The Diamond Blade: Prologue

Diamond is the hardest gem in the world. Precious little can contaminate it. It starts out looking rather sore to the eyes, but if you refine it, it comes out beautiful. A diamond is a very strong gem, and anything made with it is equally strong.

The legends speak of a man long, long ago who made a sword out of diamond. The elves, an ancient and now nearly extinct race, put some of their magic within the blade to strengthen it even further and make it indestructible. The blade of this sword could cleave other blades like butter, and it neither notched nor broke. The man died before he had the chance to use it in more than practiced duels and tests, and his apprentice, a lad named Awyr, took ownership of it. That was about the time the Great War erupted.

The Great War was a war between the evil Emperor of the Northlands and his enemies, an alliance of three powerless and dying kingdoms known as the Red Sun for the symbol on their banners and uniforms. The Emperor of the Northlands was an evil sorcerer named Zavaan, though he was more commonly known as the Black King. Zavaan created vile and twisted creatures to serve him, and corrupted men and elves to his service. All things beautiful were turned ugly under his hand. It seemed as if he had no weakness, for he lived for over five hundred years and never took ill, nor could his magicks be broken.

Awyr took up the diamond blade his master created and joined the ranks of the Red Sun’s army. He marched with them into every battle, and in every battle he slaughtered countless enemy troops. After many years of war, Awyr became the Supreme Commander of the army of the Red Sun. He led his forces to Zavaan’s dark and ancient fortress on the slopes of Mount Forilan. For many months they encamped around the fortress and kept it in siege, and every time Zavaan gathered his forces and sent them forward, the Red Sun beat them back. Awyr always stayed on the front lines, slaughtering the enemy with the diamond blade.

Finally, the day came when the gates of Zavaan’s fortress, the Shadowed Keep, were broken and the army of the Red Sun surged forward. Awyr cut his way through the enemy forces, his army behind him. The hardest fight was ahead of them. Zavaan himself strode out of his dark tower in the center of his fortress and led the remnant of his forces in a last attack on Awyr. The two met in the middle of the battlefield and fought long and hard. The diamond blade could not cleave Zavaan’s sword as it had others, for Zavaan also had powerful magic bound to his sword. As time went on, Awyr grew tired, and his strength failed him. Zavaan found an opening and stabbed Awyr straight through the stomach. Awyr grasped the sword in his left hand and slowly pulled himself forward, closer to Zavaan, and with the last of his strength raised the diamond blade and cleaved Zavaan’s head from his shoulders. The great sorcerer’s body swayed, then dropped to the ground. Awyr fell to his knees, still holding the blade of Zavaan’s sword in his left hand, his right clutching the hilt of the diamond blade tightly. One of his soldiers saw and ran to him as he began to fall, and held him. In his last words, Awyr commanded that the diamond blade be buried with him, against his breast. Then he breathed his last. Keeping with his wish, he was entombed alone, the diamond blade clutched to his breast, and there he remains.

Awyr was forever hailed a hero, though in legend only. History never mentioned him, or the dark years of Zavaan’s reign and eventual defeat. It told only of the valour and heroic deeds of men in the golden years that followed Zavaan’s defeat.

…..

“Rykan!” a female voice called. “Rykan, come here!”

Rykan sighed and put away his tools. What does that girl want now? He thought to himself. He stood from his work table and left his small hut.

At seventeen, Rykan stood nearly six feet tall. His eyes were a deep blue, his hair blonde and shoulder-length, his skin tanned. He was strong and muscled, a result of his work as a blacksmith’s apprentice. He was a heartthrob among the village girls not only for his looks, but for his personality. Rykan was a quiet person who was kind and compassionate to all but his enemies. He protected his friends and his village.

“Rykan!” the voice called again. He followed the sound to the village square, where he found his best friend Anna. She smiled brightly when she saw him coming and waved. Anna was a year younger than Rykan, and several inches shorter. Her hair was black and very curly, and it reached just below her shoulders. Her eyes were a bright green that seemed always to smile. Her skin was tanned, as was Rykan’s, although her skin was darker. Very unlike Rykan, Anna was rarely quiet and always talkative and bubbly. She was always happy, always smiling.