The Darkest Sword

the one in mine. Sihtaar, the hell-bender,” Rhadamanthus said casually, but even the name of the creature seemed to pass a shadow over the sun.
Ashiyn narrowed his eyes. He had learned two very important things during this trip. His Master’s insanely strong magic came from him feeding off a dark immortal trapped in his blade. And there was another blade that was stronger.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You shouldn’t be here,” Soryn mumbled as he hurried through the dim corridor of the tower.
Ashiyn followed behind him, unconcerned. He had more important things on his mind than Rurik. “This place is a massive library. Rurik studies all sorts of magic, does he not? He has to have something that tells where this blade is.”
“I need you to go. Come back later,” Soryn grumbled as he scurried around, gathering items. A bag of dust there, legs of a bird next. When he had a hand full of items and had turned to hurry out past Ashiyn again, he yelped as Ashiyn blocked him, moving into his space and backing him against the wall.
Ashiyn leaned on an arm across the doorway, his eyes narrowed. “Do you understand, Soryn? If I can get this blade, I can kill Rhadamanthus.”
“You don’t understand that if I don’t get these ritual ingredients to Rurik, I’ll be the next one he sacrifices, and then I’ll be no help to you, my Prince,” Soryn hissed as he ducked under Ashiyn’s arm and hurried away. “Go home. Come back tonight.”
Ashiyn watched Soryn disappear around a corner with a scowl. He could go back to Rhadamanthus’s castle and come back later as requested. Or he could just have a quick look around himself. If Rurik was busy with some ritual and Soryn was with him, it should be safe enough if he was quick. He looked both ways down the hall, then followed it in the opposite direction. Rurik lived in a massive spiral tower known as a Magus tower. It was designed to improve the flow of magic and aid in ritual magic. Ashiyn had only been here a few times with Rhadamanthus, but he vaguely remembered a room full of books.
He came to a fork where the stairs went both up and down. His magic indicated that Rurik was above him, so he took the stairs swiftly to the lower level. As he entered the room he smirked. That had been easy. Bookshelves full of all manner of books lined this circular room. Discarded volumes lay scattered around the floor, the tables, chairs. How did anyone know where anything was in this disorganized mess? Ashiyn slowed to peruse the titles on the nearest shelf.
“Excuse me? I don’t believe you belong here.”
Ashiyn jumped and whirled around, eyes narrowed and one hand moving toward drawing his blade. At first, he didn’t see anyone. Was he hearing things? “Who is there?”
The air seemed to solidify in front of him and the misted appearance of a bespectacled man in heavy robes became apparent. “I am. Sia, the chronicler. Master of this library.” The spirit adjusted his ghostly glasses and squinted from habit. “You are the Prince.”
“Ah, you have heard of me,” Ashiyn smirked. “If you’re the Master of this library, you can find anything here?”
Sia shook himself, looking offended. “Of course. It is my library. Well organized. Everything in its place.”
“I see that,” Ashiyn grumbled as he nearly tripped over a stack of books. “I hate to trouble you, so I’ll just tell you what I need and be on my way,” Ashiyn started then paused to add, “What my Master needs, I mean. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Rhadamanthus I’m sure.”
Sia gave him a sour look and floated over to a desk. The books moved to and fro at the waving of the ghost’s hands. “What does that creature want now? He should know better than to ask favors of me. I serve his brother, not him. And I only serve Rurik because I must.”
“You know of the celestial blades?” Ashiyn asked, trying to sound casual as he picked up a book.
Sia immediately appeared next to him and yanked the book out of his hands with shocking force for an incorporeal being. “Do not manhandle my tomes. And everyone knows of the celestial blades. Be more specific. Stop wasting my time.”
Ashiyn bit back a retort about the man’s ghostly state and how it would likely last throughout eternity. “I want to know about Sihta--”
“NO! Do not say its name,” Sia warned as the lights in the building flickered. Then he gave Ashiyn an incredulous look. “Do you not know the magics practiced in this building, or the power here? Watch your tongue!”
Ashiyn crossed his arms, scowling. “Do you have a book about it or not?”
Instead of answering Sia turned in mid-air and hovered, staring at the doorway. Then he bowed low to the floor.
Ashiyn felt a chill work down his spine. Rurik had caught him. His mind tried to come up with a thousand excuses why he would be there, but Rurik would be wiser than this ghost and harder to fool.
“Well, it seems my brother has misplaced his pet,” Rurik said as he strolled into sight.
“He sent me…” Ashiyn started but the words died when he met Rurik’s dark eyes. He could see his reflection in those black shining depths, and he looked like a frightened child caught doing something naughty. He stepped backward, away from the priest.
“Do not lie to me, child,” Rurik chided. “Sia, begone. I wish to have a private audience with the Prince.”
Sia made a disgruntled noise, then vanished with an audible pop. The room grew noticeably warmer when the ghost was gone.
Rurik smirked a little and walked closer to Ashiyn. “You play with things you do not understand, child. Your immortality makes you reckless and bold. My brother’s lessons only fuel your arrogance.