This is a faithful reproduction of the thoughts
recorded in Makela Leki's memory stone, found in the Bankorai
pass, in the year of reckoning 1E 973. Seven years before
the fall of Orsinium due to the combined efforts of the armies
of Daggerfall, Sentinel, and the Order of Diagna.
Almost all of this is in the first person,
as Makela was unfamiliar with the protocols and scholarly
formalities of recording herself into a memory stone. None
the less, her heroism and heroic deeds live on, her memories
fresh in the stone for all to feel and hear.
" . . . muuu uhh, I wonder if this will
"The Mages guild took me for 25,000 gold
crowns if it doesn't. Imagine? This stone will record my thoughts?
What did they say? Just unwrap it from the silver foil and
leather bag and as soon as it touches my flesh it will begin
"Ahhhh, the pain, I must block it out,
no one would want to hold my stone and hear my thoughts if
I let it record my pain. Thank the Ebonarm and the training
I received in The Hall of the Virtues of War. I CAN block
out this pain. Ummm just, ah, there, it's walled off.
"Yes I can still see it there just beyond
my consciousness lurking like a hungry wolf - a wolf that
will soon consume me. I see also my inevitable death from
these damned wounds. No potions left, the healing crystal
and ring are used up, and me, with not even magic enough to
light a candle. Oh but the gods did give me other gifts, the
gift of sword singing, the thrill of battle, Frandar Hunding's
Book of Circles, THE WAY OF THE SWORD. Ah but then that is
my story, I get ahead of myself.
I am Makela Leki a warrior, a sword-singer,
a second level Ansei. In my cradle I could form the Shehai,
the spirit sword - The mystical blade, mine formed of pure
thought serpents intertwined with vines of roses to form the
blade, as beautiful as ...
Ah, but I'm about to tell you all about that,
to tell you my story, a story of valiant battle, of my loves,
of my wars, of. of betrayal and of this last glorious victory.
To tell you of how I came to this distant lonely pass me and
five companions, to fight these men and monsters to defeat
the army that would fall on my people like cowards in the
night, but again I get ahead of myself.
I am a simple warrior. I grew up as a Maiden
of the Spirit Blade. As early as I can remember I wanted to
be a Singer, to feel the hunger of the blade in my hands,
to feel it come alive and take my enemies. I am told our people
were artisans and poets long ago in our desert homes. Here
in new home now known as Hammerfell, many of us have returned
to those ancient ways, but to me there is but ONE WAY. THE
WAY of the SWORD.
Ah this is hard to tell. I grew up in my noble
family, the only one of three brothers and two sisters that
felt the calling, the Song of the Sword. Father understood,
for he too had felt the call. He had become a master, and
Ansei long before settling down with in our estate to raise
a family. At eleven, I entered the Hall of the Virtues of
War and joined the Maidens of the Spirit Sword. In my band
there were six of us. Daring Julia, solid Patia, big Kati,
svelte Cegila, wise Zell, and me - all are gone now, save
me, and soon I will join them. ... Join them in the halls
of the unknown gods of war.
We drank together, we fought, we wept, we
grew in the way of the sword. We joined in our learnings in
the Hall with our Brothers of the Blade. Learning from each
other, we all sat at the feet of the Hall Master striving
to learn the depths of the Shehai - making the spirit blade
into a real weapon as Frandar Hunding had. Only a few have
the purity of heart and virtue to be able to take the step
and learn the mysteries of Ansei. Sword Sainthood.
Somehow, of all the Brothers and the Maidens,
I only possessed the unique qualities, the faint but strong
enough flicker of magicka to call forth the Shehai. Many times
I called it, seldom would it become substantial enough to
be a weapon. To be a Ansei of the first level you just need
to be able to call it, and that I could, so I became the first
Ansei from our local hall in two generations.
Oh I have so much to tell, so many memories,
so many treasures to share with you, my unknown companion.
How do I start?
Umhhh, the pain is still out there lurking
hungry, slowly consuming what's left of me. I guess I had
better tell of the final battle, the one that has left me
here, and then if I have the will left tell you of my life,
of my love Raliph. Oh what a lad he was. What times we shared
... Ebonarm ... Forgive me, my mind wanders ... Let me go
to the Final Battle.
Umm to start, in the middle humm. Yes. We
Maidens grew, learned, mastered the Way, and upon completing
the Walk-About. To you who are not Singers, this is a wilderness
trek emulating the times of Frandar Hunding - where we each
wander the country side righting wrongs, defeating monsters,
performing quests in the name of virtue. Some of us in our
Hall took years to finish. Always there is danger, we six
Maidens each returned in our own good time, but many are they
who do not live to return from the Walk About.
We returned, each to our own lives, to meet
in the hall once a week to tell our stories to the new Maidens
and Brothers, and to perform as instructors in the Way of
the sword. All was well till the night of the MidYear Festival.
All our people were reveling and ... excuse
... enjoying the repast, but for we six Maidens. It happened
that the festival day fell on our day of meeting in the hall,
our day of prayer and fasting and honor to the Way of the
As we met, late into the night, a knocking
rang on our door. When I opened, it there was a guardian the
Bankorai Pass in the Wrothgarian Mountains, wounded and near
death ... He told us of betrayal from the north, an invasion
sponsored by the Crystal Tower of High Rock, led by King Joile
of Daggerfall -- our ally in the war with Orsinium!
Quickly we used up a crystal of healing in
restoring him to vitality. We sent him on to the king, while
we six grabbed our weapons and armor of power, and as many
potions, marks, and crystals and rings as we could carry.
We flew to the pass hoping upon hope that
we would not be too late. Our journey was not in vain, for
we arrived just at the very point where the last three guardians
were overwhelmed by the horde. Into the pass we ran forming
the old battle line, six abreast.
Oh did we FIGHT.
The Song of the Sword was a joyous noise slicing
through the ranks of evil. We fought for hours. Julia was
the first to fall, a cowardly poisoned dagger finding a rent
in her armor. Then one by one all fell, save me.
... oh cruel Ebonarm ... Then my beloved sword,
the sword of my father, the one with the serpent's crest,
fashioned by the master sword smith Singer Tansal broke in
my hands. All was lost, our six lives spent in vain. Now,
many many of them would pour through the pass. I would be
easy prey for them, like a newborn child. I wept in frustration.
Then I remembered the hearth in our home -
the book. Frandar Hunding's Book of Circles, the Way of Strategy.
I reached for the Shehai the spirit sword, that which I could
never reliably form when I needed it, and behold ... it was
alive. Alive with fire. It formed in my hand. Ablaze with
Oh I slew mightily, right and left, like a
scythe through wheat. All the way to the Lord of the Tower
I fought. With one blow I cut his magical armor asunder, one
more took his head.
But to do that deed cost me dearly, wounds
by the dozen, for although I had magical armor, it was not
formed of spirit like my blade, it was not as invincible as
my blade or my own spirit, and I was sorely wounded.
With the felling of King Joile, his army crumbled.
They fled before my wrath. All ran back through the pass not
even pausing to collect their dead and wounded. All who could
stand ran for their lives, and I slew all I could reach, but
my breath was coming short, and the pain ...
Finally I rested, on this rock where you find
me now. I don't know why I chanced to bring this stone along.
I bought it on a whim really, with the loot from ... ah well
I guess I need to really stop and tell my story in order.
I feel able to go on to tell you more ... the eternal night
is descending more slowly than I thought.
Not just yet, am I ready to compose my death
poem. A little sip of water and ... well I think I will go
back and tell you of my life, maybe some details about the
battle. And Oh yes. About Raliph and our children, humm where
will I start.
... oh ... rrr ...
I am ... a simple warrior ... I grew up as
a, a Maiden of the Spirit Blade ... As early ... as early
as I can ... remember ...
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