A Facet for the Gem by C. L. Murray

that he was not inclined to resume until the question was answered. Grateful for a chance to rest while under the guise of obliging this, he took a few paces back of his own.
    “There is a sword, unlike any other,” said Matufinn. “It has been waiting to be claimed by one of us for centuries. But, all have tried, including myself, and all have failed.”
    “Where is it?” Morlen asked.
    Trying subtly to catch his breath, Matufinn continued. “Beyond the Dead Plains, high in the Dark Mountains, where Morthadus saw the rest of his order fall into mists of black. It is said that Korine the Ancient helped him escape, and left the Crystal Blade for our bloodline to obtain, just as he gave the Crystal Spear to the Eaglemasters. And it sits before the black mists to this day, for one who is worthy of it.”
    “Then I could also go to the Dark Mountains, and try to claim it?”
    Matufinn nodded. “When it is your time.”
    Daring to tread where he knew Matufinn wished to avoid, Morlen asked, “And, you will lead me to the mountains? You will go out, and take me to the sword’s path?”
    Matufinn’s nostrils widened. “Enough rest. It is time to resume.” And he raised his blade, Morlen doing the same.
    They stared one another down, each waiting for some sign to make a move, until both finally lunged at the same time, and their colliding swords sent tremors through the ground. “Why are you so afraid?” Morlen steamed, probing for weakness. “What am I supposed to learn from you, when you test my limits while hiding behind your own?” He swiveled and struck again, only for his attack to be negated.
    “Learn not to be like me,” Matufinn replied, dodging his counter jab. “Be better than I am.”
    Morlen pivoted to thrust out again. “That won’t be difficult. I just won’t surrender as easily as you.” He missed as Matufinn forced him back with a kick to the chest. Stunned from the blow, it was all he could do to stand rooted and lift his sword to absorb Matufinn’s next strike, which stamped a deep imprint of his feet into the grass.
    “I didn’t surrender—I lost.” Matufinn seethed as they stood blade to blade. “I lost my father to the shriekers… I lost Dirona.”
    “Dirona,” Morlen whispered. “I know that name. She was my… mother.”
    Matufinn broke eye contact, and, feeling him ease back, Morlen pushed with all he had left, creating a gap that neither one immediately breached. His glare burned Matufinn, who made him wait long before finally meeting it. And more was told now than all they’d spoken before.
    Then Morlen swung hard, and their blades hit with an echoing blast. But this time, when Matufinn darted to elude him, he followed. They became two swirling leaves in a gust, striking with tremendous speed. Sparks ricocheted left and right while they battled, neither of them yielding.
    “You’re doing it, Morlen!”
    But Matufinn was faster, stronger, and as Morlen struggled to keep up, the familiar jagged touch from his inner chest pocket comforted and reassured.
    “Morlen!” shouted Matufinn, seeing him falter.
    Why not use it as he wished? It could make him strong… invulnerable, even. He wouldn’t have to fear or hurt again as long as he relied on it.
    “Morlen!” Matufinn bellowed louder.
    His stance slackened, and Matufinn swept in before he could deflect, knocking him to the ground. He lay motionless, his entire body completely drained. Then, looking up at the sky, he began to laugh. “When you called us sons of Morthadus, you didn’t mean we were brothers.”
    Matufinn stepped closer, broad shoulders and long cloak casting a shadow over him as he lay flat on his back. “Who are you, Morlen?”
    Morlen struggled to prop himself up, sitting ashamed while Matufinn sought an answer he could not even pretend to have.
    Matufinn let out a heavy sigh. “If you cannot look inward and know now, then you must when you stand before the enemy out there, and the thousands that march