The Ancestor

A puff of stale air breathed past their faces as the stone door was slowly pushed open. The dark chamber stood before them, its inky blackness revealing nothing of what lay hidden within its depths. In the flickering torchlight, the four warriors stood at the chamber’s threshold, silently wondering what lay beyond the stone doorway. Would the room contain the answers they sought, the solution to the problem that was currently devastating their homeland or would it be another empty chamber, another dead end on this seemingly never-ending quest?

Jayden reached out a leather gloved hand and removed one of the wall torches before slowly stepping through the doorway. Slowly, he moved the torch around, allowing the flickering flames to bring light to the darkness. Another torch joined him, the golden light revealing a dusty stone floor undisturbed by human or animal foot. Whatever had been placed in here had lain undiscovered since its internment.

They moved forwards following the glow of the torchlight as it revealed more of the chamber. There were no items of furniture or treasured possessions that one would expect in a burial chamber. No offerings for the gods or payment for the ferryman to transport the soul to its final resting place. The room was as barren as the space in their hearts where hope had once flourished.

The flickering flame of Jayden’s torch picked out the corner of a stone altar. The group advanced further into the room, hesitant in their steps, afraid to hope, to believe. Not even their breaths could be heard as they watched the torches reveal the dusty blue silk and velvet cloak covering the body of a once great knight. The knight’s arms had been crossed over his chest, holding his sword close to his body. Like the cloak, the polished silver hilt, studded with jewels looked as though it had just been placed upon the body of the knight.

In contrast to the richness of the cloak, the knight’s clothes had perished over time. The once fine, white linen shirt was dulled with dust and frayed in parts. Faded stains of colour indicated once rich pattern as worn by those of great status. The finely tooled leather tunic was dry and cracked in places yet still indicative of the wearer’s wealth and position.

“So, this is your ancestor,” Drake commented. “The one who holds the answer to our problems.”

“So the legends say.” Jayden passed his torch to Drake and stepped up to the altar. Slipping off his glove, he tucked it into his belt before reaching out for the cloak.

“Wait!” Drake called out. “Are you sure that you want to do this? The legends also say that if the cloak or the sword are removed by someone who is not Galen’s ancestor that they will suffer the fires of hell and that their souls will wander the earth forever seeking a way across the Blood River. Do you want to risk that?”

“I have no choice, Drake. If I don’t try we’re all dead. If I do then I either die or succeed and we have the means to stop Baltar.” He breathed deeply and looked at his friend. “Let’s see if Grandfather’s campfire stories were true.”

The velvet cloak felt light and silk smooth in his hand as he pulled it away from the body, revealing the white bones of the knight’s skeleton as they peeped through the tattered clothing. He could feel heat travelling up his hand, throughout his body yet it was not the searing heat of the fires of hell that the legends warned of. Emboldened by this, Jayden pulled the cloak away to fully reveal the sword that Galen’s body held. In the flickering torchlight, the jewelled hilt seemed to twinkle with inner fires hinting at the power it was rumoured to possess. This sword, with its jewels and strange carvings on its hilt and leather scabbard, possessed the power to defeat Baltar, something that had so far proven impossible to do so.

“Before you take my sword, young Jayden, you should know the responsibility that comes with it.”

The four warriors started at the glowing vision that appeared on the other side of the altar, their hands automatically reaching for the hilts of their swords. Even though the flesh had long since disintegrated from the skeleton of the knight, it was clear that the vision before them was that of Galen. The white linen shirt seemed the glow in the torchlight whilst the rich colours of its pattern seemed all the more vibrant.

With skin and flesh now covering the harsh features of the skeletal face there was no doubt that this was Jayden’s ancestor. The resemblance between them was striking, from the tawny hair to the glowing amber eyes, even to the slight bump on the bridge of the nose. The warriors relaxed slightly as they waited for the spirit to speak.

“That sword possesses a great power but also a great responsibility. People will look to you for protection and guidance. They will expect you to be there for them whenever they need you. Your life will no longer be your own.”

“I understand that. The elders told me what to expect if I accepted this quest. I am already at the call of my people because if I do not do this, Baltar will win and all will be lost.”

Galen nodded. “Defeating Baltar, though, will not be your only fight against evil. Those serving the dark forces will always seek to defeat you for you, and you alone, will stand in their way preventing evil from taking power.”

“I know that but I will not retreat from my quest nor my duty. I know what must be done and what it entails.”

“Then may the gods smile down upon you, Jayden, and keep you safe. You have my blessing for your quest.”

The vision faded leaving the four warriors alone in the chamber with the barren skeleton, the sword and the cloak. Jayden looked to his colleagues before flexing his fingers and carefully retrieving the sword from Galen’s embrace. The power surge as his fingers gripped the hilt could be felt by all the room’s occupants as white light, dazzling with its intensity, flooded the room. Almost instantly it disappeared, leaving them once more bathed in the soft glow of the torchlight.

Jayden held the sword out in front of him, testing its balance before returning it to the leather scabbard. His fingers brushed his forehead as he bowed his head in respect to the fallen knight before him before turning and facing his comrades, his brothers in arms.

“Let’s do this,” he said before leading the way out of the chamber towards a new dawn in the fight against evil.