Swords with Souls
A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story
(Adult Content)
By Dan Watt
(Author of the Children of the Myth Machine series)
(Author of the Plagueborn series)
Coronation Preparations
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The Sword Maker reaches for the hilt of his sword but she shakes her head at him. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. There’s a fear in the air and the smell of blood. The joviality of the other day is gone replaced by some ancient fear. She inhales deeper and realizes the blood smell is coming from the king. No, not the king but the bear skin robe. Where was the king the other night?
She rests her hand on the pommel of her own soul sword. “You can call the other swords” her grandfather’s voice says inside her heard.
King Novak stands up. “The Propers, as they call themselves, were decimated by the plague where as we were hardly effected. With the exception of a few including my new bride and the Sword Maker, all Propers,” he says Propers with a scowl, “are considered slaves, and if you wish, food.”
Lara gasps along with many of the others in attendance. It was always rumored that the former king had once eaten Propers and dwarves. At his death bed he had even admitted to it. She glances up at the king and his bear cloak. A dread feeling fills her as she guesses what he was doing the other day. If King Novak tries to mate with her one of them won’t last the night.
Casks of honey flavored mead and birch sap wine brought in from traders beyond the quarter moon ears are brought in by giant men. Meanwhile, dwarves carry clay wine storage jars and wine decanters of metheglin and piment. Local musicians play skin covered drums, wooden and bone flutes, and a strange instrument with a skin sack that inflated when a musician blew into a hollow reed. While squeezing with the upper arm the musician fingers a flute attached to the bottom of the skin. The instrument made a loud sound that Lara had never heard before. As the sky grew darker nearby chieftains paid homage to King Novak.
Later, torches were lit and giants and dwarves began dancing between sips or gulps of the mead and wine. She noticed dwarves danced in the center and closest to the king’s throne while mixed dwarves and giants danced around them. It looked like adults dancing with children. Near the perimeter where the torches burned danced giants with giants. She found the Sword Maker sitting near the tables where the barrels and wine jars were set near the carnival wagon. Near him were Jedreck and Haashir.
“I need to speak with you,” she says to the Sword Maker. And glaring at Jedreck and Haashir, “In private.”
She walks with him behind the caravan wagon. Leaning close so only he can hear she says, “I need you to hold onto my soul sword.”
“Why,” he asks with a slurred voice.
“Because I need to escape from here soon.” She proffers her sword without the scabbard.
He nods and takes her sword. “Take mine,” he says slipping it out of its scabbard.
Once they have exchanged swords they walk back to where Jedreck and Haashir sit.
Jedreck stands up and in a humble tone asks her, “A dance?”
“Are you allowed to?” she asks with a snarl.
“As long as you’re willing,” he replies and there’s a message in his tone.
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