The Sword Sworn - 1. Prologue

"The day of choosing is upon us. Be welcome into the House of Andegeth, Saxoph-Lon!" The words were spoken by a tall, well built man. His armor was a shiny black that had a silver sheen to it when caught just right by the sun. A black dragon in flight covered the front of the man's tabard, matching the various dragons embossed into various parts of his armor. He bowed in response to the formal greetings from the Ganath-Khein; even though he felt the whole ritual was completely unnecessary, considering the man was his father. But his mother had insisted and rather then cause a fuss at home, they had decided to give in to her whims. It was easier to keep the peace that way. Apparently the Ganath-Khein felt the same way he did, for his father, Dragon-Lord of The House of Andegeth cast him a wink while personally walking his group through the palatial grounds.

He suspected the man was leading them through the tour because he was in this group. A second guide appeared, taking over his father's spiel. The Ganath-Khein nodded his thanks to the man and dropped back until he was walking next to him.

"Well Garl, the day of choosing is upon us. You know, you don't have to choose our House if you think its temperament would not suit you," the Andegeth Ganath-Khein remarked.

"Don't be ridiculous father, of course I'm joining Andegeth's Soldiers," Garl remarked. Mostly, he was choosing the House because he felt entirely too lazy to join another House. Besides, he couldn't stand the majority of the House Noble’s his age.

His father clapped him heartily on the back, making him wince from the solid blow. "Well said, son. Just remember we stand on formality here," the man remarked. "At least, we do in public."

"Yes, Andegeth," Garl replied with a touch of sarcasm. His father; commonly referred to by his House name, Andegeth, just laughed at him.

"Well then, lad. Shall we continue this tour or would you rather skip it?"

It was a considerate question, considering the heat beating down on them from the midday's summer sun.

"It is a bit hot," Garl admitted quietly. It wouldn't do for the others to hear him whining about the heat. Especially since they already considered him a pompous brat; what with being the son of Andegeth Ganath-Khein.

"Going to get hotter, lad," the Andegeth remarked gently.

Garl winked at his father; gestured with a hand and pulled with his power. A gentle breeze answered his call and began to blow gently, cooling him off a bit.

"You're cheating lad. You know the rules, no magic until all the formalities have been observed."

Garl bit back a groan of protest. He was getting ready to release the spell when his father's hand gently gripped his bicep and pulled him to a stop, turning him until they were facing each other. He watched his father's pale blue eyes turn black and glow with a gentle silver light. It was one effect that being bonded with a dragon had on a person: The coloring of one's eyes tended to change. The fact that the inner light within the black glow was silver just showed how closely tied to the dragons his father truly was.

His father took on the stance Garl and many others frequently called his ‘training stance'. "Take a look, Garl. Not a bad job you did."

Garl did as was requested of him; felt his own eyes changing, shifting through the spectrum between the normal world and his khras, watching as colors became more vivid. He took a close look and examined the lawn, shifting his gaze steadily through-out the area. Parts of it were a vivid pale blue in color with portions of dark blue imprinted on it. A sign that air magic was being used and would last a good while.

"Not bad at all. You've been trained well."

Garl swallowed at the insinuation. It was illegal within the Dragon's Empire to be trained in the arts of the Elements without having one's Ganath first, though most peope tended to overlook the rule when it came to their own children. Andegeth hadn't though. He insisted on obeying the laws of the Empire. Kept the peace better, he frequently said.

"Sheer instinct, father," Garl bluffed. Attempted too, anyways.

"Right. Tell that doting sister of yours that she's done a good job, eh boy?"

Garl blinked, attempted to arrange his facial features in an "I have no idea what you're talking about" expression.

It didn't work. "Right lad, if you insist then. I'll see you tonight at the ceremony?"

Garl nodded. "Of course, father."

"Be well then, my son." His father didn't even gesture; just turned pale blue before Garl's eyes as he lifted into the air and, with a sudden command of magic that left Garl staring in admiration, stole command of the wind from his son and flew away, disappearing quickly from his sight. He couldn't wait to learn to do that!

The evening had been a disaster. No Ganath had chosen him. He had shamed his father, which was perhaps why he was currently hidden from sight within the Andegeth Palace and drinking alone, at least, he thought he was alone.

"Ah Garl, my boy," his father's voice intruded softly upon his thoughts. Garl looked up from the fluted glass with its ruby colored wine, stood and bowed as gracefully as his drunkenness would allow, teetered on his feet and almost fell over. His father caught him, helped him sit back down on his bed.

"You know there is no shame in being Andegeth Tau-Val," his father remarked gently. Andegeth Tau-Val. Dragon Soldier of Andegeth. But more importantly, he wasn't Saxoph-Lon, unclaimed Soldier. His oath of honor had been accepted. He would pound the ground with the Infantry, perhaps even make his way up the rank and gain his own command.

The thought was disappointing to him. He swallowed the contents of the glass, hard.

"Easy m'lad. Many a fair man joined the infantry first, worked their way up the ranks and gained agreement with a Ganath. Do not dishonor those men."

Garl swallowed hard at the rebuke within his father's words.

"Sorry father, but Argeth..."

His father patted him on the back and gently removed the glass from his son. A moment later he was standing and guiding Garl onto his back on the bed. The actions were so similar to when Garl was a child that he didn't even in blink in outrage when his father threw a blanket over him, tucked him in like he was still six and not sixteen.

"Argeth is a freak of nature. Just don't tell your brother I said that. Go to sleep Garl. We rise early in the morning. The servants are packing up the house. We'll be heading back north to the summer grounds. It's getting to be too hot here, and we have summer training."

Garl nodded his head slightly; struggled to keep his eyes open against the alcohol's effect. He felt his father kiss his forehead, found the strength to open his eyes. His father was still standing over him. A silver disc with a black dragon carved of obsidian inset in the center hung in mid air, attached to a chain around his father's neck. He reached out and caught it, fingered the dragon gently. A habit from when he was a small child. It made him smile now. He let go of it and dropped his hand back to the bed.

"In time my son but, not yet," he heard his father whisper. He drifted off to sleep at his father's touch on his head, his hair being brushed away from his eyes.

Fear ran through him. His spine shivered in response. He needed to get past the mud, up the hill. People were dying. He gripped the sword in his hand tighter, struggled against the mud caking the steel greaves protecting his shins. He collapsed into the mud, grabbed at it through his gauntlets. He'd dig his way up the hill if he had too. The Empire needed him. His father needed him.

A shout from above had him rolling over, avoiding the sword thrust at his back. A clash of steel on steel. He rolled again, scrabbled against the mud. He needed to get up.

There! Something to hold on to. He grabbed it. Bit his tongue to hold back the scream he wanted to let out as he dropped the head that had been separated from someone's body. He plunged his gauntlet covered hands into the mud. Something needed to be done. Grasping at the power that felt like a knot within his stomach, he pulledat it, forced the power into heat. A mere second later that power flashed through his hands and into the blood-caked mud. Dried it in mere seconds. Feet scrambled around him and finally found purchase. He heard someone holler their thanks. Someone else told him to get up; keep moving or they'd flay his hide, son of the Andegeth or not...

They weren't supposed to know he was there. He wasn't supposed to be there.

He shook his head and berated himself for allowing his thoughts to become distracted. He yanked his hands out of the dirt and ran the rest of the way up the hill, ignoring the screams that were accompanied by the clash of steel on steel as the fighting continued.

He froze when he reached the top, horrified beyond disbelief by what he saw. His House was too late. The fields outside the city were piled three to four bodies high in places. He watched as a flash of fire shot from the Tower wall, tore through the horde that was screaming their way toward the outer walls.

If they took the walls; took Vrangen Tower, they would take the city next. He cast his eyes beyond the outer walls, past the Tower; saw the city shimmering in the distant heat. Troops were marching from the city itself toward the Tower walls, reinforcing the troops staving off the Horde.

He wished he was back in the city, safe with the women and other children; with his family. He was too young for this. That thought made him cringe in shame. His family was out here. He looked up as the midday sun became blocked by a massive shadow that moved across the ground, joined by several others. A cheer tore from his lips as he spotted the dragons flying low overhead, talons gleaming in the light of the sun.

Horns sounded, confirming his vision. The black Ganath, Dragons of House Andegeth, were joining the battle. More horns sounded in the distance from the barbarian horde. He watched as they formed into organized ranks. Shields came out; followed by spears. The sight made him frown. Something was wrong, he just didn't know what. A horn sounded near him, followed by another and another. He dropped his sword and covered his ears, then promptly berated himself. He had just made a novice mistake. He leaned down; went to pick it up.

That novice mistake saved his life. A flash of heat brushed his back and heated up his armor through his clothes. He cringed with pain and dropped to his knees, thinking a sword had just run him through. It was far worse than a sword though. Screams rang in his ears as something exploded behind him. He whirled on his feet and landed on his ass, hopped back into a crouch a second later as he took in the sight of men burning around him. Another fireball followed by another soared overhead on both sides of him, struck more men.

Bloody hell! He hadn't even known the barbarians could control elemental magic!

"Move your bloody arse lad, damn it!" a gruff voice shouted.

Hornbeck, the gruff man in charge of the infantry unit he had joined at the last moment, slapped his helmet a moment later, knocking him onto his back as another fireball blasted overhead a second later. The man had saved his life. "Fool idiot," Hornbeck roared. "And someone do something about those bloody mages they got down there!"

Right. Why weren't the dragons aiding them?

Garl turned and scrambled back up the hill that he hadn't been aware of falling down, froze once more as he reached the top. At least this time he had the sense to drop to his belly so he could observe what was going on. The dragons were fighting. Just not on the ground. Wyvern's had appeared; were battling the dragons claw to claw in an aerial battle. Another fireball reminded him he couldn't afford to be distracted. He had time to see a wyvern lock its teeth around the neck of one of the dragons, hind legs that were hanging stiffly in the air a moment ago lowered and raked into the dragon's side; leaving huge gashes as those sharp claws tore into it. A second later it swung its barbed, poisonous tail to the side and rammed it into the rider's back, pinning the rider momentarily to the dragons’ back. He heard the dragon scream as the rider died, didn't even notice as a tear slid down his cheek.

There would be much mourning later for that rider. Perhaps even the dragon, if it didn't survive.

That was about all of the aerial battle that he saw. Another fireball tore through their ranks and reminded him that there were more pressing things to worry about; like staying alive.

He tore his eyes from the overhead battle and stared into the barbarian horde below him, looking for... There, almost directly in front of him was the center mass of the horde, guarded closely by men. The flutter of red cloaks further aided him in identifying the source of the fireballs. To his dismay, he found that it was more than one source. They seemed hell bent on keeping back the infantry coming at them from the side, because the horde guarding them moved aside just in time for the red-cloaks to bombard the hillside. The red-cloaks weren't that coordinated though.

They were all aiming at Hornbeck's position.

Who was right next to him!

Garl reacted as his training had taught him. Most mages needed a source for their elemental spells. Some few were powerful enough to use the sources found within various aspects of the world. Garl was one of those mages who couldn't do that, at least as far as he knew. But he was extremely desperate. He called upon the power deep within his belly and pulled with as much mental might as he could, asking the Dragon he had yet to claim for whatever aid he could get as his power responded to his will. Part of the area in front of them began to shimmer and then stretched. The moisture within the air solidified into water and froze, forming a section of wall behind and to the side, repeated the process over and over until the wall thickened.

The wall of ice was built just in time as the fireballs blasted into it. A crack formed within the wall, melted and refroze as Garl pumped energy into it.

"Bloody hell, lad! Good timing!" Hornbeck shouted his approval, thumping him on the back.

Garl didn't respond. Several more fireballs smashed into the wall. He couldn't keep it up and with dismay watched as it shattered. He kicked energy into heat and the air, used the heat to melt the ice quickly; the wind reshaped the water into long streams, blew it toward the fire mages. He refroze the water, watched as the spears of dagger and ice gutted barbarians with no discrimination.

"Follow it up lad!" Hornbeck shouted.

Garl didn't think. He just followed his orders and his own instincts. He hopped to his feet, used the sun as his source and sent a fireball following after his first attack. Followed it up with two, four, eight, sixteen and thirty two more fireballs. Exhaustion made him dizzy, he swayed on his feet and dropped to a knee, watching as his fireballs tore through the ranks of the horde and into the mage ranks.

Horns blared through the air. Cheers sounded around him. He looked up and spotted more dragons flying in. They tore through the wyverns, descended on the barbarians and unleashed blasts of fire onto the horde.

Then Hornbeck was pulling him back and telling him to take a breather before his father caught sight of him; he'd done a good job that day.

The battle was over and the dragons would clean up whatever was left alive on the field. The thought made him gag. He'd killed people that day. He turned and puked; ignored the shouts of Hornbeck's disgust and the amused, slightly hysterical laughter that followed from the Soldiers of Andegeth surrounding him. When he was done throwing up he looked around, saw the proud looks on the faces of those around him as they all looked at him in turn, giving him smiles and winks. He'd gained recognition that day.

He was proud, happy. He was Garl Andegeth Tou-Val, Dragon Soldier of House Andegeth.

She was the most beautiful thing in the world. Her raven colored hair flowed in cascading curls down her back, high-lighting pale blue eyes that sparkled in the sun. The fact that her belly was bulging with their unborn child only made her more beautiful to him. She was Kyla, the most beautiful wife anyone could ask for; he was lucky to have her. Their child would be next in line to the Emperor's seat.

But that was a selfish thought. The Dragon knew what he was doing. He just hoped that he would have time with his child; that his child would never be as busy as Kyla's father always appeared to be. But he had to go. Duty was calling him. He was twenty eight, had his own command now. He needed to inspect the new ranks; the time of choosing was over and they would be leaving on the morrow for the northern lands.

The Time of Choosing. He smiled. In 16 years and a month, his own child would be going through the Time of Choosing. The thought excited him. How he wished he could just make the child be born right now.

"Do you have to leave, Garl?" Kyla asked, pulling him from his thoughts. Her lips pushed out briefly, pouting. Oh how he hated that look on her face.

"Yes love. I have a duty. I'll be back shortly," he whispered, promising.

She smiled at him, but shook her head anyways. "You always say that. Don't make promises you can't keep love," she responded.

Garl leaned over, brushed his lips against hers. "Then I promise I'll be back this eve. I love you," he told her solemnly. He meant every word with all his heart.

He set out for the Andegeth Palace. Garl had every intention of being back with his lovely wife before the sun-dial showed noon. His plans didn't work out though. Between all the new recruits who had joined his father's House, the most honorable house within the Empire, and many of the old recruits and Soldier's who should have known better then to be out drinking the entire night before, his day turned into a nightmare. Especially when it was discovered that most of the feed had spoiled and several horses had hoof-rot. Feed had to be replaced and new horses secured to replace the ones that couldn't be saved.

To his frustration, Garl didn't get back to the Imperial palace until after the sun had set. He was just about ready to enter his chambers and change into more formal clothes so he could join his wife and her family when a fireball erupted down the hall and nailed a Soldier standing at post full in the face; the explosion knocked Garl off his feet. Chaos erupted!

He banged his head into the doorway. It knocked him unconscious, most likely saving his life. He came to briefly, felt someone touching his chest when another voice told whomever was touching him to leave the body, they had an Empire to take over. Anyone else left alive could be slain afterthe Imperial Family was slain. A kick to his face sent his head knocking slamming into the wall. His last brief thought for a moment was that his nose was broken before his wife entered his mind, pleading for help. He couldn't help her though. Darkness took him.

He woke up to people screaming. The sound of steel clashing against steel rang everywhere within the palace. Another plea from his wife for help reached him. He struggled to his feet, tore into the doorway that led into their apartments and grabbed his sword from the wall. He didn't even use the door to get back out again, just gathered his power and smashed through the wall like it didn't exist. Right into the backside of a barbarian.

Garl swung his sword in one fair stroke; removed the barbarians head. Then he sprinted through another wall and into the upper levels of the grand foyer of the Imperial Palace; stopping long enough to aid a few other guards embattled toe to toe with...

Barbarians! Here, in the Imperial Palace? The thought was unthinkable to him. It angered him. He heated up the blade of his sword, sent it through a scrawny neck, cauterizing its wounds sealed. He fought like a possessed demon, barely able to see from the dark tint that filmed over his eyes. He was barely aware of that brief battle ending; of taking charge of the Imperial Troops. He needed to get to his wife and her family. But they would be safe; his family was with them in the grand ballroom.

When he looked he found that the main foyer was packed toe to toe with guards and barbarians,. He wasn’t going to be able to make it through them, and he certainly couldn't aid them with his magic. To do so would kill everyone on both sides of the fight. He was only willing to do that if he had no choice in the matter. The men and women of the Houses’ were not expendable. A scream from within the grand ballroom made him change his mind. He blasted the grand foyer with a fireball and leapt over the side, swung his blade at anything moving that looked like it wasn't on his side and sprinted through a door that was half open; right into the biggest, messiest battlefield of his life.

Most of the guards were dead. The Imperial family was barely hanging on at the far end of the hall. His own mother and father were embroiled in the fight. They stood in line with what guards were left standing, fending off twenty to thirty armed barbarians. Garl didn't think about it. His wife was in danger; being guarded by her parents. She herself guarded her younger adopted brother, a long-sword grasped tightly between both hands, fending off blow after blow from the few barbarians who were managing to make it through.

Garl didn't complete his charge into the rear of the barbarian lines. Something else stopped him in his tracks.

House Andegeth troops. At least, that's what they appeared to be. At their lead was a familiar face that shouldn’t have been there. That face had died eleven years ago It turned on him, winked, then a hand was raised and before he could think to take a breath and scream a warning, a flash of fire tore through the barbarian horde and engulfed his parents, the Emperor and his wife.

Andegeth troops turned on him; he found himself fighting for his life with the Imperial Troops that he'd brought with him, whirling and turning where he stood, meeting blade with blade. A sweep of his blade through one Andegeth tore off the man's hand and sent the man's blade spiraling through the air. He caught it with both hands, whirled and spun, desperate to get to his wife and her brother.

He could see the blood staining her blouse as she fought like a dragoness, desperate to protect her adopted brother; desperate to... he swallowed. She was no longer his wife, she was the bodyguard to the, as yet, uncrowned Emperor.

And why wasn’t he doing anything! He just stood there. Too scared to move.

Garl didn't understand; why had members of his House turned on the Empire. What could possibly be gained by such a move?

He tore through the last of the Andegeth troop he faced just as his wife struck down her opponent. Aside from his harsh breathing, silence seemed to reign within the ballroom.

"Kyla," he gasped. Relieved that she was still alive. Horrified that his family and her parents were dead.

"Garl," she whispered. Her voice was beautiful, strong even in its despair.

That man wearing a face that was so familiar yet unfamiliar to him descended from the skies of the ballroom and struck a clean blow right through her chest. His next strike struck the flat of his blade against the young man’s side; the blow knocked the boy across the room.

Garl leapt into the air; grasped his power and flung himself across his room; right into the armored man's chest. The armored man was wearing the ceremonial hooding and mask of Andegeth Ganath-Khein. The man twisted and turned aside from the blade Garl meant to skewer him with; he grunted as Garl crashed into his midsection with a shoulder. They both crashed into the wall. Garl pulled back. He was going to skewer this traitor who appeared to be his dead brother, whomever he was. A roar from outside the palace echoed his emotions; distracted him.

A blow landed hard against his chest; another to his stomach knocked him off the man. Garl didn't feel the pain as he was hurled through the air; landed on his back.

The man started laughing a bone chillingly deep familiar laugh that had no hint of sanity to it.

It was a laugh that belonged to a man who should have been dead his first battle. A man that he had seen pierced through the back by a wyvern's tail with his own eyes.

"It is done; House Andegeth belongs to me and so does the Empire," the man's voice was loud, harsh; it filled Garl with pain, burned his ears. How he had mourned over that voice over the years. And yet, it just wasn’t possible!

Garl couldn't move. Didn't understand why until he realized a blade was sticking out of his stomach. It didn't hurt; not as much as watching his own wife and child slain before his eyes had hurt. He was dying. The man was moving onto the raised balcony; kneeling over his father. Garl watched as the man pulled Andegeth's Seal from his father's neck.

Garl swallowed against the harsh pain in his throat, feeling angry with his inability to do anything. The Empire was dying before his very eyes.

The agony was too much for him. The world exploded around him in a torrential fire-storm that destroyed most everything in the room. His heart was roaring in his ears, echoing the roar of a dragon somewhere close by.

"Andegeth is yours? You want it after having cast dishonor upon your House? I will kill you, on my dead wife's body and in the name of my unborn son!" Garl screamed; letting his pain out. He didn't realize it when he got to his feet; didn't feel the fire tearing into his body.

The world was growing dim to his eyes; he was barely aware of it when he pulled the blade from his body and spun into the air; hurled into the man and tore Andegeth's Seal from the man's limbless hand. He grasped the Seal to his stomach; felt the cold amulet against his bleeding stomach. His armor had been torn and shredded.

His blood touched the Amulet. Outside a chorus of dragons' bugled their anger in harmony. Strength poured into him.

"I stand witness," A youthful voice answered his sworn words of vengeance. A sword swung at the man's head. The man moved. But the sword still struck a blow; tore the ceremonial hood and mask of House Andegeth from the man's head.

The man whirled and grabbed a hold of the boy, spun again and threw the young man into Garl.

The great doors of the Emperor's court flew open. Walls cracked and broke open as the other House's broke through to the courtroom.

"Why-" Garl started to ask.

"You will stand witness, a bastard of the Empire?? Oh how rich! Then stand witness! All of you!" The man interrupted, "I am the God-King! I shall tear this Empire apart. The world you have ruled for so long shall be mine, and you all shall die! Only the strong shall rule!"

Flames roared up around the man and then died. The roar of anger echoing from the throats of dragon’s outside the palace grounds abruptly died.

Garl looked away from where the man had stood, found his young brother-n-law staring at him. He couldn't find any words to say to the youth. Spoke the only thing that came to mind.

"Andegeth is mine. I will kill him, I swear it," Garl swore fervently. His eyes were growing heavy. He could barely keep them open. "I swear it on my honor; on my dead wife... On my dead son... I will kill him!"

The uncrowned youthlooked at him. A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes as several attendant’s hurried to Kyla’s body and carried it away, then all trace of emotion was wiped away.

"You would have Andegeth, then? You have no Honor. Your House has no honor. Honor has been lost, yet you swear it anyways. All for revenge? So be it; I name you Garl Andegeth; Ganath-Khein of House Andegeth; Dragon Lord of House Andegeth. Go to war then; just get the hell out of my House!" The youth said, his first words the act of stripping a House of their honor, turned away; angry, upset and hurting.

Garl laughed bitterly. His laugh stopped the young man, had him turning in his tracks to look at him.

"I am no Ganath-Khein. You name me wrong. I am just Khein of House Andegeth," Garl announced.

The youngster looked at him, raised an eyebrow. A voice invaded his mind, invaded all their minds; he could tell from the looks of surprise that crossed their faces.

“He names you rightly, Ande-Gol; Rider of Mine. Come back to us. You are dying. It is not yet your time. We have much to do. We must-."

"Go to war," Garl announced. Heard and felt the power being used. The whole city heard his announcement. "The traitor's name will not be tolerated within my presence. I will kill any who use it. He has shed much blood this day. I..."

"Then go forth, Andegeth. I name you Ganei of Vrang-Ganath. Warlord, the Sword of the Empire. Become a Blood Lord, if that is your will. I do not care! But pretty words get nothing done! Now get out!"

Garl looked past the uncrowned Emperor; spoke to nothing that was there. "I accept," Garl whispered. He stared the young man in the eyes and asked a final question, "Do you?"