Which men have named Awakener
From darkest dreams and fear-filled night.
No noble metal, gem or stone -
Its blade of finer substance wrought,
Of essence pure as love alone,
As Strong as hope, as quick as thought.
Valarda, like molten steel,
Like tears, like waves of singing light,
Which angel fire has set its seal
And breath of angels polished bright.
Ten thousand years it took to make
Beneath their planet's shining sun;
Ten thousand angels by the lake:
Their souls poured forth their fire as one.
In strength surpassing adamant,
Its perfect beauty diamond-bright,
No gelstei shone more radiant:
The sacred sword was purest light. .
As the ghost continued reciting verses that reminded me of others that Alphanderry had once spoken to me, I gazed at my shining sword. The one who forged it, I thought, had named it after another sword, made many ages ago not of silustria but valarda — a sword of the soul. The true Alkaladur. A hundred questions sprang into my mind. Why couldn't one of the Maitreyas heal Angra Mainyu? And was the ancient warrior of whom the ghost spoke the same as the warrior mentioned in Alphanderry's epic: Kalkin, the immortal Elijin who had somehow become Kane, my companion and friend? And if so, why had Kalkin taken the lead in this quest over the much greater Galadin such as Ashtoreth and Valoreth?
I listened as the ghost told of the great war between the Amshahs, who sought to preserve the Law of the One, and the Daevas who followed Angra Mainyu:
In ruth the warrior went to war,
A host of angels in his train:
Ten thousand Amshahs, all who swore
To heal the Dark One's bitter pain.
With Kalkin, splendid Solajin
And Varkoth, Set and Ashtoreth -
The greatest of the Galadin
Went forth to vanquish fear of death.
And Urukin and Baradin,
In all their pity, pomp and pride:
The brightest of the Elijin
In many thousands fought and died.
Their gift, valarda, opened them:
Into their hearts a fell hate poured;
This turned the warrior's stratagem
For none could wield the sacred sword.
Alkaladur! Alkaladur!
The Brightest Blade, the Sword that Shone,
Which men have named the Opener,
Was meant for one and one alone.
As the night deepened and the wind fell down from the stars, the ghost went on singing for a long time, for his tale was a long one. He told of how Marsul had called a great crusade to wrest the Lightstone from Angra Mainyu by force of arms. Half of the Amshahs had joined Ashtoreth and Valoreth in seeking Angra Mainyu's defeat through finding a way to wield the Sword of Light; but half of them betrayed the One's injunction that the Elijin and Galadin may not take life, and they had gathered to Marsul's standard. And not just angels, it seemed, but the Star People who were my ancestors.
And by their side Valari knights
Like stars a hundred thousand strong,
Their diamond armor gleamed like lights;
Their shields were hard, their swords were long.
What followed then, as the ghost finished his account of the War of the Stone, saddened me for he told of my friend's wrath and near-fall into evil:
At last the faithful Kalkin broke:
With sword in hand, with bitter breath
Upon his soul an oath he spoke:
He vowed to bring the Dragon's death.
Then Mainyu fled across the stars
With Yama, Kadaklan and Zun,
The Daevas with their soul-dark scars -
They hid beneath a silver moon.
On Erathe, oldest world of Man,
The Amshahs found their ancient foe.
With Marsul, Kalkin. in the van,
Their helms on high, their swords aglow.
The armies met in summers heat
Upon Tharharra's sun-seared plain;
No pity, quarter or retreat
No breath of wind nor drop of rain.
Alkaladur! Alkaladur!
The Sword of Love, the Sword of Life,
Which men have named the Quickener
Of dreams of death, of peace and strife.
All day the angels' armies clashed
