The Opal-Encrusted Blade: Part 1

Greetings, young traveler. My name is Garnhil. I have lived in the village of Urgrandia for many years. I stay in this little shack on the Hill of Arathea for most of the year. The only time I ever leave is at Festival Nachune, when instead of Garnhil, I am known as “Thenton,” or “Storyteller.” I know many stories, though my favorite, along with many of the villagers’, is the story about the opal-encrusted blade…

Chapter 1

The wispy clouds covering the full moon would look rather ominous to passersby, especially because of the nearby palace of Collenius. The main spire, the one on top of the prince’s tower, jutted up into the hazy night sky. Off in the distance, there was the flash of lightning and the low rumble of thunder. It seemed like a typical night in the capital city of the Mandolese kingdom, so no one would have guessed that on this very hill, something extraordinary was happening.

* * *

“Nashi!” cried the figure bent low over the workbench.
“Yes, Master?” The elf appeared almost instantly, ready to cut, build, or fetch whatever the village blacksmith wanted. The figure turned around.
His twilight-blue eyes shining with excitement, he commanded, “Get me an opal!” An opal? His master didn’t usually use jewels, but Nashi had been placed here for a reason, and that was to serve the blacksmith. He ran into the storage area and sifted through the piles of treasure until he found an opal. Scurrying back to the workroom, he handed it to Gillfaxion and watched with interest as the smith cut and polished the jewel until it was shining like the full moon on a cloudless night. Abruptly, Gillfaxion stood up. “Nashi, go get some sleep. Your services are no longer required.” Well, if his master was telling him to rest, he certainly wasn’t going to complain.
“Thank you, sir!” Nashi bowed and ran on his twig-like legs up the stairs to the room the smith had given him. Gillfaxion, though, had other business to attend to.
* * *
His cloak swirling in the icy wind, the figure ducked into an alley. Listening to the rain pounding around him, he took the jewel out of his pocket and examined it. Good. Still shining. He put his hood up, blocking his face, and walked briskly toward the palace gates.
“Halt!” the guard said, holding his spear in front of the man’s face.
“It is I, Gillfaxion, blacksmith to the king, requesting a meeting with the palace mage,” he said.
The guard grunted. “Proceed.”
Nodding, Gillfaxion walked on through the storm. Stopping to read the ancient Antilian signs, he breathed heavily and took out the stone yet again. He inspected it a second time, and when he was satisfied, he walked farther along the old cobblestone path. Seeing the familiar inscription, he stopped, stood on the mage’s golden doorstep, and knocked on the door.
“Yes?” A voice behind Gillfaxion startled him. He turned around.
“Please, Angthea, you know how I hate it when you do that.” Gillfaxion said.
The mage merely chuckled. “Come, let us step inside,” she said. Once they had settled themselves in her workroom, Angthea said, “So, what is it you require?” Gillfaxion showed her the opal. “I need you to enchant this,” he explained.
“Hmmm…” Angthea examined the shining jewel. “That seems to be in order. What kind of enchantment are we talking about here? I can make whoever wears it irresistible, or—,”
Gillfaxion cut her off. “It’s going to be a power enchantment.”
Angthea nodded. “I should have known; what else would the blacksmith want? Just a moment,” She turned, red hair swirling, and walked into her library. She returned carrying a thick volume called Enchanting Jewelry: Love, Power, and Money. After a few silent minutes of flicking through it, she rolled up her sleeves and began to recite:
By the power of the stars and the moon,
By stella polaris and primus lune,
I give great power to the wielder of this jewel;
The power to fight and the power to rule.
The opal began to vibrate, then glow, then it was absolutely shining, and then it was still once again. “Is that it?” Gillfaxion asked.
“Yes, what did you expect?”
Gillfaxion shrugged. “I don’t know, just more than—,” BONG! BONG! BONG! The chime of the palace clock interrupted them.
Angthea gasped just loud enough to be heard over the deafening bell. “It’s midnight! Hurry,” she cried, “they will close the palace gates soon!” Gillfaxion grabbed the opal and bolted out the door. By the time he got to the gate, the guard was already beginning to close it.
“Wait!” Gillfaxion cried. The guard paused to let him through, then continued. Gillfaxion walked back to his workshop and placed the opal in the place he had saved for it. The sword glowed for a moment, and then went back to normal. Gillfaxion looked at his magnum opus and smiled.