Journal Entry- The Black Visitor
That night I awoke from my bed at an odd hour once again. Immediately, my gaze moved back to a familiar shadow lingering in the corner, that ebony blade forged of things I did not yet understand. But no, that wasn't possible was it? I had already rid myself of that burden. I had sent the wicked thing off with Cynraede weeks ago. I know he would do what I asked. He is my dearest friend. He could be trusted.
Staring in disbelief, I tiptoed out from my bed and made my way toward the object to be sure of what I was seeing. It was indeed that frightful thing I had created and desired as well. My fingers danced across the pommel before finding their home around its ashen handle.
It was at this moment I awoke once more. This time in a valley, cloaked in shadow and what I saw next will remain as a framed image hanging in the deep recesses of my mind among the annals of my memories for all eternity.
I watched as though a mere spectator while my body approached the horned beast. For all the accursed things that I had seen on my explorations, none moved me to such anger and resentment as this creature. For it spoke to me aloud as though it were a man and it knew my most inner and secret thoughts as though it lived inside me. He even made mention of one of my sons.
The creature spoke in raspy echoes. “Welcome Prospector. It’s good to see you again. How are the children? How is our boy Duragar?”
At that moment I reached for my dagger. I would not be fodder for the twisted amusement of some foul apparition. Yet my body remained still. All it would do, all we could do was listen.
The horned beast delivered a raucous bleating that I could only describe as the trumpeting sound of pure malevolence.
The creature settled down and spoke again in long drawn breaths. “Don’t be sore Duramarth. Now listen carefully. Your smithying has not gone unnoticed. Show me the black blade you have created that I may behold its wonder. For my master desires it and I will reward you greatly for it.”
Would that I were able to speak I would have told the foul spirit the truth. That I had already sent the sword off to be destroyed. Even now it was probably sitting comfortably at the bottom of some forgettable lake. I did not know its whereabouts and that was on purpose, for the blade was powerful. That power was all too alluring, and I knew I would be tempted to retrieve it. Therefore, I entrusted its destruction to Cynraede. His willpower being greater than my own, I knew he would see to its swift and necessary end.
It appeared the foul creature had read my thoughts he began foaming at the mouth before letting out a deafening shriek so unnatural, my mind nearly came apart at the seams.
I soon awoke but I have not been the same since. This was no mere dream and I fear this creature and its master are not through with me yet. I do not feel safe anywhere. Even in Arrowhaven. Especially there. Oftentimes, in the early hours before dawn, I have seen a serpent slithering about our kin house. I do not know how it came to be there and I have not been able to remove it either. All I know is, I cannot stay there any longer.
No, instead I will remain here in the Scholar’s Hall in Bree. I will stay among their volumes of old tomes and ancient manuscripts sifting through obscure bits of knowledge until I discover what haunts me. Even more importantly, I must discover what alloy I unintentionally unearthed.
Duramarth IV
Grandmaster of the Order of the Seven
