Alternia Comics

So this is actually a story about a character in Mystic Frontiers as told by a character in After the Collapse. How is this possible, you ask? He's a Bard of Subterra. They travel the land telling stories of heroism based on worlds created by their founder, all in an effort to bring hope to their shattered world.

So how, you ask, does their founder know anything about the Mystic Frontiers?

That's a story for another day. For now ...

The World's Greatest Swordsman

"I want to hear one about Ifrai."

The other children stopped chiming in with their requests to look back across the room at the little girl who had spoken up. She sat at a table with her mother, the Mecha Knight who had come to this place with the Bard, and was up on her knees looking over the back of her chair with her wide hazel eyes.

"Ifrai's dumb!"

"No it's not! Dragons are cool!"

"Dragons are dumb!"

"You're dumb!"

"Children, please!" The storyteller's plea silenced the debate before more could join in. He was only a little surprised that the girl who asked for the story had remained silent. Her mother was a Mecha Knight, after all. "We've heard a lot about the World of Heroes. Maybe we can move to the Mystic Frontier for at least one story. Who would you like to hear about, little girl?"

"It doesn't matter to me, as long as there's swordfighting."

"Yeah! Swords are cool!"

"Alright, then, alright." The storyteller swirled his drink in his cup. "How many of you know who Glen Soaringsteel was?"

None of the children knew. He smiled. *HE* barely knew who Glen Soaringsteel was. He was an oddity among Ifrayan characters ... so young, so inexperienced, and yet that made him unique among the powerful heroes he shared the list with. All that had really been established before Cathy's press had been destroyed was that it was his destiny to be the greatest swordsman in the world.

"Eventually he would become the greatest swordsman in all of Ifrai, but even he, just like all of you, was a child, once. This is a story of his childhood.

"Glenn lived in a fishing village along a river named Fletch Kenning with his aunt, a very talented blacksmith." He took a moment to lament the fact that not a single child questioned why ...

"Why didn't he live with his parents?" asked the girl who had first asked for the story.

The Bard suppressed a tear. "His mother was sick when she gave birth, and unfortunately died soon after. His father was an adventurer who had gone to a far away land, and did not even know Glen had been born. But he was very happy with his aunt, who taught him how to make things like swords and armor. He even made his own sword, all by himself, when he was only twelve years old. Every day, Glen practiced with his sword for an hour after waking up and an hour before going to bed. When he was fourteen he was already very good.

"But before he even had a sword, Glen was called upon to be a swordsman."

"That's silly. How can you be a swordsman with no sword?"

"Listen and you may learn, young one. One day, when he was ten years old, Glen was walking through the woods near his home. He heard some noises up ahead, and when we went forward to see what it was, he found a band of nasty, ugly, smelly orcs!

"The orcs were tormenting a small bobcat for sport! They poked it with sticks, kicked at it, pulled on its tail, and try as it might the poor thing could not get away.

"Glen knew he had to do something, and fast! He thought of what his uncle, Andrenas Sherand, would do."

"He' jump in there and carve those dumb orcs up!"

"Of course he would. Andrenas Sherand was one of the greatest warriors in all of Ifrai. But Glen was only ten years old, all alone, and didn't even have a sword. Still, he HAD to help the poor little bobcat. He was the only one who could! He remembered what his uncle had taught him about fighting. 'Weapons are only tools. Lose it, and you still have to win. If you can win with no weapon, you are among the greatest of warriors.' And maybe if HE knew what Andrenas would do, the orcs knew it too ...

"The orcs continued with their cruel sport until they grew tired of it, and one hefted his heavy, sharp axe to kill the exhausted creature. Just then, the branches overhead shook. The orcs looked up, but saw nothing. Then some rocks tumbled down from a small rise to their left. They looked to the left, but still they saw nothing. A twig snapped to their right! Again they looked, and again, nothing!

"The orcs became worried. They circled, backs to one another, watching for whoever might be out there. Then they heard a booming voice echoing all around them say, 'I am Andrenas Sherand, defender of the woods and slayer of foul orcs like you! This is your last chance to run before I come down and kill you all!'

"Everyone knew Andrenas Sherand's name. Some of the orcs ran away in fear for their lives, while the others ran off in search of the famous Ranger, thinking to kill him and earn glory and fame for themselves. Whatever the reason, every one of them left the clearing, the tired little bobcat lying in it all alone.

"Glen had shaken the tree branches. He had piled up the rocks on the rise, and knocked them down with the toss of a stone. He had used a heavier stone to snap the stick, and a hollow log to make his voice so loud. Now he hid in some bushes, and when the orcs were all gone, he ran into the clearing, scooped up the bobcat into his coat, and headed home."

"Well how does that make him a swordsman?" asked one of the children in front of the storyteller.

"Yeah," piped in another. "He didn't even use a sword!"

"Strategy," said the Mecha Knight's little girl, proving once again she was her mother's daughter. "A good swordsman needs a strategy."

"That's right," said the bard. "He defeated a whole band of orcs without striking a single blow. Only a great swordsman could accomplish such a thing."

"I don't get it."

The bard sighed. Maybe "swordsman" had been the wrong word to use. "Hero," "warrior," or something else may have been better, but for Glen, and for some reason, for the girl who asked for the story, "swordsman" felt right.

"Let me tell you another story, then. It might clear things up. Some time later, Glen was out practicing with his sword when he noticed someone watching him. It was the innkeeper's daughter, a girl of about seven named Kreanna.

"'What are you doing?' asked Glen. 'Get out of here!' He was still shy about his sword-practice, you see, and didn't want anyone to watch him at it. Kreanna was startled and ran off into the woods.

"Glen was about to go back to his practice when he heard Kreanna calling his name. He sighed, frustrated that the girl would not leave him alone, and shouted back, 'What do you want, you stupid girl?'"

"Girls aren't stupid!"

"You're right, they're not," the bard assured the girl who had spoke up. "Glen was the one being foolish, which you'll see in a moment. Kreanna called back, 'Help me, please!'

"Now concerned, Glen sheathed his sword and ran in the direction of Kreanna's voice. When he found her, she was hanging by a branch in a swiftly moving stream. Realizing how idiotic and cruel he had been, Glen almost dropped his sword.

"But he didn't. He remembered something his Aunt had told him when he had bent the iron while trying to make his first sword: 'Everyone has messed up in the past. That doesn't mean we can't choose to do the right thing now.' Even so, the water was so wide, and crashing over sharp, dangerous rocks. He was just a little boy, and all he had was his sword.

"But again, he was the only one there. Andrenas wasn't there, his Aunt wasn't there, but HE was there, and he was the only one who could make a difference.

"Glen stopped and took a look at what was happening. The low-hanging branch she was holding belonged to a tree on the far bank, so he had to get over there, first. He found a thin old tree, already dead and about to collapse, and pushed it down across the river. Hanging onto it, he waded across. He found out just how strong the current was, and knew that Kreanna couldn't hold on much longer.

"It took all his strength to hang on, but Glen finally made it to the far side. He took his sword in one hand and the branch Kreanna was hanging onto in the other. 'Hang on tight, Kreanna!' he shouted, and cut the branch from the tree. He dropped onto his back and held on with both hands and all his might. Kreanna screamed as the current started to carry her away, but with the branch anchored to the bank by Glen, she swung back towards the bank, where she was able to pull herself out.

"Glen rushed to her, even forgetting his sword where he had dropped it, and took her in his arms. She was soaked and crying, but safe. 'How will we get back across?' she asked.

"Glen was worried. Home was across the river, and night would be coming soon. Wet as they were, they might freeze out there. They had to get home. 'We have to go back across,' he said.

"'I'm scared,' said Kreanna.

"'I know,' said Glen. 'But we have to. We can't stay here or we'll freeze. Hang onto my back and I'll get us across.

"He was already exhausted, and knew Kreanna had to be, too, so Glen had her tie fasten her belt through his, so even if she lost her grip, she would still be attached to him. Then he stuck his sword in the bank against the tree he had pushed over to keep it from getting swept away by the river."

"Rule number one," the Mecha Knight's daughter recited, "your weapon is your life. Never leave your weapon out of arm's reach."

The bard laughed out loud. "You're right, girl. You're right." His mind raced for a better explanation. "I forgot. I meant to say he used his sword to sharpen some branches, and stuck THEM in the bank to brace the tree." The girl nodded, satisfied, so the bard continued. "Hanging on with all his might, and with Kreanna clutching tightly to his back, Glen started across the river.

"Kreanna was heavy, and the river pushed against the two of them harder than it had just against Glen. The tree held until they were halfway across, and then, even though he had braced it, it gave way and floated away with the current. Glen and Kreanna were left stranded in the middle of the river.

"Glen's feet were just barely steadied on the slick rocks below, and Kreanna was crying again. His plan hadn't worked, but he still had to get across. For himself and for the little girl he had put in danger with his own cruelty, he had to persevere.

"Carefully putting one foot in front of the other, he pressed on. He used a wide stance, like the one Andrenas had taught him for when he needed to be stable and hard to knock down. Bit by bit, he fought to move through the frigid water that was trying to push him over. He thought he might freeze, or catch a fever and die later, but he was determined he would save the girl, even if the effort killed him.

"Finally he got close enough to grab hold of some roots. He pulled up and got his hands on the bank. His arms were tired and out of strength, but there was still one last step - one last thing they had to do. He forced them to move, to pull him and Kreanna up onto the bank. They had made it. They were safe.

"And Glen never spoke harshly to Kreanna again. He let her watch him practice and even taught her a little, himself. When he finally left Fletch Kenning for a life of adventure, she stayed behind to mind her father's inn, but Glen never forgot what he learned that day.

"Even when you make a mistake, even when plans fail, and even when you face your own death, you have to keep going. Once you have made up your mind to fight, you can never give up, no matter how much you doubt yourself or how hopeless things seem, because of those who are counting on you to succeed.

"No one can be a good swordsman without knowing these things."