Excalibur

I awoke when I felt the presence of my master near. He opens the door to the small, circular stone room. The light from the window behind him on the stone castle wall casted over my shining steel form. The closer he got to me the more alive that I feel, like the blooming of a flower that waited through a frigid winter for the warmth of the sun. His eyes are stranded over me with apprehension of what I can only assume is pre-battle jitters.

"It is time again, my old friend. They've been laying siege to the outer walls of the city for nearly a fortnight. And I’ve been informed that it is most likely the proper time to mount a full counter assault. They'll be needing me on the battlefield."

Although I couldn't speak, he knew that I responded to him as I warmed up as he stroked the cool steel of my blade and grabbed my handle. He held me forward in the light and I reflected his bold face back onto him like a mirror.

"It's like I can remember the first day that I ever laid eyes on you. And the day that I pulled you from that wretched stone that was your prison, Excalibur." I trembled slightly in his hand.

Unlike my master, I did remember the day he pulled me from the stone. I remember every day of my life in the most pristine detail.

I remember every moment and image from the moment of my creation. It was several millennia ago. I had no memories prior to coming into the quasi-conscious state that I am. I have no memories of what must have been my life before I was reborn. I know not a face, neither name nor family.

I only remember a moment of great fire as I was pulled from the furnace, molten iron glowed like the fires of hell as a delicate hand moved me to a vat of ice cold liquid. I cooled instantly, and then moved again to a stone table that glowed with powerful magical runes. I heard slow, rhythmic, melodic chants in a language I did not know. Power and electricity flowed through me, cold hands waved over me as sprinkles of blue fire danced around me like whimsical fae through the forest. A smooth, primeval voice like that of an ancient goddess whispered to me.

Excalibur

My mother quickly took her hands to my hilt and raised me toward the heavens. A bolt of lightning struck me. It reverberated through my entire essence, it fueled me. She laughed with wicked glee as she brought me to her palms and gazed at my splendor. She noted the magnificent cursive runic etchings on the surface of my face. She bound my hilt in black leather slowly. And then placed me back on the stone table next to three similar looking swords, my brothers Durendal and Clarent, and my sister Joyeuse. I was not with my siblings for very long, my mother soon gifted us to the most powerful kings in the realm.

Since then I've seen many masters. I've seen the waxing and waning moons, so many changes in the seasons. I've seen the genesis and topple of civilizations. The rise and fall of many warrior kings and queens in the wakes of war have keened me to the taste of blood and flesh and the stench of death. It is so thrilling.

Fast forward to the present day, the allure of war has beckoned me to the battlefield once again. The King took me immediately to the very edge of the wall, the outer walls of the fief were constructed to discourage the entrance of unwanted beings. I've been hearing the whispers of a siege on the walls for several nights in the corridors in the candlelight. It occurred to me with joy that I would finally get to see bloodshed after so long of being withheld.

The King rode mightily in front of his amassed strike force, no more likely than a thousand soldiers bearing armor with yellow, red, and black banners and shields depicting the royal crest. The massive gates opened up and men spilled through like a flood of sweat and iron. The savage warriors lay encamped in the clearing below near the break of the forest line. Horns of alert sounded in the camp as many kilted warriors accumulated in a line before use.

And finally breaking the silence, with fiery passion the King bellowed

"CHARGE!"

The opposing factions clashed instantly, the wind kissed my face harshly as I dropped swiftly through the air into the mosh. With ease I lopped the savages' head from their broad shoulders. I whizzed again through the thick fog of dust to meet another sword, a loud metallic clang rang out. Soon the rioting of iron and stone against steel and wood was like an immaculate symphony of primal rage. The conviviality of the action was palpable in the heat of the moment as the King dismounted his horse with gusto, landing on the body of a savage that had stumbled. With such force he thrust me into his chest. I could feel the point of my brand pierce his heart. His blood was thick and rich like syrupy liquid ichor and so sweet, like fresh strawberries.

In that moment, I felt a familiar spirit brush up against mine for the slightest of moments. One of an old friend. A brother.

Clarent

The Aura of his being was similar to mine only he was filled with more animosity. Where as I savored the taste of blood like a sweet nectar, Clarent let his rage be fueled by it entirely. He was, stronger than me by far, albeit I had much more grace.

The battle raged on for almost an hour more before I felt Clarent again. The forces of the savage warriors had thinned extensively. The King of course had suffered no more than a few scratches. He walked the line slowly as I guided him through the carnage towards Clarent. I needed to meet him in battle, the potential experience was too thrilling to pass up.

The savage brandishing him was at least twice the size of the rest of his compatriots. His muscles bulged obnoxiously in his arms and legs as pure adrenaline was created, primeval rage was fed to him through my brother. He hadn't changed much in the millennia that we'd been apart. He had a darker tint to him than I did. His blade was chipped in some places.

The savage soldier romped towards us with the intensity of an angry wildebeest, Clarent was raised high in the air posed to strike down. The King smiled and met his saunter and threw his arm up defensively to let me deflect the power of my brother's attack right across my edge across his body and to the ground. I figured that I would be able to handle it with no problems, but the strike of his edge against mine felt like a thousand fires burning right in my core. The King heaved my weight up across the warrior. I managed to bite a gash right across the brunt of his chest. Thick, almost black blood seeped from the wound onto the ground.The grass where the blood touched it was smoking.

The savage let out an inhuman roar like that of a lion. His leg moved like a blur and kicked the King's leg with enough force that I was sure I could hear the cracking of his tibia clearly over the sound of the iron war symphony. He let out a yelp of pain, and moved to a knee. Clarent drifted skyward again for another strike. I knew the King wasn't going to be able to defend himself. So of my own accord I threw his arm up with my weight to defend the cleaving blow.

The pain of the first blow was multiplied tenfold. I felt a crack crystalize a fourth up my body. I vibrated violently. Never had I felt such blazing inferno across my essence before.

In a moment of desperation and primal speed, the King lept up and knocked the warrior with enough force to knock him back. He leaped up, just time for Clarent to come rocketing toward me again.

That moment, in the collision of Clarent and I. My blade shattered in two pieces. And the flame that I had been feeling died immediately, my body froze as my vision doubled and grew darker. I could only see long enough that I felt the King jump around the warrior's back, twisting his arm with so much force that he dropped Clarent and the King reached up and raked my sharply shattered edge across his meaty neck. I could feel tendons and veins rupture and a river of blood flow over my broken form. A little bit of energy flows through me again for enough time to feel the King's pained but triumphant howl of victory. Soon he was quiet,

"Thank You. My old friend. You've served me well, you've lived a great life. Be free, weary soul." he whispered.

It was odd to think I would finally be free of this sword prison, and I was glad that death had come at the expense of saving the King. He'd been my favorite master.

The world that used to be so bright and filled with magnificent colors faded slowly, the symphony of war I had so been accustomed to hearing played progressively and progressively softer as everything faded to black...