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The Tale of the Swords of the
Ancients And Other Blades of Power
A Mythology
By
Kit Rae
In the four hundred and eighteenth year of the Fifth Age, the Red War of Evruc, the Dark One, had come to Deylund. His army of savage Uldurin warriors and his sorcerer captains laid siege to the city and nearly destroyed King Koelyth’s army. Failing to breach the inner citadel walls, the Dark One pulled his forces back temporarily. Knowing time was short before the inevitable return assault with greater forces, which would likely succeed, Koelyth and the ancient Mithrodin leader Kethol Av Torketal made a desperate plan to bring down the Dark One. He would expect them to remain behind the protective walls of the city, but instead they would send all their forces out and attack the enemy directly by moonlight. The King would send his three Avonthian sons - Athollos, Sarafel, and Morweth - to lead the greater part of his remaining citadel guard battalion, consisting of only four remaining companies, and make an attack on the enemy encampment. There would be little chance of surprise, but that was not their plan. Kethol would wield his great spear Ellexdrow, for its special enchantment would point the way to the Dark One. He and his company of Mithrodin would seek Evruc and mortally wound his body, in hope to break the mental hold he held over his dark army. If Kethol could do this, there was a chance the enemy would not be able to react as quickly with a counter offensive against the better skilled and organized forces of Deylund.
The only foil to this plan would be Evruc’s master sorcerer Valegil, who was most instrumental and valuable in his war against mortals. He excelled in controlling the air and winds, and would call forth the rains, fog, or snow before or in battle to hinder the opposing forces. However, his real strength came from his talisman, a Blade of Chaos forged by the Elves in the Fourth Age known as the Death’s Head Dagger. With it he could darken the skies and bring forth a dense red fog to engulf the battlefields of this Red War. It was invisible to the army of the Dark One, but it obscured the vision of their foe. It was also said that Valegil himself could transform into a fast-moving, blood-red mist. Only when the deathly prick of his dagger pierced the flesh of his foe did he appear to them. To counter the necromancy of these sorcerers, Ellexos would use the Vorthelok sword, as within its steel now resided the spirit of the Ancient One, Atnal. Since the sorcerers inherited their power from the Ancients, Atnal could temporarily reclaim it to weaken them, but Vorthelok had to be near to draw their power.
Under the moonlight in the early hours before dawn Deylund made their attack. Their forces clashed upon the foothills of Deylund City where Evruc stationed his army. Two of the King’s companies drove a wedge into the Uldurin encampment. Archers at the rear launched flaming arrows setting the enemy tents and supply stocks alight, then a company of cavalry, infantry, and spearmen charged. Kethol and his small Mithrodin company followed the lead behind the wedge, with Enethia and Ellexos at his sides. They rode on the back of the great Orwenoch beast, Ourn. Kethol wielded his spear Ellexdrow and his twin Mithrokil short swords, the blades of which were forged by Toukol himself when the Mithrodin order was founded.
Among Kethol’s company were a squad of Mith Roantradem swordsmen on horseback. They were the brute force arm of the Mithrodin and the most elite of their soldiers. Unlike their faster and lighter warriors, the Roantradem carried larger weapons and wore heavier armor. Each carried a Savathos, the Mithrodin war sword, and a long lance. The Savathos had long, two-handed hilts wrapped in leather, crushing steel pommel points, and wide, curved blades for slashing and hacking. Engraved on the blades were Thant runes, the ancient language of the Anath, that translate as “By my blood and honor I am protector of the sacred steel”. The Roantradem rode on war horses that were specially trained to kick and crush an enemy, and a mounted Roantradem with a Savathos was a devestating foe. They rode the rear position behind Ourn, who ripped his way through a fray of Uldurin soldiers, breaking or maiming any that were within reach of his whip-like tentacled maw and crushing limbs.
The enchanted blade of Kethol’s great spear drew him to the Dark One as his company charged quickly through the weakest area of the enemy horde, who were in chaos at the unexpected attack. Before him Ellexos twin Mithlotok blades flashed with lightning speed, and Enethia’s sword Avoloch did its work, leaving a trail of dead and wounded in their wake. In his mind’s eye Kethol saw Evruc stationed high behind his forces, mentally directing them in a coordinated defense against Deylund’s army. Riding Ourn, they made way through the fray to a high hilltop in the middle of the encampment. There, Kethol stood upon Ourn’s shoulder plates and studied the rear of the battle field. Upon a high hill stood a keep that Evruc had siezed, now in flames from Deylund’s archers, and below that was a long, flat ridge. The glow of the coming sunrise was beginning to light the sky in that direction, and by that light he spied the Dark One atop his armored horse, surveying the attack. Evruc’s royal guard surrounded him. Nerothos, the sorcerer who could both read and break minds, was near. Evruc’s master sorcerer Valegil was also by his side, holding a dagger to the sky. Kethol knew the power of that Death’s Head dagger was calling forth the red fog to obscure the battlefield. Even as he watched, a cloud of crimson was spiraling down from the sky as if from an inverted cyclone. It would soon blind Kethol and all of Deylund’s forces, but the army of the enemy were enchanted by Valegil and they would be allowed to see.
There was not enough time to reach Evruc before the red fog came. The distance and height to him was much too far, greater than Kethol’s mastery of the spear. He only needed to bring him down momentarily to break the mental bond he had over his Uldurin, allowing Deylund’s forces to take control of the battle. The risk of failure was high, and their numbers too few if he failed. The obscuring red mist of Valegil was quickly filling the air and he knew there would be no other opportunity. “There!” He pointed his spear towards the Dark One for all his company to see and commanded, “Go!” The Mith Roantradem and Enethia, Avoloch in hand, charged down the hill and into the fray again. Ellexos followed, wielding her twin Mithlotok short swords, and Kethol caught a glimpse of the Vorthelok sword still strapped across her back. She was wisely holding off until the right moment to unsheath it.
With a last great effort, Kethol hefted Ellexdrow over his shoulder, and made a prayer and plea to the Anath. He gauged the wind and took his stance for aim. Everything around him seemed to slow and halted. In the frozen melee below him, Deylund’s army was now completely surrounded and would soon be crushed, but Kethol’s only thought was focused on his spear. As if it had already left his hand, he clearly saw the path it would take, the forces of the air and wind upon it, and the strength of Ammon pulling it back to the ground whence it was forged. With perfect focus and all the might his body could expel, he launched the weapon. Just as Kethol had envisioned, it soared in a high arc across the sky, traveling higher and farther than any spear ever thrown by a mortal in Ammon. It seemed ages passed as he watched it cut through the red air, although in truth it flew with such speed that The Dark One only sensed it at the very last instant, and only then too late. Ellexdrow’s serpentine blade punched through his chest armor, sinking deep up to the hilt of its second curved blade.
The moment Evruc was struck and felled from his horse, time rolled forward again for Kethol. Evruc’s mental hold on the enemy horde was broken. Kethol then drew his twin Mithrokil short swords and with a rallying battle cry he leaped from Ourn’s back. Hacking into the nearest foe, he stabbed and slashed his way through the enemy host on his way to the Dark One. Four Roantradem on horseback flanked him, the curved blades of their Savathos war swords spinning in their hands as they rode down and dispatched the enemy. The sight of the ancient Mithrodin in full battle mode with his Roantradem was something to behold. It inspired the forces of Deylund to rally with them. The charge of Kethol would be spoken of by the survivors of that battle for many years to come. He killed over one hundred and forty of the enemy that day, and no blade pierced his armor until the very end.
Even though heavily outnumbered, Deylund’s army momentarily had the advantage. In their confusion, the Dark One’s forces fragmented, but the red fog was still forming on the battlefield. As Kethol reached the foot of the high ridge below the hill where Evruc had fallen, he proudly saw his former students Enethia and Ellexos above, fiercely battling his royal guard. With the Vorthelok sword near, the sorcerer’s powers had little effect over them. Enethia was stained in black and red as her Avoloch blade sliced through the guard protecting the fallen Evruc like water, although he could not tell how much blood was her own and how much was from the enemy. Ellexos was like some lethal dancer spinning to and fro, fluently weaving her Mithlotok blades into and through the enemy. Red rained through the air with each pierce and cut as she made her way toward the sorcerer Nerothos. Behind his Uldurin guard, he held his hand outstretched and focused on her, frantically trying to ruin her mind. His power was now weakened by Vorthelok and Kethol thought he glimpsed both bafflement and fear on his face.
The moonlit sky turned blood red and a thickening fog shrouded the camp. As it obscured Kethol’s sight he and the Mith Roantradem rushed upward to crest the ridge. Struggling his way to the top, the air suddenly exploded around him. A blinding rush of crimson mist engulfed his body in a whirlwind, and at once he felt the sting of his armor being pierced from behind. Valegil’s blade had found him. The steel of the Death’s Head dagger was punched into his back repeatedly, with the last piercing his heart. Kethol dropped his twin swords and tumbled down to the ground below. His last sight was of his Roantradem squad climbing the ridge before him and Enethia looking back from above. His sight then failed and the great Mithrodin warrior came to his end.
Seeing her beloved teacher and mentor fall, Enethia went into a rage. She charged down the ridge toward Valegil, moving away from Ellexos, and away from the protection of the Vorthelok sword. Seeing her, Valegil immediately vanished into a crimson vortex. His whirlwind blasted forward to Enethia, enveloping her, and she felt the grappling arm of the sorcerer slip around her neck from behind. Struggling, she tried to reposition her Avoloch sword and thrust it rearward, but only succeeded in piercing the flesh of Valegil’s arm with the hook blade on the sword’s guard. As he held her tight from behind, Valegil shoved his Death’s Head dagger through the leather of her cuirass, between the ribs under her arm, and she dropped the sword. He pulled the dagger out and stabbed once more, deeper this time, but to his shock both the dagger and Enethia vanished and he was left holding his blade hand out to nothing but air. His talisman was gone. At once his red mist wisked away, it's spell broken, just as Ellexos appeared. In a flying leap she held the Vorthelok sword high with both hands. Bringing it down she severed Valegil’s dagger arm at the elbow, spun around and hacked the blade through his other arm just below the shoulder and deep into the side of his chest. The blade now wedged in his torso, she held the hilt tight and furiously kicked his body away. In bewildered shock, Valegil fell to the ground and died as Ellexos furiously hacked his body. After a time she came to her senses and stopped.
Her objective disrupted at the loss of both Kethol Av Torketal and the vanishing of Enethia, who was as a sister to her, it took Ellexos a moment to regain her senses. Her leather and mail armor was broken and torn, and she had many wounds, but none seemed lethal. A crescent of the sun had appeared on the horizon as the red fog dissipated, making for a strange sunrise of red clouds. Deylund’s forces were overwhelming the enemy, who seemed directionless without their leader and commander. Upon the ridge, what remained of the Dark One’s royal guard were retreating uphill about thirty yards ahead, towards the flaming keep, and carrying his wounded body with them. The sorcerer Nerothos followed, taking down the attacking soldiers of Deylund by destroying their minds one-by-one. What remained of Kethol’s squad of elite Mith Roantradem were now horseless and engaging both the Uldurin infantry and royal guard. A company of Deylund’s infantry, led by their commander Athollos on horseback, was approaching from her left, and Sarafel with his company on her right. They would soon have the Dark One fenced in on both sides.
Ellexos’ momentary pause was broken by the swing of a battle axe wielded by an Uldurin attacker. Her instincts taking over, she spun around, countered the blow and ended him. Quickly regaining her wits, she set forth to complete her task, or die trying. All that remained was for her to negate the sorcerer’s power using Vorthelok so that Athollos could close in and pierce Evruc’s body with Anathar and trap his spirit. Sheathing Vorthelok, she looked down around Kethol’s body for his twin Mithrokil swords, retrieved them, and charged uphill toward the flaming keep. She felt the ground shake as Ourn, her Orwenoch ally, roared past her, his gray hide and fur splattered with black and red blood. He now had many grievous wounds but they did not seem to slow or hinder his purpose. His four limbs were massive and broke and crushed the enemy soldiers in his way, clearing a path for her to Nerothos and the Dark One.
Ellexos engaged Nerothos first. As she neared, his failing necromancy could no longer keep Deylund’s soldiers at bay. The spirit of Atnal within the steel of Vorthelok did his work, burning through Nerothos’ flesh and extracting his power. He drew a dagger to defend himself, but the pain was too great. One spear in the leg brought Nerothos down to his knees just as Ellexos came to him. Without slowing, she removed the head from the smoking body of the necromancer with a Mithrokil and continued on toward Evruc. Ourn, now with two large spears embedded deep into his torso, crushed all but a few of the Uldurin between her and the royal guard encircling him. The Mith Roantradem squad killed or captured the rest. Deylund’s forces came around and merged to the rear of the keep to secure the hill. There were many skirmishes yet to be resolved on the battlefield below, but the enemy command had been crushed and Evruc, the Dark One, was finally captured and restrained.
When the battle was over Prince Athollos approached Evruc, who lay face down with arms and legs bound. Ellexos and her Mithrodin were there to guard him. She rolled Evruc over to face Athollos and he unsheathed Anathar, the tenth Sword of the Ancients, and placed its point on Evruc’s bloody chest. Even though gravely wounded by Kethol’s spear, Evruc laughed at him. Spitting blood, he said bitterly “It was bold of you to sacrifice what remains of your lowly army for a brief victory. I commend you, but your people soon will not. The war has only begun. My kind are your creators, and no mortal can kill me, as you well know. This weak flesh may rot, but my spirit will soon return in another form, even more powerful than now. I will rain so much destruction on Deylund and your kind that none will know your kingdom ever existed. So, prince, if you submit to me now and swear fealty, I will spare you. I may even let you rule Deylund as king. If not, do what you will and accept the curse you yourself have put upon your people.”
Athollos laughed back at this and replied “Look around you. Do you see those burning piles of corpses? That is what remains of your army. You no longer have dominion here and your weak words mean nothing. Evruc the black, by the power of the Ancients that once were your brethren and of the Anath that are your creators, you are to be imprisoned for all time, never to have power or influence over Ammon again. I want you to remember that we mere mortals did this to you, and I want you to think of that often in the time you will spend in your eternal prison.” He thence spat on Evruc’s face, and as the Mithrodin had instructed him, he shoved Anathar’s point into his chest, piercing the heart. Time and sound seemed to stop, then the ground gave a mighty thump, as if the whole of Ammon were expelling something foul from its depths. With a brief wisp of gray smoke Anathar’s bright steel changed to the color of dark iron. By the enchantments bestowed upon that sword by the Ancients, the spirit of the Dark One had become imprisoned within the steel. Athollos pulled the sword from the body and held it aloft. He could now feel the evil presence within the blade. Handing it to Ellexos by the hilt, she and her Mithrodin then wrapped the sword in thick hides and bound it with leather straps so that none could touch it. All looked on as it was placed into a specially prepared steel coffin with iron locks. It was then loaded into a chariot guarded by four Mith Roantradem.
The Mithrodin then prepared to take Evruc’s spiritless corpse to burn on a wood pyre they had prepared. Ourn, the gray Orwenoch beast brought forth from the Neverworld by Evruc’s brother, the Ancient One Atnal, then came forward. Roaring, he flung the Mithrodin away. He then devoured the corpse, even down to the earth that was stained by its blood, so no trace remained. With this act the Orwenoch had their ultimate revenge upon Evruc, for he was their creator, but he had betrayed them to his enemies and caused their kind to be cast out of Ammon. Once the deed was finished Ourn sent thought of a bitter farewell to the minds of his companions, then to Ellexos he turned. She unsheathed the Vorthelok and touched the blade to Ourns head. A haze then surrounded him and by Atnal’s power he faded out of this world and was returned to the realm of the Neverworld of Avollos. Athollos and Ellexos would never see his kind again.
After this the thousands of Uldurin dead were burned, and the dead of Deylund buried. A funeral was then held for Ellexos’ father, the great Mithrodin teacher and warrior, Kethol Av Torketal. His spear Ellexdrow was buried with him, and he was celebrated among the Mithrodin and his Roantradem brothers. The feats of the Mithrodin Enethia were also celebrated, but none knew what fate took her from the world, or what became of the Death’s Head dagger.
To be continued.
The Tale of the Swords of the Ancients and Other Blades of Power and its previous versions, The Swords of the Ancients and its abridged excerpts, and other forms, are ©1997, ©2005, ©2008, ©2012, and ©2025 by Kit Rae. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any other form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, computer networking, or otherwise without prior permission in writing by the copyright holder(s).