said he was late to a meeting with the dwarves. Their nearest chapter house is halfway across the city in the opposite direction.”
“Still, he might have stopped for Godslayer.”
“Not a chance. For two reasons: dwarves prize punctuality, and no one—lord or king—has ever gone armed into a dwarven chapter house.”
“That’s promising,” Corin said. “But how do you know Ephitel went to them? Couldn’t the meeting have been here in the palace? Or