"The Sword of the Warrior"
Sep. 28th, 2004 06:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glacier_kittyI am writing a story called "The Sword of the Warrior," and when I'm finished writing it I wanna get it published. People who have read what I have so far say it's as good as Tolkien or Robert Jordan. That's pretty cool. In fact, I'll post it here so you can enjoy reading it! It's really fun to write, I love writing stories cause you can make anything ya want happen and make it believable. I love creating new worlds. Anyway, enjoy what I have of my story!
There was no movement on the streets of Newlisi; indeed it was much too hot for that. The bright summer sun beat down on the city fiercely, making the streets as hot as a fire in a forge. Not even a bird flew. On usual days, people went about their daily work, and the sound of hammers could be heard all over the city, making swords and other tools. But on this day, you could literally hear a pin drop.
This provided the perfect opportunity for Morgan Jessin. Morgan was barely 12 years old and very curious for his age. He had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He had brown pants and a white tunic, stained from playing in the mud all the time. His boots were brown also, and came up almost to his knees. He had piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. He wore a wooden sword on a belt around his waist. Morgan loved swords and anything to do with them. He longed to be a warrior. But he was too young, and his mother defiantly wouldn’t approve. His father, though, was a warrior himself. Morgan wanted to follow in his footsteps.
That’s what brought him outside on this sultry day. He wanted to see the Sword of the Warrior. He knew where the Sword was from his father. When his parents thought him asleep, they talked about things Morgan was to young to understand. But one starry night he heard his parents talking, and that’s when he first heard of the Sword. He asked about the Sword the next day, saying he heard rumors about it. His father firmly told him the Sword was confidential and a secret to anyone but the best of warriors. His father threatened him, saying if he told anyone, he would have no dinner for a week. Morgan kept his promise, but never got the thought out of his head. He waited three long years for just the right moment, and this day was it.
Morgan was thinking about that day three years ago when he rounded a corner and suddenly the building was before him. It was of medium size. The windows were tinted to make it seem like an ordinary building that didn’t want the bright sun coming in.
Morgan’s palms were sweating as he crept up to the building, and he wiped them on his pants. Morgan moved as slowly and silently was he could. After all, he didn’t wait 3 years to get caught. After a few agonizing minutes, he found himself standing by the building. Morgan waited for a few minutes to see if anyone had seen him, but nothing stirred. Even in this heat, if he had been caught, someone would’ve seized him and taken him somewhere. Morgan didn’t know or want to know where.
His purpose in being there was to see a warrior training with the Sword. It would be a great honor, because only a gifted few people had access to the Sword. Even fewer had actually seen it outside the building. No one had actually seen anyone training with the sword, though.
Morgan cautiously looked through the tinted window. All he saw was an open tiled floor. He despaired. The Sword has to be here! Morgan thought. But then Morgan realized it was too easy. It had to be hidden. But where? Nowhere in the building could it be hidden; it was all open.
Morgan ducked as someone walked in the room. Whoever was in there probably wouldn’t suspect someone watching, but he moved to a shadowed corner just in case. He could still see the person, but the person couldn’t see him. Then, he person drew a sword out of his sheath. It was huge, and made the tall person seem short. The person held the sword out in front of him for the longest time, giving Morgan the perfect opportunity to look the sword over. Most of the sword looked ordinary, but then Morgan’s eyes widened. Engraved on the hilt was a sword pointing down into fire, the symbol of the warrior.
Morgan had seen the Sword.
Morgan wondered who was holding the Sword and thought how lucky he was. Suddenly the warrior called, “Alisgaih, about to train!” After a few seconds, another voice yelled, “Go ahead, Alisgaih.”
The warrior now known as Alisgaih started twirling the sword, while Morgan watched him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Alisgaih started the beginning of a twirl, but in mid twirl he switched hands. That was amazing, Morgan thought. I wonder how long it took him to learn how to do that.
Morgan watched for hours as Alisgaih did amazing things with the sword, things that no ordinary person could do.
“I want to be just like him,” Morgan muttered, not concerned about being caught anymore. It was getting dark, but Morgan didn’t notice. Then, suddenly Alisgaih disappeared in a cloud of smoke. He reappeared behind Morgan, and he let out a yelp. This was his first up close look at Alisgaih. He had short blonde close-cropped hair, and green eyes that could pierce through anyone. His clothes were simple-brown pants and a grayish-brown tunic, black boots, and a long, flowing brown cape that he wasn’t wearing before. His face was bathed in sweat. The Sword was nowhere to be seen.
“What are you-” Alisgaih started, then stopped when he looked at Morgan closer.
“Oh! You’re the son of Kalub Jessin. Please, forgive me. How long have you been watching me?”
“Since you first started training,” Morgan said in a quiet voice.
“You are so glad no one caught you. Well, it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. You’re Kalub’s son.”
Morgan thought he would explain why that was so important, but he didn’t. He said instead, “Would you like to see the Sword?”
“Yes! Thanks!”
Alisgaih made a snapping sound with his fingers, and they both disappeared in a cloud of smoke. In half a second they were inside the building.
“How did you do that?”
“If you become a warrior, like your father, you’ll learn how.”
Morgan looked up at Alisgaih, and noticed his cape was gone, but he was holding a sword.
“I would let you hold it, but it would burn you because you’re not a warrior.” Alisgaih must’ve felt his disappointment, because he said, “I would be happy to twirl it for you.”
Morgan watched as intently as he did earlier, even though Alisgaih went slower. But, after a few twirls, he stopped. “You should be getting home. Your parents are probably wondering where you are.”
“But…”
“You can come here anytime, Morgan. You’re Kalub’s son, remember?”
Morgan still didn’t understand why that was so important, but he kept quiet. Alisgaih showed him out the door. Morgan waved, and Alisgaih returned it. Alisgaih watched him walk down the street until he was just a black speck.
“What a curious little kid,” Alisgaih mused. “Just like his father.” Alisgaih chuckled quietly to himself and went back into the building.
Morgan thought about the events of the day as he walked home. The one thought that kept tugging at his mind was his father. Why was he so important? He was a warrior, yes, but Morgan couldn’t understand why he was so revered. As Morgan walked up to his house, he decided to put aside the matter until tomorrow, when he could think clearer. Morgan walked up the steps to the porch, and opened the door. No one in Newlisi locked there doors; there was no need to. Morgan had a pounding headache as he walked inside. He barely has put one foot inside when his parents rushed up to him.
“Where have you been, Morgan? You never stay out this late.” Kalub said in a commanding voice.
“I have a headache. I want to go to bed.”
Kalub looked him over, and then nodded. “He looks like he’s about to fall over,” he said to Shay, Morgan’s mother. “Go on Morgan, we’ll talk about this in the morning.” When Morgan was away, Kalub said to Shay, “There’s something that worries me. Did you see the excitement in his eyes? Not even his tiredness could mask that.”
“I saw, too, Kalub. As you said, let’s talk about it in the morning.” Kalub nodded, still thinking of the unusual excitement in Morgan’s eyes as he drifted off to sleep.
Running, running. Morgan didn’t know how long he had been running for, or who he was running from. He just knew he should run. He saw a bridge up ahead, and knew he should get there if he was to live. Just as he got to the bridge…it disappeared. Morgan tried to jump across the river to hide in the trees, but just as he jumped across the trees disappeared as well and was replaced by a brick wall. Morgan almost crashed headlong into it, but he put his hands out to keep him from doing so.
Morgan fell backwards…almost into the lava. Where the river had been, lava took its place. Morgan felt an excruciating pain. His left hand had been broken by the impact of the wall. Morgan bit his lip and was about to jump over the lava when he saw a figure on the other side. He couldn’t make out what it was, but its presence chilled him to the bone. He felt himself scream then. The figure drew a sword…
Morgan awoke with a start. It was still dark outside, but the faint tinges of dawn appeared on the horizon. Morgan was relieved he had only been dreaming. Morgan went back to sleep. It was only a dream. What harm could dreams do? And he was curious to see what would happen next.
…The figure drew a sword, which was sparking red. Morgan pounded on the wall with his good hand, knowing his efforts were probably useless, but trying was better than doing nothing. It was indeed pointless, and he was hurting his hand more than anything. Morgan remembered the wooden sword on his belt, and drew it…only it wasn’t wooden, it was real. Morgan hacked at the wall with the sword as hard as he could, but shattered the blade.
Morgan was trapped, weaponless, and in a lot of pain. Morgan was helpless as the figure advanced. He heard a noise, and looked over to where it was coming from. Morgan’s jaw dropped. His sword was putting itself back together! Morgan picked up the sword. It was amazingly light, which was good because he didn’t have much strength left. Morgan prepared to parry as the figure swung his sword. He closed his eyes and waited for the attack…and awoke suddenly with a hand on his shoulder.
“Dad, I was dreaming. I wanted to know what would happen next,” Morgan said, stretching.
Kalub sat down on Morgan’s bed. “What kind of dream?”
Morgan took a deep breath, and said, “Well, first I was running, but didn’t know why. I saw a bridge spanning a river, and my instincts told me I should get to the bridge or I would die. As soon as I got to the bridge, it disappeared. I jumped across the river to hide in the trees, but a brick wall appeared. I couldn’t stop, and I was going to smash my head against the wall, so I put my arms out to prevent that from happening. I fell backwards, almost into the river, except it wasn’t a river anymore; it was lava. I got up, and found out that my left hand had been broken from hitting the wall. I bit my lip to hold the pain back, and was about to jump over the lava when I saw a figure, blacker than night. It chilled me, right to the bones, and I screamed. Then I woke up.”
“That’s it?” Kalub asked.
“No. I wanted to know what would happen next, so I went back to sleep.
Kalub nodded. “Go on, then.”
“As soon as I closed my eyes, the dream started right where it left off. The figure advanced, and drew a sword that sparked red. I then pounded on the wall in desperation. Nothing was happening, so I drew the wooden sword I always wear on my belt. But it wasn’t wooden; it was real. I beat at the wall with the blade, but it got shattered. I then knew everything was hopeless, so I sat down against the wall and waited for my death. I heard a faint noise, and looked to see what it was. It was my sword, putting itself back together. I felt hopeful, so I got up and picked up the sword. It was incredibly light for being wielded with one hand. I held the sword out in front of me, waiting for the figure to attack. Then you woke me up.”
Kalub was silent for a moment, absorbing what Morgan had just said. Morgan was the first to break the silence.
“Uh, dad, can I go back to sleep to finish the dream?”
“NO!” Kalub almost screamed the word.
“But, dad, it’s just a dream, and dreams can’t hurt anyone.”
“I said no. It’s time to get up. Go on.”
Morgan sluggishly slid out of bed, got dressed, and then ate some cheese and bread. When he was done, he put on cloak, then said, “Mom, dad, I’m going to see Fimber. Be back tonight! “
“Isn’t that girl getting tired of you?” Shay asked. She didn’t get an answer, though, because Morgan was already gone. Shay shook her head and went back to her work.
As Morgan walked to Fimber’s house, he passed the building where the Sword of the Warrior was held. He peered into the window, but no one was training. I’ll come back later, Morgan thought to himself. I want to see Alisgaih again.
Morgan started walking again, and soon he was on the path that led to the woods. Fimber lived at the edge of the woods. She loved nature, especially trees. Morgan soon found himself staring at a little log house, with a huge garden in front. Morgan walked up to the door, and knocked. After a few moments the door opened, and a girl stood there. She was of average height, and had short brown hair. Here tunic and pants were all sorts of greens and browns. She was wearing no boots. Her dog, Elly, brushed past Fimber to Morgan, wagging her tail excitedly. He patted her and said, “Hey Fimber.”
“Morgan! So nice to see ya! What’s up?”
“I would like to take you somewhere, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“I promise. Where are we going?”
Morgan looked around, then said, “To see my friend Alisgaih.”
“Alis-who?”
“You’ll see.”
Fimber nodded reluctantly, then started walking. When she noticed Morgan wasn’t following, she stopped. “What?”
Morgan looked at her as it was obvious. “Boots?”
Fimber looked down sheeplessly. “Oops,” Fimber blushed, “would ya like to come inside while I put them on?”
Morgan nodded, and they both walked inside. It smelled of pine, and Morgan breathed in deeply, savoring the smell. Fimber laughed, and blushed a deeper shade of red when she noticed him. Fimber walked to her room, and walked out carrying a pair of brown boots.
“Do those smell like pine, too?”
Fimber gave a hearty laugh, and said, “no, but they do smell like sycamore!”
They both burst out laughing then, and Fimber pulled her boots on. Morgan looked disappointed. “But…you’re not going to let me smell them?”
This time Fimber threw her arms around his waist and whispered into his ear, “Later, Morgan. I promise.” Then she kissed him. Morgan turned a deeper shade of red than Fimber had, and followed her to the door.
“Wait. Shouldn’t you tell your parents?”
“They’re gone for a week.”
Good, Morgan thought. They won’t get in our way.
“You lead the way, Morgan. I don’t know where we’re going.”
“Oh, I bet you have seen it, but didn’t pay any attention to it. I bet you’ve passed it everyday on the way to the city,”
Fimber looked annoyed. “What does it look like already?”
If Morgan noticed the harshness in her voice, he ignored it, because he said, “it has tinted windows, and is next to Newlisi Forge.”
Fimber’s face brightened. “Oh, yeah, I have seen that building! I’ve never seen anyone go in or out of it, though. Kind of strange.”
“I’ll show you why when we get there. Let’s go.”
Morgan walked ahead, and soon Fimber caught up to him. It was nice and breezy, and the heat of the day before was little more than a memory. They were silent as the came upon the building, and passed it as if they were going somewhere else, then turned down an alley next to the building.
“There’s no use hiding if someone’s in there; they can sense you, so I’m going to see if anyone’s in there. If not, I’ll tell you the building’s purpose.” Morgan walked over to a shadowed spot where no one on the street could see him, and peered into the window. It was empty. Morgan walked back to Fimber.
“It’s safe. Now I’ll tell you what this building is. It holds the Sword of the Warrior.”
Fimber’s mouth dropped open. “The Sword that practically no one’s seen?”
Morgan looked at her in surprise. “How do you know about the Sword? I thought it was supposed to be a secret.”
“It is. But remember when I was at your house the time I said I had to go to the bathroom and was gone for about 15 minutes?”
Morgan nodded.
“Well, Kalub had someone over, and I really wanted to know what they were talking about, so I listened through the door. I still remember what your dad said.”
“You ready to be a warrior, Malron?”
The man Kalub named Malron said yes.
“Then remember this: The Sword of the Warrior is to be a secret between the warriors.” Fimber paused.
“I half expected Malron to ask why, but instead he supported Kalub.”
“Yes, Kalub. No one’s really seen it, and we would like to keep it that way.”
“And why?”
“The Sword was last seen by the regular people at the Battle of the Lands, 1000 years ago, when the Ancient Peoples ravaged the lands and fought each other because no one could decide what land belonged to whom.” Fimber stopped.
“I stopped listening to them then and went back to find you.”
“The Battle of the Lands? My dad tells me what happened then all the time. You can still see the some of the effects of what happened today. But he never said anything about a sword…”
“I had never heard of the Battle of the Lands until then. I tried to ask my parents what happened there, but they just said “a battle” and ignored any other questions I had about it. I eventually forgot about it, but once you brought up the Sword I remembered his words again.”
“Would you like to know what happened at the battle?”
Fimber nodded, and they both sat down. Fimber sat up straight and leaned forward, attentive as Morgan started.
“This is what my dad told me. About 1,000 years ago, there were only three clans living-the Bakerwells, the Highlanders, and the Dallos. Three doesn’t seem that many, but there were about 500 people in each clan. The Highlanders lived in the hills and highlands of Glendel. The Dallos lived in the treacherous Highspike Mountains, and the Bakerwells lived on the plains of Baker, where their name came from.”
Fimber interrupted Morgan. “I’ve been to the Highspike Mountains! Very pretty with pine trees and lots of lakes. The lakes are so pretty and so clear that you could see the bottom if it was 50 feet deep.”
“My dad’s also been to the Highspikes, and he always comes home with a rusty sword each time.”
“Fimber looked confused. “Morgan, if you want a real sword so much, why don’t you just ask Kalub for one of the swords he found? He probably has plenty anyway.”
Morgan sighed. “My dad won’t let me. He said it’s too special and historical.” Morgan said in a mocking voice and rolled his eyes. “He won’t let me have a sword until I’m 15 anyway. He said my wooden sword was good enough till then.” Morgan suddenly stood up and drew his sword, and held it up like a victorious warrior. “I’m Morgan Jessin! Fear me!” Morgan tried to put his best battle look on, and Fimber burst out laughing, then stopped and looked towards the street.
“Look.”
Morgan looked, then gasped. The few people on the street were bowing to him! Morgan flushed red from anger and shouted, “Get up! I’m not a lord or a king! Get up!” No one moved. Morgan put his wooden sword back in his belt and motioned to Fimber. “We’re leaving. Let’s go.”
Someone must’ve heard him, because he said, “No, don’t go! I’m honored to be in your presence! I…” Morgan didn’t hear the rest because he was already turning the corner to another street. Morgan walked till he got to his favorite inn, The Shining Sword, and sat at a table with Fimber.
“Ah, Morgan and Fimber are back again! Drinks? They’re on me. Leah Rosel, the innkeeper, said. She was very fond of Morgan and Fimber and enjoyed seeing them. She was young, tall, and very beautiful. If Morgan wasn’t with Fimber and if he wasn’t so mad, he would’ve been blushing.
Fimber nodded, and when Leah walked off to get the drinks, Fimber said, “now will you tell me more of the Battle of the Lands, my lord?”
Morgan opened his mouth to day something, but Leah returned with their drinks. “Enjoy,” Leah said, and walked off to help her other guests.
“Cheers, my lord.” Fimber said, raising the glass.
“Shut up, Fimber.”
“Lighten up, Morgan.” Fimber said with a laugh. “It suits you…Lord Morgan.”
“Yeah? How would you like to be called something you weren’t, Lady Fimber?”
“Oooh, I like it! Can you call me that all the time, my lord?”
Morgan fingered his sword, but got a splinter. Morgan pulled his hand back and let out a quiet yelp. It was all Fimber could do to keep from laughing.
“That bloody hurt!”
“No wonder you can’t have a real sword yet. Just think what would’ve happened if it was sharpened steel instead of wood?”
“You’re not helping, Fimber.”
“Please, call me Lady Fimber. It fits me well.”
Morgan just glared at her.
“Aw, come on, don’t you like to have fun? It’ll be our joke, just between the two of us.”
Morgan’s face brightened. “Oh, OK, as long as it’s just a joke. Lord Morgan with a wooden-soon-to-be-steel sword and Lady Fimber with a…”
“Bow and arrow.”
“Yes, a bow and arrow.” Morgan eyed his drink. “Let’s drink, Lady Fimber.”
She nodded, and they both drank till there was nothing left.
6 years later
Morgan walked along the deserted streets, barely breathing. He knew his destination, and was eager to get there, but he knew he had to be careful. He was going to see Alisgaih. Morgan hadn’t been able to see him after that time six years ago. His father had finally decided to teach him swordfighting, and that took up most of his time. Morgan was now one of the best fencers in Newlisi, and could even make swords. He taught Fimber how to swordfight, and had been thinking of marrying her.
But what Morgan was pining for the most was to be a warrior. Then he could hold the Sword of the Warrior and fight with the famous Newlisi Knights. It was said they were almost undefeatable in battle, and if you were to fight one on one with one, it was said that no trace would be found of that person after.
The most famous of the Newlisi Knights was Alphonse Krieger. 500 years ago Alphonse and his army of 300 defeated an army of 5,000 rebels from the Steel Mountains. Even to this day no trace of them has ever been found.
I in two weeks Kalub was taking Morgan and Fimber to the Steel Mountains to try and find something of the rebels. Kalub thought he knew where they were. Morgan was also going to ask for Fimber’s hand in marriage.
Morgan was thinking of how he was going to do that when he peered around a corner, but before he could do anything else he felt a hand on his shoulder. Morgan drew the knife he kept in his sleeve and spun around so quickly the other man almost fell. When Morgan saw who he was, he groaned and sheathed his knife again. “Sorry Master Palyen.”
Master Palyen owned Dragon Forge, where Morgan worked now. Master Palyen composed himself again and said, “What did I tell you about going off on your break?”
“You gave me two hours. I thought…”
“I don’t care what you thought. I have you two hours because you’re the best sword maker I have ever seen and you deserved a break. You have ten minutes to get back, or I’ll make you wish you had never picked up hammer and steel!” With an annoyed grunt, Master Palyen stalked off, and when he was out of earshot Morgan groaned and muttered, “Will I ever get any free time?” Morgan realized he was wasting precious minutes, and started walking back. Five minutes later he crossed the tiny courtyard and opened the door to the forge and stepped inside.
It was deserted.
Morgan looked around in confusion. “Hello? Master Palyen? Drangmar? Anyone?”
Drangmar was the captain of the Newlisi Knights and had been for nearly a decade. Before being promoted to Captain, he served as soldier for 15 years. His efficiency at slaying the enemy earned him a lot of respect. He was also one of Morgan’s fencing teachers and stopped by the forge once a day.
Morgan studied the room closer and saw Drangmar’s broadsword and shield. He never went anywhere, even a walk across the street, without the sword on his hip and the shield across his back. What was…?
A scraping noise in a shadowed corner of the forge cut off Morgan’s thought. He drew his sword then, the steel making a soft metallic sound as Morgan slipped it out of the sheath. He held it aloft in from of him, and said in the firmest voice he never though possible, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
After a moment, the person stood up and stepped into the light. No, not person, thing. This thing had black spikes from head to foot, and looked as sharp and hard as steel. They even shined like steel. The thing seemed to have no head; just the fierce-looking spikes. It wasn’t the spikes that drew Morgan’s attention, though. It held in its hand the fiercest looking weapon Morgan had ever seen. Well, if he could call it a weapon. It was more like a mix of all the weapons ever created, even from Alphonse Krieger’s time. He couldn’t begin to describe it, but it had the same black spikes as the thing.
Then, without warning, the creature attacked. Morgan barely got out of the way of the creature’s weapon, and it smashed the wall instead. Immediately, there was a blinding flash of orange and white, and Morgan had to shield his eyes. The flash lasted only a second, and when Morgan looked back to where the wall was….there was nothing, not even pieces lying on the ground. Then Morgan gaped in surprise.
The creature was still there.
Morgan ran then, ran as fast as he ever had in his life. At first he didn’t know where he was running to, but then he knew. He thought the creature would either be afraid to cross water, sink in from its weight, or have no idea what to do. Morgan was headed for the Black Dragon Bridge, spanning the Newlisi River. There was also a forest beyond the bridge, and he hoped he could hide in the trees’ dark foliage.
The bridge wasn’t far, and Morgan ran full speed for a reason he didn’t know. Suddenly the bridge disappeared. Morgan knew he couldn’t stop, and had no time to be surprised. Morgan ran even faster, and when he was a foot away from the water, he lifted off the ground with a mighty leap. Morgan was almost to the safety of the other side, when the trees suddenly disappeared and was replaced by the hardest wall Morgan had even seen. On impulse, Morgan put his hands out to brace the impact of the wall. His hands smashed into the wall full force, and he was thrown backwards.
Morgan felt a heat like he never felt before, and stood up quickly. The river had turned to lava! Morgan felt an excruciating pain, and looked at his hands. His right was severely bruised, but his left was broken…bad. He bit his lip against the pain and was about to jump across the lava-a death defying stunt-when he saw the creature again. But this time it looked…different. It was all black, and was floating an inch above the ground. Its eyes blazed orange, and had horns on its head. The only reason Morgan knew he was the same creature by the weapon it carried. It was the same one that destroyed the wall of the forge earlier. Then the weapon changed right before his eyes. It was now a sword.
"Surrender your soul to the gods of steel. In the blood of the fallen the enemies kneel!"--"The Way of the Warrior," HammerFall
There was no movement on the streets of Newlisi; indeed it was much too hot for that. The bright summer sun beat down on the city fiercely, making the streets as hot as a fire in a forge. Not even a bird flew. On usual days, people went about their daily work, and the sound of hammers could be heard all over the city, making swords and other tools. But on this day, you could literally hear a pin drop.
This provided the perfect opportunity for Morgan Jessin. Morgan was barely 12 years old and very curious for his age. He had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He had brown pants and a white tunic, stained from playing in the mud all the time. His boots were brown also, and came up almost to his knees. He had piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. He wore a wooden sword on a belt around his waist. Morgan loved swords and anything to do with them. He longed to be a warrior. But he was too young, and his mother defiantly wouldn’t approve. His father, though, was a warrior himself. Morgan wanted to follow in his footsteps.
That’s what brought him outside on this sultry day. He wanted to see the Sword of the Warrior. He knew where the Sword was from his father. When his parents thought him asleep, they talked about things Morgan was to young to understand. But one starry night he heard his parents talking, and that’s when he first heard of the Sword. He asked about the Sword the next day, saying he heard rumors about it. His father firmly told him the Sword was confidential and a secret to anyone but the best of warriors. His father threatened him, saying if he told anyone, he would have no dinner for a week. Morgan kept his promise, but never got the thought out of his head. He waited three long years for just the right moment, and this day was it.
Morgan was thinking about that day three years ago when he rounded a corner and suddenly the building was before him. It was of medium size. The windows were tinted to make it seem like an ordinary building that didn’t want the bright sun coming in.
Morgan’s palms were sweating as he crept up to the building, and he wiped them on his pants. Morgan moved as slowly and silently was he could. After all, he didn’t wait 3 years to get caught. After a few agonizing minutes, he found himself standing by the building. Morgan waited for a few minutes to see if anyone had seen him, but nothing stirred. Even in this heat, if he had been caught, someone would’ve seized him and taken him somewhere. Morgan didn’t know or want to know where.
His purpose in being there was to see a warrior training with the Sword. It would be a great honor, because only a gifted few people had access to the Sword. Even fewer had actually seen it outside the building. No one had actually seen anyone training with the sword, though.
Morgan cautiously looked through the tinted window. All he saw was an open tiled floor. He despaired. The Sword has to be here! Morgan thought. But then Morgan realized it was too easy. It had to be hidden. But where? Nowhere in the building could it be hidden; it was all open.
Morgan ducked as someone walked in the room. Whoever was in there probably wouldn’t suspect someone watching, but he moved to a shadowed corner just in case. He could still see the person, but the person couldn’t see him. Then, he person drew a sword out of his sheath. It was huge, and made the tall person seem short. The person held the sword out in front of him for the longest time, giving Morgan the perfect opportunity to look the sword over. Most of the sword looked ordinary, but then Morgan’s eyes widened. Engraved on the hilt was a sword pointing down into fire, the symbol of the warrior.
Morgan had seen the Sword.
Morgan wondered who was holding the Sword and thought how lucky he was. Suddenly the warrior called, “Alisgaih, about to train!” After a few seconds, another voice yelled, “Go ahead, Alisgaih.”
The warrior now known as Alisgaih started twirling the sword, while Morgan watched him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Alisgaih started the beginning of a twirl, but in mid twirl he switched hands. That was amazing, Morgan thought. I wonder how long it took him to learn how to do that.
Morgan watched for hours as Alisgaih did amazing things with the sword, things that no ordinary person could do.
“I want to be just like him,” Morgan muttered, not concerned about being caught anymore. It was getting dark, but Morgan didn’t notice. Then, suddenly Alisgaih disappeared in a cloud of smoke. He reappeared behind Morgan, and he let out a yelp. This was his first up close look at Alisgaih. He had short blonde close-cropped hair, and green eyes that could pierce through anyone. His clothes were simple-brown pants and a grayish-brown tunic, black boots, and a long, flowing brown cape that he wasn’t wearing before. His face was bathed in sweat. The Sword was nowhere to be seen.
“What are you-” Alisgaih started, then stopped when he looked at Morgan closer.
“Oh! You’re the son of Kalub Jessin. Please, forgive me. How long have you been watching me?”
“Since you first started training,” Morgan said in a quiet voice.
“You are so glad no one caught you. Well, it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. You’re Kalub’s son.”
Morgan thought he would explain why that was so important, but he didn’t. He said instead, “Would you like to see the Sword?”
“Yes! Thanks!”
Alisgaih made a snapping sound with his fingers, and they both disappeared in a cloud of smoke. In half a second they were inside the building.
“How did you do that?”
“If you become a warrior, like your father, you’ll learn how.”
Morgan looked up at Alisgaih, and noticed his cape was gone, but he was holding a sword.
“I would let you hold it, but it would burn you because you’re not a warrior.” Alisgaih must’ve felt his disappointment, because he said, “I would be happy to twirl it for you.”
Morgan watched as intently as he did earlier, even though Alisgaih went slower. But, after a few twirls, he stopped. “You should be getting home. Your parents are probably wondering where you are.”
“But…”
“You can come here anytime, Morgan. You’re Kalub’s son, remember?”
Morgan still didn’t understand why that was so important, but he kept quiet. Alisgaih showed him out the door. Morgan waved, and Alisgaih returned it. Alisgaih watched him walk down the street until he was just a black speck.
“What a curious little kid,” Alisgaih mused. “Just like his father.” Alisgaih chuckled quietly to himself and went back into the building.
Morgan thought about the events of the day as he walked home. The one thought that kept tugging at his mind was his father. Why was he so important? He was a warrior, yes, but Morgan couldn’t understand why he was so revered. As Morgan walked up to his house, he decided to put aside the matter until tomorrow, when he could think clearer. Morgan walked up the steps to the porch, and opened the door. No one in Newlisi locked there doors; there was no need to. Morgan had a pounding headache as he walked inside. He barely has put one foot inside when his parents rushed up to him.
“Where have you been, Morgan? You never stay out this late.” Kalub said in a commanding voice.
“I have a headache. I want to go to bed.”
Kalub looked him over, and then nodded. “He looks like he’s about to fall over,” he said to Shay, Morgan’s mother. “Go on Morgan, we’ll talk about this in the morning.” When Morgan was away, Kalub said to Shay, “There’s something that worries me. Did you see the excitement in his eyes? Not even his tiredness could mask that.”
“I saw, too, Kalub. As you said, let’s talk about it in the morning.” Kalub nodded, still thinking of the unusual excitement in Morgan’s eyes as he drifted off to sleep.
Running, running. Morgan didn’t know how long he had been running for, or who he was running from. He just knew he should run. He saw a bridge up ahead, and knew he should get there if he was to live. Just as he got to the bridge…it disappeared. Morgan tried to jump across the river to hide in the trees, but just as he jumped across the trees disappeared as well and was replaced by a brick wall. Morgan almost crashed headlong into it, but he put his hands out to keep him from doing so.
Morgan fell backwards…almost into the lava. Where the river had been, lava took its place. Morgan felt an excruciating pain. His left hand had been broken by the impact of the wall. Morgan bit his lip and was about to jump over the lava when he saw a figure on the other side. He couldn’t make out what it was, but its presence chilled him to the bone. He felt himself scream then. The figure drew a sword…
Morgan awoke with a start. It was still dark outside, but the faint tinges of dawn appeared on the horizon. Morgan was relieved he had only been dreaming. Morgan went back to sleep. It was only a dream. What harm could dreams do? And he was curious to see what would happen next.
…The figure drew a sword, which was sparking red. Morgan pounded on the wall with his good hand, knowing his efforts were probably useless, but trying was better than doing nothing. It was indeed pointless, and he was hurting his hand more than anything. Morgan remembered the wooden sword on his belt, and drew it…only it wasn’t wooden, it was real. Morgan hacked at the wall with the sword as hard as he could, but shattered the blade.
Morgan was trapped, weaponless, and in a lot of pain. Morgan was helpless as the figure advanced. He heard a noise, and looked over to where it was coming from. Morgan’s jaw dropped. His sword was putting itself back together! Morgan picked up the sword. It was amazingly light, which was good because he didn’t have much strength left. Morgan prepared to parry as the figure swung his sword. He closed his eyes and waited for the attack…and awoke suddenly with a hand on his shoulder.
“Dad, I was dreaming. I wanted to know what would happen next,” Morgan said, stretching.
Kalub sat down on Morgan’s bed. “What kind of dream?”
Morgan took a deep breath, and said, “Well, first I was running, but didn’t know why. I saw a bridge spanning a river, and my instincts told me I should get to the bridge or I would die. As soon as I got to the bridge, it disappeared. I jumped across the river to hide in the trees, but a brick wall appeared. I couldn’t stop, and I was going to smash my head against the wall, so I put my arms out to prevent that from happening. I fell backwards, almost into the river, except it wasn’t a river anymore; it was lava. I got up, and found out that my left hand had been broken from hitting the wall. I bit my lip to hold the pain back, and was about to jump over the lava when I saw a figure, blacker than night. It chilled me, right to the bones, and I screamed. Then I woke up.”
“That’s it?” Kalub asked.
“No. I wanted to know what would happen next, so I went back to sleep.
Kalub nodded. “Go on, then.”
“As soon as I closed my eyes, the dream started right where it left off. The figure advanced, and drew a sword that sparked red. I then pounded on the wall in desperation. Nothing was happening, so I drew the wooden sword I always wear on my belt. But it wasn’t wooden; it was real. I beat at the wall with the blade, but it got shattered. I then knew everything was hopeless, so I sat down against the wall and waited for my death. I heard a faint noise, and looked to see what it was. It was my sword, putting itself back together. I felt hopeful, so I got up and picked up the sword. It was incredibly light for being wielded with one hand. I held the sword out in front of me, waiting for the figure to attack. Then you woke me up.”
Kalub was silent for a moment, absorbing what Morgan had just said. Morgan was the first to break the silence.
“Uh, dad, can I go back to sleep to finish the dream?”
“NO!” Kalub almost screamed the word.
“But, dad, it’s just a dream, and dreams can’t hurt anyone.”
“I said no. It’s time to get up. Go on.”
Morgan sluggishly slid out of bed, got dressed, and then ate some cheese and bread. When he was done, he put on cloak, then said, “Mom, dad, I’m going to see Fimber. Be back tonight! “
“Isn’t that girl getting tired of you?” Shay asked. She didn’t get an answer, though, because Morgan was already gone. Shay shook her head and went back to her work.
As Morgan walked to Fimber’s house, he passed the building where the Sword of the Warrior was held. He peered into the window, but no one was training. I’ll come back later, Morgan thought to himself. I want to see Alisgaih again.
Morgan started walking again, and soon he was on the path that led to the woods. Fimber lived at the edge of the woods. She loved nature, especially trees. Morgan soon found himself staring at a little log house, with a huge garden in front. Morgan walked up to the door, and knocked. After a few moments the door opened, and a girl stood there. She was of average height, and had short brown hair. Here tunic and pants were all sorts of greens and browns. She was wearing no boots. Her dog, Elly, brushed past Fimber to Morgan, wagging her tail excitedly. He patted her and said, “Hey Fimber.”
“Morgan! So nice to see ya! What’s up?”
“I would like to take you somewhere, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“I promise. Where are we going?”
Morgan looked around, then said, “To see my friend Alisgaih.”
“Alis-who?”
“You’ll see.”
Fimber nodded reluctantly, then started walking. When she noticed Morgan wasn’t following, she stopped. “What?”
Morgan looked at her as it was obvious. “Boots?”
Fimber looked down sheeplessly. “Oops,” Fimber blushed, “would ya like to come inside while I put them on?”
Morgan nodded, and they both walked inside. It smelled of pine, and Morgan breathed in deeply, savoring the smell. Fimber laughed, and blushed a deeper shade of red when she noticed him. Fimber walked to her room, and walked out carrying a pair of brown boots.
“Do those smell like pine, too?”
Fimber gave a hearty laugh, and said, “no, but they do smell like sycamore!”
They both burst out laughing then, and Fimber pulled her boots on. Morgan looked disappointed. “But…you’re not going to let me smell them?”
This time Fimber threw her arms around his waist and whispered into his ear, “Later, Morgan. I promise.” Then she kissed him. Morgan turned a deeper shade of red than Fimber had, and followed her to the door.
“Wait. Shouldn’t you tell your parents?”
“They’re gone for a week.”
Good, Morgan thought. They won’t get in our way.
“You lead the way, Morgan. I don’t know where we’re going.”
“Oh, I bet you have seen it, but didn’t pay any attention to it. I bet you’ve passed it everyday on the way to the city,”
Fimber looked annoyed. “What does it look like already?”
If Morgan noticed the harshness in her voice, he ignored it, because he said, “it has tinted windows, and is next to Newlisi Forge.”
Fimber’s face brightened. “Oh, yeah, I have seen that building! I’ve never seen anyone go in or out of it, though. Kind of strange.”
“I’ll show you why when we get there. Let’s go.”
Morgan walked ahead, and soon Fimber caught up to him. It was nice and breezy, and the heat of the day before was little more than a memory. They were silent as the came upon the building, and passed it as if they were going somewhere else, then turned down an alley next to the building.
“There’s no use hiding if someone’s in there; they can sense you, so I’m going to see if anyone’s in there. If not, I’ll tell you the building’s purpose.” Morgan walked over to a shadowed spot where no one on the street could see him, and peered into the window. It was empty. Morgan walked back to Fimber.
“It’s safe. Now I’ll tell you what this building is. It holds the Sword of the Warrior.”
Fimber’s mouth dropped open. “The Sword that practically no one’s seen?”
Morgan looked at her in surprise. “How do you know about the Sword? I thought it was supposed to be a secret.”
“It is. But remember when I was at your house the time I said I had to go to the bathroom and was gone for about 15 minutes?”
Morgan nodded.
“Well, Kalub had someone over, and I really wanted to know what they were talking about, so I listened through the door. I still remember what your dad said.”
“You ready to be a warrior, Malron?”
The man Kalub named Malron said yes.
“Then remember this: The Sword of the Warrior is to be a secret between the warriors.” Fimber paused.
“I half expected Malron to ask why, but instead he supported Kalub.”
“Yes, Kalub. No one’s really seen it, and we would like to keep it that way.”
“And why?”
“The Sword was last seen by the regular people at the Battle of the Lands, 1000 years ago, when the Ancient Peoples ravaged the lands and fought each other because no one could decide what land belonged to whom.” Fimber stopped.
“I stopped listening to them then and went back to find you.”
“The Battle of the Lands? My dad tells me what happened then all the time. You can still see the some of the effects of what happened today. But he never said anything about a sword…”
“I had never heard of the Battle of the Lands until then. I tried to ask my parents what happened there, but they just said “a battle” and ignored any other questions I had about it. I eventually forgot about it, but once you brought up the Sword I remembered his words again.”
“Would you like to know what happened at the battle?”
Fimber nodded, and they both sat down. Fimber sat up straight and leaned forward, attentive as Morgan started.
“This is what my dad told me. About 1,000 years ago, there were only three clans living-the Bakerwells, the Highlanders, and the Dallos. Three doesn’t seem that many, but there were about 500 people in each clan. The Highlanders lived in the hills and highlands of Glendel. The Dallos lived in the treacherous Highspike Mountains, and the Bakerwells lived on the plains of Baker, where their name came from.”
Fimber interrupted Morgan. “I’ve been to the Highspike Mountains! Very pretty with pine trees and lots of lakes. The lakes are so pretty and so clear that you could see the bottom if it was 50 feet deep.”
“My dad’s also been to the Highspikes, and he always comes home with a rusty sword each time.”
“Fimber looked confused. “Morgan, if you want a real sword so much, why don’t you just ask Kalub for one of the swords he found? He probably has plenty anyway.”
Morgan sighed. “My dad won’t let me. He said it’s too special and historical.” Morgan said in a mocking voice and rolled his eyes. “He won’t let me have a sword until I’m 15 anyway. He said my wooden sword was good enough till then.” Morgan suddenly stood up and drew his sword, and held it up like a victorious warrior. “I’m Morgan Jessin! Fear me!” Morgan tried to put his best battle look on, and Fimber burst out laughing, then stopped and looked towards the street.
“Look.”
Morgan looked, then gasped. The few people on the street were bowing to him! Morgan flushed red from anger and shouted, “Get up! I’m not a lord or a king! Get up!” No one moved. Morgan put his wooden sword back in his belt and motioned to Fimber. “We’re leaving. Let’s go.”
Someone must’ve heard him, because he said, “No, don’t go! I’m honored to be in your presence! I…” Morgan didn’t hear the rest because he was already turning the corner to another street. Morgan walked till he got to his favorite inn, The Shining Sword, and sat at a table with Fimber.
“Ah, Morgan and Fimber are back again! Drinks? They’re on me. Leah Rosel, the innkeeper, said. She was very fond of Morgan and Fimber and enjoyed seeing them. She was young, tall, and very beautiful. If Morgan wasn’t with Fimber and if he wasn’t so mad, he would’ve been blushing.
Fimber nodded, and when Leah walked off to get the drinks, Fimber said, “now will you tell me more of the Battle of the Lands, my lord?”
Morgan opened his mouth to day something, but Leah returned with their drinks. “Enjoy,” Leah said, and walked off to help her other guests.
“Cheers, my lord.” Fimber said, raising the glass.
“Shut up, Fimber.”
“Lighten up, Morgan.” Fimber said with a laugh. “It suits you…Lord Morgan.”
“Yeah? How would you like to be called something you weren’t, Lady Fimber?”
“Oooh, I like it! Can you call me that all the time, my lord?”
Morgan fingered his sword, but got a splinter. Morgan pulled his hand back and let out a quiet yelp. It was all Fimber could do to keep from laughing.
“That bloody hurt!”
“No wonder you can’t have a real sword yet. Just think what would’ve happened if it was sharpened steel instead of wood?”
“You’re not helping, Fimber.”
“Please, call me Lady Fimber. It fits me well.”
Morgan just glared at her.
“Aw, come on, don’t you like to have fun? It’ll be our joke, just between the two of us.”
Morgan’s face brightened. “Oh, OK, as long as it’s just a joke. Lord Morgan with a wooden-soon-to-be-steel sword and Lady Fimber with a…”
“Bow and arrow.”
“Yes, a bow and arrow.” Morgan eyed his drink. “Let’s drink, Lady Fimber.”
She nodded, and they both drank till there was nothing left.
6 years later
Morgan walked along the deserted streets, barely breathing. He knew his destination, and was eager to get there, but he knew he had to be careful. He was going to see Alisgaih. Morgan hadn’t been able to see him after that time six years ago. His father had finally decided to teach him swordfighting, and that took up most of his time. Morgan was now one of the best fencers in Newlisi, and could even make swords. He taught Fimber how to swordfight, and had been thinking of marrying her.
But what Morgan was pining for the most was to be a warrior. Then he could hold the Sword of the Warrior and fight with the famous Newlisi Knights. It was said they were almost undefeatable in battle, and if you were to fight one on one with one, it was said that no trace would be found of that person after.
The most famous of the Newlisi Knights was Alphonse Krieger. 500 years ago Alphonse and his army of 300 defeated an army of 5,000 rebels from the Steel Mountains. Even to this day no trace of them has ever been found.
I in two weeks Kalub was taking Morgan and Fimber to the Steel Mountains to try and find something of the rebels. Kalub thought he knew where they were. Morgan was also going to ask for Fimber’s hand in marriage.
Morgan was thinking of how he was going to do that when he peered around a corner, but before he could do anything else he felt a hand on his shoulder. Morgan drew the knife he kept in his sleeve and spun around so quickly the other man almost fell. When Morgan saw who he was, he groaned and sheathed his knife again. “Sorry Master Palyen.”
Master Palyen owned Dragon Forge, where Morgan worked now. Master Palyen composed himself again and said, “What did I tell you about going off on your break?”
“You gave me two hours. I thought…”
“I don’t care what you thought. I have you two hours because you’re the best sword maker I have ever seen and you deserved a break. You have ten minutes to get back, or I’ll make you wish you had never picked up hammer and steel!” With an annoyed grunt, Master Palyen stalked off, and when he was out of earshot Morgan groaned and muttered, “Will I ever get any free time?” Morgan realized he was wasting precious minutes, and started walking back. Five minutes later he crossed the tiny courtyard and opened the door to the forge and stepped inside.
It was deserted.
Morgan looked around in confusion. “Hello? Master Palyen? Drangmar? Anyone?”
Drangmar was the captain of the Newlisi Knights and had been for nearly a decade. Before being promoted to Captain, he served as soldier for 15 years. His efficiency at slaying the enemy earned him a lot of respect. He was also one of Morgan’s fencing teachers and stopped by the forge once a day.
Morgan studied the room closer and saw Drangmar’s broadsword and shield. He never went anywhere, even a walk across the street, without the sword on his hip and the shield across his back. What was…?
A scraping noise in a shadowed corner of the forge cut off Morgan’s thought. He drew his sword then, the steel making a soft metallic sound as Morgan slipped it out of the sheath. He held it aloft in from of him, and said in the firmest voice he never though possible, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
After a moment, the person stood up and stepped into the light. No, not person, thing. This thing had black spikes from head to foot, and looked as sharp and hard as steel. They even shined like steel. The thing seemed to have no head; just the fierce-looking spikes. It wasn’t the spikes that drew Morgan’s attention, though. It held in its hand the fiercest looking weapon Morgan had ever seen. Well, if he could call it a weapon. It was more like a mix of all the weapons ever created, even from Alphonse Krieger’s time. He couldn’t begin to describe it, but it had the same black spikes as the thing.
Then, without warning, the creature attacked. Morgan barely got out of the way of the creature’s weapon, and it smashed the wall instead. Immediately, there was a blinding flash of orange and white, and Morgan had to shield his eyes. The flash lasted only a second, and when Morgan looked back to where the wall was….there was nothing, not even pieces lying on the ground. Then Morgan gaped in surprise.
The creature was still there.
Morgan ran then, ran as fast as he ever had in his life. At first he didn’t know where he was running to, but then he knew. He thought the creature would either be afraid to cross water, sink in from its weight, or have no idea what to do. Morgan was headed for the Black Dragon Bridge, spanning the Newlisi River. There was also a forest beyond the bridge, and he hoped he could hide in the trees’ dark foliage.
The bridge wasn’t far, and Morgan ran full speed for a reason he didn’t know. Suddenly the bridge disappeared. Morgan knew he couldn’t stop, and had no time to be surprised. Morgan ran even faster, and when he was a foot away from the water, he lifted off the ground with a mighty leap. Morgan was almost to the safety of the other side, when the trees suddenly disappeared and was replaced by the hardest wall Morgan had even seen. On impulse, Morgan put his hands out to brace the impact of the wall. His hands smashed into the wall full force, and he was thrown backwards.
Morgan felt a heat like he never felt before, and stood up quickly. The river had turned to lava! Morgan felt an excruciating pain, and looked at his hands. His right was severely bruised, but his left was broken…bad. He bit his lip against the pain and was about to jump across the lava-a death defying stunt-when he saw the creature again. But this time it looked…different. It was all black, and was floating an inch above the ground. Its eyes blazed orange, and had horns on its head. The only reason Morgan knew he was the same creature by the weapon it carried. It was the same one that destroyed the wall of the forge earlier. Then the weapon changed right before his eyes. It was now a sword.
"Surrender your soul to the gods of steel. In the blood of the fallen the enemies kneel!"--"The Way of the Warrior," HammerFall
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-28 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-29 06:36 am (UTC)Tools...
Date: 2004-09-29 08:27 pm (UTC)I have but one suggestion for the author. I think a bit more time describing the characters and their environments would be well spent. Not multiple paragraphs, but just a little bit to give the reader a strong impression of what the character or place should look like. Describing swords in great detail doesn't hurt, either.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-10 07:41 am (UTC)