Skolvor comes

Iskrin sat massaging the salve into his temples as Master An'Dorel had suggested. The balm was pungent and the lavender smell soothed the tightness in his forehead. Whatever else was in it seemed to seep into his skin and numb the pain a little so that his headache subsided to a tolerable level.

The Palace staff had started a fire for him in the hearth, despite the mildness of the season. He liked the cosiness it offered to his small chamber and keeping the door to the outside open meant that the room didn't get too hot. They knew his preferences well and he settled back onto the sofa with a smile.

The sword had been silent for some hours now, he realised, and that too helped with the headache. He was grateful for the respite, but the lack of song and whispering from Ke'ntor concerned him. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, listening to the sound of the water cascading down the cliffs and flowing into the bay.

"He's here." The voice was an unwelcome metallic scraping in his mind.

"Leave me be, Ke'ntor," Iskrin growled.

"He's come for me."

Iskrin sat up. "What are you talking about you infernal blade?" he asked, drawing the hilt from his belt and laying it on the table before him.

"Skolvor is here. I feel him. So... reptilian. So cold." There was pleasure audible in the sword's voice. "You are fun, Iskrin. But Skolvor? Ohhhhh, he is something else."

Iskrin looked at the sword hilt and frowned. "You can feel him?" he asked sceptically, too weary to really fight the sword's intrusion in his mind.

"I feel all those who have wielded me. He hunts you, AmranKai. He wants what you took from him."

"Well he can't have you," Iskrin said, almost petulantly. "You're mine."

The sword's laughter in his mind was like the clashing of steel blades. It was almost painful to experience. "I am my own, Iskrin," the sword chided. "I choose who wields me."

"Things are going to change, Ke'ntor," the elf replied. "I am seeking help to control you. For too long you have caused mayhem and death. You are a tool, nothing more. And I will break your will."

"Not if Skolvor breaks you first, elf."

Iskrin took the sword hilt and placed it back on his belt. "Then there is no time to waste," he said, and headed for the door.