The Lost: Part 29

"So: Kil`Mannin. I expect there is a story behind it?"

Shane sat crosslegged across from his uncle and waited. They'd moved further down the wall to a corner and Ashe had immediately taken a seat on the stone walkway. Shane had carefully set lute and sword down near each other before sitting himself, and now waited for his uncle to begin. Of course there was a story; there always was with Ashe. But when his uncle finally began to speak, it was without the traditional "long and long ago."

"In the earliest days of our people, we did things that we do not readily speak of today. They were dark times, when clan warred against clan, and then turned on the Children of the Flame, the humans. The reason we were forced to leave our original home plane was the vengeance visited upon our people for the sins of the past." He gestured towards the sword. "Kil`Mannin was part of that.

Shane's eyes were drawn back to the sword by Ashe's gesture. "I don't understand."

"There was a House, House Kilseren. They were one of the First Houses, but small."

"The House of Starsingers?" Shane frowned. "They aren't in the list of Houses you taught us."

"No, they are not, and there is a reason for that. The Starsingers were the first to manifest the power to move people and objects through song, but for some reason known only to the gods, they were also among the most warlike of all the Sithryn. Already few in number, the constant fighting depleted the House until only a dozen of the line remained, and with their retainers, there were less then a hundred warriors left to defend the few women and children. The House of Starsingers faced certain extinction at the hands of an army of human enemies."

"The last Prince of the line was Berenvakilseren. Beren was not much older than you are now, and his heart wept to see what ruin the folly of his elders had brought upon them all." Ashe's voice shifted to the cadence of a storyteller as he spoke the tale as it had been told for generations. "In his grief, he prayed to the Goddess for Her help, but there was no answer, and Beren retired to his tent to try to sleep before what would certainly be his last day of life."

"And in his dreams, the Goddess came. 'What would you ask of me, Beren? What do you seek?' "

"Beren fell to his knees. 'I seek mercy for my people. I seek a future, and I seek hope.'
'What of peace and justice?'
'That can come after. But first my people must survive!'

"The Goddess did not reply at first, but suddenly Beren found himself atop the highest mountain in the world. The Goddess pointed out at the brightest star in the heavens. 'Mercy, and hope, and dreams of the future; these shine brightly in the souls of all, as brightly as the shining stars. What you seek lies there. Reach out and take it'

"Beren looked at the star. How could he hold such a thing? He looked back at the Goddess, and realized this was a test, and if he failed, there would be no saving his House. So he stretched out his hand, and as he thought, the star was just beyond his reach. Still the Goddess said nothing, and made no move to help Beren. He tried once more and failed. And then, taking a few steps back, he ran and leaped for the star, and grabbing hold of it, began to plummet towards the earth below."

Shane shivered a bit. "Did he die?"

"No, He woke the next morning, and in his hand, was the sword. It glowed like a star, and Beren called for the others to come and see the gift of the Goddess. And when later that day the humans attacked, Beren fell upon them with Kil`Mannin, the Star Sword, and House Kilseren was victorious... But at a cost."

"Not one human survived. The battlefield was full of their dead, and Beren had been the cause. Weary, his sword arm heavy from fighting, he stood alone, for so terrible had been his progress through the human ranks that even his own people had fallen back in fear. And in his hand, covered in blood, was Kil`Mannin, it's light dimmed. Beren tore his cloak and tried to clean it, and while the blood itself came off, a red stain remained. He stopped, and looked about, and in that instant knew that a terrible vengeance would be sought by the Children of the Flame for what he had done this day."

"Then it was that the Goddess came walking, walking across the battlefield, and Beren held out the sword to her. 'Take it back, for it is too terrible a thing it has done this day.'

'It was not the sword that acted. It was you, wielding the sword. You asked for mercy, and hope, and a future. Humans seek the same for themselves. Do you recall my asking you of peace and justice?'

"Beren nodded. 'You said they would come later. I had hoped you would think about why I had asked, but you did not. Beren, without peace and justice, there is no hope, there is no mercy, there is no future. You could have sought peace instead of battle. You did not. Your House survived today, but there will be consequences.'

Beren looked around at the dead. 'You teach a hard lesson, Lady.'

'They too, made their choices. Remember this day, Beren. The blade of Kil`Mannin will remain stained, but with each act of peace and justice its wielder performs, it will grow less, until the sword finally shines as brightly as it did before the battle.' Then, before Beren could say more, the Goddess was gone." Shane looked at the sword. The red stain had shrank to that dagger shape close to the hilt. "What happened to Beren?"

"He lived on for many years. But Kilseren never recovered. In time, the last members of the House married into others. Beren's son married a princess of Silver Rose, and his child was one of our ancestors. Kil`Mannin became the blade given to young princes to help teach them how to be good rulers. And the talent of the Kilserens, the use of Voice, became the talent of Silver Rose." Ashe looked at his grandnephew, waiting to see if Shane would grasp the significance of the sword now coming to him.

He had. One hand started to reach for the sword, then fell back as Shane's eyes widened. "Why me? I'm not full-blooded Sithryn."

"Ah, but you have the Voice. Evaynan knows this, and you are the grandson of his daughter. You are of his line."

"So is Duir. And he is of purer descent."

"And he can't carry a note in a basket. No, the sword is yours. As it was mine for a time. Having Kil`Mannin does not automatically make you Heir forever, nephew. But for the moment, that is what you are."

Shane stared at the sword and the lute. "What do I do, Uncle?"

"Shane, you have so much time. I will teach you the sword as I am teaching you music and the use of your Gifts. If you decide you desire to be a knight, then when you become a Squire, all studies but those for knighthood will cease. There will be time after to continue your other studies. I promise you. Now, I must find Lt. Marcus and tell him of news I had from Ian. Don't stay here too long. I suspect your mother will expect you to at least eat dinner with the rest of the family, heh?" Ashe grinned, rose in that impossibly fluid and graceful way of his, and ruffled Shane's hair before he walked away.

The boy reached out, and his hand found the lute. Drawing it to him, his fingers began picking out a song, slowly at first, but then faster and surer. The notes echoed down the wall, and men looked to see who had played them, but Shane didn't notice.

He played on and as he played, his eyes never wavered from the blade Kil`Mannin.