Interlude

20 years ago

“Listen here son, The sword is life and death. Swing it, practice with it, hold it, never let it out of your sight, keep it at your side always, until it feels wrong not to have it there.”

It was heavy, freshly forged just for him, for his tenth birthday, it was beautiful, simple but ornate, with bronze markings, and it was perfectly balanced.
He swung it, it surprised him how easy it was, given it’s weight.
“It’s heavy.” He said.
“Thats right, son. You feel the weight of responsibility, you will have to bear the weight of every  life you take, and every life you spare, as long as you call yourself a warrior. Do you think you have it in you, son? To deal out death and judgment?”
He looked at his sword, and nodded eagerly. “I can do it dad!” he exclaimed. “I will fight for our tribe, and our people.”
His father looked down on him, a solemn look on his face. “You say that now, but beware, if you’re not careful, the weight of it will crush you, you wouldn’t be the first.”

Marcus hadn’t believed then, not really, how could something so heroic, and courageous, so awesome, ever not be a good thing?
He had trained hard, he had followed his fathers instructions and teachings to the letter, he had slain great beasts, he had sparred with many of his peers, aspiring warriors looking to prove himself, and it wasn’t long before a spirit had found him.

“You!” A strange voice wheezed. “You are strong, you swing your blade well, young one!” Marcus looked up, confused. He was alone, training in the mountains just off cloud central.
“Who is it?” he demanded. “I am passion!” it said, with it’s wispy voice. “What is your passion, boy?”
Marcus looked to it, confused. Passion? Who was this? “What are you talking about? Passion? What kind of name is that?”
“Bah!” The voice scoffed. “Do you love the sword, boy?” it demanded “Do you swing it with passion? Does your heart ache whenever you can’t? eh? Do you seek the power to become the  best there is?”
Marcus looked at the blade in his hand, he loved it, he had come so far already. He nodded. “Yes!” he said. “I am Marcus of cloud central, and I will be the best!” He believed it as he said, he had beaten that beast of a boy the other day, he had been twice his age, and twice his size, sure it had only been a friendly bout, but he was getting better, soon, he would be the best.
“Hmmmmm.” The voice hummed. “That will do I suppose.” Finally a figure appeared from among the rocks, seemingly appearing from thin air. “I am a spirit, boy, a spirit of passion! If you accept my bond, together, we will become the most powerful mage and swordsmen in all of cloud, if not the world, together, we will make it to Emina’s bright halls in the afterlife!”
Marcus frowned, a spirit, huh? This was his chance, this is what he had been waiting for. “What do I have to do?” He asked.
“Only to accept my name, and my bond.” The spirit whispered. He could see the spirit now, it looked human, but not quite, and he was still translucent, a mass of wispy material with a vaguely human face, accept more, spirit-like. Marcus now noticed that he was floating in the air, and he was wearing robes that seemed to ignore gravity, drifting around him in the soft mountain breeze.
“Merheeth.” He croaked “That is my name.”
“I accept you, Merheeth, I wish to bond you as my spirit!” He knew the words, he had asked just in case, but he had always asked his father for the story of his own bonding, his father had been an elemental, with a talent for conduction, and he had specialized in the element of water, called tidal, he had used sapphire as a catalyst for his magic, he had worn them as rings, and the gems had looked huge and over-sized on his fingers, but he could still see their glow, as his father worked his magic.
“Goood…” Merheeth sighed, and Marcus felt a strange sensation rippling across his skin, and then throughout his whole body, and settling in his heart, and his head. He could feel the spirit now, his location, his presence, like they had been merged into a single entity.
“Now what?” He asked.
“Call my name when you’re ready, just in your head, no need to say it out loud, if other people learn my name, they might be able to mess with our bond, which wouldn’t end well for either of us.” The spirit wheezed, and Marcus nodded in agreement, and he thought of his spirits name, Merheeth, and his old sword clattered to the ground. Now, in his hand, sat a new sword, it looked strange, unlike any he had seen before, simple, but beautiful, it was long, longer than any longsword he had ever seen, it was broad, with a wide blade, and sharp tip. Its weight was perfect, easy to swing, but heavy enough to cause serious damage.
“I will cast no ordinary spells for you, boy.” The spirit coughed. “My talent is manifestation, I am your sword, the best sword you will ever have, don’t you forget that!” And Marcus never would.

Over the next two years, Marcus was more dedicated to his training than ever before. His spirit sword wasn’t just a sword, it could perform all kinds of neat tricks, and it was sharp! Sharper than he had though possible for a blade, sharper than he had ever gotten his old sword, no matter how much he had worked the wet-stone.
They fought duels together, the even visited Clouds tower of Emina, though he never made it to the bottom.
And then, when he was fourteen, war broke out, a great tribal conflict, the likes of which he had never seen before, it was no regular border skirmish, as he had seen so many times before.
No, this was a real war, a chance for Marcus to put his hard learned skills to the test, and he did.

And Marcus fought, he fought in forests, and mountains, on plains and in caves, from walls, and on hills, and he was good at it, eventually his father had even put him in charge of his own regiment, a group of soldiers for which he was responsible. He thought that they would become his best friends, brothers in arms, but he soon realized his mistake, after all the original members of his regiment were all dead.
So many deaths! So much suffering, and for what? After seven years of fighting, what had really changed? There were still the same tribes, with small border changes, just under new leadership. Alliances had shifted, or been strengthened, but what had they really achieved?
He had gone home a warrior of true renown, he had been celebrated a hero, who had won many battles, but he could feel no pride for his skills, not anymore, he was perhaps the best swordsmen on the continent, but the sword brought him no peace, only conflict and death.

It was then, in his hour of despair, that the visions had first begun. At first he had dismissed them as mere dreams, nightmares, but then they had started to come true. They predicted the future, at first they were small things, but then, the death of his own mother.
His true moment of realization had been when he met her. The foreign woman from his visions, the witch.
She brought him peace, she knew his struggles, and helped him, and she knew many things of the world, and many things that were happening around them.
She knew where to hunt for deer, where to find the studies about the prophesy, and she knew about the assassins that had been sent to kill him, and many other things.
She never said so outright, but she always gave him hints, and warnings.
It was only a matter of time before he fell in love with her, even if she couldn’t save his mother, or bring back his enjoyment of battle.
And he did not need her to tell him what to do, it took him time to admit it to himself, but the prophesy was real, the signs were presenting themselves in the world, as the visions had predicted, and there was no denying it now, not now his father was dead as well.
It would be up to him to prepare the people of cloud, to unite them in preparation of the chosen ones arrival, and the travesties that would precede it.
He would lead them in the coming conflicts, It would be their only hope.

So with a heavy heart it was, that once again, Marcus  took up his spirit blade, but this time, not for the sake of being the best, but for the sake of his people.