Swords with Souls
A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story
(Adult Content)
By Dan Watt
(Author of BARD series)
(Author of the Plagueborn series)
Relics
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The Sword Maker vaguely remembers her saying soothing words as she straddled his back and rubbed an ointment that smelled of arnica between his shoulder blades. “This will help the pain caused by the transformation,” she had said before kissing his upper back and leaving.
His body jolts and he cries out as a feeling akin to finely sharpened blades cut simultaneously into two sides of his back, just behind where his lungs are. He tries to sit up but the pain is too great. Digging his toes and fingers into the sheet of his bed, he can barely breathe as the cut goes deeper. His whole-body clenches as air escapes through the slices. But then something bizarre happens. As the skin on either side of the wounds feels like its folding slightly back, air begins escaping from his lungs. Still lying on his stomach, and covered in sweat, he falls back asleep.
When he wakes in the middle of the night; he’s starving. From a clay pot he scoops out a bowl of mashed oats and barley porridge. Stiffly he makes a fire and boils the porridge before adding some honey he bought from a neighbor. Naked he sits on a log eating as he stares across the river. After he finishes, he can smell that he stinks of sweat and decides to take a bath.
As he dunks his head underwater, he notices two strange circles of light against the pebbles of the river’s floor. The lights are about as wide as his hands and close together. He wonders if they’re made by the moonlight and perhaps a bright star. Fascinated, he dives under the water. He sees the lights move forward as he does. He wonders if there are creatures that live in the water that glow at night. He’ll have to surface soon for air but he feels he can dive a bit deeper first.
The circles of light expand as he swims deeper. As he does eels and fish scatter amongst the stems of water lilies and hair grass. As he goes deeper, he can see java moss growing off rocks and waterlogged wood. He is now swimming deeper than he ever has. But other than the weird flapping sensation between his shoulder blades, he feels he can stay under longer. He gazes up and the lights circle around the silky strands of hornwort, telling him he’s still close to shore.
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