Swords with Souls: The Sword Maker’s Shop (Lara) B65

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

(Adult Content)

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Book 2 of the BARD series: BARD: Owner of the Gemstone a dark fantasy novel

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

A Viral Imperium Book one of the Plagueborn series

The Sword Maker’s Shop

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Her heart beats rapidly and she clenches her hands as he sets the bundle on a ledge cut out of the back wall.

“Let’s go to the shop,” he says in a grumpy tone.

Beside the abode is a canvas tarped shed with a sloping roof. The Sword Maker lifts up the shop’s moveable roof and uses a tall branch to hold it up. Under the roof are items covered in tarps that smell of linseed oil. He pulls off a few of the tarps. Underneath is a ceramic mold with a sword sitting inside. “I have the sword ready; we just need to add your contents. But first explain to me the entire process than I’ll get going. I have an order form Sir Olaf to work on,” he continues sarcastically, “meaning my time is limited.”

“I understand,” she manages to say. “I have a liquid to pour into the fuller.” She hopes he doesn’t guess what it actually is. “Next, while bells are rung, I need to blow–.” She can’t say a soul. “a special air onto the fuller before the liquid dries. And–.”

“Why the bells?” she hears him ask.

“They create a particular soundwave,” she replies. Her sister explained the process to her but she still doesn’t understand. Gwen is definitely the alchemist of the family.

She sees him shake his head and shrug. “What next?” he asks.

“A piece of quartz with iron inside needs to be placed in the pommel.”

She watches intently as he strokes his chin and seems to stare somewhere else.

“Let’s get started,” he finally says.

She watches him start a fire inside a stone and mortar oven. After a while, he takes the clay casting containing the sword out of a rectangular box and slides it onto a grill made of granite sections. Everyone, including herself keeps still and silent as the Sword Maker pokes at the fire while watching the sword. She lets out a breath when he uses thick mittens made of cotton to pull the cast out and place it on a nearby rock with a flat top.

“Quartz,” he says with more of a command in his voice than request.

She turns the tiny bag until she can feel the quartz at the mouth. Diligently she squeezes it out and hands the stone to him.

Using prongs, he gently pushes the stone into the pommel of the sword. He reheats the cast inside the oven again. A short time later he removes it again.

“The rest of this procedure is up to you,” he says gruffly and stands back with his arms crossed over his chest.

People I Follow

Rural Life by Rabbias World 1

(learn Ancient and classical Chinese rural life skills)

Swords with Souls: The Sword Maker’s Shop (Lara) B64

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

– Adult content –

The Sword Maker’s Shop

Lara sits atop Aminah swatting bugs away as they follow an old path full of roots. There’s just enough room for the carnival wagon. On either side is a forest that walls off a bog, but not the smell. Occasionally, there’s a rickety house on stilts. Faces peer out windows but no one comes out. “Why would anyone want to live here?” she asks out loud but no replies.

They come to a slat board bridge with thick ropes for rails.

“We must walk from here,” Haashir says with a deep and distant voice. “The rest of the caravan will watch over the horses.”

Lara slaps a mosquito off her bare arm, much to Endellion’s amusement. “Your hood doesn’t hide your malicious smirk,” Lara snaps.

“Let me help you with this problem,” she hears Endellion say as the girl saunters up to her. From a pocket in her light blue cloak, Endellion pulls out a ceramic jar with a glass lid. She dabs two fingers in the jar and begins rubbing a cool ointment onto Lara’s arm. In a whisper Lara hears Endellion say, “If you decide men are no good, I could rub this all over you.”

Lara shoves Endellion back. “Give it,” she demands.

“Sister than,” Endellion says with an amused chuckle as she passes Lara the jar.

As she crosses the swinging bridge, she notices the bog thins into marsh. The farther the bridge goes the more alder, aspen, and beech sprout out of the sediment rich water. The bridge becomes surrounded by great reedmace and reedbeds. Finally, the bridge ends on rich soil covered in bladderwort and common reed. A barely visible path leads through willow and poplar trees to an open area covered in purple loosestrife with patches of ragged robin. Beyond is an open river or lake. The land to either side is made up of rolling hills. One of the nearby hills looks like the section closest to the river has been cleaved off with a mound attached to it it’s base. Whisps of smoke puff out of the mound. As she walks closer, she realizes the mound is an abode with a slanting sod covered roof.

Lara hears a deep melancholic voice speak up to her.

“That’s the Sword Master’s shop,” Haashir informs her.

She feels her heart beat harder. The moment of truth is here. Does she have the bells? Is the blood still moist enough? Does she still have her grandfather’s and the baron’s soul? Taking in a deep breath, she knocks on a heavy oak door with an arched top and covered in a variety of claw gouges.

The door opens. From inside a gruff voice scowls, “You’re many days late.”

She steps inside. In the centre of the single room is a fire pit. Hanging from a large brass spit is a large fish. To her left is a bed covered in cedar bows and leaves with a deer skin cover folded at the bottom. On her left is a clay chamber pot and basin. Around the entire abode is sisal string held up by wooden pegs mortared into the walls. All kinds of herbs hang from the string. Under the basin is a wooden bucket. At the back, leaning against a stone and dirt wall dug into the hill, are a variety of bows and arrows, and numerous swords of different lengths. Before her, holding a skinning knife, and dressed in a partially laced up cotton shirt and cotton pants stands a lean man with a barrel chest and thick forearms. The face is a mixture of Far East and this very island’s own. The eyes are covered in slightly slanting eyelids stare at her with blue eyes that have a splotch of brown around the pupil. The face is wide at the cheeks but narrows to a dimpled chin. Even the man’s skin is a mixture of brown and pink depending on how the dying firelight flickers on it. Light brown hair, that looks self-trimmed pokes upwards. The hair on his face is scraggly as if it isn’t sure whether to grow or not. It’s a thinking face with a warrior’s body. She notices their eyes meet at equal height though his forehead is much higher. What she doesn’t like is the sense that he feels both protective and disgusted with her existence.

She passes him a bundle wrapped in canvas. “The book and wealth, as promised.”

People I Follow

Taotaoaima

Swords with Souls: On Your Life (The Sword Maker) B63

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

– Adult content –

On Your Life

When their passion is satiated, she lays her cheek on her hand over his chest.

“I can feel your heart beat,” she whispers.

He brushes her hair from her face so he can gaze at her staring eyes in the moonlight shining through the sole window.

“There is also a giant–a true giant and a damaged faie child with my daughter.” She curls her fingers and gently presses the fingertips into his skin.

He strokes her cheek. “I’ve met the first two.” And in a quieter voice, “And one with wide spaced eyes along with a deadly sword wielder.”

“The giants and dwarves are changing. The youngest are stronger, smarter, and more determined.” She slides up until her breasts are pressing against his chest. “I need to change you too,” she says.

All he can see is the internal light in her eyes and the determination on her face. He gulps. “Do I ask why?”

“It has to be willing.” She spreads her legs over his hips and leans back on her shins.

“Will it hurt?” he asks, half joking.

“No,” she replies placing her hands on his chest. “But it will allow your seed to grow inside me. And….”

“What?”

“Well, that you would have to find out,” she says while digging her fingernails into his chest.

“Do it, my love,” he says with conviction.

“Stay here,” she tells him and climbs off him. Naked she hurries outside.

In a moment she’s back holding a wooden bowl with her left hand. He notices a poorly tied cloth around her right wrists.

“You cut yourself,” he says sitting up.

“Yes.” She proffers the bowl to him. “Eat.”

Inside the bowl he sees a mushroom covered in a viscous cherry red liquid. He looks suspiciously up at her.

“Eat,” she says, caressing his cheek.

When he’s finished, she has him drink from one of his wooden cups. She must have made the concoction before this night. The bitter taste of dandelion is combined with watercress.

“Swish it around,” she tells him, pouring more of the fluid into his mouth.

When the cup is empty, she dabs his lips with a cloth and tells him, “Close your eyes.”

With his eyes closed he feels her climb over him and the ends of her hair caress his chin and chest. He clasps onto her hips as her breasts press against his chest.

Afterwards he feels her lean forward and her lips tickle his ear as she whispers, “I choose you.”

People I Follow

Nic the Pixie

(See the cover of BARD: Owner of the Gemstone)

Swords with Souls: On Your Life (The Sword Maker) B62

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

– Adult content –

On Your Life

It’s a hot evening, and to keep the mosquitoes off his naked body he’s burning lavender in his fire pit. He’s also cooking brown river trout which has drawn the attention of a female brown bear standing across the river. He knows she’s female because he estimates she can’t weigh more than forty-seven stone. She’s touching a paw into the river, testing whether it’s safe to cross. With his attention on the sow, he hardly notices a pebble striking his back. Angrily he grabs the dagger he uses to eat with and spins around to confront the intruder. But it’s her! She’s not wearing shells this time. Still wet from the river water, tresses of her hair flow over her shoulders, around her breasts, and along the curve of her hips. He lowers the dagger and walks towards her—but she holds up a hand.

“One of my daughters is coming to see you,” she says with a mother’s lilting voice.

“Daughters?” he asks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Not ours, love,” she snarls. “A devious man with faie in his blood poisoned one of the ponds I haunt with a love potion. I could not refuse his desirous wants for a number of years. In that time, I had two daughters. So angry was I that I departed as soon as the concoction wore off. But not so far that I couldn’t follow the growth of my children.”

He steps up and wraps his arms around her damp body. “Should I kill him?” he whispers.

“I cursed him. He is now both fully faie and dunse. Listen, the daughter you will meet comes to save the land. This latest king wants to divert a river just as one of his grandfathers did. This will disrupt and possibly kill things young and ancient. You must help her.”

He lifts his head away and stares at her face. “I will,” he promises. In the firelight her eyes are more hazel than green. Her nose is thin and long. And her lips heart shaped. He tilts his head down and their mouths meet. Her hair soaks him as he lifts her and carries her into what will be their home tonight.

People I Follow

ASUKA

Swords with Souls: Three-quarter Faie? (Lara) B61

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

– Adult content –

Three-quarter Faie?

It’s twilight now, so she nudges Alberta ahead of Endellion. When she gets to the wagon she says to Haashir, “We’ll stop for the night.” Together they head off the trail into an opening around a small pond.

Ahead she sees Sir Oliver making a fire away from the bank so everyone can sit around it. Some of the travelers sit on chunks of rotting log they found in the nearby forest, while others sit on their travel cloaks. When the only light is the fire and moonlight, Lara calls Endellion to join her while she passes water. Lara leads her into the forest to a small opening.

Without warning she grabs the shoulders of the still hooded Endellion with the intention of forcing her to the ground. They both tumble to the ground. It’s a silent and personal fight, not to be witnessed by anyone else.

She manages to get Endellion on her back so she can straddle her. Using pressure from her knees to keep atop, Lara unsheathes one of her knives and places it’s blade against Endellion’s throat. “You speak a word about my true heritage and I’ll,” she starts to say when strong hands yank her off Endellion. She finds herself thrown into a nearby bush.

The next moment, Sir Oliver stands before her. His expression is a mix of battle ready and amusement. In a moment Endellion steps in front of him. She sees Endellion glance around, and realizes she’s using Sir Oliver as cover. She unties the string that holds her hood tight.

Lara gasps. “You have quarter moon ears,” she mouths and signals for Endellion to pull her hood up.

“A secret,” Endellion whispers, “for a secret.”

From Sir Oliver, she hears, “I’ll train her, if she’s willing.”

People I follow

Shotzi

Swords with Souls: Three-quarter Faie? (Lara) B60

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

– Adult content –

Three-quarter Faie?

Lara hears the hooded girl ride up beside her.

“A secret for a secret,” the girl says.

“Secrets are like names,” Lara replies. “They can hold power over the individual giving them.” It was a saying her mother used to say, before she disappeared.

“Yes,” the girl replies in a thoughtful tone. “My name is Endellion.”

Lara scoffs. “That’s your secret?”

“No, just a more personal introduction. The very attractive woman wearing only shells at your grandfather’s funeral. Her eyes are similar to you and your sister’s. Is she your mother?”

Lara cranks her head around and stares in disbelief at Endellion. “You saw her!”

“And the man with the root growing out of his mouth is your father? You have the same long legs.”

Lara gulps. This conversation is getting very dangerous. She turns her head and stares straight ahead.

“Your grandfather also gave off the scent of faie. That makes you and your sister three-quarter faie, doesn’t it?”

She realizes it was a rhetorical question. “Now you know mine, what’s yours?”

“Perhaps tonight I’ll show you.”

The seductive, teasing tone Endellion uses makes her tense up. “I prefer men,” she says with a finality in her own tone.

“Men are overrated. One day women won’t need them anymore.” The hatred in Endellion’s voice shocks her. “Sir Oliver, and his uncle are the only exceptions so far.”

People I Follow

Knives Experts

Swords with Souls: The Talk: Sir Oisin B59

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

– Adult content –

The Talk

Sir Oisin knows Sir Ganbold too well; he understands that he can never bring him in alive. And he has no intention of killing his friend. As Ronnin steps cautiously through the dense forest Sir Oisin scowls at the thin branches whipping his face. By going through this part of the Black Forest, he can get ahead or at least catch up to Sir Ganbold and his family. He’ll have to check Ronnin and himself for the spiky burdock seeds later. He sees an opening and makes a quiet clicking sound. Ronnin halts. Through the opening he sees Sir Ganbold sitting by a small fire pit made of soil covered stones. Sir Ganbold’s and another horse graze freely nearby. The fire inside is just large enough to give off some heat. Sir Ganbold’s hand lopping sword is beside him. He’s drinking from a clay cup talking to his wife. His wife, Sarnai, sits across from her husband with a short bow and sheath of arrows at the ready. As she lifts her head to speak, she sees him and Ronnin. This is a dangerous woman. He holds up his hands and signals Ronnin to walk into the opening by squeezing his knees. Sir Ganbold grabs his sword and takes a step left so as not to block his wife’s aim.

“Sir Oisin, Lady Sarnai,” he says with a smile. Even though his hands are still up in the air, he believes he can draw his sword and block any of Lady Sarnai’s arrows. But not if she aims for Ronnin’s chest, which is guarded by a boiled leather flap. However, she is so close, he doubts it will hinder an arrow from piercing through. He sees Sir Ganbold put his free hand behind his back. Without taking her eyes off of him Lady Sarnai suddenly runs up to a mare and leaps onto the dun coloured back of the Takhi horse. Immediately, she has an arrow pointed at him. Sir Ganbold sheaths his sword and leaps onto the back of his own Takhi stallion’s back.

“How did you get so close without us knowing, Sir Oisin?” Sir Ganbold asks him.

Sir Oisin notices movement in the forest on the other side of the clearing. He can hear the patter of horse hooves moving away. “There’s a patrol looking for you,” he says, ignoring the question. As he does, he slowly places his hands on Ronnin’s cantle. “They believe you took the road to the sea. But I could tell you were purposely sweeping to hide the hoof prints. I found signs that you entered the forest instead.”

“Some of our people did go that route,” Lady Sarnai says as her expression turns to worry.

That’s bad news. “I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice tells them he means it.

“So, you come alone?”

“I do. And I wish to discuss a treaty, or, more preferably, an alliance.”

Sir Ganbold and Lady Sarnai glance at each other. “With who?” Sir Ganbold asks.

“With my people,” he replies.

“Can you save our people heading on the road to the sea?” Lady Sarnai asks as she lowers the bow slightly.

“I will try,” he replies with a bow of his head. Without little hope he can save those traveling the road to the sea he gently nudges Ronnin to take them back into the woods.

People I Follow

panteleenko_svetlana

WHISPERS an original science fiction story

Future Wake series
Future Wake was initiated by Dr. Ethan Rain to send eight spaceships to separate habitable planets discovered by the Kepler spaceship. Each ship will have one or two AIs to steer the ship until it reaches its designated planet. There are also supposed to be two captains, one male and one female, along with two female and two male clones that would start to grow thirteen years before the predicted arrival time. And lastly, one thousand genetically altered human zygotes.

WHISPERS
Captain Lance Frontman was given the task of helping Lieutenant Sharon Moore escape from a messed up Mili VR program.
Now they have both been tasked to captain Future VII, a ship with a military minded AI called Whispers.
But a tragedy changes the original plans. Hurt and furious Sharon demands that she be allowed to implement her personality and voice into Whispers, and that a clone of her be put on the ship so Jack never forgets about her.

Excerpt

She leans forward like a viper but he refuses to back off. Face-to-face she tells him, “We can’t put a large group in stasis; we need clones. And, everything we do costs: the ships, the clones, the AI’s, everything! Do you want to be a potential savior for the human race? Do you want to be in the history books as someone who made a difference, who went where no one else has, who opened the doors for others?” She leans back again, “or remembered as someone who could have, should have but did not?”

Elizabeth Shield, President of Future Wake to Captain Jack Frontman

WHISPERS is fast paced with thought provoking concepts to encourage readers to get excited while contemplating what migrating to a new planet will be like.

*For producers and directors, this story is designed for both books and easy script conversion

Swords with Souls: Three Days Late: The Sword Maker B58

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

– Adult content –

Three Days Late

At first the forest seemed normal, although always dark and cool. But as he led the children deeper in, he came to a wall of blackthorn bushes with patches of bluebells and forget-me-nots. The blue colored berries of the blackthorn bushes were ripe. As instructed by Lord Idris, he told the children to be careful as they picked the berries, for the stems that held them were full of thorns. As the children picked the berries, he secretly placed a forget-me-not into his mouth. Next, he instructed them to sit while they ate the berries. One by one the children fell into a deep sleep. Careful not to damage the flowers, he gently flicked a number of the bluebell flowers. A thunderous dinging sound erupted all around him and a great headache erupted inside his skull. Lord Idris had warned him not to take any of the berries, and he hadn’t, but now he wished he had.

His eyes watered from the pain behind his eyes but he managed to look up. Someone giant-sized with a long, furry rotund upper body and short stubby legs opened a section of the blackthorn bush with wide splayed hands attached to overly long hairy arms. The person’s belly protruded so much he couldn’t tell if they wore a loin cloth or not, nor if they were male or female. He saw other humanish people hurry through the opening. They picked up the children and carried them back through the gap in the blackthorn bush. Some had the head of goats attached to human torsos and goat’s legs. Others had human heads with goat horns, human torsos above the belly button, and bipedal goat legs below. The air was filled with giant fireflies. So he thought until some flew nearby. Through the blinding light he saw naked men and women with dragonfly wings. He felt himself lifted and carried through the gap.

He was set down between giant mushrooms, some of them actively spewing out spores. Sitting up he glanced around but the forest atmosphere was too dark to see many details. All the daylight colours were now different shades of blue. Diminutive men wearing tall hats circled by a wide belt with a buckle and smoking a pipe glanced his way occasionally. That’s when he noticed that each of the orphans had been placed, like him, near a mushroom. They were all sound asleep. He stood up, unsteady at first. In the distance he saw something that caused him to gasp. Two of the goat people were fornicating beside a bush.

“You can’t stay,” a mezzo-soprano female said from behind him.

He turned away from the goat people only to be taken back again as he stared at a lithe woman with skin that glistened with a mixture of tan and tea green. She was quite short compared to him. Her hair curled around the shells that covered her ample breasts and her nether region. “I’ll not leave the children with molesters,” he said, clenching the handle of his sword.

“The satyr are very sexually active, but not with children. And these children are now part of the faie.” She stepped closer to him, so close he could smell mint on her breath. “You cannot stay. Go in peace or we will take something from you.”

“You are gorgeous,” he said and immediately felt embarrassed at saying something so inappropriate for the circumstances.

She had smiled. “You cannot stay but perhaps we will meet again.” She then put what looked like a small mushroom into her mouth. For a moment he just stood there and watched her chew. Once she stopped chewing, she lifted her chin towards his face and blew out a mist. “You cannot stay but we’ll meet again.”

People I Follow

Alvi Gunilla

Swords with Souls: Three Days Late: The Sword Master B57

Swords with Souls

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

By Dan Watt

(Author of BARD series)

Cover by Darren Joy

(Author of the Plagueborn series)

– Adult content –

Three Days Late

Bronzton scowls as he sits on the wicker chair that he made himself feeling moody under the extended overhang of his sod roofed house with its stone and clay walls. The back wall is the natural cliff face of a small hill. Someone would only know where his house was if they saw smoke rise from his chimney stack or the front door. Otherwise, it just appeared to be part of the hill.

This Lady Некромансер would owe him significantly more now. Four days! He has numerous orders to fill. A number of soldiers have brought their swords in with knicks and bends to be reheated or melted down and reformed. Some of the swords are iron. Not much better than bronze and these young soldiers are careless and lazy. Most of the iron swords are coated in rust spots. He has scarce enough clove oil remaining and the ranger Crimthann rarely drops by these days to bring him more. The oil cost him dearly. Crimthann told him he gets it from the book collector and herbalist couple, the giant and his comparatively tiny wife. That means they take the majority of the profit and Crimthann the rest. He would travel to the couple himself but the backorder of weapons he needs to make and repair is getting out of hand. He could use linseed oil.

Some of the naïve soldiers brought him iron swords covered in honey or sap to stop the rusting. He would try to scrape it off first, otherwise he would have to carefully burn it off. Others used bee’s wax. Not a bad idea except when drawing the sword, they would have to be careful it didn’t fly right out of the sheath and cut them or someone nearby. One young soldier had used pine cone sap on his grip so he couldn’t lose his sword. Now the leather thong wrapped around the grip of his sword is useless.

Waiting has brought back memories of what happened after the burning of Buttigieg Gardenery. He had led the orphans that were too young to go with Lord Idris into the black forest to live with the faie.

It was a bizarre time for him.

People I Follow

Hannah_redfoxcloset

A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story

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