Which men have named Awakener
From ages dark and dream-dark night.
No noble metal, gem or stone -
Its blade of finer substance wrought;
Of essence rare and form unknown.
The secret crystal ever sought.
Silustria, like silver steel,
Like silk, like diamond-frozen light,
Which angel fire has set its seal
And breath of angels polished bright.
Ten years it took to forge, ten years
To shape the crystal, make it whole;
The blade he quenched in blood and tears,
And in its length he left his soul.
A diamond for its pommel stone
Its swan-carved hilt was blackest jade
And set with seven gems that shone:
White diamonds in which starlight played.
Alkaladur! Alkaladur!
The Sword of Truth, the Silver Blade,
Which men have named the Vanquisher
Of bitter lies that men have made.
With Aramesh he rode to war
Upon the Sarburn's blood-drenched field;
He charged with knights tween wood and tor,
His bright avenging sword to wield.
He sought his foe with beating blood,
The Beast who stole the Stone of Light;
Through flashing steel and reddened mud
Pursued him all the day and night.
The silver sword, from starlight formed,
Sought that which formed the stellar light,
And in its presence flared and warmed
Until it blazed a brilliant white.
And there on Sarburn's battle ground,
Among the dying and the dead,
Where lords were killed and kings uncrowned,
The Dragon saw his doom and fled.
Alkaladur! Alkaladur!
The Sword of Sight, the Sword of Fate,
Which men have named the Harbinger
Of death to all who rule by hate.
In Tria thus the Dragon cowed,
Behind its star-flung walls of stone.
The ancient warrior, vengeance vowed,
Pursued him to his dragon throne.
But also came King Aramesh
At ending of the bitter strife,
And there despite his wounded flesh,
In ruth, he spared the Dragon's life.
The King then claimed the golden bowl,
Thus broke their star-blessed amity.
The warrior now with bitter soul:
He cast the sword into the sea.
And there it dwelled beneath the waves,
Through ages new and ages old.
But so it's told in ancient caves:
The silver gelstei seeks the gold.
Alkaladur! Alkaladur!
The ageless blade, immortal sword
Which men have named Deliverer -
To pure of heart will be restored.
Alphanderry fell silent as he stared at my sword; I stared at it, too, as did everyone else gathered around the lake.
Maram slowly nodded his head. Then he looked at Kane and said, 'If Kalkamesh did cast the sword into the sea in his anger at King Aramesh sparing Morjin, then it seems a rare chance that the sea carried it a thousand miles to this island only to be caught in this man Elkaiu's net.'
'Ha, chance,' Kane called out. 'There's much more at work here than mere chance.'
Now Alphanderry asked Liljana to tell the sword's story in the Maiian language, which she did. When she had finished, Lady Nimaiu gazed at the sword for a long while. 'Now I understand why it lay so long beneath the lake – and in the sea perhaps longer. Upon this sword, there must have been much blood.'
Perhaps once there had been, I thought. But now, as I held it up to the sun, the blade's silver surface reflected its light so perfectly that it seemed nothing could ever stain it or mar its beauty.
Master Juwain, whose mind turned over thoughts more times than the wind tossing about a leaf, nodded his bald head toward the sword and said, 'This must be the Awakener told of in the song. But we must be sure that it is before Val claims it as his own.'
'But, sir, how can we be any more sure than we are?' Maram asked.
'Well, there is the test to be made,' Master Juwain said. 'If it is truly of silustria and not some lesser gelstei or alloy, it will pass this test.'
'What test?' I asked him sharply.
'The silver gelstei is said to be very hard – harder than any stone save the Lightstone itself.'
He motioned for me to hold the sword with its blade flat to the earth so that he could get a better look at it. 'The sea carried it a thousand miles across its rocks and sands.
Did they make many scratches? Do you see any mark upon it?'
I turned the sword over and over, trying to detect on its gleaming blade the faintest featherstroke of a line or scratch. But it was as unmarked as the surface of a still mountain lake.
'Hard is silustria – harder than adamant,' Master Juwain said as he looked at the two sparkling stones of my knight's ring. 'Why don't you use these diamonds to try to scratch this blade?'
Again I looked at the sword's wondrous finish. I no more wanted to scratch it than I did the lens of my eye.
'It must be tested, Val. It must be known.'
Yes, I thought, it must be. And so, making a fist, I touched the diamonds to the blade and drew them in a small arc across it near the hilt. The silver remained untouched. Now I singled out one of the stones and positioned it precisely; I found a point where three of its facets came together and pressed it as hard as I could against the silver, all the while trying to dig and drag the diamond down the entire length of the sword. But it slid off like light from a mirror and left not the slightest mark.
'Alkaladur,' Master Juwain said reverently. 'It is the Bright Sword.'
Now that our ceremony was completed, many of the Maii came down to congratulate us and get a better glimpse of this miraculous sword that had lain in their lake for so long unknown to them. Although they craned their
