Chapter 409: Parathyan, The Great Artificer

King Alok leaned down and stared at the relic sword closely. “I see, it really is a work of Lord Koval.”

“Koval?” Stryg cocked his head to the side.

Plum’s eyes widened in surprise. “The Unifier?”

“What? You two didn’t know?” Alok said as if it was obvious. “Most of the sigils on the blade are faded, but see the clear sigil at the bottom? The one that looks like two entwined wings and a hammer? That is the emblem of Ebon Lord Koval. Captain Izgerd noticed it when you first drew the blade.”

Stryg stared at the sword in his hand dubiously. “An Ebon Lord made this?”

King Alok nodded, “Lord Koval was a powerful arch-mage and while he is accredited as being the first and only person to have ever unified the Ebon Realm, he didn’t spend his time waging wars or conquering the lands of his enemies; that job was left this right-hand, Lord Veres I. Koval was first and foremost a mage-smith, one of the greatest of his time. He was a student of Parathyan himself.”

Plum stared at the relic sword in awe. “Tauri said the sword was one of the greatest artifacts she had ever seen. Now I understand why.”

“But why was it in that cave and why can’t Plum hold it without the blade cutting her?” Stryg asked, still uncertain of the blade’s origin.

“I don’t know how the blade ended up impaled into the bones of a dragon, but I can hazard a guess,” Alok said. “The ancient stories say Lord Koval was always trying to surpass his teacher, Parathyan. Lord Koval forged many enchanted artifacts and tried countless techniques and spells, in the pursuit of creating an artifact that surpassed Parathyan.”

“And you think this is one of them?” Stryg glanced at his relic sword.

“Where anyone else would have considered that sword a treasure, Lord Koval considered most of his works failures,” Alok explained. “He most likely threw that sword away in a pile of rejects and at some point the ‘failure’ weapon ended up in Vulture Woods.”

Stryg furrowed his brow. “What makes you think it’s a failure? I’ve seen this sword cut through plate armor and rock as if it were grass.”

Alok pointed at the black and white magestones at the bottom of the sword’s pommel, “Do you see that? Those are meant to be Parallel Magestones. It’s a rare concept among brown mages.”

“Two primary magestones instead of one,” Stryg recalled.

“Our friend Tauri explained it to us,” Plum added. “If you had two completely pure magestones you could create Parallel Magestones, which in theory could double the power of the enchantments, yes?

“Precisely,” Alok smiled, happy to share his knowledge with others. “While I believe this sword does in fact have two such stones, the Parallel enchantment seems to have failed, not surprising. Parathyan was the only mage-smith who could ever reliably create such an enchantment. I’d wager this sword of yours, Stryg, was a very expensive failure for Lord Koval.”

“Are you sure it’s a failure? I mean, look.” Stryg swung the relic sword across the ground. The silver blade sliced through the ice and rock in a narrow clean line.

“The blade is quite sharp, its enchantments must be very powerful, but at the end of the day it is a failure,” Alok said sympathetically. “If the Parallel enchantment was working properly then those two magestones would have a bright inner glow, instead they have a dull gleam at best.”

“Even if the enchantment didn’t work, I don’t think the blade is a failure,” Stryg said stubbornly.

“Most people would agree with you,” Alok laughed. “However, I don’t believe Lord Koval would have agreed with you.”

“Wait! If the sword is a failure then is that why I can’t hold it?” Plum asked.

“Well, Lord Koval was infamous for being, shall we say, possessive,” Alok said wryly. “He didn’t like to share his artifacts with those he deemed unworthy, even his broken ones. Like most of his artifacts, I can only imagine Koval set some sort of enchantment spell to prevent others from wielding them. As to why your friend Stryg and chieftain Jahn can hold the sword, I imagine they fulfill some sort of requirement. Perhaps the blade was gifted to Lunis long ago? Maybe only goblins can hold it?”

“I guess it would explain why the sword was in Vulture Woods…” Plum muttered in thought.

Stryg swung the blade through the air a few times and shook his head in disbelief, “If this really is a failure of a sword then what could Koval possibly consider a success?”

“And that right there is the problem with those who pursue perfection, they are never truly satisfied,” Alok said. “If I had to guess, perhaps the scarlet blade, Krikolm? Many historians consider it to be Koval’s masterpiece. Or maybe his war hammer, Oginum? It was a gift to his apprentice, Goldelm I. They say when wielded by a true Goldelm, the war hammer shines with an inner light and exudes power rivaling Krikolm’s.”

Plum looked up at the cloaked king curiously, “An inner light? Do you mean…?”

Alok grinned, “Indeed. Some people believe Oginum holds the Parallel enchantment, but that is only speculation. The Goldelms haven’t gone to war in many years. Their bloodline has grown weak, Oginum’s light no longer shines on them.”

“How do you know so much about House Goldelm?” Plum asked.

Alok chuckled, “You think because I live in the mountains I do not hear the stories and whispers of the outside world?”

Plum winced, “Fair point.”

“Okay, so I think I understand everything you’ve said so far,” Stryg said slowly to the king. “I only have one question. Who is Parathyan?”

Alok lost his balance for a moment and almost tumbled to the ground. “A-Are you serious!?” he shouted in a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“And so what if I am?” Stryg growled.

Plum patted Stryg’s back and laughed nervously, “Sorry, my friend’s education is lacking in some places, he meant no disrespect.”

“How do you not know of The Great Artificer himself?” King Alok sighed deeply and looked around as if the world was watching his great travesty. “Parathyan was the greatest mage-smith to have ever lived.”

King Alok spoke in a reverent voice, “He hailed from the Molten Spires of the Bronze Realm. It was there in those volcanic mountains of precious metals and jewels that Parathyan learned the secrets of flame and stone.” He closed his eyes as if picturing the moment. “So great was his skill that even the simplest of his creations would put arch-smiths to shame, even Lord Koval. It was Parathyan who invented the first chrome gates; a way for prime arch-mages to cross through the Null Realms without the need of the realm bridges.”

Stryg’s ears perked up at the king’s final words. “Are you saying that Parathyan was a prime mage?”

“Oh he was so much more,” Alok said in admiration. “Even the Ebon Lords looked small beside him. Parathyan was one of the few mortals to have ever transcended the domain of arch-mage.”

“No one truly knows how powerful Parathyan truly became,” Plum said in her librarian-like tone. “The stories say he grew so powerful that death itself claimed his life. Which I’m pretty certain is just a fancy way of saying his own magic killed him in the end. Although, some historians believe Parathyan wasn’t even a single man, but several arch-mages working together to create wonders of magic.”

“Parathyan was a man,” the troll king said adamantly.

“Then he died like any man,” Stryg said. “For all his power, he still died…” The thought was sobering. Stryg had wanted power to protect himself and those he held dear, now he wondered if he’d ever reach a point where he’d had enough power to do just that.

“Death comes for us all one day, a lesson Vulture Woods teaches well, is that not right, Stryg?” Alok asked.

“I suppose,” Stryg admitted.

“...Did you know Parathyan visited the Ebon Realm on more than one occasion?” Alok asked. “In fact, he dwelled in this very mountain once.”

“What? Seriously?” Plum said in amazement.

Stryg said not a word, though he listened closely. Something had changed in the king’s voice.

“Even though Parathyan traveled like a man, my ancestor recognized him for what he truly was, power.” Alok turned his back to them and shuffled his feet towards the center of the throne room, his long cloak trailing behind him. “My ancestor offered Parathyan his home and acted as a guide while The Great Artificer dwelled in Grimstone. Moved by the humble troll’s hospitality, Parathyan forged my ancestor a suit of armor. To the Artificer it was a simple gift, but to the troll it was everything. My ancestor named his new armor Frostveil and he used it to conquer the southern Rupture Mountains and forge a kingdom out from nothing but ice and rock.”

“He became the first troll king and it was here that he built his kingdom.” Alok crouched on one knee and stared at the frozen ground with a sharp-toothed smile. “We ruled these lands for hundreds of years, uncontested by anyone.”

“I’ve never heard of this Frostveil,” Stryg said carefully.

“That is because we lost the armor centuries ago,” Alok said angrily, spittle flying out of his mouth. “And who was it that took advantage of our weakness, but Lunis, the Sapphire of the East? They were not content with all they had, no, the Lunisians wanted our mountains as well. We could not stop them from building their city of Evenfall around their ancient sacred temple. Even after the fall of Lunis, we were too weak to stop the Sylvans when they began to take the riches from our mountain.”

“The ore shipments…” Plum whispered in realization.

Alok shrugged his large shoulders, “We did not complain. It is only natural that the weak serve the strong. We gave our ore and in turn, the Sylvans left us alone. My people served because they knew it was the only way to survive. My kingdom gave up hope long ago, our days of glory were behind us.”

Alok stood to his feet, “But I never gave up. I searched for the treasure that we lost so long ago. I ordered my people to delve deeper into the mountain than any king before me, so much so that one of our major mines collapsed.”

Stryg narrowed his eyes, “The skolgul infestation… you caused it?”

Alok smiled coldly, “Necessary sacrifices. My people died for a glorious purpose, as did your last emissary and her guard.”

Stryg didn’t hesitate. He dashed forward before the king’s guards could react. With one silent swipe, Stryg swung the relic sword across the troll king’s back, bisecting him in two.

Except, it did not. The relic sword sliced through the king’s cloak and then a sudden sharp clang of metal clashing against metal resounded through the hall. Stryg felt a heavy force reflect back at him and he stumbled away. His arm felt numb and his muscles trembled with an unfamiliar chilling cold.

The king’s ripped cloak fell on the ground, unveiling a silver-blue armor wrapped around the king’s body. Alok stood to his feet and turned around, revealing countless sigils engraved into the silver-blue metal. A black and white magestone was encrusted on the left and right pauldrons respectively, each glowing brightly in tandem with one another.

Parallel Magestones…?! Stryg thought in disbelief.

King Alok smiled down at the small blue goblin in disgust, “Did you think Koval’s failure could cut through Parathyan’s work?”

The king flicked his hand across the air, sending a blast of elemental cold energy across the room. The blast sent Stryg crashing into the wall, the throne room shaking from the blow. He fell on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. It felt as if a hammer had slammed into his chest.

“Stryg!” Plum ran to him in a panic.

“It wasn’t easy, Stryg. It took many years, many lives, but I finally found it, my treasure,” Alok smiled coldly.

“Wait, please! It’s not too late to stop this!” Plum pleaded. “The Sylvans are your allies! Think of your people! If you do this it will mean war for all of them! Even with your armor, you cannot win against all the Sylvans’ warriors! I have seen their armies gathering in Evenfall. You don’t stand a fighting chance!”

“A fighting chance is all I ever needed and with Frostveil I have so much more,” Alok sneered. “No longer shall we play submissive and docile beneath the heel of the goblins. With the power of Frostveil, the frost trolls shall take back these mountains from you wretched little rats.”

Stryg grabbed Plum’s forearm, though he kept his eyes on the king. “Did you see the tunnel Tauri and the others went through?” he whispered.

“Yea, but the door was blocked off with ice the moment they left,” Plum whispered.

“I want you to run. Run and warn the others,” Stryg whispered.

Plum bit her lip. “But—”

“—Please, Plumela, trust me,” Stryg whispered.

She glanced at the throne room’s passage, blocked by a wall of ice. She looked back at Stryg with uncertainty but nodded nonetheless. “I’m coming back for you,” she squeezed his shoulder tightly and dashed away.

Alok stared at the small drow running across the chamber with an air of boredom. “Where are you going, rat?” he asked calmly.

Plum ignored him and kept running straight at the frozen wall. Flames erupted from behind and above her, and slammed into the wall, melting the ice in a burst of steam. Plum covered her face and ran through.

“Guards, seize her!” Alok roared in surprise.

The guards rushed through the cloud of steam, hammers raised high. Five images of Plum burst out from the cloud, each running into a different tunnel.

The guards glanced at each other for a moment in confusion then split up, each chasing one of the illusions.

Alok chuckled angrily and shook his head, “You’re both mageborns. No wonder the Sylvans had a half-breed and a drow guarding the emissary.”

Stryg forced himself to his feet and grabbed the relic sword. “You’re guards won’t find Plum. She has a knack for staying hidden when she wants to.”

“Do you think I care?” Alok smiled maliciously. “Do you really think Captain Izgerd escorted your friends to their chambers to rest?”

Stryg’s expression grew still. “What did you do to my tribe?” he whispered in an icy voice.

Alok walked over to the throne room’s entrance and stood in its path. “Hm, I doubt either of us will see any of them again. In any case, you were the only one among your group who caught my interest. I wanted to see how Koval’s work fared against Frostveil. Unfortunately, it was more disappointing than I’d hoped. I suppose this fight is already over.”

“You’ll soon find out I am more than an old relic,” Stryg hissed.

Alok grabbed the silver-blue helmet hanging on his hip and placed it over his head. “Good. If you wish to save your friends then perhaps it’d be wise to show me how much more you truly are.”