Swords with Souls
A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story
(Adult Content)
By Dan Watt
(Author of BARD series)
(Author of the Plagueborn series)
Peering Into The Giant’s Maw
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They circle. As each tries to see an opening, Oliver tries to see inside Jedreck’s mouth. “You ever get a tooth ache,” he asks with unfamiliar boldness. He’s always been a silent fighter, even in sparring. The only time he talks is when he’s instructing. “Those arms better be longer than your legs or it’s going to be a painful day for you.” Grinning, he fakes an attack and laughing spins around to strike the inner thigh of the giant. He doesn’t feel he has complete control of his actions with the unfamiliar sword but his skill seems so much superior.
The giant swings his mammoth sword on an angle. He can’t duck under it so he jumps back and starts circling again. It’s time to see what damage this new sword can handle. He steps in and parlays Jedreck’s next attack. The impact should have jolted his entire arm but he hardly feels it. He spins and slaps the side of Jedreck’s thigh. He keeps striking the giant’s legs since he can’t get close enough to tap Jedreck’s stomach or lower back.
“Enough,” Jedreck calls, limping from all the bruises on his legs. “I understand why you are the Sword Master. May I see the sword?”
He passes it hilt first and watches in awe as three quarters of the sword disappears in the giant’s hand.
“Too small and light for me for a sword,” Jedreck says with a grin.
Staring up intently at the giant’s mouth, he says, “It looks like a knife in your giant paw.”
The giant laughs, giving him a good look inside his maw. As Jedreck passes back the sword, he realizes the Moon giants mated with giants on this island.
As he walks back to the others, he says with a bow to the bronzesmith, “Well met, Master Sword Maker.” “It’s time for me to go,” he tells Lara and the others.
“Wait,” Lara says, taking his hand and leading him away from the others.
“You want a little romp before I go?” he asks with a jovial smile.
“What?” she asks, her face turning beat red.
He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Just being humorous,” he replies hearing the confusion in his own voice.
“If you lose the sword in battle or someone tries to steal it, call its name twice in your head,” she says and reaches out with her hand.
He places the hilt of the sword into her hand. He sees her grasp it lightly.
“Now,” she says.
Undefeated, undefeated he thinks. The sword is suddenly in his hand.
“Ride safe, Sir Oliver,” she says with a sparkle in her eyes.
He steps forward for an embrace and kiss but she turns away and marches back to the others.
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